(a lie)

And this is a secret— but he liked it that way. Because he was more than sure that he didn’t want to know what you did with other men at all. Just thinking about it made his stomach turn with jealousy. That’s the reason he didn’t bother to tell you about his own experiences with other women either, just in case there was a small chance that you might feel the same way he did. 

“None of your business.” He answered sharply. 

You rolled your eyes before getting up from your comfortable position to sit cross-legged, “C’mon, Kiyoomi, It’s just a question.”

“A question I won’t answer.”

“Why not?” You crossed your arms, looking at him defiantly. 

Kiyoomi narrowed his eyes at your posture, why did you suddenly want to know that? Moreover, why did you insist on wanting to know? Did someone say something to you? Is there a rumor about him? Or maybe you had suddenly awakened an interest in him? He was overthinking, but still he hoped more than anything that it was the latter option rather than the others. 

“Just because.” He said, and before you could protest, he continued: “And, why are you asking anyway?” 

A smirk appeared on your face, “If you answer my question, I’ll answer yours. Deal?”

“Never mind.”

“You’ll never know why I asked, then.” You said, casually looking at your nails. “Unless we make a deal.”

He shouldn’t accept so easily, he knew, but now he was genuinely curious why you broke an unspoken rule between you two to ask him if he did orals, of all things. 

So, he agreed. “Deal.”

Your smile of victory almost made him smile too, but he did his best to remain serious. “Okay. Tell me.”

He sighed before answering honestly. “I do.”

Your eyes widened and an incredulous laugh escaped your lips before you said, “Really?” The surprise in your voice made him frown, why was that surprising? Should he be offended?

“Yeah.”

“Are you serious? You go down on girls?” You couldn't even hide the disbelief in your voice. “You?”

“I already said yes. Now, tell me. Why are you asking?”

Without further ado, you grabbed your phone that had been forgotten in your lap to unlock it, and a second later you were showing him what appeared to be your TikTok feed.

“A fan made a TikTok with the title: Ranking how good MSBY players are at giving head and you were raked as a zero just because he’d rather die than put his mouth there.”

What the fuck?!

“Let me see that.”

In the blink of an eye, Kiyoomi snatched the phone from you to watch the video with his own eyes, regretting it as soon as it started thanks to the embarrassing selection of music and photos chosen from the team members. He scoffed, a random person on the internet had felt entitled to make this kind of ranking just based on appearances and assumptions. It’s not like they could have any real evidence at the end of the day. But it seems that for many people a video of this kind told the absolute truth, because it had thousands of likes and thousands of comments, and—to his misfortune—he couldn’t help but read them.

Now he wished he had never done it. 

In addition to most of the comments agreeing and mocking Kiyoomi’s ranking, saying that at least his face makes up for it and that maybe he gives head as long as he has his face mask on—that one was actually funny, but he wouldn’t say that out loud—, the other vast majority agreed that Atsumu and Bokuto were the best. 

But the question here is, did you think the same?

“You actually believe this crap?” He asked, actually sounding more hurt than he planned. 

“Kiyoomi, it’s just a TikTok. Of course, I’ll believe it.” You were obviously trying to make a joke, but still, the expression on his face showed pure disbelief. “I’m joking, jeez.”

“I know it’s a just TikTok, but I still want to know.” He sounded serious. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes, perhaps thinking he was exaggerating, maybe he was, but he wasn’t offended by the fact that someone made that video, there were probably hundreds just like it. It was the fact that you, of all people, seemed to agree with an assumption about him and his very private intimate life. 

“Kiyoomi, I just thought it was funny. That’s why I asked.”

“But you didn’t believe me when I told you I did.”

“I did believe you.” He narrowed his eyes, showing that he obviously didn’t buy your words. “I’m not lying. I believed you, but— I was just… shocked.”

“Why?”

“It’s just that…never mind.”

“Tell me.” 

You looked him in the eye for a few seconds before sighing heavily.

“You’re… a little too special when it comes to cleanness and— where you put your mouth, you know?” You weren’t even looking him in the face, obviously nervous about the direction the conversation was taking. “I’m not judging you, we should all be careful where we put it. And, I just thought that… yeah” You waved your hand as you finished, trying to play it down. 

