Thread by @discokonomi

#NSFWsktsWeek2023 @sktsweek
day 6 "Look at me. Keep your eyes on me."

skts // nsfw virginity kink bottsumu age gap

Atsumu's never been in another man's bed before - like this, at least.

He's crashed at Rin's, shared with Kita, but no one's ever pushed him down with intent.

"You look nervous," Kiyoomi says, eyes sharp.

Atsumu met him in a bar earlier, flirted with him while gripping his glass for dear life. Despite Kiyoomi's drinks - gin, on the rocks, tart enough to make Atsumu cough when he was offered a sip - those eyes never softened.

Kiyoomi's all around him, everything he can feel.

He doesn't know whether or not to be honest. Everything else - flirting, kissing - he's tried before.

All this is new: Kiyoomi's hand on his thigh while his driver took them back, the city view through his penthouse window.

Kiyoomi's body against his. Unfamiliar territory.

"Atsumu?" A hand against his face, "are you alright?"

He doesn't want to crack. Doesn't want to know what Kiyoomi might think, 24 and a virgin and a whole underfucked mess.

But he is - a little nervous, that is.

"It's nothin', really," Atsumu says, turning away, head against the pillows. They're nice, better than he could ever afford.

"Don't hide from me," Kiyoomi frowns, and his hand - broad, wrinkled knuckles - turns him back. "Tell me." A demand, not really a question.

It sinks right to Atsumu's cock, throbbing against Kiyoomi's tight suit pants, too sinful to be real, like he'd come to that bar right after work, looking up a pretty young thing to take home.

He called Atsumu that: pretty. Can you believe it?

"It's just..." He's not sure where he finds the strength to go on; maybe in Kiyoomi's hips pressing against his. "It's maybe.... Possibly, a little bit, my first time..."

He finishes at a whisper, and that's when he dares to look back at Kiyoomi.

Those eyes are still sharp, but there's heat to it; a steel blade instead of a butter knife, and Atsumu can't help but gasp.

"Your first time?" A little danger, a little edge.

Atsumu nods.

"Words."

He gulps. "My first time..."

"With a man?"

"With anyone."

Kiyoomi presses harder against him, the grip gets tighter, and his dark pupils fill his eyes.

No one's ever looked at him like that. He can't put a name on the expression.

"So no one's ever touched you? You've never been fucked? Not even a little?"

What does that /mean?/ Atsumu shakes his head, but he feels a little patronized.

"Omi!" He whines, the flirtatious little nickname slipping out, "I'm a virgin, but you don't gotta make fun of me." It's weird to say it, and it rings out between them into silence.

Kiyoomi is quiet, just staring, heavy breaths onto Atsumu's face. He tries pushing him away, but Kiyoomi's too big, too strong, salt and pepper curls hanging around his eyes.

Finally: "I'm not making fun of you, Atsumu," in his dark rasp of a voice, sparks of flint.

A pause. "You're not?" He's full of relief.

Kiyoomi shakes his head. "In fact," he says, the hand trialing away from his face and down his chest, toying with the buttons on his dress shirt. "I quite like it."

Big fingers, unwrapping him, slipping under the hem to his skin.

And Atsumu recognizes it now, that expression. Has seen it on his own face more than he can admit.

Hunger, plain and simple. Like Kiyoomi's ready to devour.

"Will you let me-"

"Yes." Atsumu's honest. He'll let Kiyoomi do anything. Take anything, as long as it's from him.

He unwraps him like a gift, and even though he's been naked a lot, modeled underwear and been in magazines, had a million eyes on him, it's different like this.

Atsumu and this glorified stranger, some years older than him, who pressed his hand against his back at the bar.

Who paid for his drinks and watched him sip and choke on gin, had a napkin ready for him, and said "I knew that would happen. I'll help you learn to like it," like he thought he saw a future with him.

But when Atsumu tastes it on his mouth now, he doesn't choke. Just gasps.

Loves the way Kiyoomi kisses him, chin cradled in his fingers, tipping him up so he feels off balance and finds it leaning against Kiyoomi.

