18+ ⸝⸝⸝ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 & nerd!reader making out for the first time (spoiler: he’s a goner) <3
part 1 below | next | part 3 | part 4 | part 5
the air is thick with it—wet, greedy kisses that sound like he’s trying to overwhelm you, even as his mouth keeps brushing yours like he’s afraid to let go.
sukuna kisses you while you’re on his lap like a starved man, lips moving with a kind of urgency that blurs the line between respect and pure want.
one hand stays firm at the back of your neck, his palm hot against you your skin. the other swallows your face, cupping your cheek with a gentleness that almost feels wrong on him. though his grip tightens as if he can’t help it—holding you there, trapping you in him.
you’ve kissed him before, sure—shy, hesitant things that barely brushed the surface since the time you’ve began dating.
he was your first boyfriend. your first kiss.
but you’d never done anything like this before.
sukuna won’t ever admit it, but you were too damn cute today—your oversized sweater, glossy lips, baggy jeans, and glasses slipping down your nose. of course he couldn’t hold back any longer.
his tongue slides against yours and you whine into his mouth, finally melting above him. your fingers twist in his shirt, he lets out a low sound against your mouth—something between a groan and a laugh.
your glasses press crookedly against his face, the cool frame digging into his cheek as he kisses you harder. he doesn’t even care. if anything, it only spurs him on. he growls a quiet curse against your lips, chasing you when you try to pull back to fix them. his hand shifts from your neck to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as if to say don’t you dare.
you try to mumble something—maybe an apology—but it’s swallowed by the next kiss.
he tastes like heat, a gatorade, and something dizzying (though that’s probably just a side effect of his lips on yours).
the way his breath shudders when you instinctively lean further into him makes your stomach flip.
it’s messy. it’s clumsy. and it’s so him.
it’s almost funny, how this even started. the two of you had always been a little mismatched—him, loud and infuriating; you, the quiet one in the front of every lecture with the best grades.
he’d tease you endlessly just to see that your flustered reaction, calling you nerd like it was your name.
when sukuna came crashing into your life, he was loud and unapologetic—the kind of guy who ruled every room without trying. but you? you were the quiet, awkward, stuck behind your laptop type. you were someone he shouldn’t have noticed, let alone liked.
but he did. somehow.
he’d lean against your table in the library during study sessions just to get under your skin, tossing out comments that made your face heat up. “you’re really gonna skip dinner to study for a test?” or, “how are you still cute with those eye bags, nerd?”
but every time, you couldn’t help but wonder what a guy like him was doing in a library and talking to a girl like you.
the teasing was constant, but something else hid underneath it—something that made your chest tighten whenever he looked at you a second too long.
it was in moments where your eyes accidentally met his across campus and you immediately glanced away, convinced he hadn’t really been looking at you. or when you caught his gaze while he was laughing with his friends and had to pretend you weren’t wondering why someone like him would notice you at all.
and now, with your glasses tilted and your lips swollen from his kisses, that same look flickers in his eyes. the one that says he doesn’t mean half the things he says because around you? sukuna’s never really been as sharp as he pretends to be.
he leans in again, and before you can think, the kiss deepens. slower this time, but heavier—like he’s sinking into it.
your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt once more, and that’s all it takes for him to lose whatever restraint he had left. with a low sound that sends heat rushing to your face, he shifts his weight, guiding you back until your shoulders hit the mattress.
the world tilts. your breath stutters.
his hand braces beside your head, his body hovering just above yours. your dorm room feels too small now, every breath shared.
“relax,” he murmurs, voice rough, but his eyes are soft—softer than you’ve ever seen them. dilated until you can barely see the crimson color of his eyes.
when he kisses you again, it’s needier, like he’s afraid the moment will end too soon. your glasses slide a little down your nose again when you move to sit up on your elbows, and he laughs quietly against your mouth—a sound that makes your breath hitch—brushing them back up with his knuckles before kissing you once more, even harder this time.
your heartbeat is wild, matching the rhythm of his. you’re flustered and overwhelmed but you don’t want him to stop. not when he’s looking at you like that. not when every kiss feels like a secret he’s been holding in for far too long.
your breath catches when his lips leave yours for only a moment—just long enough for him to look at you like he’s still trying to understand how he ended up here, above you, wanting you this much. his thumb skims your cheekbone, slow and distracted, like his body is moving ahead of his thoughts.
“y’know,” he mutters, voice low and almost irritated, “you drive me insane.”
you barely have time to process it before his mouth is on yours for the nth time—now nothing like the seemingly controlled kisses from before.
it’s like he’s losing patience with himself and with you. with the space between your bodies that he keeps trying to erase.
when he pulls back, it’s not far. just enough for his forehead to rest against yours, breaths tangling.