Kiyoomi couldn’t blame you or others for thinking that, after all, that was the kind of reputation he built for himself. But, even when he didn’t care what others thought about him, he always cared what you thought; for that reason alone, he wasn’t going to let you walk away with the wrong idea about him. 

“Yes, we should. But now you know that I actually go down.” He said, and, simply because he had a good feeling, he added: “And I’m pretty good at it, I can assure you.”

You scoffed. “Are you?”

“I am.” Confidence exuded in his voice, perhaps that was exactly why the next words came out of his mouth: “You want proof?”

What happened next was a delight to his eyes. 

You got fucking nervous, of course he noticed, you were his best friend after all. You widened your eyes, opened your mouth a couple of times in an attempt to say something but nothing came out. But what was a poem for him, was to see how you moved your hips slightly, in a movement that could have gone unnoticed if he hadn't paid all his attention to you. 

You cleared your throat as you looked away from his gaze. “I have no desire to ask your previous flings how good you are down there or watch any pornographic videos of you, so no, thanks.” You folded your arms as you sat up straight, suddenly finding the movie interesting. 

The room fell into silence, accompanied by a heavy tension that you two were obviously aware of. 

This situation was actually kind of funny. Thanks to a fucking TikTok, he now had an opportunity in front of him that he had been waiting for a long time. An opportunity he was going to take. 

“I wasn’t referring to that kind of proof.”

Three minutes later, you were lying on the couch with your head resting on a pillow, your pants thrown aside on the floor and Kiyoomi between your legs, spreading kisses across your belly. 

“This is weird.” You said, maybe in an attempt to break the intimate silence that had formed where only your breaths and his kisses could be heard. 

“It is.” He agreed before lowering his lips to your inner thighs, where he surprised you with a light bite that made you gasp. “We can stop if you want.”

You were quick to reply with a no and he smirked against your skin. Of course you didn’t want to stop, neither did he. Both of you by this point were already immersed in lust, even though it had only been a few minutes of foreplay.

When he was desperately taking off your pants minutes ago, Kiyoomi debated whether to just go for it or take it slow. 

But the moment he saw the longing in your eyes, how pretty you looked underneath him, he knew he would take his time. He didn’t just want to prove something to you; he actually wanted to taste you, to make you squirm, to make you enjoy this as much as he would. 

Gently caressing your thighs with both hands, he moved down until his mouth made contact with your pelvis, where he left another trail of kisses until he reached right where your clit was. Still above the fabric of your panties, he kissed you there, which was enough to elicit a moan of frustration from you.

“Please, just do it.” 

He kissed the same spot again before smirking. “Let me just go get my facemask, can’t do this without it.” 

His sudden joke made you burst into laughter which elicited a chuckle from him. “Don’t kill the mood.” You said as you gave a small pat to his hand that squeezed your thigh. 

He smiled and brought both of his hands to the waistband of your panties, pulling them down slowly. “At this point that’s impossible.”

“I know.” You muttered as you lifted your hips to let him remove the garment easily. 

As quickly as the garment hit the floor, Kiyoomi’s eyes focused on the middle of your legs, you may not have noticed, but the mere sight of your pussy glistening with your arousal made him twice as hard as he already was. 

“Don’t stare.” You said, trying to close your legs as much as you could since Kiyoomi was in the way.

No, no, no. There was no way for you to hide from him now, or ever. 

“Why not? You’re so fucking hot in all places.” 

Hearing his words, in an act of fluster, you brought both of your hands to cover your face, perhaps trying to hide how his praise made you feel. “You think so?”

The question came out almost in a whisper, and in response, he took both of your hands, interlaced your fingers and placed them on the sides of your head with the purpose of looking you in the eyes. 

“There’s no day when I don’t think that you’re hot,” He confessed, his voice deep and serious with the purpose of making you understand that he was not playing games. “Now that I just told you how crazy I’m for you, open your legs and let me make you feel good.”

You nodded, and staring at him with desire in your eyes, you opened your legs wide open again until that part of your body that he wanted to devour more than anything else was once again fully at his mercy.

