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Atsumu had to have known what he was doing. There is no other reason why, unless he just wanted to torture Kiyoomi for three hours straight.
He doesn’t even like things like this, Miya should know that by now. Being squished between sweaty bodies and tacky Halloween costumes is just not how he would like to spend his Friday evening. Call him whipped, but he was quite literally only there for the blonde.
It started as a small, almost meaningless, conversation in Kiyoomi’s living room. Atsumu splayed out on his couch, legs propped up on his lap as they both lazily scrolled on their phones. They were both equally exhausted from the earlier practices and were more than happy to enjoy the comfortable silence.
Said comfortable silence was suddenly broken when a loud gasp left Atsumu’s mouth. Sakusa’s eyes left his phone to raise a questioning eyebrow at him, only to be met with a Miya barreling across the couch over to shove his phone in his face.
Kiyoomi’s eyes squinted at the latter’s bright screen, confused, “What exactly am I looking at?”
Atsumu retracted his phone before adding with a smirk, “It’s a costume party, we should go.”
All he could do was blink at him a few times before realizing, Holy shit he isn’t joking. The two of them have been together long enough for Atsumu to know that going to someone’s muggy apartment just to be surrounded by high college kids was not Kiyoomi’s type of event. Sakusa opened his mouth to object, but the blonde already knew him so well.
“I know ya don’t really like this typa’ stuff, but Rin asked me to go and I already said ‘No’, like, the last three times!” Miya quickly added before the black-haired male could even get his rebuttal out.
Kiyoomi furrowed his brows together, “Well if he asked you to go then you can go by yourself and have a good time.” He shrugged his shoulders as he picked up his phone to keep looking at…
Shit, he said something he shouldn’t have, didn’t he? He could already tell by the lack of response from the other and the slight shift in the couch. Without looking up, he could bet that Atsumu is already on the other end of the couch, back facing towards him, curled into himself to continue looking at his phone.
The blonde always complained about how blunt he was and how he needed to, “Stop sounding like such an asshole”. Kiyoomi could also bet that just now was one of those asshole moments.
He raised his gaze to, sure enough, see Atsumu on the other side of the couch, back turned towards Sakusa, scrolling through his too loud Instagram.
Kiyoomi could already feel the guilt start to build up in his chest. He could not stress enough how much he fucking hates events like that. They were crowded, grimy, dirty, the list goes on. But he also hates to be on the blunt end of Atsumu’s anger. And deep, deep down, he hates to see him upset with him, even over the little things.
With a sigh, the taller man slid himself down the couch until he was knee to knee with the other. He wrapped his arm around the blonde, even as Atsumu tried his hardest to ignore him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that,” he hesitated, but ultimately decided to quickly add on as soon as he heard Miya about to speak, “we can go.”
Atsumu whipped around with a smile on his face, “Really, Omi?” They both had already put their phones down, solely focused on each other. Miya had fixed himself to face the other, bracing for his answer.
Well, no going back now. “Yes—“ He was cut off immediately as lips crashed onto him enthusiastically. Maybe things wouldn’t be that bad.
.
.
.
Okay, things just might be that bad.
The topic wasn’t brought up again until the week of the party. Kiyoomi hadn’t been paying much mind to it, but on the other hand he could practically tell that Miya was buzzing from excitement.
They usually didn’t do things like this because of Sakusa’s preferences, so he supposes that he did have a right to look forward to it. Though sometimes, Kiyoomi couldn’t help but feel bad. He never wanted to hold the other back from what he wished to do, and so far Atsumu has sworn up and down that he hasn’t. Why was he so persistent about this one then?
The question had been circling his mind since Miya had asked him that day. But today as he showed him his costume options, Sakusa could form a vague idea as to why he was so expectant.
He sat on the bed waiting for Atsumu to come out of the bathroom with the last costume. The first one was nice, he’d say. With it just being a simple slasher film mask with a wife beater and some ragged jeans. Though basic, Kiyoomi knew that he could pull off anything he put on with just the confidence he exudes. But of course, basic is never enough for someone like Miya.
Sakusa quickly relearns this when he looks up at the open bathroom door to see Atsumu stepping out in a slim, leather leotard, black fishnets stretched over tan legs, crooked headband with flopping bunny ears attached to it. The blonde played with the white-collar cuffs on his wrists and fixed the similar button down collar around his neck. As soon as he was finished straightening his outfit out, he made small jazz hands.
“What do ya think, Omi?” He drew out as he gave a brief three-sixty turn of his outfit. What did he think? Miya had a tail to go with it for fucks sake, how could he think at all? Everything was too much at one ti me me. Strong legs, toned arms, supple ass all out on display at once.
Kiyoomi dragged his eyes up and down his figure before questioning, “Where’s the rest?”
Atsumu raised a brow before barking out a loud laugh, “Yer so silly. Now, how do ya like it?”
Now, Sakusa never deemed himself to be slow, but he wasn’t getting what was so funny about his question. Genuinely, where was the rest? There was no way, in any reality, that Miya seriously thought he was walking out of the house like that.
But, he could also see the shimmer of excitement in his eyes as he showed off his outfits, waiting for the dark haired male’s answer. To avoid getting on Miya’s bad side and trying his best to push back the voice in his head screaming ‘Where the fuck does he think he’s going’, he settles on a simple answer.
“I like it.”
He really didn’t mean to sound so unsure about it, honestly.
Atsumu crosses his arms over his chest, insinuating his defined arms and — Holy shit he needs to get a grip. “That’s all ya have to say? I thought ya would’ve liked this one more.” He sounded almost… disappointed in Sakusa’s lackluster answer, eyes already hardening.
Kiyoomi quickly stands and sets his hands on the other's waist, talking in a hushed voice, “No. No, I do like this one more. It’s just…”. He paused mid sentence, pursing his lips, trying his damn hardest to not say something that would piss off the blonde.
