m 🌿poll thread 📌

m 🌿poll thread 📌



Not NSFW but NSFW language | #sakuatsu sexy lap dance + groping/grinding Kiyoomi takes a gentle sip of his drink, cradling the stem of his glass with delicate fingers. He looks up and Atsumu is already standing before him, shirt lost in his movements.

He can’t help the way his eyes travel across Atsumu’s bare torso, nipples perking up at Kiyoomi’s attention. Distantly, he hears the hoots and hollers of his teammates, but it’s quick to ignore when Kiyoomi’s eyes can’t focus on anything except the man walking towards him.

Atsumu is hot. Atsumu knows it. Kiyoomi knows it. He’s even hotter now without his shirt and wearing a tight red mini-skirt, a sheer pair of tights evading the most perfect view of his muscles

(not like Kiyoomi doesn’t already get an eyeful during practice, but it’d be much easier to stare unabashedly right now, in his drunken stupor, compared to being in the middle of the gym during practice).

When Kiyoomi looks up at Atsumu’s face, honey brown eyes are already looking down at him, signature smirk plastered across his lips. Atsumu’s expression screams mischievous, but even behind that Kiyoomi senses something more.

He quirks an eyebrow at the blonde as he approaches Kiyoomi, the sounds of their teammates fading away as he takes in Atsumu’s slow breathing.

Atsumu lifts a finger to trace across Kiyoomi’s cheek, eyebrows rising in curiosity when Kiyoomi lets him cup his face entirely. A thumb lingers at the corner of Kiyoomi’s mouth and he restrains from stretching his tongue out to get even the slightest taste of Atsumu.

He can only watch and feel as Atsumu continues to explore Kiyoomi with nothing but one hand –

one hand that travels along the expanse of Kiyoomi’s neck to cup his nape as the thumb stretches to the front, lingering on his Adam’s apple and pressing against his throat as he swallows harshly;

one hand, with fingers adding pressure against the skin beneath his collared shirt, moving to the front of Kiyoomi’s chest as he opens the shirt with delicate ease;

one hand that lingers along the final button to expose his white undershirt, fingers grazing the edge of his belt buckle. “Ya'lright there Omi?” he asks, voice soft as he takes both hands and grips Kiyoomi’s legs.

“Peachy,” Kiyoomi says in a near whisper. The ragged breath that escapes him as Atsumu pushes his legs together before climbing onto his lap is enough to break Atsumu into a wide grin. Atsumu is hot, and he’s a goddamn tease. Atsumu knows this, and now Kiyoomi does too.

Kiyoomi sits up, body rigid as Atsumu completely settles on his lap. He can feel the way Atsumu’s muscles move along his legs, thighs thick and heavy, ass stretched and spread as wide as Kiyoomi’s hips. "Relax," Atsumu whispers.

He grips his glass tighter, taking a sip to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. “I’m surprised ya agreed to this dare, Omi,” Atsumu murmurs; he’s quiet enough that Kiyoomi isn’t even sure that anyone else can hear but him. “Or is it that it’s somethin’ you’ve wanted for a while?”

When Kiyoomi looks up, Atsumu is leaning forward, much of his weight on his hands as he grips the tops of Kiyoomi’s thighs for leverage. The grin is long gone and a flush coats the tops of his cheeks, face mere inches away from his own.

It makes Kiyoomi dizzy – with alcohol or with Atsumu surrounding him, he’s not so sure, but he’s desperate to touch, taste, /feel/ Atsumu all around him, and he’s not sure how much more he can handle.

As Atsumu heaves his body forward, chest nearly flush against his own, Kiyoomi instinctively places his glass onto the side table.

“Break for me, Kiyoomi.” Atsumu says his name like a whispered prayer, body sliding along Kiyoomi’s thighs, and when their hips press together, Kiyoomi wraps his arms around Atsumu, hands sliding beneath his skirt and squeezing the meat of his ass.

The flimsy material of Atsumu’s tights move beneath his fingertips, and Kiyoomi briefly considers ripping the cloth apart and shoving a finger in him like he so clearly, desperately wants.

Atsumu grinds against Kiyoomi, hard cock clearly outlined along his tights as the top of his skirt flies upward. He leans forward, breath hot against his ear as he whispers, “I can feel exactly how much you want me, too.”

Atsumu continues to roll his hips, rutting against Kiyoomi agonizingly slow. The pleasure that wracks though Kiyoomi’s body elicits a low, animalistic sound from his lips, the first sign of vulnerability and the effect Atsumu clearly has on him.

He tightens his grasp against Atsumu’s ass, the fabric slipping beneath his fingers as he rounds his large hands to the tops of Atsumu’s thighs.

He feels a nip on his earlobe before Atsumu’s lips begin to feather soft kisses along his neck, a complete contrast to the rough way Atsumu desperately rides Kiyoomi’s clothed cock.

"That's more like it, Kiyoomi." Atsumu’s hands crawl up Kiyoomi’s thighs, thumbs skating beneath his undershirt before traveling up to his and lingering on his hardened nipples.

Kiyoomi turns his head, their eyes locking briefly. "Be careful what you wish for, Miya. You're the one that will break tonight." Atsumu pinches his nipples, and Kiyoomi thrusts up, one hand grazing Atsumu’s cock and forcing a soft moan against the skin of Kiyoomi’s neck.

“Alright.” Meian’s booming voice startles the two of them out of their lustful reverie. When his hand claps against Kiyoomi’s shoulder, the two visibly jump. “Looks like ya both need a room, so we – err – called ya a cab.”

“I dared him to give Omi-san a lapdance – not to dry hump each other,” Hinata drunkenly sighs. “Are they sleeping with each other?” Bokuto asks. Barnes snorts, “They will be now.” :')

based on @kkumrii's newest patreon art (follow their patreon, it’s very sexy out there!!)

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