Kiyoomi let go your hands and he lowered his body until his stomach made contact with the soft cushion of the couch. Now in that position, he wrapped his arms around your thighs, squeezing the flesh eagerly before dipping his head into the middle of your legs. 

“God.” You sighed, jerking your hips upward in surprise. 

He played slowly with his tongue, running it up and down before concentrating on sucking your clit. 

He was hard as fuck. Maybe more than he had ever been in his life. He even felt his tip leaking and was almost certain that if he started grinding his hips against the cushion, he could come at any moment. But he would save that for later. Right now, he was getting drunk on your taste and the sound of your moans. 

And fuck… those moans were heaven itself. 

He lowered his mouth, right at your entrance, where he began to lick gathering more of your juices before he deepened his mouth against your clit, sucking harder, quickly realizing that you liked it by the movement of your hips and the loud whimper that came out of your mouth. 

Kiyoomi was getting excited, even more so when he felt your hands stroking his head before pulling his curls, holding him closer to you, as if you were afraid he would break away, taking with him the pleasure you were feeling, but Kiyoomi wasn’t willing to do that, right now what he wanted most was you coming as hard as you could in his mouth. 

Hungry to increase your pleasure, he didn’t think twice when he let go of one of your thighs to stick a finger inside you, thrusting it in and out a few times before slipping another one in and curving his fingers to reach that sensitive spot inside you. 

“There, oh god, there.”

He would give you whatever you wanted, so he focused there. Feeling lovesick at this point. Loving the way you sounded. Loving the way you pulled his hair. Loving  the way your tight pussy squeezed his fingers. 

He moved his tongue back down to your entrance at the same time he pulled his fingers out, but only to start circling them over your clit. This is where you put a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming, but Kiyoomi didn’t want that, he wanted to hear you come undone for him, no matter if it woke up the neighbors. So with his free hand he took you by the wrist at the same time that he separated his mouth from your sex.

“Don’t hold back those sounds, I want to hear you scream for me. Okay?”

You nodded. Too shocked to formulate words. 

“Good girl.” He praised before placing a short kiss on your wrist, releasing it a second later to immediately return to seal his mouth with your wet pussy. 

This time he put both hands behind your knees to spread your legs wider and pushed them against your chest, giving himself more room to continue devouring you, proud that you were no longer shy to scream with pleasure when he flicked his tongue, sucked and bit your pretty pussy. 

“I’m close. Fuck! Don’t stop, please.”

Kiyoomi wouldn’t stop, he was sure of that.

It was a matter of seconds when started to came in your best friend’s mouth. 

Kiyoomi kept licking, drinking up all your release until your legs began to shake from overstimulation. 

He gave a peck to your clit before gently letting go of your legs, settling them slowly on the cushion. He caressed your thighs as he left kiss after kiss on your belly, helping you relax as you tried to control your breathing after such an intense experience. 

You were lying there staring at the ceiling, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Perhaps processing everything that just happened, but Kiyoomi wouldn’t give you time for regrets, not now, not ever. He moved on top of you, resting his forearms on either side of your head and looked down at you, connecting your gazes before asking with a cocky smile on his face, “And? How was it?”

You let out a chuckle and rolled your eyes playfully before answering, “I think TikTok and I owe you an apology.” You said as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You’re definitely not a zero.”

“I’ll be happy with yours alone.” He said before lowering his face further until your noses brushed, “Your opinion is the only one I care about afterall.” He added before finally kissing you.

You wiggled a bit, trying to break free. His other hand grabbed a handful of your ass and squeezed. You let out a muffled yelp. He kneaded the fat, quietly groaning to himself. You tried kicking back at him but the angle was all wrong and you kept missing him.

His hand crept up your waist, slithering under your shirt. You shivered at how his cold hands felt dancing across the skin of your stomach. He palmed at your breasts over your bra, beginning to subtly grind his aching cock against you. Prodding just below the top of your bra cup he found your nipple and pinched it hard. Your eyes started to water as he twisted and pulled the bud.

His hot laboured breaths hovered past your ear. Your struggle reignited when your felt him snake his hand down, down, down, dipping under the waistband of your panties. His fingers explored your folds, experimentally fanning them apart. You writhed and squeaked sounds of protest.

