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Atsumu was fucking tired.
He had gone out with MSBY yesterday, they had won the last game of the season, and to celebrate the win, Bokuto and Hinata hadn't let go of Atsumus until he had consumed at least half his body weight in alcohol.
And he still felt it today. He had stayed at home all day, Osamu had been at work, had brought him the leftovers of Onigiri Miya in the evening, and had now gone to the cinema for a date night with Suna.
Atsumu was therefore alone in the small shared house of him and Osamu in a small outskirts district of Osaka.
He had just taken a shower, put on his favorite boxers, and opened the bedroom window wide because it was still very warm for the end of September.
The curtains were wide open, outside it was already getting dark, but Atsumu didn't care if people saw him from outside. He was hot, he knew he was hot and he was fucking confident in himself and his body, so why would he care if people who walked by would see him?
He hadn't bothered to check if the doors downstairs were locked. He lived in a safe environment, nothing ever happened in the small suburb. It was safe, so safe that Atsumu didn't have to worry about anyone breaking into his house.
So far, nothing bad had ever happened... except three weeks ago.
Except for that one night three weeks ago, when Atsumu was chased through the house by a man in black with a Ghostface mask on, when his body was pressed against the hard floor, when the man with a knife had cut Atsumu bloody, fucked him from behind into the floor, and came inside him. Bloodstained, covered in sweat, and completely disoriented, the man in the Ghostface mask had taken a photo of Atsumu's used body and left it as a memento.
Atsumu fell onto the bed with still damp hair from the shower. His hand slid under his pillow, his fingers feeling the sharp corners of the photo that was hidden beneath it. Three weeks had passed since then, and Atsumu would have lied if he said he had never jerked off to that memory and this photo underneath his pillow. His cock twitched at the thought, but Atsumu shook his head, pulled the blanket over his face, and sighed. As much as he would have loved to get off to that memory once more, he was just too exhausted. His body and his head were simply too exhausted from the alcohol and staying up late yesterday.
It was 9:10 PM when Atsumu fell asleep, the bedroom window open, doors unlocked, and the photo of his naked body under his pillow.
Atsumu didn't know what time it was when he realized he was slowly waking up. He blinked, his bedroom was dark and he heard something in the hallway. It must have been Osamu, who had returned from his date with Suna.
Atsumu snuggled deeper into his bed, his body pulled him back into a deep sleep.
Atsumu wasn't really awake; he was in that weird in-between state where sleep and reality blended, where it felt like you were falling somewhere and then your body jolted because it thought it was happening in reality.
He heard something, but he didn't care.
His eyes were still closed, he felt light, felt his thoughts circling in that intermediate realm within Atsumu's mind.
Then suddenly, the blanket was pulled away, over his naked torso and his boxers and the mild late summer air brushed over his warm body. Atsumu stretched out in bed, he loved this in-between state where he didn't know if he was awake or if his body was imagining all of this.
He then felt something sharp, something pointed, glide over Atsumu's thigh. It was sharp, and the touch went from his knee up to his groin. Then it pricked the inside of his thigh, Atsumu's body shuddered on its own as the touch disappeared and suddenly the tip pressed against Atsumu's still flaccid cock. Automatically, Atsumu's cock twitched under the small touch, and as quickly as the touch had come, it disappeared again.
Instead, Atsumu felt in his sleep how suddenly his boxers were gone and cold air touched his limp cock. It was freezing, unpleasant, and before he could do anything about it, something warm wrapped around his cock and began to slowly stroke up and down.
Atsumu writhed under the touch, still with his eyes closed. What a good dream it was. His cock slowly filled, beginning to throb under the firm touch. A thumb slid over the head of Atsumu's cock and pressed into his slit. Atsumu let out a soft moan. Why couldn't he always have dreams this fucking hot?
His hips twitched as the grip around his cock tightened, searching for more friction. But then the touch suddenly stopped, and Atsumu whimpered as he realized his hips were searching in vain for friction.
Then the blonde suddenly felt two cold fingers brush over Atsumu's cheek. Atsumu pressed his cheek against the fingers, following the touch. The fingers went up into his hair, playing with Atsumu's now far too long blonde strands that fell into his face. Then Atsumu felt the gentle touch suddenly become firm, suddenlty too firm. The fingers dug into Atsumu's hair, gripped tightly, and pulled his head back. Atsumu was sure that he was still in a dream, firmly convinced that what was happening was not real.
