#softkuna

Leaving the bathroom, you hummed a quiet tune as you headed to your bedroom to find your boyfriend on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He perked up at the sound of your footsteps, his shoulders instantly relaxing at the sight of you clad in your soft pajamas. Immediately, he placed his phone by the bedside table and shifted a little to create a little more space for you.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled, but the faint amused smile failed to conceal his affection.

Giggling, you dove for the bed, instantly going inside the soft blankets to curl beside him. you sighed, content, as you lazily wrapped your arms around his broad chest, nuzzling your cheek against his bicep. In return, he cuddled back, wrapping his arms around your smaller frame to gently cradle you.

“Night, kuna,” you murmured, as per ritual, closing your eyes.

There was a pause. Then complete silence. 

It made your brows furrow, since he usually gave you a groggy reply. Opening your eyes curiously, you saw his eyes stare back at you, slightly narrowed and lips faintly tugged down into a petulant pouting frown. faint, but definitely there.

“What? What’s wrong?” you asked gently, slightly concerned as you stared up at him with those sweet, pretty eyes. 

Sukuna’s brows furrowed a little more, a habit that he had when he was trying to comprehend how you could be so cute, but that was not the point at the moment—because his pout tugged a little deeper to form a deeper frown.

“…”

You raised a brow.

“…” Sukuna huffed, looking away for a moment, ears burning in a cute pink. “…nothing.”

“It’s not nothing though!” you whined, grinning at the sight of his adorable pink ears. “Tell me, tell me!”

Sukuna made a show of frowning a little more before you heard a snippet of what he was saying, incoherent.

“Huh?”

Sukuna narrowed his eyes at you before muttering it out again, “You didn’t …ive me a …night……”

You blinked. “What?”

“You didn’t give me a good night’s kiss!” he grumbled out finally, quickly, loudly giving you an irritated tsk as he looked away to hide his blush.

You stared at him, slightly dumbfounded before laughing warmly. “Aww! Kuna!”

Without wasting a time, you cradled his face to tilt him so that he was looking at you before giving him a soft kiss on his lips, smiling against his plush skin. Sukuna hummed in tender satisfaction as he held onto you a little more tighter, caressing the delicate curve of your hip.

After a moment, you pulled away to smile up at him, slightly teasing. “You know you could always initiate the kiss.”

Sukuna gave you a shrug as though trying to hide his previous humiliating admission. “You always kiss me good night first.”

You giggled, pecking his lips. “You’re so spoiled.”

“Brat,” he grumbled, before he abruptly pulled you closer to him, and laid the both of you down on the bed, burrowing his face into your neck. “Go to sleep already.”

“Good night, Kuna,” you replied back once more with a butterfly-fluttering, warm laugh, kissing his shoulder. “I love you…”

"I love you too.”

You’ve been ignoring him for exactly three hours and forty-two minutes.

Not that you’re counting.

Your phone is face-down on your bed, screen lighting up every couple minutes with his name before going dark again. You don’t touch it. You refuse to. Because he deserves it.

He really does.

You sit cross-legged on the floor, aggressively reorganizing something that absolutely did not need reorganizing, muttering under your breath.

“Stupid… arrogant… can’t even say sorry properly…”

A knock interrupts you.

You freeze.

Another knock. Smaller this time. Softer.

“…go away,” you mumble, not even looking up.

The door creaks open anyway.

“…hi.”

That voice is not Sukuna’s.

You blink, turning your head, and there he is. Little Yuji. Tiny, pink-cheeked, messy hair, clutching something behind his back like he’s on a secret mission.

Your anger falters instantly.

“Yuji?” you soften, sitting up straighter. “What are you doing here?”

He shuffles in, shutting the door carefully behind him like it’s very important he does it quietly.

“Um… I came to fix it,” he says, serious. Very serious. Like this is the most important task of his life.

Your brows knit. “Fix what?”

He walks over, small steps, then stops right in front of you. His little hands finally come forward, revealing a slightly crumpled drawing.

heian!sukuna x wife!reader | heian era ; trueform!sukuna ; husband!sukuna fluff | drabble | 1k words

♡ looking for more sukuna? here you go!

♡ continuation of this here

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“You know, one day I’m not going to be around.” 

Sukuna’s breath hitches so quietly you almost don’t hear it, but you do anyway. A slight pause, and then his first set of crimson eyes flickers up to meet yours. The scroll in his hand is set down onto the tatami with a soft thud. 

