Thread by @novusdeusz

#BokuAka
(I’m most hallowed on my knees)

CW: NSFW, wet and messy, over stimulation, married bkak

Akaashi Keiji likes it on his knees.

It’s one of his favourite positions. He thrives in the hint of vulgarity of being taken crudely, of Bokuto filling him as deeply as possible,+

fucking him till his bones shake, elevating his usually quiet tones until they are loud and all encompassing.

He’s always so unhindered in these moments. Lost in his and Bokuto’s pleasure, allowing himself to have everything his body wants. And what he wants is Bokuto+

splitting him open, his own cock hanging heavy and swollen between his legs, trailing precome onto their sheets. He wants to feel Bokuto pounding against his prostate till his vision turns white, so he’ll come untouched;his pleasure reliant on his husband’s cock +

and hands alone.

Keiji’s body vibrates with the force as he’s pulled back to meet him, crying out at the sound and feel of his ass smacking against Bokuto's abdomen, the pressure of unforgiving hands bruising his hips.

His husband’s rough voice takes him apart and+

rebuilds him,

“That’s it, baby. That’s it. I’m gonna give you what you want.”

Bokuto is Keiji’s permanent space to fall apart in. A place he can let his hunger be seen and sated, his desires indulged; he can be open here in how he wants to be ruined.+

Keiji can’t see him, but oh he can feel him, hear him.

Those calloused fingers massage and play with his soft ass cheeks tenderly, before a strong palm slaps against the sensitive skin, his body clenching down around Bokuto’s cock at the movement, his moans louder at the+

ripple of his own flesh.

The line of his husband's body folds forward to cover him, the curve of that muscled chest pressing to the slope of his back, powerful arms caging him in. Bokuto turns +

Keiji’s jaw to kiss him, all tongue and sharp teeth and open mouth. The handsome features contort with need, those big eyes flaring a particular shade of gold only witnessed when he’s buried inside Keiji to the hilt.

It brings out Bokuto at his most wild, him in top form,+

just the way Keiji enjoys him best. The sounds he makes as he fucks him are raw growls, primal and intrinsic demands of Keiji’s name. He can feel the slap of Bokuto’s heavy balls against his skin; it's a sensation that he waits for, that he prays for, with every roll of his+

husband’s hips.

Keiji loves to be here on his knees for him. Yet even when he’s taken roughly he can feel adoration. It's there in those hands when his ass is lifted higher, when he feels thumbs at his rim, pulling his cheeks wider. And Keiji always meets him more+

than halfway, lowering his chest further to the bed, the sofa, the floor, to any surface he finds himself on.

He likes to feel he’s being used, to know that Bokuto is taking what he wants from his body. And it feels so fucking good when his husband uses that strength of his to+

push against Keiji’s spine, forcing him forward, knocking his legs wider, pulling him into any exposing and convenient position he desires.

Keiji relishes being such a mess, revels in the way his body looks, how liberating it feels to be fucked here on his knees.+

In these moments more than any other his self restraint and inhibitions are shattered, propriety a distant memory. His urge to predict or over-think falls away to nothing; Keiji’s racing mind is quiet and his body screams with relief instead.

He looks between his legs,+

sees his long aching cock full and dripping, his sensitive nipples hard and tender from the way Bokuto reaches a hand around to tweak and roll them.

His body burns with every touch, every pinch, his moans completely unrestrained.

“Taking me so well, Baby. Love me+

fucking you like this don’t you. You love it so much, being on your knees for me, having my cock inside you.”

And Keiji agrees fervently, wholeheartedly, barely able to catch his breath to form the words,

“Harder, Darling. Fuck me harder.”

Hands slide into his hair and+

down his spine, between the cleft of his cheeks and back up. But this time the fingers tangle in his curls sharply, gripping and tugging, arching Keiji’s neck and spine. Bokuto holds him there as he fucks into him, repeating how he loves him in time with the+

brutal roll of his hips,

“I love you baby. Hear me, Keiji. I love you so much. Feel how much I love you.”

Bokuto fits him perfectly, cock stretching him wide, filling him deep in just the way he needs, in just the way he craves. This man knows exactly how to touch him,+

making love to Keiji with everything he is. Sometimes it’s achingly tender and slow, sometimes it’s fast and rough like this. And every time Keiji feels nothing but pleasure.

He’s pulled up roughly, back trapped against Bokuto’s chest, his thighs and knees trembling and weak.+

The angle of his body so tight he feels Bokuto’s pace falter, voice guttural and broken against Keiji’s ear,

“Fuck, you feel good.”

His own cock bounces with the force of his husband’s thrusts, bobbing heavy and leaking,+

exquisite even to his own eyes. He catches hold of the weeping head, tugging at himself clumsily, other hand sliding to tease his nipples. But Bokuto bats him away harshly and a whimper escapes him.

A calloused palm replaces his own, dragging up the length of his cock,+

thumb pulling and pleasuring the flushed tip, catching against his slit. Fingers cradle his balls, playing with them gently, perfectly at odds with the hard way he’s being fucked. The duality makes Keiji quiver, his husband knowing which parts of him he can and can’t+

treat roughly, where Keiji thirsts for the ache of crude handling or hungers for the graze of a gentle caress.

The nature of this man to be both soft and rough is never more obvious than in their bed. Bokuto fucks him with all the perceptiveness and urgency that he lives+

life with, a physical manifestation of who he is and the way in which he loves.

