Marty⁷: a sucker for tattooed Sakusa Kiyoomi

Marty⁷: a sucker for tattooed Sakusa Kiyoomi



nsfw with a sprinkle of feelings The moment Sakusa takes off his shirt, revealing more of his tattooed skin, the crowd erupts in thundering screams.

The noise is deafening– so loud that for a moment Sakusa’s voice is drowned out by the ones of his fans, so loud that he thinks the stage might shake.

Sakusa is a PR nightmare: too blunt and snarky for the entertainment industry; but if there’s something Atsumu is good at– well, that is recognizing talent when he sees it.

To be frank, in Sakusa’s case, no one had to look too hard to recognize that he was talented– luckily for Atsumu though, no one was willing to stand up to the challenge that came along with said talent.

Sakusa is not easy to work with but, at the end of the day, neither is he– and now that he’s reaping the benefits of his work, he knows that he called the right shots two years ago.

Atsumu carefully observes the red stage smoke whirling around Kiyoomi’s body– it seems to create an intricate dance with the tendrils of smoke design of Sakusa’s tattoo; the sweat on his skin glistens thanks to the red stage lights.

Atsumu’s eyes wander; they follow the twirls of Sakusa’s tattoos from his forearm all the way up to his shoulder, and then down again to the side of his exposed torso.

He doesn’t have to look any further to know where the tattoo leads to; nonetheless, he lets his gaze roam lower and lower– the tendrils of smoke follow Sakusa’s V line till they disappear past his pants.

The black ink is not the only thing that teasingly sinks below the fabric of his pants– Sakusa’s happy trail is just as enticing to the eyes, and so are the veins on his lower stomach. He’s an alluring sight to behold– one that Atsumu has fallen victim to.

He just couldn’t resist the siren’s call. The music stops, and Sakusa thanks his fans for supporting him– the usual pleasantries. Atsumu doesn’t stay to watch his final speech, nor his exit from the stage. He makes his way to Sakusa’s fitting room instead.

The staff greets him and leaves the room. He’s comfortably sitting on the little armchair in the room when Sakusa walks in. “Omi-kun!” he exclaims, “Ya did amazing out there.” “Miya.” There’s an annoyed edge in his voice that Atsumu is not surprised to hear.

“What are you doing here?” “Omi-kun,” he fakes feeling insulted, keeping his voice low and letting his gaze roam on Sakusa’s half naked body– to make his real intentions clear, “I just wanted to see how my favorite trouble maker is doing.”

Sakusa leans back against the door, arms crossed over his chest– Atsumu is a weak man, and can’t help but stare at the way his pecs squeeze together; his biceps and forearms framing the view. Sakusa hums; a low rumble. “Did you like the show?”

Atsumu nods, still shamelessly staring at Sakusa’s chest. “Which part did you like best?” Kiyoomi walks towards him, “was it the part where I take off my shirt?” Atsumu shakes his head. “No?” He stops in front of him, and Atsumu is now face to face with Sakusa’s groin.

Kiyoomi nudges his face up with a flick of his finger under his chin and, in that instant, Atsumu thinks that there’s no better perspective to look at Sakusa Kiyoomi if not from down on his knees. Before he can actually drop on his knees, Sakusa straddles his lap.

His arms rest on the backrest of the armchair, on both sides of his face– effectively caging him in place. Atsumu wants to touch him. He wants to reach out and grab his waist; he wants to trace the pattern of his tattoos with his fingertips, but he knows best.

“Was it the part where Wakatoshi grinded his hips against mine?” Atsumu keeps his expression in check, but he grimaces and groans in slight discomfort when Kiyoomi pushes his head back by pulling on his hair.

Sakusa knows he doesn’t like it when he mentions the bassist; and by the sly, satisfied expression on his face, he must be enjoying his displeasure at the mention of that particular moment.

When Kiyoomi was made aware that some fans liked to think him and Ushijima had /something/ going on, he ran with the idea– it made some fans scream harder but, most importantly, it grated on Atsumu’s nerves. “No.” he grits out. “The part I like best has yet to come.”

Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?” Despite the fact that Kiyoomi is sitting on his lap, nothing exceptionally lewd is going on between them– still, Atsumu feels pleasantly on edge.

The unspoken challenge swimming in Kiyoomi’s dark eyes is enough to charge the air around them with tension. “Yeah.”

“Which part would that be?” Even if his scalp stings, Atsumu gets closer to Sakusa’s face until their noses meet– murmuring, “it’s the part where ya sing for me.” He looks down on Kiyoomi’s lips and then back into his eyes. “Only for me.”

Kiyoomi drapes both of his arms around his shoulders and haughtily giggles, “and why would I do that?” Atsumu’s heart is thundering in his chest.

It's the thrill of this silly game they like to play– one of cat and mouse; one where they get to chase each other in order to get caught at night, and slip through the other’s fingers the morning after.

He dares to bite Kiyoomi’s bottom lip before he quietly mutters, “because I will make ya feel so good that ya will have to sing my praises.” “We’ll see, Miya” he hums, “if you’re good enough to blow my mind, I might just sing them.”

“Oh,” Atsumu smirks at him, “ I will blow something else if ya let me.” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and Atsumu immediately feels cold when Kiyoomi stands up from his lap.

“Go wait for me in my suite,” Kiyoomi says as he makes his way towards his gym bag, carefully placed on a wooden chair in a corner of the room, “I’ll be there in 40.”


If you want a visual of Omi's tattoo...🤤 Everyone say "thank you Arczi" for giving Sakusa Kiyoomi the tattoo design I've been obsessing over since April 🤩

IF YOU DON'T WANT TO LOG IN WITH PRIVATTER TO READ IT ALL, FEAR NOT!! I ALSO POSTED IT ON AO3!! (Yesterday I was too bone tired to go through the whole process of posting it on ao3)

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