"Oh Atsumu," he says, when he's down to his briefs and Kiyoomi's still in his clothes, "we're going to have so much fun."

"I have so much I want to teach you."

Atsumu's sitting against the headboard - plush leather against strong wood, sturdy - and Kiyoomi's hand trails his ankle, a socked foot inching up his thigh, and he's never been this hard in his life.

"I just wanna be good for you."

It's so quiet, he can't believe it slips from his throat, and Kiyoomi freezes, like something about it has struck him hard.

"You will be, Atsumu," he says. "I'm sure of it."

And then-

"Have you touched yourself before? Be honest."

Atsumu blushes, but he nods.

Another sharp look, and Kiyoomi rolls a bottle of lube down the bed at him. "Then be /good/ for me, Atsumu," he says, loosening his tie and settling back on the bed, glittering lights playing like the stars in his hair, "and show me how you like to be touched."

If there's one thing Atsumu's become, it's a fan of self-love. The brand is nice, and he kicks off his underwear.

"Eager," Kiyoomi laughs, and Atsumu freezes, a little chastises.

Was that too much? Too fast?

And his hesitance must be so obvious, his nerves too.

Because Kiyoomi answers; grabs his ankle again, rubs against the narrow bone, "I'm sorry," he says, voice soft and honest, looking up at him through his lashes. "I like it, your enthusiasm. Your eagerness. I miss being that young. Don't let me stop you."

Atsumu blinks. "You're sure?"

Narrowed eyes. "Absolutely positive. Do what makes you feel good, Atsumu, I'll like it. I'm sure."

With a gulp, he sits back, spreads his legs; Kiyoomi doesn't let go of his ankle quite yet.

It's strange being this exposed.

His short, dripping cock, that his teammates have called "cute" before forcibly changing the subject. Puffy balls, nearly as big as his dick, all settled in neat dark pubes.

His hole, ready and waiting, a little open from when he touched himself earlier.

Warming up the lube in his hands, he looks at Kiyoomi.

His eyes are on his hands, but they risk a glance up to Atsumu, meet his eyes, like he's got a sixth sense for where Atsumu's attention is at. "Go on," he encourages, and Atsumu dribbles some of the lube on his hole.

"I like it wet," he explains, and Kiyoomi's hand tightens as the lube stains the sheets.

Rubs a finger over his muscle, up his taint and around his balls, and - "You like teasing yourself?" Kiyoomi asks, throat dry.

Atsumu nods. "It feels nice."

"Good."

His dick aches.

He's careful not to touch his cock, knowing he could bust at any moment.

And he circles the rim, sighing with the sensation, until he surprises himself by slipping inside. "Aah!" he moans, biting his lip, and Kiyoomi's eyes are glued to where his hole sucks himself in.

He sinks in deeper - to the knuckle, easily - and Kiyoomi's hand feels like fire around him, as his head thumps against the leather.

The sound is always so lewd and wet and it's the loudest thing in the room; sloppy mess of his finger inside of him, soon joined by a second.

Pumps slowly because he likes feeling himself, his walls slowly relaxing around him, slick velvet, and absolutely perfect when he can find his prostate.

He's quiet when he fucks himself. Bites his lip, sucks down the sound. Dorm life does that to a guy.

"You can be louder," Kiyoomi says.

Atsumu shakes his head. "S'okay," he replies, but he turns away from him.

It's /strange/. It's weird. Touching himself in front of Kiyoomi, naked while he's fully clothed. All the little habits he's accumulated ready to be judged.

His toes curl, but not in pleasure, and he feels tense all over, and he's suddenly so aware of the world outside.

All the city lights from the big window, like anyone could be watching them.

"Hey," Kiyoomi says, and Atsumu's head snaps back to him, faster than a touch could.

"Look at me," his voice sharp, insistent, dark. "Keep your eyes on me. We're the only ones here. There's nothing else you should be looking at."

"But-"

"You're so /good/ Atsumu," and it settles a knot inside of him. "Keep going.

*"Keep going."

Atsumu does, and Kiyoomi lets go of him to strip, pulling off his shirt and undershirt while rubbing his cock through his pants, a dark shadow that makes Atsumu salivate.