Atsumu opened his eyes in pain, he looked into a dark room and took a few seconds to realize that he was not alone.
Next to the bed, leaning over him, stood a figure dressed in black. Just like last time, the figure wore tight black pants and a snug black T-shirt, the sleeves were stretched over porcelain-colored muscles on the upper arms. Atsumu stared at the dark, black eye sockets of the mask. The Ghostface mask that the man was wearing sent a familiar shiver through Atsumu's entire body.
The blond's breath quickened, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and the grip on his hairline tightened.
"Atsumu," said the voice behind the mask. The man with the mask tilted his head, it seemed as if he was just examining Atsumu for a moment, looking at his entire body from top to bottom and absorbing it. Atsumu only now realized that he was completely naked lying on his bed. No idea where his boxers were, he felt completely exposed, felt like prey under the intense gaze of a hunter.
Atsumu swallowed, his throat completely dry, his cock twitching with excitement.
Memories flooded his sleeping brain, memories of a throbbing, thick cock in his hole, relentlessly fucking him into the ground, blood on his lips, spit, blood, and cum mixing together.
Before Atsumu could say anything, the masked man climb onto Atsumu's bed. He was wearing black boots that matched his black jeans, and only now did Atsumu realize the huge knife in his right hand, which glimmered in the moonlight streaming through his window.
The blonde couldn't move, couldn't do anything, just watch as the man in black sat on Atsumu's hip with the knife and brushed against Atsumu's throbbing cock. His eyes darted back and forth between the knife and the mask. Ghostface tilted his head and waved the knife back and forth slightly. "Speechless, huh?"
Atsumu licked his dry lips, felt the warm body sitting on him, felt his heart pounding in his ears. His mouth tasted of rotten panic, his eyes widened as the masked man leaned forward with a swift motion, pressing the knife suddenly against Atsumu's neck. Atsumu whimpered as he felt the cool steel against his neck.
The mask was very close above him, it was the first time Atsumu saw it from such a close distance. From a distance, it didn't seem so scary, but now there were only a few centimeters between them, and Atsumu couldn't help but stare into the dark hollows of the mask. The knife pressed against his neck, Ghostface leaned further forward on his hip and unintentionally brushed against his now hard cock.
Atsumu's hands wanted to shoot forward, wanted to shove Ghostface away, but before he could even think clearly, the masked man above him said in a rough and deep voice, "No movement, or I'll slit your throat."
Atsumu's hands twitched, he wanted to move them, wanted to do something, but the knife at his throat screamed that he should obey the man.
"Hands over your head," Atsumu heard the voice behind the mask hiss.
The blonde swallowed hard and did as he was told, a knot of excitement forming in his stomach.
Then Atsumu saw in the darkness of the room how Ghostface pulled out a black rope behind him. He placed the knife on Atsumu's chest, grabbed Atsumu's hands above his head, and began to tie them together. The rough rope tightened against the soft skin of his wrists, with wide eyes Atsumu watched as his hands were bound above his head and the masked man tied them to Atsumu's bed. As Ghostface leaned forward, Atsumu saw his black T-shirt ride up slightly, revealing white skin and a toned abdomen. Atsumu bit his lip as the dark-clad man pulled the rope tighter. For a dream, it all felt quite real.
Then the man grabbed his knife again and held it to Atsumu's throat once more. "Not a word. No shouting. No screaming. I want you to be quiet, understood?"
Atsumu swallowed hard and nodded, his untouched cock smeared its precum on Ghostface's clothes, who rubbed against him with every movement, driving him insane.
"Fuck," the man whispered above him, as he stroked Atsumu's cheek with his leather gloves, over his lips. "Mouth open."
Atsumu's skin tingled at the thought of what would happen if he didn't go along with it, if he refused? He was a brat, it was in his nature to resist the orders of others. It was a dream after all, so what could possibly go wrong? So Atsumu shook his head and pressed his lips together. He turned his gaze away and stared to the side, ignoring Ghostfaces command.