“you don’t even get it, do you?” he murmurs, words barely shaped.
you manage an breathy exhale, answer confused, “g-get what?”
he doesn’t answer.
instead, his gaze drags over your face like he’s memorizing something he refuses to say out loud.
and then without warning his mouth drops to your throat.
the shift is instant. rougher. desperate.
his hand curls at your hip, dragging you closer as his lips find the warm skin beneath your jaw, kissing, then biting. soft, then not soft at all. your breath hitches, fingers gripping his shoulders, and he makes a low noise against your neck like that reaction alone is all the explanation he’s willing to give.
he doesn’t stop there.
his mouth trails lower. it’s almost like he’s trying to chase every shiver he pulls from you. his nose skims your throat, breath hot against your skin.
his grip on your hip tightens, not enough to hurt—just enough to tell you he’s losing whatever control he walked in with.
you gasp when he pulls you fully against him, the closeness stealing your breath even further. that little noise goes straight to his head. his hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, pressing your chest against his, keeping you there like he doesn’t want to let go.
“stay still,” he breathes against your neck. except you can hear it in his voice, the way it cracks a little—he’s the one who can’t stay still.
his lips find a spot just beneath your ear, and when you shudder, he laughs. this time quiet and breathless, not mocking at all. like he can’t believe what you do to him.
he mouths at your pulse again, deeper, lingering like he’s trying to mark the moment into memory.
your fingers slide up into his hair without thinking, and the second you tug—just barely—his breath catches hard against your skin.
the sound that leaves him is almost pained.
he kisses down your neck again like he needs you closer than your body will physically allow.
and then, he’s grinding his hips against yours and that’s when you feel it.
a whimper escapes you and then you realize he doesn’t even know it. the movement was instinctive. heat blooms in your chest and low in your stomach, sudden and sharp, and he just hums against your skin, lost in the closeness between you.
“kuna—” it comes out as a whine as you push him back, eyes wide.
he grunts, reaching instinctively to pull you back in, “what?”
then his eyes catch where you’re looking and a flash of awareness hits him. a faint red color blooms upon his cheeks as he realizes exactly what it is.
he’s hard.
fuck.
ryomen sukuna was not a man who got hard just from just kissing.
sukuna hides himself at the crook of your neck, “just—just stop— don’t look! i-ignore it.”
did he just stutter?
>> next ch / series masterlist
this is my first sukuna fic (that i'm posting at least) and the first thing i've written since disappearing off the face of tumblr!!! i hope i wrote him well enough because this has been in my drafts for months😓
There’s a photo booth tucked into a quiet corner of the mall. Its faded plastic siding and heavy velvet curtain make it look like a relic from another decade. You stop so abruptly that he almost walks into you.
“Oh, no,” he says immediately, already knowing what you’re about to make him do.
You turn with bright eyes. “Kuna.”
"A photo booth? Seriously?" Sukuna flatly cuts in and takes a step back, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, looking at the machine like it’s an insult to his intelligence. "We're adults, not high schoolers on a first date. I’m not squeezing into that tiny fucking box."
“You are,” you insist, reaching for him with both hands.
“I'm literally two meters of muscle, angel. I don't 'fit' in there,” he grumbles, but you've already hooked your fingers around his wrist and started pulling.
Sukuna lets out a long, resigned, and put-upon sigh to show you he’s doing you the biggest favor in the history of the world, but he follows, easily keeping up with your excited steps, even if he complains the entire time. “It’s dumb. We’re both going to look stupid, and I’m too big for that thing anyway.”
Standing in front of the booth, he looks like he's regretting every life choice that led him here, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. He has to duck just to get his head past the top of the frame. Once inside, the space feels impossibly cramped, even more so than it seemed from the outside.
His broad shoulders take up nearly the entire width of it, forcing you to tuck yourself firmly against his side just to make room for his legs.
"Move over, Sukuna. You're hogging the whole seat."
“I’m not hogging it. I’m on it,” he grunts, his knees nearly bumping the opposite wall as he awkwardly tries to maneuver his massive self. He looks less like a man getting his photos taken and more like a bear that accidentally got stuck in a dog crate. “There’s not enough room, woman. This thing was built for children.”
You burst out laughing at the sight of him being so clearly defeated by a piece of 90s mall furniture. “You look completely ridiculous. Here, stop fighting it.”
Without waiting for him to argue, you step over his leg into the narrow gap between his knees and sit down on his right thigh. Sukuna lets out another low grumble, and his big hand immediately comes up to steady your waist.
“Well,” he mutters as he adjusts. “I guess that’s one way to solve the floor plan issue.”
You pop the coins in, and the machine’s timer begins to count down for the first photo.
Flash. Sukuna’s still wearing the same deeply unimpressed look he brought into the booth, jaw tight, brows slightly furrowed, the full weight of being dragged into something he would rather not do visible in every part of his face. You, on the other hand, are bright-eyed, caught in a blur of laughter, your face turned toward him instead of the camera, delighted by his misery.
“That’s perfect,” you beam.
“It’s awful,” he mutters, silently begging the machine to wrap it up so he can escape this cramped little prison with whatever scraps of dignity he has left.
You can’t resist teasing him just a little, so you reach up and poke his cheek, giggling softly as you whisper, “Come on, at least pretend you’re having fun, you big grump.”
