Lynd ☾⋆。˚ Comms Open!

Lynd ☾⋆。˚ Comms Open!



🔞 #SakuAtsu | late night tryst | rated E (#Haikyuu) __ There’s a dip in the couch as Kiyoomi scoots closer to Atsumu’s half-slumped form. “Come with me,” he murmurs in Atsumu’s ear, too low for their company to overhear.

Not that any of their drunk friends would be able to make out the words over the buzz of chatter and music. They were too preoccupied by a dance challenge between Kuroo and Bokuto. Atsumu drags his eyes away from the scene to meet Kiyoomi’s dark, half-mast gaze. “Come where?”

“I found a nice spot,” he whispers, lips lightly brushing the shell of his ear. It summons a delicious shiver down Atsumu’s spine as he leans into the warmth of it. “No one will find us.” A big palm lands on Atsumu’s thigh, thumb circling slowly. “What do you say?”

He’s pleasantly tipsy and Kiyoomi is so warm and close, it’s unthinkable to say no. Atsumu covers the hand on his thigh with his own to slot their fingers together. Tipping his head aside, he brushes a chaste kiss on the corner of Kiyoomi’s mouth. “Ya wanna steal me away, Omi?”

Kiyoomi chases his mouth for another kiss. “Always.” Atsumu lets himself be dragged away with firm, familiar hands. He's led down a hallway, then up a winding staircase. Ushijima’s house is huge, so Atsumu isn’t surprised to find a bathroom as big as his living room.

Kiyoomi pushes him in and crowds him against the door. His deft fingers twist the lock shut just as his mouth descends on Atsumu. “Omi,” he huffs, twisting his fingers in thick, dark curls and dragging him closer. “This’s a real nice bathroom.” “Hm.”

Kiyoomi’s palms settle on his hips, kneading gently, pinning Atsumu back as he mouths kisses across the column of his neck. He can’t help the whine he releases as he slumps back against the door, giving Kiyoomi the freedom to press his mouth anywhere he desires.

It would seem Kiyoomi desires everything, if the way he moves from Atsumu’s neck to his collarbones and back—hands pushing his shirt up to sample his skin—is anything to go by. By the time Kiyoomi is on his knees, Atsumu’s breathing heavily, face flushed and knees weak.

“Please don’t tease,” he begs in a strained whisper when Kiyoomi shamelessly nuzzles his crotch. “Let me savour you,” husks Kiyoomi, cheek rubbing over Atsumu’s aching erection. “Fuck Atsu, you look so good.” Kiyoomi guides his jeans down his thighs,

untucking him with careful fingers. It makes Atsumu’s knees wobble dangerously when Kiyoomi nuzzles him again, cockhead nudging his cheek. “Please, please don’t tease,” Atsumu pleads, palms pressed to the door behind him to steady himself even as hips jerked forward eagerly.

“God please just give me your mouth.” Kiyoomi hums, nose tucked in Atsumu’s pelvis as he inhales deeply. “𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘬,” he rasps, fingers digging in Atsumu’s ass as he buries his face deeper. “I can devour you.” “Omi,” Atsumu’s begs, one hand curling in his inky curls.

But all Kiyoomi does is sink lower to nip at his thighs, laving his tongue across each mark until Atsumu’s cock was leaking all over himself. Kiyoomi sticks his tongue out to clean him up, humming in the back of his throat. “Wanted you all night, Atsu,”

he whispers, swirling his tongue over the flushed head. “Shit…” He swallows him down, and Atsumu’s head goes blank. He drawls, head falling back against as wet heat encased him, slowly swallowing him down to the hilt. “Shit,” he echoes,

pupils blown wide as he looks down to survey the sight Kiyoomi makes with his pretty pink lips stretched around him. Kiyoomi looks like a dream. Cheeks flushed, eyes hazy and desirous, the tight ring of his mouth taking Atsumu down, down, down.

Atsumu chokes on a groan, helplessly thrusting his hips forward. Kiyoomi pulls back to curl a tight fist around him; he jerks steadily, mouth twisting up in a faint smirk. “Come here baby,” he guides Atsumu closer with his grip on one asscheek. “You can fuck my mouth.”

Atsumu feels a little crazy—a little deranged—as his body flushes hotter, and his hips buck forward eagerly, sliding down Kiyoomi’s throat with barely any resistance. How many times has Atsumu let Kiyoomi fuck his face just like this, until Atsumu was gasping for breath?

Until his knees and jaw ached with the strain of it? He surges forward again, too aroused, hitting the back of Kiyoomi’s throat, spilling soft groans that he failed to muffle. But Atsumu isn’t so far gone that he’d let himself finish down Kiyoomi’s throat like this.

No matter how obscenely hot he looks with his spit-covered lips, lashes wetly clumped together as he drools over Atsumu’s cock. Atsumu tugs at his curls, drawing him off. He pants as Kiyoomi wipes at his mouth. “Can I fuck you?” “Please,” Atsumu whispers raggedly.

They rifle through the bathroom drawers desperately until they find lube. Atsumu is unceremoniously bent over the counter as Kiyoomi warms it between his fingers and then there are long digits pressing inside him, working him open even when he's still loose from the morning.

Kiyoomi leans over him to mouth hot kisses between his shoulder blades, fingers curling firmly against his prostate. Stars dance across Atsumu’s vision as he's swept to the height of his arousal and mercilessly stranded there.

No matter how much he whines and thrusts his hips back, Kiyoomi keeps him pinned down with his body, teasing him, riling him up. Stuffing him with another finger. “Omi, Omi, Omi” he babbles, his overheated face leaving smudges on the pristine mirror as his head lolls against it.