Atsumu gave him an almost exasperated look before encouraging him to finish his sentence with a nod of his head. “It’s just what, Omi?” his arms fell to his sides, fingers digging into the fishnets.
The dark haired man took a deep breath before finishing his statement in an even quieter voice, “A lot?”
Given the sudden silence and how close they were standing, he could already see Miya’s eyebrows knit together, face screwing up into a frown. Kiyoomi, being ever the empath, quickly adjusted his answer to something more appropriate (and pleasing to Atsumu.)
“I mean, a lot in a good way,” Sakusa’s hands moved to turn him around before resting his chin on his shoulder, “You look so pretty.”
In his defense, he wasn’t lying. Atsumu does look pretty. But this was the type of pretty you kept in the house. This was the type of pretty that made Kiyoomi want to drive him up walls and down into bed. He couldn’t help but let his hands wander down to his hips, fingers lightly brushing up underneath his ass, feeling where smooth leather ends and warm skin begins.
The blonde man huffed out something along the lines of “Freak,” before whipping around with a small smile on his face, “Great, so ya can wear the first costume!”
He smacked a kiss onto his cheek, walking out the room and back into the bathroom to gather the articles from the previous costume before Kiyoomi could even get a word out.
It didn’t even matter what he had to say, because either way the decision would’ve been whatever Miya wanted. And if he wanted Sakusa to go to some party and dress up with him, then that’s what the fuck he’s gonna do. Besides, he wouldn’t even dream of letting Atsumu out the house dressed like that without him.
.
.
.
That Friday came sooner than he would’ve liked, but it was definitely too late now considering they were already pulled up into the complex’s driveway. He squinted his eyes at the door, trying to make out the apartment’s numbers.
“Is this the one?” Sakusa asked wearily, casting his gaze down to his lap where Atsumu was zipping his pants back up. He had sworn that it would take the edge off of Kiyoomi’s nerves. And with the blonde dressed like that, did you actually expect him to decline? Though, now the image of Miya arched over in his seat, bobbing his head over the tip of his dick is now conveniently placed in his head before they walk inside. Great.
Miya wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before confirming, “Yeah. C’mon, ya shouldn’t be nervous anymore, Omi.” He punctuated his statement with a quick look of the other’s body.
Kiyoomi felt himself burn at the comment before leaving the car, Atsumu following close behind. The closer they got to the door, the more apparent it was that this was definitely the place. If the music that shook the house and the colorful lights coming from inside were used as any indication.
As soon as the door opened and Suna had greeted them inside, automatically placing a drink in either of their hands, Sakusa couldn’t help but observe the environment around him as they ventured deeper into the house. There were multi-colored cups scattered on every surface, little scraps of paper and glitter strewn about the floors like someone had set off confetti.
Walking out of the small entryway, Kiyoomi noticed the long wall of polaroid pictures of various people. Some seemed like they were just there to drop off lecture notes, while in another there was quite literally someone throwing up mid-photo.
Gross.
Stepping into a larger area, he could finally see all the people around him. Girls in skimpy lingerie paired with animal ears, frat bros in their big group costumes, way too many familiar faces. In fact, one familiar face was walking towards them and — oh God, he needs this drink.
He quickly takes a sip before Bokuto walks over to the two of them. Atsumu’s face had already brightened to a smile, strangely enough being illuminated by the dingy colored lights. He walked to meet the burly man halfway, clapping him on the shoulder. The way his hips swayed, costume hugging in all the right places, had Sakusa entranced. Even though they had just arrived, he would be more than happy to bring Atsumu right back to the car to finish what they had started on the way there. While he zoned out onto Miya’s ass and how the fishnets seemed to stretch the slightest bit more over that area, he seemed to miss when the blonde and pepper-haired men directed their attention to him.
Bokuto threw his hands up, his drink sloshing out of his cup, “Hey, hey! Didn’t think I’d see you here, Omi-Omi,” he took three long steps over to him, throwing an arm over his shoulder. He grimaced slightly at the feeling of sweaty skin on top of his clothes. It seems like Miya wasn’t the only one going half-naked tonight.
Atsumu quickly noticed his face and made the attempt to slide in between the two, throwing his arms over the both. With a small sigh of relief, Kiyoomi couldn’t help but be eternally grateful for someone who knows him so well.
Atsumu swung his head over to face Bokuto, walking them over to the kitchen, “Ya here by yerself?” He finally let his arms fall from their shoulders in favor of leaning against the marble counters littered in cups. Sakusa mirrored him, sliding his hand to rest comfortably on his hip, fingertips nudging into the underneath of his outfit. The blonde’s face didn’t seem surprised from the notion even though Kiyoomi could feel the way his skin heated under his touch.
Bokuto brightened at the bare mention of his significant other, “Nah, ‘Kaashi is here too! We’re matching,” he pointed at the clip-on ears on his head. What is up with people and physical animal traits as costumes?
Miya gave an amusing look before further entertaining their conversation, “So, what are y’all s’ppose to be?” He brought his cup up to his mouth, and sipped. And sipped. And sipped some more. Sakusa couldn’t help but quirk a brow at how much he was drinking.
The salt-and-pepper haired man rubbed at the back of his neck, “We’re Little Red and the Big Bad Wolf!”
That was surprisingly very fitting for the two of them. Though Keiji’s costume more than likely consisted of his normal wardrobe paired with a red cloak, contrasting Koutaro’s extravagant outfit. These two on the other hand…
“And you are..?” Bokuto said with a questioning lilt to his voice.
Atsumu immediately perked up at the sound of someone asking about his costume. “I’m the Playboy Bunny, nice right?” Bokuto nodded in agreement, eyes drifting about the room before settling on someone.
“Oh, look! Come say hey to Keiji!” his eyes were almost shining as soon as he spotted the other across the room. Immediately, he grabbed the blonde by the wrist to drag him over across the room. Kiyoomi’s hand slipped from his hip as he watched them walk through the crowded room. Watched as Atsumu brought a hand up to fix his crooked bunny ears. Kept watching until they disappeared into the next room.