A women sat in front of you noticed your frantic fidgeting. Looking up to meet your eyes, she looked at you in shock. Desperately you tried to convey through your gaze that you needed help. Before she could respond to your silent plea, your eyes rolled back at the intrusion of his middle finger sinking itself inside your pussy.

The man was finished with the teasing touches. From his suppressed moans and rapid breathing you could tell he felt like a feral animal, caged but still seeking the stimulation he craved.

His digit pounded deep into your cunt, curling just the right way to bully your g-spot. He added another finger, stretching your hole some more. You tried to regain your focus on the woman seated in front of you. You were appalled to she her eyes jumping from your crotch to your fucked out face as she had her own hand down her pants rubbing herself.

You hated how the way he rubbed against the walls of your pussy shot waves of pleasure through you. Or how your rational mind was being chipped away with every thrust against the gummy spot inside you. Or how your molestation was so overwhelming to watch that a stranger chose to pleasure herself to it rather than stop it.

As lust overtook reason you melted into his touch. He rewarded your compliance by removing the hand over your mouth and instead shoving the fingers past your lips. You mindlessly sucked on them, earning a groan of approval from him.

Adding a third finger, he quickened his pace. The coil in your core grew and grew. At this point you didn't care about the squelching sounds coming from your cunt. You were white knuckling your grip on the support bar above as it was the only thing keeping you upright. Whimpering at the stimulation, you sounded like a pathetic mutt. When he pressed his thumb to your clit you broke, squirting all over his hand and your underwear. Your jaw dropped, your body quivered, and you violently jolted as you rode out your orgasm.

his grin grows sharp. “good.”

he pulls your panties down slow, like he’s savoring it. you try to squeeze your thighs together, but he pushes them apart with both hands and settles between them like he belongs there.

and god—when he looks down at you, he looks hungry.

“you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he mutters, running a thumb through your folds. “bet you’re gonna taste even sweeter than you smell.”

he says it like it’s a fact. like your pussy was made for him to devour. and then, without even waiting, he lowers his head and does exactly that.

your whole body jolts.

his tongue is hot and flat and everywhere. he licks into you like he means it, moaning low in his throat when your hips jerk up toward his face. his fingers spread your lips and he sucks your clit into his mouth like he’s trying to memorize how you sound when you cry out his name.

“sukuna—please—i—”

“shh,” he mumbles against your cunt. “just let me eat.”

and he does. he doesn’t stop. not when you cum the first time. not when your thighs clamp around his ears. not even when you’re whining from overstimulation and begging him to slow down. he pulls another orgasm from you like it’s easy. like it’s what he’s best at.

when he finally sits back, his lips and chin are soaked. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks at you like he’s ready to ruin you entirely.

“you ever seen a dick before, sweetheart?”

you blink, dazed. “um… no.”

he laughs. “fuck. you’re killin’ me.”

you watch as he strips off his shirt, then undoes his belt with one hand and pushes his pants down just enough to free himself. your eyes widen—he’s thick. long and veiny and already hard as a rock.

“yeah,” he says, grinning when he catches your expression. “you’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”

“that’s not very reassuring,” you breathe.

he leans down to kiss you again. slower this time. almost… sweet.

his mouth is soft against yours, but there’s heat behind it—like he’s trying to press something into you without saying it out loud. it’s not hungry like earlier. not cocky. just warm. his palm cradles your cheek, thumb brushing over your jaw as his lips part yours, slow and lingering. like he wants you to feel it. like he wants you to remember.

you kiss him back because you can’t not. because your body is still buzzing, and your thighs are still trembling, and the ache between your legs is starting to settle into something that feels like a craving. your hand slides into his hair without thinking, fingers twisting in the soft pink strands as he pulls away just enough to look at you.

he’s staring again. that intense, unreadable kind of stare that makes you squirm even when he’s not touching you. his eyes flicker down to your mouth, then back up to your eyes, like he’s trying to decide what to do with you next. like he’s still hungry but doesn’t want to scare you.

and then he smiles.

not the smug one. not the frat-boy grin he wears like armor in front of his friends. this one’s different. smaller. tilted. like he’s looking at a secret and he’s the only one who knows it.