Outside, the branches of the willow tap lightly on the shoji; the sun sets just a little earlier today. The sound is so quiet but still enough to fill the silence before the King of Curses speaks.

“What do you mean?”

Of course, he knows exactly what you mean. 

You hum, “I’m not a sorcerer, or a curse, or have any cursed energy. I’m just me.”

“You’re my wife.” Sukuna says simply, though his tone is firm, his words lack bite. “That’s enough, no?”

“I’m unlike you–” you say, a little quieter this time, “my time on this plane is limited.”

Your salmon-haired husband casts his red eyes to the open fusuma; in the garden, the last of the sunlight spills low across the pond. Orange fractures into ribbons of gold and amber by the slow circling of the koi beneath the surface. Beyond the garden walls, the world is not so gentle: The mountains in the distance rise unevenly, with their silhouettes jagged and like ridged teeth threatening to tear the fabric of the sky. Sukuna thinks about the abundance of unfettered curses swarming in the dark and damp at the foot of the mountain – the ones he hasn’t subjugated yet. 

He thinks about the fact that they will probably live a hundred years longer than something as pure and good as you will. 

He thinks about how many more sunsets and winters he will see compared to you; he thinks about the fact that one day Uraume will stop making mugwort tea simply because you are the one who drinks things like that and he does not.

One of his four gigantic hands crawls over the tatami and rests atop of yours. His warm yet calloused skin completely covers yours. Nothing is said but a light ‘hmm’, though his fingers curl a little; his grip is not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough that you feel like he understands what you have just said.

You peer at his face through your lashes, lips pressed into a tight line. “Husband?”

All four eyes are focused on the orange sun setting outside. Sukuna does not cry. That stupid word isn’t even in his lexicon; there has never been a single tear shed over anything – but his chest remains tight and heavy as he thinks that one day, a lone tear may spill in your permanent absence. 

The sharp planes of his face are set as they always are: Unyielding and severe. Yet, in the orange glow, the faint downturn of his lips can almost give it away; only in the quiet stillness of early evenings like this does the cruel exterior strip completely. You feel his thumb shift a little over your hand and he rubs a gentle circle over your soft skin. 

"Have I upset you?"

You think about how you must look to his court and subjects – completely insignificant as a mundane mortal, yet you are the very woman who has managed to turn a heartless monster into someone who is capable of small, gentle notions like resting a hand over yours and rubbing absentminded circles on it. You, indeed, are so insignificant in his presence, even now, where his shoulders are broad enough to block out the fading light when he shifts. 

“I will not accept that,” Sukuna says quietly. 

Your soft laugh slips out before you can stop it. “I don’t think even you can change something as unmoveable as fate, my heart.” 

His mouth twitches a little at the sound of the nickname but he does not relent. 

“Fate,” he repeats slowly, the word laced with quiet disdain. “I will not relinquish what is mine to something I cannot see or touch.” 

When he finally turns away from the garden, all four eyes settle on you. You smile teasingly, though the usual gleam in your eyes has been dulled a little by mere acceptance. 

“You think my turmoil is funny, wife?” He asks, though his words lack bite. An eyebrow quirks when you exhale another soft giggle. 

You shake your head, taking your hand from under his and shifting closer to him. He stills, unsure of your intentions until you stop in front of him and rest your palm on the side of his neck. Sukuna almost melts into your touch but he merely sucks his teeth a little and narrows his eyes.

A sigh slips past your lips. “I’m merely speaking the truth– one day you will have to find yourself another annoying woman–”

“I’d sooner be celibate.”

“Impossible for you.”

This earns a light scoff from him. 

Sukuna dips his head, just barely, so he leans a little more into your touch. You can feel the powerful pulse beneath his skin, and for someone like him, this is the most vulnerable he will ever be with anyone else. His red eyes lower to you, the gaze of a man completely smitten with someone he would have once smited on the spot many years ago. Deep in his heart, he knows that he would rather tear the world apart with his bare hands until a wasteland remains if you dared to leave his side.

“You speak too lightly of your absence,” Sukuna murmurs, his eyes coming to a close as your palm shifts to cup his face. “I have no use for a world that does not have you in it.”

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a week. you were in a coma for a week.

"wretched woman," he says to himself, voice too soft for it to carry any bite. unable to stop his brows from furrowing, worry evident in the way he looks at your sleeping figure.

no amount of denial and scowling will make the others believe he resents you. not when after every mission, he would always check up on you. sit in silence for hours, waiting for you to open your eyes.

here's the kicker: your hold on him has weakened in your current state. he could've easily went on a rampage, killing everything in his way.

but he doesn't.