He didn’t realize he was gripping the edge of the counter until he looked down to see white knuckles. This is fine, he reminded himself gently, he’s having fun. Tonight will be a great night.
.
.
.
Sakusa was nursing his second drink when he checked his phone for the first time that night. It was already knocking at eleven o’clock and he hadn't seen Atsumu since they had arrived. He wasn’t worried, though he did have to admit he was feeling a bit lonely without the blonde at his side. Only two people approached him since he’s been there. That being a girl in an outfit similar to Miya’s, who he quickly dismissed after one too many sexual innuendos, and some guy who swore they had a lab together earlier in the semester.
Considering how bored Kiyoomi is, he decides now is a good time to find Atsumu and practically glue himself to the blonde’s side. He slid his phone back into his jeans pocket, pushing himself off of the counter, heading towards the living room. The floorboards were practically vibrating from the music, coursing through his system head to toe. He stepped into the crowded room, eyes scanning around before landing on mused blonde hair and a crooked headband. Sakusa smiled softly to himself, beginning to make his way over there before stopping in his trek through the thick crowd.
Sitting there with Miya is a man in a similar costume to Kiyoomi’s, though it is a lot more obvious who committed to the bit. The two men talk animatedly to each other before Atsumu bursts out laughing at something he said, hand reaching out to push playfully at the other’s shoulder.
Sakusa felt his jaw tightening the more he watched them talk. Miya had turned on the couch to fully face him now, one foot sliding out of the small black pumps he wore that night to tuck underneath himself. Even from where he was standing he could see how Atsumu’s face wrinkled into a wince. I told him to wear flats.
Apparently, Mr. Laugh-them-out-their-pants noticed it too, because he is now taking the blonde’s bare foot into his hand, kneading into it. And maybe it’s because of the jealousy coursing through his body right now, but Kiyoomi thinks that this random is holding his foot way too close to his crotch as he sets it over his lap.
Sakusa’s not dumb. He knows that feet are in right now. Especially Atsumu’s since he has a fresh pedicure.
Kiyoomi comes to the conclusion he’s seen enough as the other’s hand comes up to run over Miya’s fishnet covered calf.
He — less than politely — weaved through the crowd over to the blonde, automatically leaning down to grab the shoe he had slid off. Atsumu’s face brightened at his presence, not yet noticing how his face was tightened with annoyance.
He threw his arms over the taller’s shoulders as he stood up, shoe in hand. “Omi, say ‘Hi’ to my new friend — “ his sentence is cut short as Kiyoomi helps him stand up, already beginning to walk him in the other direction. Miya trips a little as he’s practically dragged out of the living room, into a secluded hallway.
Atsumu is leant against a wall, glaring down at the dark haired man, watching him slip his foot back into his shoe like he’s fucking Cinderella. Sakusa stood back up to eye level with Miya before speaking, “What are you doing?”
Miya shrugged his shoulders before defensively crossing his arms right after, “Well I was having a conversation with a new friend before I was rudely interrupted.”. His eyes were throwing daggers at the younger, his tone emphasizing his annoyance and how much he drank.
Two could play that game, because Kiyoomi was pretty annoyed as well.
Sakusa tried to hold back his scoff as he spoke, “New friend? Is that what he thinks that was?”. Kiyoomi knows that Atsumu would never be disloyal to him, but he does know how friendly he can be. He knows the words he says and how his accent sounds curling around them can give people the wrong impression. And even though Miya couldn’t see it himself, Sakusa could.
He saw how the man’s eyes glinted with something that did not say ‘new friend’. How his hands traveled over the expanse of his leg, fingers dipping slightly underneath his stockings. Just replaying it back in his mind is driving him insane.
Atsumu’s arms fell dramatically down to his sides, “Yes, Kiyoomi,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “yer overreacting. What else could it possibly have been?”.
The sentence almost felt as a challenge that Sakusa is stupid enough to accept. “Am I overreacting? He was rubbing your fucking feet.”.
Kiyoomi’s blood pressure pretty much skyrocketed as he watched Miya shrug, unbothered, “He was being nice,” and just to complete the task of pissing him off, he added, “Which, mind you, he wouldn’t have to do if ya just hung by me tonight!”. At this point Atsumu’s hands were gesturing wildly in the air as he spoke, trying to get his point across.
Sakusa’s jaw was clenched, hissing out, “I don’t even like shit like this and you know that! I just wanted you to have a good time tonight.”. His words felt quite contradictory considering they were actively arguing.
Miya seemed to deflate as he let out a small sigh through his nose, “Well, I was before ya dragged me away and started fucking yellin’ at me.”. Kiyoomi watched as hardened eyes began to gloss over, turning glassy and — Okay, yeah he’s being an asshole right now.
“Atsumu, I’m sorry I didn’t mean—“ his sentence is suddenly cut short as the blonde pushed past him and walked angrily back into the living room. Kiyoomi watched as he disappeared onto the dance floor, before running a hand down his face.
They haven’t argued like that in a long time. And it’s just their luck that it decided to show its head at Suna Rinataro’s apartment.
Sakusa stayed slumped against the wall before pulling his phone back out. It was already almost twelve o’clock, meaning that he had to think and act fast. How can he get Miya to even talk to him normally after what had just blown up in their face.
Kiyoomi pushed the thought aside as he lifted from the wall, venturing back into the crowded room. He began his search again for the blonde, knowing that he couldn’t just let him walk away feeling like that.
The dark haired man is known to have some sort of possessive streak, which Atsumu is more than aware of. Though, despite his protective tendencies, he can’t help but feel that sometimes he’s honestly just overthinking it. Maybe that person really was just trying to be nice with no ill intentions.
As Kiyoomi spotted him again across the room, he realized why it was just maybe and not most definitely. Because ‘maybe’ meant that there are two different possibilities. One being that this guy simply just wants to be friends with Atsumu, and the other being he wants to fuck him.