“still okay?” he murmurs.

you nod, but the way your chest rises and falls gives you away. he notices. of course he does. his hand slides down your body again—fingertips grazing your collarbone, the dip of your waist, the curve of your hip. he stops when he reaches your thigh, palm resting there like it belongs.

his hand slips down, past your hip, between your legs, fingers brushing through the slick heat of your cunt like he already knows what he’ll find. he groans, almost to himself.

you want to hide, but there’s nowhere to go. he’s all around you. all you can do is bite your lip as his fingers glide through your folds again, spreading the wetness up toward your clit and circling it slowly. the motion makes your thighs twitch, your back arch, breath catch in your throat.

you nod again, smaller this time, and your eyes flutter open to see him staring down at you. completely focused. no trace of a smirk. just him. just sukuna.

he shifts his weight to one forearm and reaches between you with the other hand to guide the thick head of his cock to your entrance. you tense without meaning to.

“breathe,” he says, low and even. “don’t rush it.”

you try.

the blunt pressure of him pressing against your cunt is overwhelming. he’s warm, and so much bigger than you thought—your body resists at first, muscles clenching up from instinct, nerves fraying at the edges. but he doesn’t push. not all at once. he lets you open up around him, inch by slow inch, shallow thrusts that ease him inside while his hand rubs soothing circles against your hip.

it burns. not sharp, but enough to make your eyes water. your fingers dig into his biceps, and he pauses. stills. watches your face.

“talk to me,” he says, voice quiet. “you want to stop?”

you shake your head immediately. “no. just—don’t move yet.”

he doesn’t.

he leans in and kisses your temple. then your cheek. then the corner of your mouth. his hand strokes your thigh gently, grounding you. and the longer he stays still, the more the sting starts to fade, melting into something thicker, heavier. the ache of being full. stretched. claimed.

your body adjusts. slowly. trembling at first, but growing used to the weight of him.

“you’re doing so good,” he breathes, forehead resting against yours. “fuck, you feel good. tight little pussy grippin’ me like she doesn’t wanna let go.”

you whimper at the sound of it—the filth in his voice made worse by how soft he says it. not taunting. not cruel. just honest. reverent, even. like he can’t believe you’re letting him have this. letting him in.

you shift your hips, just slightly, and the movement pulls a hiss from his teeth.

“you okay?”

“yeah,” you breathe. “keep going.”

he does. slowly. rolling his hips in shallow, careful thrusts that make your breath catch all over again. he watches your face like a man obsessed. like every twitch of your brows or gasp of your mouth tells him something he needs to know.

you didn’t think sex could feel like this.

you didn’t think sukuna could feel like this.

his rhythm is steady, hips drawing back and sliding in deeper each time. your cunt flutters around him, wet, hot, and messy, and the sound it makes, so sticky and obscene, has him groaning low in your ear.

“fuck,” he grits. “gonna ruin you.”

he already has. your legs wrap around his waist without thinking, ankles crossing at the small of his back to pull him closer. deeper. he groans again and dips his head to your throat, mouthing at the sensitive skin there, biting just enough to make your back arch.

his cock hits something deeper now, and your breath stutters.

“that’s it,” he mutters. “there she is. right there, huh?”

your fingernails dig into his back as he keeps fucking into that spot, slow and mean. your nerves are raw again, pleasure crawling up your spine in hot little sparks as his pace picks up.

“you gonna cum for me, baby?” he pants, rubbing your clit in tight circles while he fucks you through the growing pressure in your belly. “wanna feel this pretty pussy squeeze me. give it to me.”

you nod, desperate, dizzy, tears threatening to slip past your lashes as the pleasure tips you over the edge—and you break.

your orgasm floods through you fast and hard, thighs shaking, breath hitched, pussy fluttering around him like you were made for it. sukuna doesn’t slow down. doesn’t stop. he fucks you through it, watches you fall apart like it’s his religion, his reason.

you hear yourself sob his name. a weak, shattered little sound.

and sukuna—he kisses you. he kisses you like he’s never tasted anything sweeter.

you’re still shaking when he groans into your mouth.

your cunt is pulsing around him, like your body doesn’t know how to let go of him. like it doesn’t want to. every time your walls flutter, his breath catches. every moan you spill into his mouth has him swearing low under his breath, hips stuttering against yours like he’s fighting the urge to lose it.

he’s still holding back. still trying to fuck you slow. you’re not sure how long he can keep it up.

