A little of the top
Sukuna got a new look, and you aren't sure whether to pounce on him or demand he go back and get it fixed. (He can't fix it)
It was later that evening, and the rhythmic quiet of the apartment was broken only by the sound of you tidying up the living room. You had just finished wrestling a fresh pillowcase onto a throw pillow when the front door finally swung open.
The heavy, distinct thud of Sukuna’s footsteps echoed down the hallway.
"You're home la—" The words died in your throat the second he stepped into the living room light.
Your brain completely short-circuited. Where was his hair? His beautiful, luscious, soft hair that you loved running your fingers through? The pillow slipped from your suddenly limp hands, hitting the floor with a soft thud.
Sukuna stopped in his tracks, leaning his broad frame against the doorframe and raising a pierced eyebrow at your frozen state.
"What?" he asked. His tone was so casual you’d think he hadn’t just completely altered your brain chemistry with a pair of clippers.
It was infuriating, really. Who gave him the right to shave his head and somehow look even hotter? The sharp lines of his jaw, the intricate tattoos mapping up his neck, the intense, piercing crimson of his eyes—everything was suddenly on full display, amplified tenfold by the brutal, clean-cut look. You truly didn't know whether you wanted to pounce on him right then and there, or burst into tears over the loss of his pink locks.
"What do you mean 'what'?" You huffed, crossing the room to stand right in front of him. You looked up at him like he had just committed a federal crime. "When you left this morning, you had a full head of hair. Now? It’s gone!"
"My hair was getting on my nerves," he admitted seamlessly. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked down at your utterly devastated expression. His large, tattooed hands found their familiar place at your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles into your skin through your shirt. "You don't like it?"
"I didn't say that!" You protested, your hands instinctively reaching up, hovering just inches away from the fuzzy new texture of his scalp. "It's just... new. Very new."
Before your fingers could make actual contact, Sukuna’s grip tightened on your waist. With an effortless, breathless lift, he swept you completely off your feet. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist out of pure instinct as he walked over to the couch, sinking heavily into the cushions and bringing you right down onto his lap.
Straddling his thighs, you found yourself eye-to-eye with the culprit. He leaned in, his breath warm against your lips, his eyes gleaming with dark, predatory amusement.
"Good new or bad new?" he murmured, tilting his head slightly.
"I haven't decided yet," you mumbled, finally letting your palms rest against the sides of his head.
The buzz cut was prickly, sharp, and incredibly warm under your hands, completely different from the soft strands you were used to burying your face in. It sent a strange, thrilling shiver straight down your spine. Your fingers trailed slowly down to the nape of his neck, feeling the solid, unyielding heat of his skin and the prominent set of his shoulders.
Without the hair framing his face, his expressions felt heavier, more intense. Every glance felt like a demand.
Sukuna let out a low, rumbling chuckle that vibrated right through your chest. He leaned into your touch, his eyes lidding with pure satisfaction as you continued to explore the new texture.
"Take your time," he whispered, his hands sliding down from your waist to grip your hips, pulling you flush against his chest. "But I suggest you make up your mind before I decide for you."
Looking down at the sharp, dangerous edge the new haircut gave him, you had a feeling "good new" was an extreme understatement. You leaned down, burying your face into his neck, realizing you were definitely leaning toward pouncing.
Tag-list- @oksukuna