And clearly, as he watches him grip stocking covered hips, trying to move the blonde’s hips back against him, Sakusa can tell that it is most definitely the latter.
Miya’s eyes flicked down in confusion as well, a look of shock and almost repulsion shown on his face. He turned out of the man’s grasp before shoving him, hard, in his chest. He probably pushed him hard enough to knock him into someone else in the crowd.
It doesn’t take Kiyoomi long at all to cross the room. He weaved through the flock of bodies, reaching them quickly. With no explanation, and a quick ‘fuck you’ from the blonde, Sakusa grabbed him and led them both out into the kitchen.
Kiyoomi lightly pushed him towards the counter and the blonde went easily. His headband was completely askew now, almost flopping off his head. Atsumu didn’t pay attention to the other man rummaging around the almost empty kitchen for something. All he could think of is how ready he was to go. Now.
Sakusa approached him again with a bottle of water in hand, “Are you ready to leave?” his voice came out soft but stern. He could tell by Miya’s demeanor that right now definitely was not the right time to say ‘I told you so’ lest he wanted to get slapped.
Atsumu replied with a nod, not meeting his eyes, before taking the bottle from his hands. He played with the cap for a moment before speaking, “I’ma just tell Rin we’re gone.”. The blonde set the water down, beginning to make strides out of the kitchen before a hand stopped him on his arm.
He turned around to be borderline flashed by Kiyoomi, shirt gone and wrinkled into his hand. The dark haired man shoved it to his chest, nodding at him to put it on.
Miya blinked a few times in confusion, “Why are ya giving me this?”. He grabbed the shirt, waving it around as if Sakusa didn’t know what he meant by ‘this’. It was his turn to look taken aback as he crossed his arms over his figure, shielding himself from the breeze coming through an open window.
“To cover up?” Kiyoomi seemed just as confused as Atsumu. The blonde flicked his eyes down to the shirt, then back up, lips cracking into a crooked smirk.
He faked a pout, brows furrowing together, “Why should I? I doubt everyone’s been able to see my outfit.”. Miya knew he was being a little shit right now, but with how the evening was going he could afford to pull the other’s leg a bit.
Sakusa’s face matched Atsumu’s in a scrunch, “No one else needs to see it, it’s time to go.”. He was trying to be subtle about it. He didn’t want Miya to think that he was some crazy boyfriend who got onto him about the stuff he chose to wear. But in his defense, the blonde looked like sex on legs right now. Who else needs to see all that but him?
Atsumu carelessly tossed the shirt to hang over his shoulder to match Kiyoomi’s defying stance. “I spent so much time picking it out, though,” he began to turn on his heel to finish speaking over his shoulder, “So I think everyone should have a turn to look.”. Miya couldn’t take another step with the way Sakusa grabbed his shoulders to stop him.
He swung the older man around to face him, grabbing the shirt off his shoulder and manually putting it over his head himself. Atsumu couldn’t help but meet him halfway, pushing his arms through the sleeves. The shirt fit about the same on him as it did on Kiyoomi, stopping just shy of the top of his thighs.
“Stop playing with me.”
It comes out rough as he practically pushes them both to walk out the kitchen, finding Suna right around the corner waving goodbye to some people who had just left. He turned around with a shocked yet amused look at the two in front of him.
Rin curled a brow up, “Costume switch or do I need to deep clean my guest bathroom?”. His tone was straddling the fence of humor and disgust.
Kiyoomi made a face and Atsumu just laughed it off. “Nah, your bathroom is fine,” Miya waved his hand in the air to dismiss the other’s concern, “but we are ‘finna head out.”
Rin nodded before pulling out his phone from his pocket, flash already on and ready. “I need your picture for my wall.”. He points to the long row of printed polaroids attached to the wall next to them.
With no protest — or rather no time to protest — they both pose. Atsumu’s tongue is hanging out, eyes winking from how hard he’s smiling. Kiyoomi’s mouth set into a line, hands gripping the edge of Miya’s (his) shirt. He tried his best to hide his torso from the flash of the camera, not wanting to be shirtless on someone’s wall. Which, he believes, is very reasonable.
They waste no time to bid their goodbye’s, stepping out into the cold night. Sakusa doesn’t even have to check his phone to know that it is well past midnight by now. He can’t even be bothered to check the time considering how fucking cold he was. His arms enveloped himself to try and trap as much heat as he could.
Despite this he still made his way around the car to open Atsumu’s door for him. The blonde’s brows shot up in mock surprise before falling into his seat, “Oh-ho, trying to be a gentleman now, Omi?”. Kiyoomi didn’t entertain him with an answer and just closed the door with a thump.
He quickly made his way inside as well, immediately turning on the heat, waiting for the car’s engine to warm up before driving. Sakusa watched Miya take off his shoes from the corner of his eye, throwing them somewhere in the backseat.
“My feet hurt like a bitch.”
Kiyoomi hummed in response, “You should’ve worn the flats.”. By this time the car was warm enough to not accidentally leave them stranded on a frozen highway, so he began pulling out the driveway. The lights from inside the house seemed to be dimming as more people left.
Atsumu leaned most of his back against the car door, not bothering to put his seatbelt on. His legs then traveled over the middle console, bending at the knee so he could lay his feet in his lap. Sakusa glanced down, confused, before refocusing onto the road.
“You should redeem yourself from tonight.” He said almost as a hint. His feet started to squirm in his lap, pawing down into his thighs. Kiyoomi’s breath couldn’t help but hitch at the thought of two things. One, redeeming himself as if there was anything to be redeemed from. And two, the way Miya’s incessant fidgeting was moving a little too close to his crotch.
Though, with no (verbal) rebuttal, he simply just took one of them into hand, massaging gently at the balls of his heel.
Before Atsumu, he’d probably rather kill himself than touch someone like this. Especially on a part that was near the ground all day. But it was just something about the blonde that made him not care. It made him want to throw away every boundary he had set up, just so he could have the chance to worship all of Miya even more.
