fratboy!sukuna asking for kisses and hugs
+18. mdni. fem!reader. college au. fluff, smut. based on this post.
a/n. thank u so much for 2k followers! here's a little gift, I hope y'all like it <33
he does it so often it’s muscle memory at this point.
you could be on your way out of his room for your lecture—car keys in hand, already halfway to the hallway—when his voice cuts across his room where he is seated in front of his pc. he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“give me a kiss before you go.”
just like you forgot something essential. like walking out without your phone. or without kissing him…right now.
you sigh, already turning around.
he doesn’t even look up from his screen until you’re right there, tilting your face up, and then he leans in—quick, satisfied—like there, that’s better. now you can leave.
he smirks, gaze turning back to his game. “i’ll pick you up later to grab lunch.”
you roll your eyes despite the thrumming of your heart as you walk out of his room.
you’re on the couch of his family home, legs tucked under you while you scroll on your phone, the tv playing something you’re not watching.
he drops beside you with a heavy thud, the entire cushion dipping toward him so you naturally slide into his side with one arm immediately hooking around your shoulders, dragging you into his side.
“c’mere, gorgeous,” he mutters, already pulling you against his chest. “give me a hug.”
“you’re literally already hugging me.”
“yeah,” he says, squeezing tighter anyway. “but you need to put your arms around me too.”
you giggle, hands sliding across his back as he sinks on the couch with you, going limp against you, letting out a long, grounded exhale like you’re a human weighted blanket.
you’re in the frat kitchen when he’s passing through on his way to grab a drink as you cook ramen for movie night, his movements lazy and loose-limbed. he pauses, opening the cap of his drink as he looks at you, eyes stopping on your cherry tainted lips. then holds eye contact.
you scoff, arching a brow. “that wasn’t even a sentence, ‘kuna.”
he waits, shrugging one shoulder as if to say the words are irrelevant because the outcome is inevitable because you end up leaning over the counter to peck his mouth.
“good,” he nods, the corners of his lips tugging up, like you just completed a task correctly, and keeps walking.
you watch him dumbfounded, not knowing whether you want to kiss him again or smack him across the face.
you’ve barely made it out of his room after a heated makeout session—your lips swollen, brain still foggy and very much late for your morning lecture—when he catches your wrist before you can escape.
he’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, looking completely unbothered by the chaos of your schedule.
“hey,” he rasps, tugging your arm just enough to throw you off balance and back toward him
he says it with a flat, monotone delivery, but his gaze drops to your mouth, heavy and dark and you know that what he is thinking is anything but flat.
and you do it again, because apparently that’s your life now.
you barge into his room, door wide open as you hold a paper above your head, the biggest grin on your face. sukuna doesn’t even blink at the thudding of his door against the wall.
“i did it! i passed the last interview for my internship!” you exclaimed, excitement and happiness dripping from your voice.
sukuna is already on his feet, arms open as he kisses you briefly, nose brushing as you bounce on your toes, unable to contain your joy.
“congratulations, baby. i knew you would kill it,” he says like it was obvious, a grin on his own on his face as his hands settle on your waist. “give me a hug.”
and you hug him, tight and full of enthusiasm while you ramble his ear off about the place you will be making your internship, how it would look on your resume and so on.
he just hums, face already nuzzling your hair, pressing a tiny peck on your hairline, arms holding you tight against him.
you’re both in his room, supposedly studying together but you are the only one actually trying to do work.
sukuna is…present. yeah. that’s about it.
you’re halfway through reading a paragraph when his foot nudges yours under the desk but you ultimately decide to ignore it. he nudges again, harder this time.
you keep reading, starting again because he distracted you from reading your notes when the chair beside you creaks as he shifts.
“…give me a hug.” his voice says that he is demanding rather than asking but you are too busy with the words in front of you to care.
you don’t look up, highlighting a sentence on your notebook. “i’m studying.”
you finally glance over, unimpressed, blinking slowly at the sight in front of you.
he’s already got one arm lifted expectantly, eyebrows raised like well?
you stare at him for three whole seconds before scooting your chair over so he can wrap himself around you from the side.
he hums satisfied, using your shoulder as a chin rest while he goes back to scrolling his phone and you just sigh, eyes going back to your notes, unconsciously leaning your head against his because you are just as needy of affection as him.
you know there is no way back from this habit when he does it mid argument.
you’re mad. like—actually mad. so mad that sukuna actually shuts his smart mouth as he looks at you —arms crossed, pacing his room while he sits on the edge of the bed as you rant about something he definitely did.
you freeze mid step, fingers twitching against your arms.
“kiss,” he says again, like it’s going to fix the fact that he forgot your anniversary dinner or ate the last of your snacks or whatever crime he committed this time. whatever.
“i’m literally yelling at you right now.”
he furrows his eyebrows. “and?”
“i’m mad at you, sukuna!”
he shrugs because what has that to do with him having a kiss? “…still. kiss.”
you stare at him in disbelief when he pats his thigh once, like he’s calling over a cat.
you hate that it works. you hate that you march over anyway. you hate that the second your lips touch his he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you closer.
and you hate even more that when you pull back, he looks smug.
“there,” he mumbles, pecking your lips once for good measure. “you feel better.”
and definitely his favorite time to ask for a kiss is this.
his tongue is lapping at your folds, thoroughly gathering your sweet juices and spreading them along your slick pussy, suckling at your clit when he feels your thighs tremble around his head.
he looks at you from under his eyelashes, fingers playing with your nipples as your twitch below him. he knows you are near.
“kuna—please! i’m close.” you moan sweetly, head thrown back as you push him back to you, grinding against his face and he smirks, loving seeing you this needy.
he complies, pressing his tongue flat and starting to messily make out with your pussy, slurping, sucking and completely smitten with every sound you make.
when you come, he cleans you up until you are practically dry, kissing your thighs.
he looms over you, bracing his weight on his forearms, trapping you between his chest and the mattress and he looks down at you with that insufferable, heavy-lidded smirk, his thumb reaching out to trace your lower lip, dragging a bit of your own moisture across your skin.
“give me a kiss, baby,” he rumbles, his voice dropping into that low, scratchy register that vibrates straight through your chest. “taste yourself on me.”
“you’re obsessed with telling me what to do,” you whisper, though you’re already tilting your head back, your heart doing that familiar, frantic thrum against your ribs.
“yeah,” he mutters, leaning down until his nose brushes against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “and you’re compliant. now, kiss.”
and just like always, you find yourself reaching up, pulling his head down to close the gap, tasting the salt and the sweetness of yourself on his tongue as he hums into the kiss, sounding thoroughly, smugly satisfied.
there is nothing better than this.