“Almost there,” Kiyoomi grunts, and when he plucks his fingers out, his hips desperately grind against Atsumu’s ass. “By god, you’re going to ruin me.” “Yess,” Atsumu nearly sobs. Take me, he wants to cry, let me ruin you, please ruin me.

Their inebriation carries them higher despite the fumbles and clumsiness as Kiyoomi shoves his pants down and coats himself with lube. “C’mon, c’mon, please Omi,” Atsumu chants, hips thrusting back until he's met by the sting of a palm.

He keens as Kiyoomi rubs the spot he spanked and lines them up. “So hot for me,” he groans as he pushes inside Atsumu. Atsumu is gone. His knees shake and he whines desperately as Kiyoomi slides home in a slow, sure thrust that makes his toes curl. He feels so full.

Kiyoomi always makes him feel so full. He claws at the counter, wobbly supporting himself on his elbows and fucks back with low, pleased groans. His eyes shut in bliss, mouth falling open. Kiyoomi meets him halfways, his anchoring hands bruising Atsumu’s hips.

“Shit,” he's mumbling, the words feathering hotly over Atsumu’s neck as he curls forward and fucks him deeper. “Shit you’re gonna make cum so hard.” Atsumu can hardly open his eyes. He feels sexdrunk, skin too taut, body too hot.

His head is a mess of liquid, desirous thoughts that he spills thoughtlessly to Kiyoomi. “Yes—yes-yes, oh god, Omi, oh—𝘰𝘩—” Kiyoomi hips angle and hit just right and Atsumu slaps a palm over his own mouth to muffle his yell.

“Shh, shhh!” Kiyoomi hisses breathily, replacing Atsumu’s palm with his own. “Take it, take it Atsu, you take it so good baby.” Kiyoomi’s free hand digs in his shoulder as he rams into him again. All Atsumu can do is watch himself in the mirror over the counter;

golden irises swallowed by his pupils, face flushed and hair a mess. Their eyes meet in the reflection, Kiyoomi’s smoldering gaze nearly setting him aflame. The palm on his mouth shifts and Kiyoomi slides two fingers past his lips to stroke over his tongue.

Atsumu sucks on them fervently, meeting Kiyoomi thrust for thrust, humid little puffs bursting from his mouth to fog up the mirror. He doesn’t care about the mess he's making drooling around Kiyoomi’s digits like that,

or the way he gags when Kiyoomi presses down on his tongue in time with each slam of his hips. If anyone was to pass by the bathroom door now they’d have no illusions to what’s happening behind the closed door.

Not with the unforgiving noise of skin slapping against skin intermingled with Atsumu’s desperate cries and Kiyoomi’s feverish grunts echoing in the room. When Kiyoomi bites the back of his neck, Atsumu’s knees nearly buckle.

He shakes, palm slapping down against the mirror as he holds on for dear life. “Oh god, oh god Omi—Omi I’m gonna—!” With one last savage thrust, Atsumu screams and comes all over the counter. Some of it catches on the edges of the mirror and Atsumu’s abs.

It feels endless for a few delicious moments, pleasurable tingles leaving his legs numb. He's distantly aware of Kiyoomi’s choked groan behind him as he finds his release and then the bathroom is quiet, save for their harsh pants. “Shit,” Atsumu’s voice wobbles,

body lax and loose. He's kind of tempted to pass out. “I dun think I can move, Omi.” Kiyoomi’s touch is softer now as he grabs a wad of tissues to clean Atsumu up. Then he soaps up one of the hand towels neatly rolled on the counter to wipe them both down.

He twists Atsumu around to face him, tenderly kissing all over his face. “Thank you,” he murmurs, nipping his lips gently. They kiss until Atsumu feels delirious, each press of lips warm and sure and loving. Kiyoomi only draws back to pull Atsumu’s clothes back into place.

“You’re a mess,” he whispers fondly, combing his long fingers through Atsumu’s hair as he rearranges it into a semblance of order. “So fucking gorgeous.” Their lips meet again, slow and savouring as Kiyoomi buttons up his jeans and zips it up.

Atsumu is thankful because his fingers don’t feel steady enough. He curves his arms around Kiyoomi and enjoys the sweetness of it, the comfort of their chests pressed together. “Love you Omi,” he mumbles dowsily. “Can we go home?”

Kiyoomi nuzzles his neck, lips still bestowing kisses. “Hm. Love 𝘺𝘰𝘶.” They clean the counter—well, Kiyoomi does—as they prepare to leave, but not without Kiyoomi pulling him into his arms again, unwilling to relinquish his hold. “Yer kinda clingy today,”

Atsumu hugs the arms around him with a smile as Kiyoomi nuzzles his neck and inhales deeply like he can’t get enough of him. “Just another moment,” is all Kiyoomi offers. Atsumu twists in his arms to hug him properly, chest warm and achy. “Hmm, yer so warm and ya smell nice.”

Kiyoomi always smells so good and clean, but the added musk of sex makes Atsumu heady. “When we get home can we take a bath together?”

“Hmm I’ll run us a bath,” Kiyoomi agrees, peppering the side of his face with kisses until Atsumu chuckled and tipped his head aside to seal their mouths together. When they slip out of the bathroom, such a long time has passed, they doubt anyone still thinks they’re around.

“C’mon,” Atsumu grins, lacing their hands together. “Let’s go home.” “Round two?” Kiyoomi asks, eyes dipping and mouth forming a lazy grin. Atsumu can’t help it, he rounds to kiss it off his face. “Round two,” he agrees.

// I apologise for any typos I was interrupted ten-thousand times while editing this 😩 Virtual tip jar:

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