This soft moment was suddenly ruined by the blonde’s big mouth.
“Hm, the guy back at Rin’s place was more efficient than this.”
If Sakusa wasn’t actively driving at that moment, he would have snapped his neck to look at Miya. His hands paused on the other’s foot, “What?”. He couldn’t help but give a sideways glare at him. He looked unbothered as ever, back now fully pressed against the door, the handle no doubt digging into his spine.
Atsumu gave a halfway shrug before lazily answering, “He’s just better at this than you,” he paused before looking up at Kiyoomi with half-lidded eyes that had no good intent behind them, “makes me wonder what else he’s good at.”.
Miya could barely get the last part of his sentence out before the car jerked into a harsh brake, sending him flying out of his seat and crumpled beneath the dashboard. His legs are sticking up, practically touching his chest, as he’s folded on the floor of the car. His arms are trapped trying to push himself back up before he feels a hand wrap tightly around his arm, manhandling him back into the seat.
He’s confused as to why they’ve stopped on a shoulder on the highway when their exit was only a mile away, until he feels pressure on his jaw, turning his head to face him.
“You, are playing in my fucking face right now.” His tone was harsh, mean almost.
Despite this, Atsumu murmured out through squished lips and a constricted jaw, “Could be playing in his though.”.
Miya has known Kiyoomi long enough to know what buttons to push when he wants something. Sometimes it’s saying his full name, a bat of his lashes, or tapping into his ridiculously strong possessive streak.
Sakusa just releases his face before turning back to the wheel to merge back onto the road in eerie silence. The blonde’s hands came up to massage the reddened marks, not daring to open his mouth again before Kiyoomi.
The silence was broken by a quiet yet firm voice, “Keep this same attitude at the house.”.
Atsumu felt a shiver run down his back, and it wasn’t because of the frigid weather outside.
We are fucking so good tonight.
.
.
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As soon as the car stopped, Sakusa wasted no time getting out. Atsumu was still inside, rummaging through the back seat to find his shoes before his door swung open and he’s being yanked out. His feet touched the cool concrete for a second before he was being hauled up and over the other’s shoulder. Blood rushed to his head immediately as he’s put face to face with Kiyoomi’s lower back.
“The fuck? I need to get my shoes.” Miya tries to say, the decreasing flow of oxygen turning it more into a mumble of words.
They begin to move towards the house after a slam of the car door and a low, “Forget your shoes,” from Sakusa. Atsumu listens as he fumbles with the keys. At this point, the shirt he has on is bunching up against his neck and chin uncomfortably.
After a smooth five seconds of them still not being inside the house, he begins to whine. He’s gently kicking his feet against Kiyoomi’s front, digging his hands into his backpockets to squeeze playfully at his ass.
Suddenly, the door is opened and he’s finally being set down. Only for his back to be crushed against the door, pushing it closed. All at once, hands are exploring up the loose shirt, lips being pressed to the open columns of his neck.
“Eager much?” Atsumu says in a strained tone as the dark haired man continues to suck and bite bruises into the expanse of his neck and exposed collarbones. Kiyoomi’s hands have come to a rest on his hips, pressing them firmly to the door.
“Not eager,” he pauses midway to venture his lips to the underneath of Miya’s jaw, “just being efficient.”. The taller punctuates this with a harsh bite on the blonde’s earlobe.
Atsumu’s mouth falls open with a pained gasp, though is quickly replaced with a soft moan as their lips meet hungrily. Everything is hot to the touch as the sound of their tongues smacking against each other fill the quiet entryway.
The blonde’s arms reach up to wrap around the other’s neck, hands curling into the short hairs of his undercut. His legs are parting quickly as a thigh is placed between them, the hands on his hips encouraging him to grind against it. The contrast of the cold door against Atsumu’s warm back is making him lightheaded.
The kiss had suddenly turned from passionate and deep to messy and wet. Spit is dripping from either of their chins, neither of them minding the slickness across their face. They both are huffing out of their nose, feeling exerted just from making out.
Atsumu is breaking from his lips into a shaky exhale as his leg is hiked up around the spiker’s waist, the rough texture of his jeans digging directly into the thin leather fabric covering his cunt.
One hand is leaving his hip, struggling to find a zipper to his costume. After multiple failed attempts, Miya feels a hot breath in his ear, “How do you take this shit off?”.
The older man is quick to reach a hand down between the two of them to hurriedly unfasten the clips of his outfit on the seams, leaving its place around his shoulders. When purchasing it, he was afraid it would be awkward that instead of putting it on like a normal leotard, it was put on almost like a baby’s onesie. Twin buttons were placed right in the middle of his crotch. Now, though, the thought of awkwardness had no place in his mind when Sakusa’s hand cupped his entire pussy.
Kiyoomi’s lips are crashing into his with a groan, one hand massaging at the leg coiled around his waist and the other rubbing the heat between his thighs through the flimsy fishnets. With no preamble, Sakusa is breaking the kiss, bringing the blonde’s leg down off his hip. Before Atsumu could say anything, the dark haired man is dropping to his knees, gripping Miya’s thighs to drag them onto his shoulders. The position has only his upper back pressed to the door, hips lifted outwards towards the spiker’s awaiting mouth.
Kiyoomi’s hands travel up to grab at his ass, pulling apart the soft muscle before licking a stripe over his clit over the stockings. Atsumu’s head is lolling against his shoulder, chin propped down on his chest as he watches the man below him repeat the action. His hands make its way to black hair before leaving a sharp tug in its wake.
The sensation has Sakusa groaning into the wet heat, obsidian eyes flicking up to meet honey brown ones. Maintaining eye contact, he continues to lap and suck at his clit, poking his tongue through the holes of the fishnets.
Miya is starting to feel desperate for more, fucking his hips onto his tongue. The feeling of Kiyoomi’s mouth licking along his pussy isn’t strong enough to overpower the need to have something inside of him, though.