His husband thrusts up into him mercilessly, leaving Keiji caught sinfully between writhing on his cock and mindlessly fucking his fist. It’s the exact point of desperation he was seeking,+

his movements having lost all finesse. The loud slap of Bokuto’s thighs as they connect with his ass, the jiggle of his flesh, the slick noise of his stretched hole; they sound and feel nothing short of holy.

His taste for Bokuto’s body is insatiable. He knows he’ll have+

him for the rest of his life and it will never be enough. Even now when he’s in the throes of his ecstasy, desperate for his own finish, he’s already thinking of the next time. When he'll fall to his knees again, be taken face down or feel Bokuto’s pubic hair against his nose+

as he swallows around him. How he’ll gaze up, spit covered, with tears in eyes as he looks at the man he’s desires and craves so completely.

A big palm trails up his belly, skimming his nipples, cupping around his neck. Bokuto arches Keiji back against him. So his chest+

presses out, so his leaking cock is even more obviously displayed, knees so close to collapsing,

“Look at you Keiji, just look at you sweetheart. You love this. Look at your body, you’re perfect like this. It’s all just for me, right?”

Keji reaches up, gripping his+

husband's hair, bouncing himself back quicker to feel how easily and deeply he’s taking him. So Bokuto can know how completely he belongs to him,

“Yours. God, only yours Koutarou.”

“Look at your cock as you come, Baby. Keep looking at it.”

It’s breathed against his ear,+

Bokuto’s chin hooking over his shoulder as he watches his body, desire and wonder and adoration blatant.

Keiji doesn’t take his eyes from himself, gaze avidly following the bounce of his cock as he’s fucked. Bokuto holds him firm as he writhes in his grip, the pleasure+

pulsing and throbbing inside him, his mouth dropping open in a near scream as his cock spurts and dribbles, spraying powerfully across their sheets.

It’s lewd and obscene and it feels so good he cries, the tears finally falling freely. His voice wraps around Bokuto’s name,+

uttering it like the sacred thing it is. He can't stop his hips from rolling back weakly, still greedily taking everything his husband will give him.

Bokuto cradles Keiji’s cock tenderly, praising him with a voice he reserves especially for these moments. He gives him the+

space he needs to be held, to be soothed, understanding that the freedom Keiji embraces here dismantles him completely, that he needs to be assured everything he finds and loses is welcomed.

“So good, Keiji. You were so good for me. So good, Baby.”

His body almost collapses+

but Bokuto holds him in place and Keij begs,

“Come for me, use me. I love your cock…Koutarou… I love it, please.”

Here he displays his wants so freely, so greedily, the words and desires drip from his tongue. Keiji trusts implicitly that Bokuto wants to give him more,+

even after he’s already been given so much, indulging their need to claim and be claimed unmistakably over and over.

His husband’s manner shifts, hot and bruising again. He fucks up into Keiji with everything he is, following his own pleasure ruthlessly. His fingers turn+

possessive on Keiji’s over sensitive cock, teasing and playing with it, demanding more. And Keiji can do nothing but cling to him, turning his lips to his cheek, soft kisses urging him on, breath rattling as he’s taken.

Bokuto’s loud, of course. He always is.+

He rambles filthy words and romantic prose and Keiji devours it all, needing to hear what his body is capable of doing to such a man.

He’s thrown forward onto his elbows and the rough handling has him gasping, his face dropping to the bed, knees splayed wide. He tries to rock+

himself back, all clumsy desperation and writhing hips, hungering for his husband’s climax and pleasure like it’s his own.

But Bokuto just holds him where he wants him, pounds into him, pulling him back by his asscheeks.He keeps giving Keiji that relentless heavenly fullness,+

stretching and taking and possessing him in every way he hungers for; demanding Keiji come for him again.

There’s no way his body or heart can resist. The sweet overstimulation wracks his frame, tears wetting the sheets.+

His husband’s hand is back tight in his curls and Keiji sobs, his release tearing through him, cock spurting weakly where it’s trapped against the bed.

He knows the power of his body. He knows what he does to this man+

and he can’t help the deep broken demand of, “Yes, fill me darling, come inside me.”

Bokuto’s hard voice cracks around his name, “Mine. You’re mine, Keiji.”

His eyes roll shut at the words, at the powerful hands that grip his soft hips, those fingers unmistakably+

keeping his ass in place so he can be filled as full as possible.
Bokuto’s whole body convulses, cock releasing deep inside him, that blessed familiar heat finally flooding his hole. +

The drip of it is warm and grounding as it escapes down his thighs, desecrating his body in a way that feels hallowed.

Keiji lies utterly undone, fulfilled in ways incomparable.

He presses into the stroke of Bokuto’s reverent fingers cupping his hips and guiding him over.+

He knows that his husband does it so he can witness the destruction and ecstasy he’s caused, so he can admire keiji’s tender nipples, his soft spent cock, his well used hole. Bokuto wants and needs to know he's levelled him completely.

Keiji weeps with how his body and mind+

sings with relief. That he can rest here seen and safe and ruined in what he might dare call paradise.

Fin 💫+

This was a long one, so thank you if you read till the end 💕

Big thanks to the wonderful @UhohShouto for lending me her skill and kindness. You helped level this up so much my dear thank you 💕+

And I’m sure Akaashi’s poetic self would compare sex with Bokuto to a religious experience (even if it was bad 💀 but it’s Bokuto so he’s thankfully he’s genuinely having a good time)+

@threadreaderapp unroll