Thread by @711storageroom

day 8: gender swap for #miyacestober2022 (nsfw!)

atsumu's being indiscriminately petty today. some would say she's always like this, but no: she's always blunt, crass, and argumentative—it's similar but different.

but osamu knows her twin. today, her temper is baseless.

if their teammates aren't going to give 100% while atsumu always gives 120%, osamu understands why atsumu gives them a piece of her mind—even if she doesn't agree with atsumu's approach.

atsumu being petty—on the other hand—stems entirely from petulance and not getting her way.

it started this morning in class—when their japanese lit teacher shut down atsumu's analysis before she could even get into it. atsumu was /fuming/, but even she had the sense not to talk back to a higher up.

it continued with lunch: they were out of her favorite pocari sweat.

she had to get grape. she'd gripped the bottle so hard that osamu had been surprised the cap hadn't burst off and spilled the drink all over the floor.

it had culminated with her getting swapped out mid-practice match with their newest setter. coach had even told her it

wasn't personal—they just wanted to see how the new girl fared—but of course atsumu sat on the bench for the rest of that set, steam coming out of her ears.

she's been bitching and moaning at osamu ever since practice ended. from the new girl in their grade's terrible taste in

perfume to the loose thread on her uniform—anything she could think of to latch onto, she's sunk her teeth into.

and, again, osamu is used to this. she's nodded where appropriate, but mostly ignored atsumu, knowing that, with time and a hearty meal, it would wear off.

except after dinner, when they head back to their room, it doesn't stop.

and now the topic of conversation is osamu herself. (she sighs. she'd been hoping that she herself as a focus would be skipped tonight—no cigar.)

"your hair's getting too long," atsumu points out as she

climbs into osamu's bed (lazy ass motherfucker) after osamu, finger twisting into her locks.

osamu bats her hand away. "get off me, scrub. and it's barely past my shoulders—you can't say that when yours is at your ass."

atsumu frowns. "s'cause i look good with long hair."

"we're identical twins."

atsumu rolls her eyes, like /osamu's/ being the stupid one. "yeah, but i like yours shorter. it's cute." atsumu's hand finds osamu's hair again, this time tucking a piece behind her ear, fingers skimming her ear. osamu feels her cunt throb instinctively.

"and we're not /entirely/ identical," atsumu continues, gaze drifting down. her expression sours like a lemon when her eyes land on their destination. "your boobs are /so/ fucking big. what the hell." atsumu grabs both of them, squeezing hard. "i can't believe our /identical

fucking genetics/ did us dirty like this."

osamu yanks her off by the wrists, glaring. "get your filthy mitts off me, bitch."

atsumu, the stubborn asshole she is twists out of osamu's grip, fingers wrapping around osamu's chest once more. osamu tries to buck her off, but

atsumu is as dense as she is tenacious, and, okay, now that she's squeezing lighter, it kinda feels good. her hands aren't even that small, and yet they can't fully hold osamu's breasts. osamu would be lying if she said that the size difference wasn't a little hot.

"it's not /faaaair/," atsumu whines, shattering osamu's momentary pleasure from the situation.

"it's god's retribution towards ya for being such a shithead all the time."

"but stealing your pudding means eating more food means fatter tits!" atsumu's argues.

"so you admit you

steal my pudding," osamu dead pans.

atsumu, predictably, ignores her. "i'm hot as fuck. i deserve massive tits too."

"if you're already hot—your words, not mine—then why d'ya need more?"

"to be /hotter/," atsumu replies, like the narcissus she is.

osamu switches tactics.

"big boobs are a pain, you know?" she says, eyes flicking down to atsumu's hands. "most people can't even grab 'em all."

"hey—!" atsumu says as her grip tightens.

"and they're heavy as /fuck/. i'm gonna be a hunch back by 30, even with my 'super strength ultra support' bras or

whatever the fuck."

atsumu lets a small smile slip. "suffer, bitch."

"and it's annoyin' as hell 'cause i'm prolly not gonna have kids—if at /all/—for, like, another 20 years. yet I gotta lug these fat sacks around for /life./" osamu pauses, not sure if she should say what she's

thinking. then again, atsumu hasn't had a great day—osamu could do her part to make it better. no matter how annoying her twin is, osamu doesn't /actually/ ever wish for her misery.

"i like small boobs," she says, teasing at the hem of atsumu's t-shirt. atsumu's breath

stutters when osamu's hands slip underneath, skimming along her sides. "they fit your athletic build—make ya look all fit and shit." her fingers climb higher.

"you should like 'em cause they make it easier for ya to steal my clothes, 'cause they're all baggy on ya."

osamu squeezes atsumu's chest through her bralette, smirking at the way she yelps. "ya bastard."

atsumu's cheeks color the prettiest pink. "we're /twins/, so what's yours is mine, y'know..." she's been using this excuse since they were toddlers.

but as osamu slips under her

bra to palm her bare chest, she's not mad about the reminder. her pussy clenches again, a little wetness leaking out.

"smaller boobs are more manageable too, y'know," she continues, easily holding all of atsumu in her palms. "for both you and me."

atsumu gasps, biting her

bottom lip. "yeah?" she says, hands finally falling from osamu's chest to the bed to steady herself.

