Chapter Text
Across the table from Kiyoomi, Atsumu smiles, eyes twinkling like they always do when he’s basking in the aftermath of a particularly horrible joke. The joke this time had something to do with busty crustaceans and Kiyoomi secretly loved every second of it. Kiyoomi grimaces as he lifts his ramen to his mouth. The two of them are dressed in outrageously nice clothes: Atsumu in a royal blue suit, hair slicked back save for a few strands that hang over his forehead in a way that really should not be as hot as it is and Kiyoomi in his maroon jacket with the sleeves of his pressed shirt rolled up to the elbows.
It was Atsumu’s idea, getting all dressed up to go to the very casual ramen place down the street. Kiyoomi had protested, but he’s glad he lost in the end. Atsumu is gorgeous . He could be a model if he wasn’t dedicated heart and soul to volleyball. The food is good too. They’re regulars of the place; it’s a five minute walk from Kiyoomi’s apartment and the line chef knows them by name.
“Would you still love me if I was a shrimp?” Atsumu asks before slurping noodles into his mouth.
“I would eat you,” Kiyoomi says without hesitation.
Atsumu gasps in mock fear. “Omi, I can’t believe you! Ya’d eat yer boyfriend?”
Kiyoomi blushes, which, he guesses, was exactly the point of the comment. “Well, maybe you get a pass. But if you were one of those pickled plums Osamu makes? You’d be gone in an instant, boyfriend or not.”
It’s Atsumu’s turn to blush, but he tries to cover it with a smirk that Kiyoomi sees through in an instant.
“Cute,” he mumbles into his ramen.
“Huh?” Atsumu asks,
Kiyoomi really does not want to repeat himself. He mumbled for a reason, but he can’t deny Atsumu. “I said you’re cute.”
“Aww, me?” Atsumu says, grinning ear to ear.
“Yeah, you,” Kiyoomi responds, smiling into his ramen.
They’re silent for a few moments while they both wolf down their ramen.
“Would ya still love me if I was a filthy awful capitalist raccoon?” Atsumu asks around a mouthful of noodle.
“That’s... Weirdly specific,” Kiyoomi says. “Did you have someone in mind?”
“Yeah, actually, that guy from Animal Crossing. Would you still love me if I was Tom Nook?”
Kiyoomi scoffs and shakes his head while laughing, partly because he can’t believe he’s with Atsumu and partly because he can’t believe he’s with Atsumu . “I don’t even know how to approach answering this,” he says, because he doesn’t.
Atsumu leans back in his seat. “Aw, c’mon, I’m still me!”
“I thought you would be Tom Nook?”
“Yeah, but, like…” He trails off, watching Kiyoomi watch him. “Shut up ‘n eat yer food.”
For whatever reason, the comment makes Kiyoomi throw his head back to laugh, a full, hearty laugh that Atsumu tends to be responsible for. Tears from the laughter start to prick up in his eyes, and soon enough Atsumu has joined him, doubled over. It’s not like it was particularly funny, but this happens sometimes between them. Laughing to laugh, laughing because they’re happy, laughing because they’re happy together .
And that’s the way it is until they walk home in the dark, hand in hand, just laughing because of the euphoria of being together. Atsumu stops underneath a streetlamp, pulling Kiyoomi toward him.
“Remember?” he asks.
“How could I forget?” Kiyoomi returns, pulling Atsumu in for a kiss. Kiyoomi puts one hand on the small of Atsumu’s back, dipping him. “You know it’s only been, like, a week, right?” Kiyoomi asks when they finally break the kiss. “My memory isn’t that bad.”
“Yeah, but I gotta make sure ya remember,” Atsumu says with a giggle.
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “I promise I won’t forget.”
“Alright, I believe ya,” Atsumu relents before pulling Kiyoomi toward home. “Come on, I got somethin’ I wanna show ya.”
Kiyoomi follows, confused. “Wait, what is it?” he asks.
“You’ll find out, we’re almost home!” Atsumu says over his shoulder.
Atsumu takes the steps two at a time, practically jogging to Kiyoomi’s door.
“What?” Kiyoomi says, breathless.
“Open it,” Atsumu says, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.
Kiyoomi unlocks the door and it swings inward to reveal a trail of rose petals leading to the bedroom. Atsumu steps inside, holding out a hand to Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi takes it. “I swear if I see a single bug from one of these petals I am kicking your ass,” he says, eyeing them without too much disdain. After all, Atsumu did this for him, and Kiyoomi hates how much he loves it.
“I’m not gonna bring bugs into your house, Omi.”
Kiyoomi nods and lets Atsumu guide him to the bedroom after they’ve lined up their shoes. Atsumu opens it and motions Kiyoomi in with a bow. “After you,” Atsumu says, grinning.