He doesn't take his eyes off of Atsumu, hole. Groans when Atsumu slips in a third finger.

Hisses with Atsumu when he slips in his pinky.

Watches the lewd way he stretches around himself, pumping in and out, dripping more lube whenever it feels too dry and touching his nipples a little, too, because he likes that.

Atsumu knows he could fuck his fingers for hours without coming, and when he starts to wind his hips down on them, desperate, a whine slipping from his throat, something inside Kiyoomi snaps.

He has just enough time to slide his fingers out before Kiyoomi clambers over him.

Straddles his hips, kneeling above him, tipping his chin up again to kiss him, sweet before heat flares between them and he licks into his mouth, sucking his lips and making Atsumu feel wanted, desired, necessary.

"Atsumu," he says, pulling back, "I have to show you something."

He sounds almost sorry about it, and Atsumu wonders what he means when Kiyoomi starts to unzip his pants and pull them down.

A secret tentacle? A beak?

But -

"Huh," Atsumu says, mouth falling open.

"Yeah." Kiyoomi's blush flees down his chest, dark hair nearly hiding it.

Kiyoomi's cock falls out of his pants and keeps going, a real monster of a thing, hard with a sharp curve, thick all the way through to a narrow base.

Atsumu licks his lips. "No wonder you liked the fourth finger."

"You have big hands," Kiyoomi shrugs. "You can still say no."

What? "Why would I turn this down, Omi?"

"It's /obscene/," Kiyoomi says, head dripping with precum. "It's obnoxious. It'll keep you limping for a week and ruin you for other dicks," like he's reciting a laundry list of reasons why Atsumu wouldn't want it.

Atsumu's never written a laundry list in his life.

"Do you want that?" Atsumu ask, and Kiyoomi looks down at him, confused. "Do you wanna ruin me for other cocks?"

Kiyoomi's dick twitches, which is answer enough.

Atsumu's starting to get the shape of this guy, more.

He's good at it - reading people, even if he doesn't use the words, sometimes.

Kiyoomi likes the idea of fucking a virgin because he can make them fall in love with his cock, desperate to be filled only the way he can stuff them.

Get them before they meet other dicks.

"You don't have to," Kiyoomi insists, still red.

"It's not about duty, Omi," Atsumu says, and there's a box below his bed that Suna calls obscene and that terrified Bokuto, full of all his toys, "it's about desire."

"What do you mean?"

"It means I wanna be good for you."

Kiyoomi's eyes narrow, and Atsumu takes the opportunity to grip his dick, make him gasp, lick the head even though Kiyoomi hisses that it's unsanitary, and taste his bitter juice.

"It means I want you to ruin me. Make me take it. Keep me in your bed for a week because I can't +

walk. Stuff me full of your cock until I can't think, and watch me suck you down until you pound the life outta me-"

"Fuck, Atsumu," Kiyoomi says, but he looks delighted. "Who taught you to speak like that?"

Atsumu shakes his head. "I can have fantasies, can't I?"

He's had so many - imagining his plastic cocks on real bodies, fucking him open and useless and sloppy while he bounces on them, pinching his nipples and dick to hold off coming.

But at the end of it, something soft and wobbly comes out of him, and it's never what he wants.

"C'mon, Omi," he says, pumping Kiyoomi's dick and looking up at him with those puppy dog eyes that, Kiyoomi claimed, sealed the deal for him, "don't you wanna break me?"

"You seem sturdy enough," he says, but pushes Atsumu down anyway, grabbing a condom from his nightstand.

It stretches so lewd around Kiyoomi's cock, the way it sways to the right just over Atsumu's face, and maybe one day they'll see how much he can fit down his throat, put his big mouth to work.

And then it disappears, replaced by Kiyoomi's face, kissing him again. "Ready?"

(cw // belly bulge soon bc I'm a 🤡🤡🤡)

"Rea-/fuck!/" Atsumu groans, because Kiyoomi slips the head in without warning, and it's /so/ wide just like Atsumu's favorite toy, but it's because because it's warm and thrumming with life.

"Is that okay?" And he looks worried.