The machine beeps the second countdown, and his arm hooks securely around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest so you don’t slip.
Flash. This time, he's got a look of reluctant acceptance, as he's finally resigned himself to the fact that escape is impossible and that the only way out is through. His chin rests near your temple, the scowl is a little less intense, and he looks like he’s trying really hard to remember he’s supposed to be annoyed.
“Okay, no—wait,” you say, trying to physically force a smile onto his face by lightly pushing the corners of his mouth up.
He catches your wrists instantly, pinning your hands away from his face.
“I'm not smiling for this.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not.”
You poke his cheek again, a little harder this time. “You look like someone stole your last protein shake. Come on, just one little smile for me, Kuna.”
He huffs through his nose, low and exasperated, keeping his jaw stubbornly locked.
For the third countdown, you lean in to murmur softly into his ear, “You know I still have a video of you trying to pet that stray cat and getting rejected. Imagine Satoru seeing that.”
Sukuna’s eyes widen, and the corner of his mouth twitches violently at the memory as he fights the laugh that wants to break free.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not. You called it ‘baby,’ remember?”
He clenches his jaw, stares straight ahead with fierce determination, struggling visibly as his shoulders tense and his nostrils flare slightly, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction of seeing him break.
Flash. The photo captures his full internal battle.
You giggle against his ear, poking his cheek one last time for good measure. “See? You’re fighting it so hard. It’s adorable.” You turn back to the screen with a wide grin, basking in your small victory.
With only four seconds left on the timer, Sukuna suddenly moves. His hand shoots from your waist to the back of your head, tangling in your hair and pulling your face to his. His thumb grazes your jawline, turning you fully toward him, and then he meets you halfway, drawing you into a deep, slow kiss.
Flash. It goes off right in the middle of it, capturing the moment perfectly, but Sukuna doesn’t stop. He just keeps kissing you, even as the machine starts spitting out the first photo strip. His hand stays tangled in your hair, his other arm locked around your waist like he has no intention of letting you go anytime soon.
The photos slide out of the slot, but neither of you reaches for them.
When Sukuna finally pulls back, you’re both a little breathless. He rests his forehead against yours, looking at you with dark and satisfied eyes.
His voice is low, rough, and full of that familiar blend of exasperation and affection as he murmurs against your lips, “You’re impossible.”
You smile, still a little dazed, fingers curled into the front of his shirt. “And you love it.”
He lets out a quiet chuckle, presses one last soft kiss to your mouth, then keeps one arm around your waist as you step out of the cramped booth and back into the bright lights of the mall.
You grab both strips of photos, the paper still slightly warm, and look at the progression from grumpy husband to reluctant participant to barely contained laughter to the sudden, fierce kiss that ends it all. You giggle and make a big show of tucking them into your purse, giving him a mischievous side-eye.
"Well, since you were so miserable and forced to be in there," you tease, starting to walk away, "I guess you won't want these. They’re both mine. Proof of your suffering."
Without saying a word, his long fingers dip right into your bag, snatching one of the strips before you can even react.
"Nice try, brat.”
He carefully folds the paper, making sure the crease falls between the photos, then flips open his leather wallet and slides the strip behind his driver’s license, smoothing it with his thumb.
"I did the time," he says after, catching your hand in his and lacing your fingers together as you head for the exit. "I’m keeping the prize."
Something funny about my 'i want my man ALL MEAN AND A FREAK" is I have never liked a boy, not to say a man (wich are different things, don't let them foul you)
But also, is not like I HAD tried to before 😭😭 I had passed the last 5years in love with my ex-toxic-gf and the last year trying to go on in life
But even before, i hadnt liked a single boy in my school, and Is not my fault even!!!! They just don't have my fav type of boys/mans on my local store 😞😞 I just believe they discontinued those years ago and I didnt noticed 😭😭
Sooo,, gyaru Ayano posting a pic and using that song of grease, "you're the one that I want" w the lyrics (bcs Budo hasnt been making moves with her 😒😒)
"You better shape up
'Cause I need a man
And my heart is set on you
You better shape up
You better understand
To my heart I must be true
Nothin' left, nothin' left for me to do"
And Budo is HYSTERICAL, and thinking she is posting for another boy, and he cries himself to sleep.
The older I get the more I admire people who are earnestly, genuinely into whatever their thing is. I know it sounds like an annoying cliche but unless you're being cruel or hurtful there is really no need to be normal about things. The dude with the bad fake accent at the renaissance faire is having the time of his life. The people having photoshoots with their fashion dolls are loving it. The old lady with a yard unreasonably full of tacky ass lawn ornaments is having a blast, HOA be damned.
Don't waste your time being too cool to have fun, y'know?
might I request, Itachi & Osana getting their 23andme results
"They always say you look like cousins!"
That akward moment where youre dragged to a hangout with your crush's friends and apparently youre more spiritually related with the one you don't like
“this time, i have you.” @kunascutie - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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