The man with the mask huffed amusedly, and at the sound, the knot in Atsumu's stomach tightened even more, and he felt quite warm. The masked man's hand shot forward and gripped Atsumu's chin, squeezing his cheeks together. He made Atsumu look into his dark Ghostface mask.
"I said, mouth open."
Atsumu stared at the masked man for a few seconds, his cheeks were hot where he was touched, and he said with half-closed eyelids and a small grin: "Fuck ya."
The masked man grunted amusedly. The grip around Atsumu's mouth tightened, so much the blond's jaw began to hurt, but he did not give in. He didn't give in until he felt the knife against his neck again. It pressed into his skin, a stabbing pain shot through Atsumu where the blade pressed into his delicate skin on his neck, and he inhaled sharply. He felt a few Drops of warm liquid going down his neck, where the knife stung. Automatically, he opened his mouth slightly, the fingers of the leather glove gliding over his lower lip, and then the masked man pressed his finger into Atsumu's mouth.
His body reacted before his mind could, his lips closing around the thumb as he tasted the dull leather flavor, tasting something else, salty on his tongue.
The man pressed two more fingers into Atsumu's mouth, his tongue accepting the fingers as if he had no choice but to coat them with his saliva.
"Good boy," said the voice behind the mask, tilting his head as he watched Atsumu suck on the leather gloves.
The knife was set aside, Atsumu's head felt foggy, his gaze seemed unable to focus properly.
Atsumu writhed under the tight rope that was tied around his wrists. His hips jerked forward, seeking touch, seeking anything to distract him from the leather gloves in his mouth.
The man with the mask tilted his head, seemed to think for a moment, and then took his fingers out of Atsumu's mouth. The blonde licked his lips and blinked.
"You look like a slut, tied to your own bed," said Ghostface, leaning back slightly. Atsumu shuddered as he watched the masked figure wrap his long fingers around Atsumu's cock. "You know, I've been thinking about fucking you while you sleep..." At the thought, Atsumu's cock twitched in the man's hand. The man stroked Atsumu up and down with slow movements, and the blonde bit his lip. "But then I thought it would be more... entertaining if you were awake."
Without warning, he pressed his thumb firmly on Atsumu's slit, the blonde gasped, his body tensed, and he tried to move away from the pain, but his tightly bound hands and the large man with the mask on him prevented him from doing so. He whimpered. "Exactly what I mean. I want to see how you react when I hurt you. When you squirm beneath me. I want to see the look in your eyes, when you realize you can't defend yourself and can't get away from me."
The grip on Atsumu's cock tightened before it completely loosened, and Atsumu could finally breathe freely again - he hadn't even realized he had been holding his breath.
Gasping for air, Atsumu shook his head, but he couldn't say anything.
"What are you shaking your head for, huh?" asked the rough voice under the mask. He let go of Atsumu's cock, reached for his knife, and ran it with slight pressure over Atsumu's hip bone, down to his sensitive balls.
"Fuck ya," Atsumu finally managed to say.
Ghostface tilted his head. "What did you say?" The knife remained on his thigh, the blade pressed against Atsumu's skin.
Atsumu gritted his teeth. It was just a dream, but Atsumu was a fighter. He wouldn't just let it go over him like that. "I said, fuck ya." This time his voice was firmer, he was more confident. In fact, he even managed to twist his lips into a malicious grin.
The man on top of him laughed darkly and softly, then Atsumu watched with wide eyes as he fiddled with his pants and undid the first few buttons.
Atsumu swallowed. The scene seemed all too familiar to him. His cock twitched at the thought of what had happened the last time three weeks ago, and he swallowed hard.
"You've got it wrong, Atsumu." He emphasized his name slowly, melodically, and Atsumu really didn't want to admit it, but it gave him goosebumps. "I'm not the one who gets fucked. I am the one who's fucking you, wether you like it or not."
Atsumu's heart pounded in his ears, his mouth went dry as he watched the masked man pull his cock out of his black pants. "The last time you were obedient and accepted everything I gave you. And now you're being cheeky again?"
Ghostface shook his head in disappointment, clicking his tongue. It shouldn't be this thow. It should not turn Atsumu on the way it did. But it still did. One hand of the man found his own cock, the other still pressed the knife against Atsumu's thigh.
