Lynd ☾⋆。˚ Comms Open!

Lynd ☾⋆。˚ Comms Open!



🔞 Atsumu sometimes makes a game out of flustering Kiyoomi in public. It starts with innocent teasing touches, only meant to push and rile him. A hand on his thigh, drawing circles on his hip, nuzzling his neck. Whispering in his ear to see him shiver.

He never intended to push it, he knows there would be 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 when they get back home otherwise. But Atsumu was only a mortal, and seeing Kiyoomi flush, having any sort of effect on him, must’ve truly messed up the wires in his brain.

It takes one moment, one slip-up, to make Atsumu throw caution to the wind. When Ushiwaka called to invite them to his boyfriend’s birthday party, Kiyoomi had readily agreed. But Atsumu wasn’t happy with their cancelled plans—it was movie night after all.

Movie nights were special. Scarcely any movies were watched, abandoned half-way through so Atsumu could let Kiyoomi fuck him bent over on the couch, face shoved in the cushions. They did provide nice background noise, though. And now they had a birthday party to attend.

Atsumu knows he can be petulant, but he’s feeling salty over being stranded for some twink’s birthday. He doesn’t even know who Ushiwaka’s boyfriend is. It only takes two drinks to truly loosen him up. To snuff out the indignation and leave behind a quiet ache.

For once, Kiyoomi is mingling, and for once, Atsumu can watch him. He looks indecently good in leather, curls falling attractively over his eye. Atsumu joins him, arms latching onto his waist. He can hardly keep his hands to himself after that Innocent touches, teasing kisses

He knocks their hips together, pulls Kiyoomi into unprompted hugs. He pushes and prods because he loves having Kiyoomi’s attention on him. His eyes always look so dark and hungry, holding silent promises So it’s truly not planned when Atsumu pushes him a little 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦

“Hey, Omi,” he says in his ear, holding his waist. “Dance with me.” Atsumu wants to dance, it wasn’t a lie. Dancing is fun. But his hands have other ideas as they settle indecently low on Kiyoomi’s hips to pull their bodies against each other. “What are you doing?”

Kiyoomi asks him, but Atsumu has no idea. He just knows it feels good to strip Kiyoomi of his meticulous control. His eyes are too wide, his cheeks darkening. His gaze darts around other dancing couples. No one is looking at them.

But Atsumu’s hands barely rival the full make-out session happening in the corner. Hinata has Kageyama pressed to the wall, thighs clenched around him. “Can’t I touch my boyfriend?” Atsumu punctuated his point by digging his fingers in Kiyoomi’s ass. He hauls him closer.

The short-lived friction is delightful. Kiyoomi’s eyes narrow in warning. “I’m not grinding on you.” “’Course not,” Atsumu agrees, leaning closer to nuzzle his neck as he moved them to the beat. “𝘐 will.” Kiyoomi sucks in a sharp breath.

Atsumu is delighted by this. “Ya left me hanging after all, Omi. Not very nice of ya.” He gives into the crazy urge of tracing the shell of his boyfriend’s ear with his tongue. At Kiyoomi’s shudder, he smiles against his skin.

“We should be at home,” Atsumu reminds him, hands roaming his back. “I should be bent over our couch getting railed to within an inch of my life.” He knows Kiyoomi’s composure is disintegrating because he curls a fist in Atsumu’s hair and hisses. “Stop it.”

“I get it,” Atsumu purrs, casually brushing their crotches together. “Ya don’t want it. Ya don’t want me to sit on your cock, it feels too 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥.” When Kiyoomi yanks his head back to glare at him, he’s wearing a fiery blush. “What’s this?” He whispers lowly.

Atsumu is dead, he knows this. He can’t for the life of him shut up. So he throws his arms around Kiyoomi’s neck and gives him a lopsided, lazy smirk. “Nothin’… just letting ya know what yer missing.” He rises on his tiptoes to brush an innocent kiss on Kiyoomi’s lips.

“Here’s the thing,” Atsumu carries on, and at the next press of their bodies, he can acutely feel the way Kiyoomi is affected. Starting to harden in his jeans. Bingo. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom,” he presses another kiss to his lips. “And I 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 be fucking myself.”

Kiyoomi’s breath hitches. Atsumu smoothes his palms down his front, lingering over his chest. “And if ya don’t show up Omi… if ya don’t give me your cock… I 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 finish without ya.” Kiyoomi is frozen breathless when Atsumu draws back with a grin. “I’ll see ya… or not.”

Atsumu goes to the bathroom fully intent on keeping his word. So when the minutes tick by and Kiyoomi doesn’t show up, he’s more than willing to work himself open, grunting into his palm to muffle his noises. But then Kiyoomi does show up, face flushed, eyes hazy.

He shows up and finds Atsumu’s ass stuffed with three fingers. The dark look that dawns on his features is everything Atsumu needs to know that he’s about to be thoroughly fucked. He’s never been happier about anything.

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