“Please — more. Need ‘em inside, Omi.”
Sakusa is pulling away slightly before scoffing, the breath of air making Atsumu shiver in his hold, “You’re fucking crazy. You were like this all night?”.
Miya didn’t know if he was talking about his obvious arousal or the fact he had no panties on. Both could answer his question with a ‘yes’, though. If he did wear panties, they would’ve shown under the stockings. (It’s tacky, okay?). And he couldn’t even lie, having Kiyoomi drag him away, covering him up with jealousy behind his eyes, had stirred his gut.
Though, being too winded to actually reply, Atsumu opted for a nod.
Something darkened behind the younger’s eyes. His hands left his butt to grab the front of his thighs. Sakusa’s fingers then dug into the holes and pulled. The sounds of tearing echoed through their ears. Miya could have cried because of how turned on he was right now.
With no warning, two long fingers were being inserted inside him to the last knuckle. Atsumu’s jaw hung open in soft pants, eyes squeezed shut. His hands fell to the door behind him, grappling for some sort of balance.
The fingers start to curl dangerously fast as Kiyoomi closes his lips around Miya again. In any other instance, Atsumu might’ve had enough sense to feel embarrassed about how he could feel his juices drip profusely down the other’s hand. But right now, all he could focus on was his impending orgasm.
His chest shook with the effort of every breath, gasping out silent moans and pleads for more, and right there. Kiyoomi could see the tell-tale signs of his orgasm approaching, so he separated from his pussy with a wet smack, fingers still working inside of him.
“You about to come?” Sakusa’s hand never slowed down, even introducing a third finger. It was almost addicting to listen to the gush of Miya’s cunt. He could feel how it constricted with every inhale he took, watching as a white film already began to coat his fingers.
Atsumu replied with another nod, eyes still shut. He didn’t open his eyes until he felt a thumb brush against his chin, just shy of his bottom lip. He knew his pupils were probably swallowing his iris as he looked down at Kiyoomi. The hand retracted before stopping on his hip, restricting the blonde’s insistent squirming.
“Tell me.” With that he’s going back to slurping around his own fingers that continued to pump inside of him. His tongue swirled expertly around his clit before he pulled back to land a fat piece of spit over top of it, sucking it back into his mouth to place a sloppy kiss onto his pussy.
This has Atsumu’s eyes whiting out, half-lidded and completely out of it. He’s tapping uselessly at the door and on Kiyoomi’s back as he tries to form the words.
“‘M cummin’ — fuck —“ His thighs shake through it all, hips locked open as the weight of his orgasm crashed into him. He feels the repetitive throb in his cunt as Kiyoomi works him through his nut. He keeps going until Atsumu is whining, toes curling from sensitivity.
He retracts his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to suck them clean like he had just finished a meal. (Though, he would never lick his fingers when eating his food.).
He removes the blonde’s legs from his shoulders, attempting to balance him to stand. This fails as Atsumu just slides against the door, sitting down into a low squat instead. Still being on his knees, Kiyoomi meets the setter’s open mouth halfway. They didn’t even bother with a real kiss, letting their tongues meet over and over again until they are having to stop the excess saliva from slipping out beneath the wet glands.
Kiyoomi opens his eyes, watching Miya’s brows pinch with focus as they continue kissing. He pulls away first, not before placing one final peck to the corner of Atsumu’s mouth. Sakusa leans back on his haunches, looking upon the blonde’s entire body.
He certainly is a sight for sore eyes.
His legs are still bent and spread, chest rising and falling, attempting to find the rhythm of his pulse again. There’s a gaping hole in his stockings now, leaving his well used cunt out on display, dripping the remnants of his orgasm onto the wooden floors.
Atsumu is suddenly reaching forward, wrapping his arms around the black haired man’s neck again. His head nuzzled by his ear, hot breath against the other’s face. Kiyoomi is grabbing his hips, dragging them into his lap, enjoying the little moment of peace.
He’s playing with the hem of his shirt before Miya begins to slowly ground his hips down. Sakusa cursed under his breath at the feeling of his sopping wet heat spreading through the fabric of his jeans. It’s almost as if Atsumu’s folds were meant to envelop the imprint of his dick.
Kiyoomi’s hands fell to his ass to encourage the humping. They are both breathing hard into the opposite’s neck as they uselessly chase the pleasure. Atsumu is fumbling a hand between the both of them, trying to tug his zipper down.
The blonde is stopped with a sharp bite on the junction where his neck and shoulder meets, “Ask me for it.”.
Miya is lifting his head off his shoulder to press their foreheads together, breath wafting into Sakusa’s space, “Lemme ride ya.”. He officializes his statement with a swivel of his hips, lips cracking into a sinister smile.
“That’s not you asking.”
Atsumu leaned back a bit, rolling his eyes softly, “Whatever, Omi. Y’know ya want it.”. He reaches back down to continue fiddling with his zipper.
Smack!
Kiyoomi brings his hand down hard over his ass. The sting has the blonde curling in on himself, hissing behind his teeth. There is no doubt that his flesh has already begun to redden in the form of a large hand.
“Stop being a brat and ask me.”
Miya’s bottom lip juts out with a pout, brows creasing the skin between them, pressing his forehead to Sakusa’s cheek before whispering, “Please lemme have it, Omi.”. The movement of his hips have gotten more desperate, dragging his slick across the denim.
Kiyoomi has to bite back his grin. The sight of Atsumu so desperate for him has him wanting to fold the blonde in half right there on the floor. He looks so perfect right now; even with his unruly hair and cheap costume.
Sakusa could go on and on about the things that made up Miya Atsumu. But tonight wasn’t the night for that. That was made clear when he decided to tease Kiyoomi for hours on end.
“Have what? Use your words.”
This has Miya throwing his head back in a whine. It was so exaggerated that he would have fallen out of the taller’s lap if it wasn’t for the hands laced around his neck.