Something in Atsumu wanted to go even further, wanted to see where the limits were, wanted to test them, wanted to provoke him. Something completely primal overtook him. "The last time ya caught me off guard, sweetheart. This time I realize what a small cock ya got over there." Atsumu's gaze slid down to the - definitely not small - cock in front of him, and he nervously licked his lips. He could finally get a good look at the porcelain-colored cock with the pink head and the many small moles. Last time, he had only caught a glimpse through the mirror when Ghostface had barbarically fucked him from behind, but this time he was finally close enough to examine him completely. He was slightly curved upwards, a bit longer than Atsumu's cock and almost as thick. Atsumu's mouth watered involuntarily.
No, no, wait. It was a dream, he could still regain control. He shouldn't be thirsting over this dream-cock.
The masked man huffed, it sounded like a dark laugh, and Atsumu's neck hairs stood on end at the sound. "I really wanted to be nice to you, but it seems you don't want that. And cocky bastards like you get what they deserve."
With a swift motion, Ghostface had suddenly thrown Atsumu's foot onto his shoulder and pinned Atsumu between himself and the mattress, as if 73 kilos of pure muscle mass weren't lying in front of him. Atsumu felt small, felt like he was trapped in a cage, and couldn't do anything about it. He pulled at the rope that bound his wrists, trying to loosen it, but it wouldn't budge. He turned his head away, turning it to the side so that the man on top of him at least wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing his pretty face, but that was not granted to him either. The fingers in the leather gloves dug into his skin, wrapped around Atsumu's chin and cheeks, and forced him to look directly into the Ghostface mask. Atsumu furrowed his brows, put on an annoyed expression, as he didn't want to give the man the satisfaction of having the upper hand.
Then Ghostface leaned forward, Atsumu felt the wet tip of a cock pressing against his entrance, and the blonde inhaled sharply. Atsumus shoulders tensed up, he prepared himself for the thick cock entering his hole without prep, he waited for him to enter him, but nothing happened after a few seconds.
Ghostface let go of his face and took his hand to suddenly firmly grip Atsumu's cock. Without warning, he began to stroke Atsumu's throbbing cock up and down at a rapid pace. The movement was too firm, it was too fast to be pleasant, it made Atsumu gasp, yet his body seemed to not get the memo and his hips twitched repeatedly as he pressed himself into the firm hand around his cock.
"Last time I was so kind and opened you with my spit, this time it will be far less kind," Atsumu heard the masked man say, but he understood nothing. His thoughts were too foggy, consumed by the quick, firm movements with which his cock was being abused. He didn't want to come like this, the last time he hadn't even gotten any friction, the last time his cock had been completely ignored, and now he was being overstimulated, it was uncomfortable and way too intense.
Atsumu squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered as Ghostface twisted his wrist in a way that was actually impossible for most people. Warmth gathered in Atsumu's stomach, no matter how much he fought against it.
"Nhgg," murmured Atsumu, his head rubbing against the pillow, he tried to free himself from the firm grip of the masked man's hand, but he had no chance. He was like a wild animal trapped in a cage.
"Pathetic. You can't even stop yourself from coming," said Ghostface bored, as his grip tightened and the strokes became faster.
"Ahhh." Atsumu's voice was rough, and he didn't recognize himself; he bit down on his now swollen lips and felt the knot slowly unraveling in his stomach against his will. "Nooo."
The hand around his cock twisted once more, so much that Atsumu didn't understand how it was possible to twist that way and suddenly felt as if a hot wave was about to wash over him. His hips jerked forward, seeking more friction, and his cock pulsed as he could no longer hold back.
Atsumus was just about to let his orgasm wash over him, but suddenly the strong grip on his cock was gone, cold air instead of a warm grip enveloped the tip of his cock, and instead of the full load, Atsumus's hot liquid only came out in small spurts. He thrust his hips forward, seeking the friction that promised to complete his orgasm, but they found none.
Atsumu whimpered loudly, his cock was somewhat less hard than just a second ago, but it still pulsed, a small load of sperm had splattered on his belly, and a feeling of dissatisfaction washed over him, his balls still full of cum. He grimaced and looked at Ghostface. "Fuck ya, asshole."