"open your eyes, woman," he grumbled, lips forming in a thin line when only silence met his order. he leaned in closer, lips ghosting your ear.

"... please," he whispers. it was both a desperate plea, and an admission—a hint of his acceptance that he needs you. his eyes scan your face, searching for a sign, a twitch of your eyes or your brows. his eyes close in defeat, moving away from your face and propping himself back down on the chair, heaving a deep sigh as he crosses his arms against his chest.

stupid, he thinks to himself. this is pointless—

"s'kuna?"

as if he's been given this one blessing by the gods. he snaps his eyes open, seeing you wide awake and sitting up. without a moment's hesitation, he got on his knees and wrapped his arms around your waist, head resting on one arm.

"oh!" you say, surprised. you let out a breathy chuckle as you run your fingers through his pink hair.

"hi—"

he cuts you off, he doesn't care for pleasantries. he lifts his head and gets on one knee to lift himself up slightly, slamming his lips on yours, messy and aching. he doesn't pull back, he doesn't want to; he wants to feel you—but you push him away, breathless and flustered.

and god, the way he looks at you. the look in his eyes made him so easy to read, filled with so much longing that he does not know where to put. he may pride himself with how easy it can be to terrify his opponents with just a few words, but when it came to you? he's speechless.

fighting was his forte, but this? these human emotions he thought he had ripped out of himself eons ago? he hasn't a single clue on how to handle it.

he has so much to say, but nothing comes out of his throat. he thought he'd yell at you, call you stupid for putting his life first over your own. but he can't, fuck, he can't. so all he can do is kiss you, praying the feeling of his lips against your own—against your skin—was loud and clear.

"i missed you too," you whisper softly, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

and all he can do is melt in your warm embrace.

a/n : softkuna4life.

tags: @mysunfishpeedinmyroom @ghostbladee @necrozica @loverlixie @sarabencze @d4wnyjlk @kalulakunundrum @puppyminnnie @ultraviolentfawnangel77x

Your dorm room was quiet.

Too quiet, honestly.

The soft hum of your desk lamp filled the space as you sat curled up on your bed, knees tucked to your chest, phone resting in your hands. You weren’t even really doing anything on it—just scrolling mindlessly, rereading old messages you shouldn’t be rereading.

His messages.

Your stomach twisted.

You hadn’t answered him all day.

Not because you didn’t want to.

But because you did.

Too much, maybe.

Every time his name lit up your screen, your chest tightened. You’d type something out, erase it, overthink it, panic, then lock your phone like that would somehow solve everything.y

It didn’t.

It just made things worse.

Your phone buzzed again.

You froze.

You already knew who it was.

Slowly, nervously, you looked down.

Sukuna: You alive?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

You typed: yeah

Then erased it.

Then typed: sorry I’ve just been busy

Erased that too.

Another buzz.

Sukuna: Don’t ignore me.

Your heart started beating faster.

You swallowed hard, your thumb trembling slightly as you locked your phone again, pressing it against your chest like you could quiet everything inside you.

“I’ll answer later…” you whispered to yourself.

You didn’t.

Minutes passed.

Then another buzz.

You squeezed your eyes shut before even checking it this time—but you did anyway.

Sukuna: Come outside. Now.

Your breath caught.

Outside?

Now?

Your gaze flickered toward the window, the dark campus stretching out beyond it, lit by scattered streetlights.

Your heart started racing for a completely different reason.

You sat there for a full minute, frozen.

Then:

You: why?

The reply came almost instantly.

Sukuna: Don’t make me come get you.

Your stomach dropped.

He would.

You knew he would.

And somehow, that made everything worse—and better—at the same time.

You stood up too quickly, nearly knocking your chair over. Your hands moved on their own, grabbing your hoodie, pulling it over your head, sleeves covering your fingers like armor.

“Okay… okay…” you muttered under your breath, trying to steady your breathing. “Just go outside. It’s fine.”

It didn’t feel fine.

Nothing about this felt fine.

By the time you made it down the hallway and out of the dorm building, your heart was pounding so loud you were sure it was audible.

The night air hit your face, cool and sharp.

And there he was.

Leaning against a car like he owned the entire campus, phone in hand, expression already edged with irritation.

The moment he saw you, he straightened.

“There you are,” he said.

Your steps slowed.

“…hi.”

Too quiet.

Too small.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he took you in—your hunched posture, your covered hands, the way you wouldn’t look at him.

That familiar tension snapped into place.