Atsumu was horny. Honestly, he was beyond that at this point. He was also beyond begging, especially this early into the night. He knew exactly what buttons to push to get his way with Kiyoomi.
He leans back in, close enough for the huff of his breath against Sakusa’s ear is making him flinch, before he speaks, “He wouldn’t make me ask.”.
The house falls quiet for a second. Not even the sound of their breaths rising and falling can disrupt the whir of energy between them. Kiyoomi gently grabs Atsumu’s chin to fix his gaze on him, looking straight in his eyes.
The blonde was confused until Sakusa leaned in and placed three gentle pecks to his lips. They were slow and controlled, wet smacks. He stops kissing him but leaves their lips touching before speaking under his breath.
“You know I respect you, right?”
The way the words tickle against Atsumu’s mouth has him sticking out his tongue to lap against the other’s bottom lip.
“Of course ya respect me. I wouldn’t be here if ya didn’t.” He smiles through the sweet moment, hips absentmindedly moving.
Kiyoomi nods but his eyes don't meet Miya’s, hands falling down to play with the destroyed costume. Then, after a beat, they trail their way to his ass again.
The silence was prolonged until the dark haired man spoke, “Alright,” his eyes flicked up to the setter’s again, pupils blown out of proportion, “because right now, it’s going to look like I don’t.”.
Atsumu’s brows knitted together in confusion, “What?”.
There was nothing to be confused about anymore as Sakusa is hauling them both up off the floor, making his way to their bedroom. Just the anticipation alone has Miya clinging to his shoulders a little harder.
As he’s set onto the bed, legs unraveling from around the other’s waist, absolutely no time is wasted before he’s being flipped onto his stomach, Kiyoomi situating him however he wants.
The blonde ends up getting a faceful of plush comforter before he’s twisting his head around in confusion.
“What’re ya doing Omi —“
Smack!
Miya is now fisting the covers into his hands, pressing his knuckles into his cheeks as the black haired man’s hand comes down again, and again.
He couldn’t escape the onslaught of Sakusa’s palm, even when his hips began to shy away from the pain.
“Always have to say something smart, don’t you?” Kiyoomi adjusted the others hips again, this time sliding a bunched up pillow beneath them.
At this point Atsumu could feel the heat radiating off his backside. He wonders if there are distinct handprints or just large splotches of red and upcoming purple. The blonde throws a sideway glance over his shoulder as Sakusa begins to soothe his hands along the backs of his thighs.
“Are you ready now?” The spiker’s voice is hushed, even though it’s just them.
A chill runs down Miya’s back as he watches him begin to undo his belt with lidded eyes. He knows better than to act out right now. Especially since the throb between his legs continues to grow stronger.
“Yeah … ‘m ready.” The blonde is swaying his hips back now, trying his best to push up against the man behind him.
Sakusa has his hands back on the other’s hips as soon as he’s done pulling off his belt and shucking off his shoes and pants. The dark haired male guides Atsumu back to grind against the front of his boxers, leaving behind damp trails in its wake.
Miya’s full blown whining now, reaching his hand back to attempt to pull down Kiyoomi’s underwear himself. Sakusa just tuts before swatting Atsumu’s hand away gently.
A long, non-pleasurable, groan is let out from underneath him, “Omi — just put it in.”. Atsumu’s arms fold underneath him as a headrest, neck still turned to look back at him.
Kiyoomi can’t help but admire the view in front of him. Miya Atsumu in all his glory. The soft curve of his back, plump ass, ruined costume, and Sakusa’s ragged t-shirt pulled it all together.
Though, no matter how good he may have looked at that moment, Kiyoomi will not fold.
“Shouldn’t you be apologizing for all the shit you’ve said tonight?” Despite his cold, stern tone, the way his hips cant towards Atsumu’s wet heat slightly give away his intentions.
Atsumu audibly pouted for a moment before the room filled with silence.
Sakusa was close to bringing his hand back down onto his ass before the blonde mumbled something between his arms.
“What was that?”
“I said ‘m sorry …”
“For what?”
Miya buried his head deeper into the comforter, “Fer doing allat dumb shit.”
Kiyoomi could press for a better answer, but with the way half the wetness on the front of his boxers is from him has him reconsidering.
All he does is hum in response before pulling off his underwear, leaving them on the floor with everything else. He lets his dick rest in the middle of Atsumu’s ass, teasing his hole with soft slaps.
The blonde groans again before reaching his hand back and lining Sakusa up himself.
All Kiyoomi could do was furrow his brows as he finally sunk inside the other in one smooth thrust. Almost immediately did Atsumu begin to fuck himself back, ass clapping against Sakusa’s hips.
Kiyoomi’s hands slipped from his hips to his waist, pressing further into the mattress to set his own pace. Miya couldn’t even meet the other’s thrusts as he found his own rhythm. He was being rendered to nothing except open-mouthed whimpers and soft moans.
Atsumu’s arms stretched out in front of him, fingers barely reaching out to tap against their headboard softly. Sakusa increased the pressure on his back, slowing his thrusts down to deep, thorough strokes.
Miya’s feet kicked up at the back of the taller’s thighs as he attempted to scramble up unto his forearms.
“Fff — Uh. Oh my ghh — Omi.”
Kiyoomi laid himself out over Atsumu’s back, pushing his arms flat again.
“You don’t have to run. Just take it.”
The words are whispered hotly against the blonde’s ear before he is lifting up off his back. Sakusa watches wordlessly as his dick disappears into Atsumu’s cunt. There is a light, milky ring at the base of his cock that he can’t help but moan at.
Kiyoomi finds himself yanking the pillow from underneath Miya, leaving him flat on his stomach. He applies that same pressure back onto the small of his back before he picks his pace back up.
At this point, Atsumu’s soft moans have transitioned to pleas of too much and slow down’s. All of these go through one ear and out the other as Sakusa focuses on how the setter’s headband finally started to slide off his head.
Miya is twisting his head over his shoulder to plead back at Kiyoomi, “Please — touch me. Make me cum, Omi.”.