Ghostface chuckled lightly. His cock was still hard and pressed against his lower belly, glidtering with pretty pre-come. He leaned forward to grab his knife, then took the knife to spread the small puddle of cum on Atsumu's stomach and to scoop it up like butter on a knife.
"I told you it would be less friendly this time if you were cheeky."
Atsumu furrowed his brows in anger, wanted to squirm away, but the masked man was faster, and before Atsumu could take his foot off the masked man's shoulders, he pressed the knife against Atsumu's throat. The cool liquid smeared across Atsumu's neck and the blade pressed into his throat, exactly where Ghostface had pressed three weeks ago. Atsumu swallowed hard as he felt a stabbing pain on his skin and his cock filled again at the touch of the knife on his neck.
The man in black exhaled. "Such a slut, you get hard again as soon as I threaten to slit your throat."
Atsumu wanted to say something, wanted to deny it, but his rational thinking had long since shut down.
When the blonde didn't react, Ghostface leaned back, took the remaining cum from Atsumu's belly onto his knife, and then wiped it off with two fingers, spreading it across the leather gloves. Atsumu swallowed at the sight, and his mouth opened in protest as Ghostface smeared his cum on the tip of his cock, but no words came out.
Wordlessly, Atsumu watched as Ghostface pressed against him and felt the wet tip of his cock, covered in his own cum, pressing against his hole.
And without saying anything, without any warning, the masked man suddenly thrust his cock into Atsumu. The blonde screamed, turning under the strong body on top of him. His fingers dug into his palms, still bound above his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
"I told you it wouldn't be friendly, Atsumu."
Atsumu whimpered at the use of his first name as Ghostface mercilessly pushed further into his hole, until he was buried to the hilt with his balls deep inside Atsumu. Without warning, without having opened him up beforehand, Ghostface pulled out of him and with a brutal thrust, he pushed himself back inside. Atsumu's vision went black, his heart pounded in his ears, and sweat gathered on his forehead as he tried not to lose consciousness.
Atsumu felt Ghostface push his own cum deeper into him, felt his walls close around the thick cock inside him, and realized he had no way to escape.
A large hand from Ghostface found its way around Atsumu's thigh, the other wandered to Atsumu's collarbone and wrapped around Atsumu's neck with its long fingers. Atsumu's gaze was hazy, he saw the outline of the Ghostface mask and wondered once again who was hiding behind it. Last time, he had only caught a glimpse of a pouting mouth and white, porcelain-like skin, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to see more, wanted to see who this cock belonged to, whose long fingers were in the leather gloves. Sometimes, only sometimes, he thought that he had heard the voice under the mask before, and yet Atsumu had been so confused this time and the last that he couldn't be entirely sure if his mind was playing tricks on him.
With a rough pace, Ghostface thrust deeper into Atsumu, pressing his tip right against Atsumu's sweet spot. The blonde opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out except a loud moan.
Ghostface sighed softly. "You are a beautiful hole, Atsumu," he said with a particularly hard thrust into the blonde, Atsumu bit his lip and whimpered. "Yes, exactly. You are just a hole. Nothing more. Only and solely for my pleasure."
Atsumu should have resisted, should have done something, but the only thing he felt was his cock starting to throb again and rub against his belly with each thrust from the masked man. He was hypersensitive, his balls full of cum, ready to shoot out, but he found no friction and therefore no release.
"Please..." Atsumu gasped.
Ghostface huffed. He didn't seem to be out of breath for a second; he must have incredible endurance. His voice was cold and monotonous as he asked: "Please, what, Astumu?"
"Please let me touch myself."
For a few seconds, there was silence, only the loud slapping of skin against skin could be heard as he relentlessly continued to thrust into Atsumu, nearly driving him out of his mind.
"No."
"Then—please touch me. Please." Atsumu whimpered, his voice hoarse and unaccustomed to begging, but he needed it. His cock throbbed, his balls ached, and he was hypersensitive, wanting nothing more than to finally find release.
"Shut up," came the response.
Atsumu whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut, digging his fingernails into his palms, and he had no choice but to let himself be fucked further.