When his eyes adjust to the relative dark of the bedroom, all Kiyoomi sees is… more petals. Some are scattered around the floor by the foot of the bed, and there’s a cluster in the center on the grey duvet. It’s cliche, but it’s cute. Probably because Atsumu is so damn good at being cute.
“Wh-,” Kiyoomi starts.
Atsumu slides up beside him, still bouncing on the balls of his feet with his hands clasped behind his back. “Whadya think?” he asks, and Kiyoomi can feel him staring at the side of his face.
“I love you,” he says.
He’s met with silence and for a moment, he panics. What if it’s too soon? What if Atsumu doesn’t feel the same way? Yeah, Atsumu already kind of said he was in love with Kiyoomi when they confessed, but it’s not like they’ve talked about it much since. Hell, this is their first date as a couple. Who the hell says ‘I love you’ on a first date? But then he turns to Atsumu and there’s nothing but love in his eyes.
“I love ya too,” Atsumu says, looking up to kiss Kiyoomi.
Atsumu steers them, lips still locked together until Kiyoomi’s knees hit the foot of the bed. Kiyoomi pulls him to the side, trying to flip them, but Atsumu stops him.
“Nope,” he says. “I have a plan for tonight.” Atsumu pushes Kiyoomi down onto the bed, crawling on top of him. “Yer so beautiful, Omi,” Atsumu says, kissing along Kiyoomi’s jawline. “And ya never let me tell you about it as much as I want to.”
Kiyoomi lays back against the pillows, the feel of Atsumu’s lips against his jaw and down onto his neck making his stomach twist. “I know you think I’m pretty, you don’t have to tell me,” he says.
“But I want to,” Atsumu replies.
Kiyoomi swallows. He’s not used to accepting compliments unrelated to volleyball. It’s weird, and it’s vaguely uncomfortable, but then he remembers that this is Atsumu he’s with. Maybe it’ll be okay. Either way, he’s sure as hell going to try it.
Atsumu crawls on top of him. Little bits of his slicked-back hair fall onto his forehead. “You’re beautiful,” Kiyoomi says. He shocks himself with how breathy and in-awe his voice sounds, but it’s deserved.
Atsumu continues to press kisses along his neck, nudging Kiyoomi’s crisp collar out of the way to reach lower with each kiss. Kiyoomi reaches up, letting his hands roam over Atsumu’s still-clothed back, still able to feel the ripples of his muscles despite the fabric. Atsumu pulls back, his nimble fingers setting to work on Kiyoomi’s dress shirt. “I’m gonna show you how beautiful you are,” he says, reverent.
The shirt ends up in a crumpled pile on the floor, and Atsumu’s joins it soon after. Undershirts follow before Atsumu latches onto Kiyoomi’s neck again.
“Yer perfect,” Atsumu mumbles against Kiyoomi’s skin. “Yer freckles go all the way down, I wanna kiss all of ‘em.”
At Atsumu’s words, Kiyoomi’s stomach does backflips and he feels his cock twitch. Atsumu’s lips make quick work of the moles and freckles on Kiyoomi’s shoulders, kissing each one of them, sometimes flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin over his collarbone. Atsumu then takes one of Kiyoomi’s hands in his own and Kiyoomi lets him, not entirely sure what to think.
He kisses the tips of Kiyoomi’s fingers. “Yer hands are gorgeous,” he says. “God, you can do so many things with them, but ya know what I like best?”
Kiyoomi hums, rubbing his thumb over Atsumu’s fingers.
“I love it when ya make me scream,” Atsumu whispers, pulling one of Kiyoomi’s fingers into his mouth, sucking on it while meeting Kiyoomi’s gaze through half-lidded eyes. Kiyoomi swears every drop of blood goes directly to his dick.
Atsumu removes his mouth with a soft pop. “I fuckin’ love what ya can do with yer fingers, Omi, yer fingers fit so perfectly inside of me.”
God, he’s already half hard from just watching Atsumu mouth at his fingers. He peppers each fingertip slowly as though he’s practiced it to perfection.
“And yer dick is so perfect, too, ya fill me up so well,” Atsumu continues, voice coming breathier. “I love it when ya fuck me.” Kiyoomi doesn’t squeak, but he comes damn close. It’s a completely natural reaction, just like the way his dick jumps at the praise.
Atsumu palms at the growing erection in his pants. “Yer so good at fucking me,” Atsumu says in Kiyoomi’s ear. “Yer so good at takin’ me apart and puttin’ me back together again. Yer so good at stuffin’ me full of yer cock.”
Kiyoomi can’t take it anymore. He pulls Atsumu in by his hair for a sloppy kiss, a mess of teeth and tongue and lips. “If you like it so much, then ride me,” he growls in Atsumu’s ear.
Atsumu wastes no time in complying, fingers slipping over the button and zipper on Kiyoomi’s slacks before undoing his own. As Atsumu slips off his pants, Kiyoomi can’t help but notice the wet spot on his underwear.