Atsumu looks beyond fucked out right now. His cheeks ruddy and wet with tears, nose running, lips bitten and shiny. It would be so easy for Sakusa to give in right now, to sneak a hand beneath the other and give him an easy way out.
Hah. As if.
“You don’t need it,” Kiyoomi breathes out, bringing one hand up to Miya’s face to wipe some of the mess off his face. “You can come from this dick.”.
Sakusa says it like a statement. Like there was no other way about it. A sob racks through Atsumu’s entire body. He can feel, hear, how wet he is. The insistent pressure on his back has him aching for more, but he can barely string together a sentence. He can feel how Kiyoomi is beating it up from inside and out. Atsumu normally never finishes without slipping a hand down to touch himself, but with the way Sakusa is moving he won’t have to.
Everything is amplified to ten times more as Atsumu feels something press into his ass, curling with each unforgiving thrust.
The blonde flings a hand back to push uselessly at Sakusa’s stomach.
“I — I can’t. Fuck, that’s too much.” Atsumu is whining now, overconsumed with pleasure.
“Move your hand.”
Miya’s reluctant, leaving his hand to subconsciously continue to tap against the other. Kiyoomi wastes no time to fold that arm behind him, crowding over him again. The way Atsumu sporadically clenches around him has him fighting for his life.
Sakusa tucks his chin over Atsumu’s shoulder, speaking into his ear.
“You gonna come again?” A nod.
“Let me see, baby. Find it.”
That has Atsumu gasping, free hand reaching up to pull at dark curls. Kiyoomi groans as the blonde clamps down on him, pulsing around him and his thumb.
Sakusa places a soft kiss onto Miya’s shoulder before pulling out. Atsumu shuts his legs, thighs quaking while his chest heaves.
Suddenly, he’s being turned over, drugged to the edge of the bed, until just his ass is left hanging off. Kiyoomi folds his knees to his chest, keeping them there before slipping right back into the blonde.
Atsumu’s head is thrown back as Sakusa picks up that same erratic pace as before, trying to find his own orgasm now.
“He can’t fuck you like I do, can he?”
Atsumu is shaking his head ‘no’ to the question, and in disbelief of the stretch in his hips. Kiyoomi has his knees pinned to either side of his head, toes curling in the air.
“No, only you, Omi — fuck.”
Sakusa hums a sound of satisfaction before pressing soft kisses to his cramping foot. One hand leaves its place behind Atsumu’s knee to pet his thumb over the blonde’s clit, the rest of his hand pressing into his lower stomach.
A flash of unadulterated shock courses through Miya before he’s trying to situate himself out of Kiyoomi’s hands.
“Hah — stop, I gotta piss.”
It’s almost like those words alone are making Sakusa double down his efforts, driving into him faster, pressing harder into his bladder.
Atsumu begins to squirm, determined to get out.
“Omi — ‘m fucking serious, please —“
“Let it happen.” Kiyoomi, rather rudely, cuts him off.
Atsumu’s eyes flicker up in confusion as he tries to hold himself back with every fiber in his being.
Sakusa must notice this because he explains, “You’re not going to pee, sweetheart. Just let go.”
It’s unlike any feeling, orgasm, or emotion that Atsumu’s ever felt. His world disappears and makes a comeback all in one minute. He feels the warm trickle and spray of fluids between the two of them, not even having the energy to look down. Tears of pleasure and embarrassment slip down his face as it keeps going.
Kiyoomi is shocked by it as well. He doesn’t waste the opportunity to pull out and slap his dick along the spurts Atsumu lets out. Sakusa looks just as sex-dumb as Miya does as he watches entranced.
“Shit, Atsu …” He slides back into the blonde, calves resting on his shoulders as he envelops Atsumu with his body. Kiyoomi kisses salty tears off the other’s cheek, pressing their foreheads together.
Sakusa is nearing the point of damn exhaustion, legs shaking from withholding his own orgasm for so long. He mutters sweet nothings that only a sex-addled brain could come up with as he continues to grind into Atsumu.
“Fuck … I should just get you pregnant. Everyone’ll know your mine then.”
Miya combs a hand through his hair, tiredly adding onto the fantasy.
“Mhm. Gimme a baby, Omi. Come in yer pussy.”
That ultimately does Kiyoomi in. He’s painting every edge of Atsumu white, rutting in as far as he could to make sure it sticks. They both groan in unison as they come down from their respective orgasms.
The two lied there for what could have been hours before Sakusa gingerly pulled out. His spend came leaking out afterwards, dripping onto the floor, down the blonde’s ass.
He swiftly went to the bathroom and returned with a damp rag for the both of them. In the middle of wiping down Atsumu, he barked out a soft laugh.
Kiyoomi flicked his eyes up as he finished cleaning between his thighs before they made eye contact, “Do I need to piss you off more often? Couldn’t tell if you were trying to fuck me to sleep or to death.” Atsumu rubbed at his eyes before rolling onto his side.
“Well it must be to sleep since you’re unfortunately still here.”
Atsumu rolled his eyes as he pulled the other down to the bed with him. “Sleep does sound good right now.”.
Sakusa would normally press them to take a shower, but it has to be nearing three in the morning now and they are both equally exhausted.
Atsumu maneuvered himself out of whatever remnants of costume there was left before they both found a dry patch on the bed to lay in. They laid facing each other, lips automatically smacking together in the dark room before the blonde’s head rested on the other’s arm.
“You should use the bathroom before you go to sleep.”
“I’d rather get a UTI than get up right now, Omi.”
Kiyoomi’s face pinches together in disgust before kissing Miya’s hairline.
In the comfortable silence, with sleep almost overcoming them both, Sakusa speaks in almost a whisper,
“I know we just fucked it out, but genuinely, never do that shit again.”
Kiyoomi can barely make out Atsumu’s face in the dark, but he can still hear the seriousness behind his voice.
“Of course, baby.”