“fuck,” he rasps, forehead pressed to yours. “you feel so fuckin’ good, baby. so warm… so tight around me—shit.”

his voice cracks on the last word, guttural and half-choked. he’s sweating now. his back slick under your fingertips, arms braced beside your head, and his thighs trembling just barely with every thrust. he’s close. so close. but he’s still watching you—eyes flicking between your face and the way your body grips his cock with every roll of his hips.

you don’t even think before whispering, “wanna feel you cum.”

and that breaks him.

his next thrust is deeper. harder. he buries himself all the way inside, cock hitting your cervix as he groans deep in his chest, raw and unfiltered. you feel him throb, cock twitching as he cums hard inside of you—hips jerking once, twice, like his body’s still catching up to the wave crashing over him.

he doesn’t pull out right away. he just stays there, shaking a little, mouth slack and forehead resting on yours while he rides out every last pulse of it. his weight feels good. the room is quiet except for your breathing—yours fast and shallow, his deep and heavy like he’s been sprinting.

and then—he laughs. a breathless kind of laugh, hoarse around the edges, like he can’t believe what just happened. “holy fuck,” he mutters.

you can’t help it—you giggle. dazed, still out of it, but lightheaded enough that the sound bubbles out of you naturally. your body feels like melted wax. warm, soft, spread open beneath him like you belong there.

sukuna lifts his head, looks down at you. he’s still catching his breath, but there’s a glow to him now—flushed cheeks, damp hair sticking to his temples, that smirk of his curling back into place, but slower. softer. like the fight’s gone out of it.

“you good?” he asks.

you nod. “you?”

he chuckles again, pulling out with a soft groan. you wince at the sudden emptiness—already missing the way he filled you. reaching for a towel off the floor. it’s… surprisingly clean. you blink at that.

he gently wipes between your legs, not looking at you too closely while he does. like if he makes it a thing, you’ll start feeling awkward about it. but the way his touch lingers a little too long at your thigh says otherwise.

when he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and flops back onto the mattress next to you, arm tucked behind his head, bare chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths.

you stay quiet. he doesn’t push.

the silence settles. not uncomfortable, but not familiar either. like standing on a bridge you’re not sure you’re supposed to cross. and then, just when you start to turn your head toward him, he breaks it.

“you were really fuckin’ cute,” he says.

you blink. “what?”

“before,” he continues, smirking without looking at you. “all shy and squirmy. you were tryna act like you weren’t already soaked for me.”

you roll your eyes and nudge his shoulder. “you’re so annoying.”

“uh-huh,” he says, stretching an arm toward you lazily. “get over here, though.”

you hesitate. not because you don’t want to. but because what does this mean?

still, your body makes the decision for you, rolling into his side and letting him wrap an arm around your waist like it’s the easiest thing in the world. his skin is hot. the room smells like sweat and sex and faint traces of his cologne. and when you settle your cheek against his chest, his fingers move without thinking—tracing lazy shapes down your spine.

“you’re gonna be sore tomorrow,” he mumbles. almost apologetic. almost smug.

“i know.”

he pauses. then: “…you ever think about doin’ this again?”

you look up at him, but he’s not looking at you. his gaze is on the ceiling now. casual. but his jaw’s a little tense, and his throat bobs when he swallows, like he’s not as relaxed as he wants to seem.

you wait.

he finally glances down at you.

“not with anyone else,” he says. “just me.”

you blink.

“i mean—” he stretches again, like he’s shaking it off. “not sayin’ it’s a thing or whatever. just… if you ever wanna do it again. or stay over. or sleep in. or like… let me cook you pancakes or some shit. y’know. no pressure.”

you try not to smile too hard. you fail.

“…what if i want pancakes and sex?”