“God, you’re so gorgeous, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says, pulling in a sharp breath when Atsumu’s finger grazes his dick. “Already so wet for me.”
Atsumu whimpers, tugging off his boxers and tossing them to the side before pulling at Kiyoomi’s.
Atsumu looks at Kiyoomi and it takes him a moment to realize what Atsumu wants. “Oh, my love, I’m not going to help you. I want to watch you stretch yourself out for me. I want to see the way you look when you’re touching yourself for me.”
With a sharp inhale, Atsumu’s right hand inches toward his leaking cock. Kiyoomi watches as Atsumu swipes at the head before slowly dragging his hand up the shaft. Atsumu bites his lip, eyes flitting between his dick and Kiyoomi’s face. He’s gorgeous, with his golden eyes searching Kiyoomi’s. Despite the lip biting, a breathy whine of pleasure escapes Atsumu’s mouth as he speeds up.
“You’re so beautiful, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says, letting himself graze Atsumu’s thighs as he jerks himself off. “So good for me.”
“Thank you,” Atsumu breathes. He leans down to kiss Kiyoomi, still working at his cock, and Kiyoomi meets him halfway there. It’s a messy kiss, with saliva escaping outside of their lips, but Kiyoomi revels in it, squeezing Atsumu’s thighs hard enough to bruise.
“Lube?” Atsumu asks, panting.
“What’s the magic word?” Kiyoomi asks, smirking.
“ Please ,” Atsumu whines, holding out his hand.
Kiyoomi squeezes out a bit of lube onto Atsumu’s fingers and he wastes no time pushing one of his fingers inside himself. Kiyoomi’s dick jumps when Atsumu lets out such a breathtaking whine.
“I love the noises you make,” Kiyoomi says. “You sound so pretty for me.”
Atsumu can only whine as he adds a second finger, scissoring himself open, the hand on his own dick going faster.
“No,” Kiyoomi admonishes. “Slowly.”
Atsumu keens, but obeys, slowing his hand on his dick.
“Good boy.” Atsumu adds a third finger and Kiyoomi can tell he’s impatient, that he wants Kiyoomi more than anything. Kiyoomi grabs a condom from the bedside table and rolls it on.
“Are you ready?” Kiyoomi asks once Atsumu has had enough time to get used to the stretch.
Atsumu nods, lining himself up with Kiyoomi’s dick. He sinks down slowly, moaning low as he goes until he’s fully seated.
“God, you’re so hot,” Kiyoomi says before he even has the chance to think. He’s not doing much thinking anyway, not when Atsumu is making the noises he is, not when he’s warm and tight around his cock. “Fuck.”
Atsumu huffs out a breath with a smile. “Good?” he asks, tracing the lines on the backs of Kiyoomi’s hands. He fucking knows it’s good, the little shit.
Kiyoomi nods, too desperate to scold him. “So good. You’re so good for me.”
Atsumu is so hot and perfect around him and Kiyoomi thinks it really can’t get better than this. And then Atsumu starts to move . Kiyoomi’s hips jerk up, trying to get more of Atsumu as the other man pulls off and slams himself back down, hitting his prostate with every stroke, a moan escaping his lips at the impact. Kiyoomi knows that if Atsumu keeps this up, neither of them will last long.
Atsumu leans down to fit his lips over Kiyoomi’s, kissing him with a fervor that Kiyoomi’s never felt before.
All it takes is Atsumu’s voice, high pitched and breathy against Kiyoomi’s lips. Usually, that wouldn’t be the end of it, but this time it’s different; it’s Kiyoomi’s name, and not some sort of childish nick-name, that Atsumu moans.
“Kiyoomi, fuck,” Atsumu cries and Kiyoomi feels his orgasm spilling over. He fucks up harder into Atsumu, hands grasping as his thighs, his hips, his waist. Kiyoomi wraps his fist around Atsumu’s dick, and Atsumu gasps with each stroke. “Fuck, Kiyoomi.”
Atsumu chants his name as he cums, splattering in between the two of them. Atsumu slides off and flops onto the bed, arm slung over his eyes with a dopey smile. Before joining him, Kiyoomi ties off the condom and tosses it. When he’s on the bed with Atsumu, the two of them staring at each other on their sides, he can’t stop himself from mirroring Atsumu’s smile.
“You’re amazing,” he says, brushing a blond strand out of Atsumu’s eyes. Atsumu’s eyes flit up to his hands as he does it.
“Pssh, you’re amazing,” Atsumu retorts. “I know I’m amazing, but you’re amazing too.”
Kiyoomi feels a flush reach his cheeks. “I love you,” he says.
“I love you too,” Atsumu says with a smile. And to Kiyoomi, the words feel like home.