Ghostface continued to thrust into him mercilessly. He was all the way inside Atsumu, brushing against his prostate, making him see stars. Atsumu's hips sought friction again, and he whimpered as he felt the cock inside him start to twitch as well.
"Fuck, you should see yourself now," the voice under the mask whispered, tilting its head and pushing deeper into Atsumu. "Only for me, Atsumu. Only for me." The hand around Atsumu's neck tightened, he felt the fingers digging into the soft skin of the blonde and cutting off his breath a little. "Say it, Atsumu. Only for me are you this good."
Atsumu choked, barely able to breathe, but he felt himself nodding despite the hard thrusts inside him. He didn't know what was driving him, but something inside him wanted to agree with the masked man, to tell him that he was so good for him, that he belonged to him, and that he could do anything he wanted with Atsumu. "Only for ya."
"Mhhh." Ghostface fucking growled and Atsumu felt the all-too-familiar warmth rising within him, spreading from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes, making him dizzy. Additionally, the leather gloves still pressed around Atsumu's neck as the masked man thrust into Atsumu's abused hole from the front, Atsumu's own cum long since pushed to the brim inside him.
"Only for ya," Atsumu repeated breathlessly, as he felt the thrusts becoming more irregular, more frantic, and the grip around Atsumu's neck tightening. Every moment, Atsumu felt he would lose consciousness, of that he was sure, and yet his own cock seemed to seek more friction and yet find no release.
"Fuck," Atsumu heard the voice say. The cock in his hole twitched suspiciously, the grip around his neck tightened one last time before it loosened. Atsumu tightened his walls and suddenly felt the masked man completely empty himself inside him with the next thrust. Ghostface hit his prostate one last hard time, the hot liquid shot into Atsumu's hole, he gasped for air and came himself untouched with cramping abdominal muscles on his own belly in small, unsatisfying bursts.
Ghostface pressed his hips against Atsumu's ass, pumping his sperm into the blonde while Atsumu whimpered from hypersensitivity.
The man's mask was slightly askew, Atsumu blinked to sharpen his vision and he could swear he saw black curls at the nape of the masked man's neck. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe it was just the dream that was wearing him out.
Ghostface pushed his cock all the way into Atsumu again and then slowly and painfully pulled out of him. Atsumu felt the hot liquid slowly running out of him and dripping onto his bed, while the masked man tucked his cock back into his pants and fastened his belt.
Without saying a word, Ghostface reached for something that Atsumu couldn't see in the darkness, and no sooner had he done so than a flash of light so bright that Atsumu thought he would go blind illuminated the room. Just like last time, the masked man had taken a photo of Atsumu's abused and naked body.
Atsumu swallowed as the masked man said nothing and waited in the darkness for the Polaroid photo to develop.
When nothing came, Atsumu broke the silence with a hoarse voice: "Will you untie me?"
"And do you a favour?" Ghostface tilted his head as if he didn't understand what Atsumu wanted from him. "No, Atsumu. You weren't good enough today."
The blond's eyes widened, and he tried to remove his wrists from the rope, but he failed miserably. His stomach was cold and covered in his own cum, dripping out of his hole with Ghostface's cum, and he wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower, but apparently, the torment was not over yet.
Apparently, the masked man was satisfied with the picture; he stuffed it into his pocket and looked over at Atsumu, who turned away from the gaze of the mask. Then Ghostface huffed, took a step closer to Atsumu, and reached for the blanket. He carelessly threw it over Atsumu's sperm-covered body, and Atsumu's body flinched at the touch. "Fuck."
"Next time, you should lock the doors, Atsumu," said the man with the Ghostface mask, but Atsumu knew he wouldn't comply with the request.
Atsumu just huffed. "As if that would stop ya from coming to visit me."
Ghostface took a few steps towards the door. "That may well be true." Then he added: "I'm curious how you're going to explain that to your brother."
Atsumu furrowed his brows in surprise, how did he know he had a brother? The last two times, Osamu hadn't been home... And with that last sentence, the man in the Ghostface mask disappeared into the dark hallway, leaving Atsumu completely exhausted and confused, tied up on his own bed.
Well, this sure as hell was an instense dream.
Or was it?