Bless him.

"Keep going," Atsumu croaks. "Please!" Because he wants to be full, wants to be stuffed, has been so empty.

Kiyoomi pushes his legs up to make room, and Atsumu grabs his thighs because he wants Kiyoomi's hands everywhere on his body.

He slips in so slowly.

It feels like a lifetime, and like Atsumu can feel his heartbeat in his dick. Inch by inch, the head curving against his walls as the thickest part passes his rim, and Atsumu knows they have so much more to go.

Kiyoomi brushes a hand through his hair. "Doing great, Atsumu."

"I know," he says, grinning, but it falls off his face when Kiyoomi pushes into him a little faster than before. "Fuck! Do that again."

Kiyoomi snorts. "Absolutely not," he says.

The last few inches are a marathon - Atsumu hissing while Kiyoomi slides home.

His dick feels so /good/ that it rattles Atsumu, and it's nice that he can just lay there and take it.

With his toys, he has to put in all the work. And it's not that he's lazy, it's just that... sometimes, it's nice to feel like he's being taken care of.

Nice to be used.

When Kiyoomi's hips finally greet his hips, Atsumu is still as a statue.

He can't help but look at his torso, where there's a distinct bulge on his abdomen, Kiyoomi's cock fucking through him.

The stretch, the ache, the everything is unimaginable but delicious.

"Atsumu," Kiyoomi says, and Atsumu notices now how rattled he sounds, like it's taking all his strength to hold himself, "can I fuck you?"

How long since Kiyoomi fucked someone's tight heat? He doesn't wanna know. "Ruin me, Omi," he says, wraps his arms around his neck.

"Famous last words," Kiyoomi utters against his lips, and then "one favor?"

"Anything."

"Be loud for me, Atsumu."

And then he rears back his hips and Atsumu has a second to mourn his cock before he /slams/ back into Atsumu.

Pounds into him, a furious and fast and desperate pace, and Atsumu wonders how long he's been hard, how long he's been wanting this, and then Kiyoomi's hand grabs one of his nipples and there's not much room for thinking.

Kiyoomi's just using him at this point, twisting his nipples and grabbing his waist to have a grip so he can fuck him, push Atsumu past the point of pain and ache until all that's left is pleasure.

The only thing Atsumu can remember it to be loud, so he screams.

Yells Kiyoomi's name, begs him to be fucked "harder, Omi, more, Omi! Please, keep fucking me like that, there! God there!" When Kiyoomi's hips twist into him just right, the curve against his prostate, pleasure searing inside of him as his small cock throbs uselessly.

"Keep, c'mon," it's just babble, nearly meaningless, tears leaking from his eyes while Kiyoomi takes and takes and reshapes him, and he's gone silent like he's everything he's got to say is being shouted by the way he's slamming Atsumu into the mattress, rutting into him.

It's powerful and it's rich and Atsumu slides a hand along his torso to cup Kiyoomi's dick though his skin, feel him pushing into him over and over, wonders if he'll be able to see the shadow of his dick when they're done.

And then he touches himself. "Need it to come, Omi."

When he senses Kiyoomi's close, when his pace starts slowing and his hips start twitching, like they're holding back the urge to orgasm.

Kiyoomi slaps his hand away and replaces it with his own, tugging at him until Atsumu comes with an unceremonious scream.

The way he tightens around Kiyoomi is enough to carry him through it, hips punching his ass while he cums, and if it weren't for the condom Atsumu would feel all his cum so deep inside him.

But it's nice, when Kiyoomi slips out of him and neatly ties off the condom.

He kisses his forehead, and Atsumu's legs are like jello, and Kiyoomi looks handsome even matted with sweat, crow's feet around his eyes as he smiles down at Atsumu.

"How are you feeling?" He asks.

"Like I could run a marathon," even as his thighs twitch, hole puckering.

Kiyoomi bleats out a laugh, and then, apropos of nothing. "Gin is an acquired taste," he says. "I didn't think you'd like it."

"Gin's disgusting," Atsumu replies, as Kiyoomi slips an arm around him to hold him close. "Bet your dick tastes delicious, though."

(fin)