"yeah," osamu says, voice more level than she feels with atsumu's nipples hard against her palms. "easier for me to do this." she unclips atsumu's bra, letting it hang off her

shoulders.

"and this." she pulls off atsumu's shirt, slides the bra off her arms. atsumu flicks the garments off her hands like they're a disease before planting herself to hover osamu once more.

osamu just looks at her for a second—taking in her flushed chest, her toned

stomach, her perfectly-sized tits.

"and? what else?" atsumu asks, ever impatient. despite the low lighting of their bedroom, her dilated pupils are stark against her golden irises.

osamu pauses an extra two beats, just to make her squirm.

"and this," osamu finally says, finding her breasts and squeezing hard. atsumu breathes out—a little, airy thing. osamu can't wait to take her apart until she's loud enough to hear through the walls—moaning like a bitch in heat.

osamu pinches her nipples between her fingers.

atsumu groans, hips jerking against osamu's thigh. even through her panties, osamu can feel the damp heat leaking onto her skin. her own cunt jumps at the feeling, revels in it.

osamu toys with her for a bit, twisting and flicking and rolling her between her fingers.

atsumu's panting hard at this point, humping osamu's thigh with intent. osamu gives her a final pluck before grabbing her by the hips and flipping her over; atsumu yelps as her back hits the mattress. osamu has to admit that she looks good underneath her: her long, blonde locks

splayed across the pillow, her lips parted and her eyes pleading to match.

osamu takes in the sight for another second before dipping down, eyes level with her chest. "and we can't forget this," she says, licking her lips before latching onto a nipple. atsumu cries out, hips

bucking up against where osamu has re-inserted herself between her legs.

osamu hums as she mouths at atsumu, lapping and sucking and nipping leisurely. her hand finds atsumu's other breast, playing with it in tandem. atsumu's breaths are out of control by this point, gasping and

sighing at every shift in osamu's touch.

"/ah/—/aaah-h—/," she breathes out when osamu starts rapidly flicking her nipples with the tip of her tongue. "samu, samu, quit teasin' touch me—"

osamu squeezes her breast pointedly. "i am touchin' you," she can't help but tease.

as anticipated, atsumu whines—bratty and high. "samuuuuuu!"

osamu bites down on her chest, way beyond the areola, but atsumu still jerks. "all you gotta do is ask, scrub."

atsumu's lips stay pointedly shut—and pouty—when osamu glances up at her. osamu rolls her eyes and

continues toying with her tits. and she knows she's doing a damn good job at it—with how atsumu's core is quivering, even without her touch.

it doesn't take atsumu long to fold. "samu," she says, pitiful, "touch me. please."

and the request sounds like an afterthought—probably

intentionally, just to piss osamu off—but, well, atsumu had done as she'd asked. osamu slides down from her breast over her stomach to her front, the skin waxed and smooth as always. she peels atsumu's panties to mid-thigh before dipping between her soaked folds.

her clit is easy to find, a well-trodden path, one might say. sometimes osamu teases, petting at it in ways that feel good but aren't /enough/, but today she cuts straight to the chase—rubbing to the left and towards the top with relentless pressure.

the effect is instantaneous—atsumu moans, deep and loud, her body rolling up to meet osamu's touch. when osamu looks up, atsumu's face has contorted in bliss, her brows drawn, her mouth hanging wide open. osamu squeezes around nothing, only dripping more onto her panties.

atsumu's breath is louder than osamu's slick touch, meaning that she's close to coming. osamu returns her attention to her breasts, switching sides. since she can't speak, she hums encouragement against atsumu's skin as she swirls the pert bud around with her tongue.

"samu," atsumu says, voice high, "'m gonna—/ahhh/—"

osamu sucks /hard/ on her chest, tipping her over the edge. she grows impossibly hotter before her legs squeeze around osamu's hand, trapping it there. osamu strokes her through it, kissing her nipples lazily.

when atsumu finally melts into the mattress, osamu shuffles upwards, catching her twin's eye with a small smirk. "see? boobs don't needa be big to make ya feel good. size don't mean shit."

atsumu looks at her half-fucked out, half-pissy—a sight osamu's intimately familiar with.

she clicks her tongue. "whatever," she replies flippantly, and osamu's grin stretches wider at the subtle admission of defeat.

"stop makin' that face," atsumu growls. osamu does not listen.

"what face?"

atsumu's nose scrunches, and osamu snorts out a laugh. before osamu can

process it, atsumu's hands have found her neck and tugged her down for a rough kiss. osamu tilts her head until the angle corrects, then presses back.

she pulls away first, exhales softly.

"hey," atsumu says, breath hot against osamu's lips. "can i show ya why i like your big

fat badonkers now?"

osamu bites her lip so hard that atsumu whines. "only if ya never call them that again."

"hooters. melons. knockers. hoochie mamas—"

osamu kisses her to shut her up. it works while it lasts, but before long, atsumu's mouth is released back into the wild,

and the space once more becomes unsafe.

luckily, osamu is spared—or maybe even blessed. because when atsumu flips their positions and moves to hover over osamu's chest—lips parted, tongue poking out—osamu's sure that she finally intends to put that tongue to good use.

//end

My first thread here and it's longer than osamu's tits are fat UGH brevity is not and will never be my strong suit ✌️😗

I've never written osamu porn I hope I did her justice 🙏🙏💖