“What’s your problem?” he asked bluntly, pushing off the car.

Your chest tightened instantly.

“I don’t have a problem…”

“You do,” he said, walking toward you. “Because you’ve been ignoring me all day.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you, I just—”

“Don’t lie.” His voice sharpened. “I can see when you read my messages.”

You froze.

“…I didn’t know what to say,” you admitted quietly.

“That’s not an excuse,” he shot back. “Since when do you not know how to talk to me?”

“I always know how to talk to you,” you said, voice trembling. “I just… didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”

“And instead you said nothing?” he snapped.

You flinched.

“I-I thought you were mad at me,” you rushed out, words starting to trip over each other. “And I didn’t want to make it worse and I didn’t know how to fix it and—”

“Mad at you?” he cut in, brows pulling together. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know!” Your voice cracked, panic rising. “That’s why I didn’t text you, I thought if I said something wrong you’d actually get mad and then—”

“Then what?” he pressed, stepping closer.

you backed up slightly without meaning to.

“I don’t know…” you whispered, your breathing uneven now.

“Look at me,” he said.

You couldn’t.

Your eyes stayed locked on the ground.

“I said look at me.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

“I can’t…” you murmured.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll mess it up,” you said, voice breaking. “I always mess things up when I’m nervous and then you’ll get annoyed and I just—”

Your words dissolved completely as your breathing hitched.

You felt it coming.

You tried to stop it.

But the tears came anyway.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, voice shaking. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you, I just didn’t know what to do and I didn’t want you to hate me and—”

Your voice broke completely.

Silence dropped hard between you.

Sukuna froze.

“…shit.”

All the irritation drained from his face instantly, replaced by something else—something caught off guard.

“Hey—” His voice lowered immediately. “Hey, no, don’t—”

You turned your face away, trying to hide it, your hands coming up to cover your face as your shoulders shook slightly.

“I didn’t mean to—” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Damn it…”

He stepped closer again, slower this time, more careful.

“Hey,” he tried again, softer now. “C’mere baby.”

You didn’t move.

So he did.

His hand gently wrapped around your wrist, tugging just enough to bring you closer—not forceful, just steady.

When you didn’t pull away, he pulled you into him, one arm coming around your shoulders.

It wasn’t perfect.

A little awkward.

But careful.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said quietly, his voice right above your head now. “I was just… annoyed. That’s it.”

You clutched lightly at his shirt, your voice barely there. “I’m sorry…”

“Stop apologizing princess,” he said immediately. “You didn’t do anything that bad.”

“I ignored you…”

“Yeah, and I came at you too hard,” he admitted. “So we’re even.”

You let out a small, shaky breath.

He shifted slightly, one hand coming up to awkwardly wipe at your cheek.

“You’re really sensitive,” he muttered—not harsh, just… noticing.

You nodded faintly against him.

“…I know.”

He exhaled through his nose.

“Yeah. I can tell.”

There was a pause.

Then he gently tilted your chin up, giving you time—waiting.

This time, you managed to look at him.

Your eyes were still wet, lashes clumped slightly, expression soft and fragile.

“…I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore,” you admitted.

He blinked.

“…what?”

“I thought you were getting tired of me,” you whispered.

He stared at you for a second—then let out a quiet, disbelieving scoff.

“You avoided me… because you thought I was avoiding you?”

You nodded a little, embarrassed.

“…yeah.”

He shook his head slightly.

“That’s…” He huffed. “That’s actually insane.”

Your face fell slightly.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I’m not saying it like that,” he cut in quickly, softer now. “I just—” He paused, then sighed. “You’re overthinking everything.”

“…I know.”

Another quiet moment passed.

Then he nodded toward his car.

“Come on.”

“…where?”

“Out.”

You hesitated. “…like… now?”

“Yes, now.”

“…okay.”

—

You ended up sitting on the hood of his car in a quiet, empty parking lot, far from the dorms, far from everything loud and overwhelming.

The sky stretched endlessly above you, scattered with stars.

A paper bag sat between you.

Sukuna handed you a burger.

“Eat.”

You blinked. “…you brought food?”

“Obviously.”

“…for me?”

He gave you a look. “No, I brought extra for decoration.”

You gave a tiny, shy smile.

“…thank you.”

You ate slowly, still a little sniffly, your emotions settling bit by bit.

After a while, you leaned back slightly, looking up.

“It’s really pretty…”

“Yeah,” he said—but he was looking at you, not the sky.

You didn’t notice.

Your fingers fidgeted with the wrapper again.

“I really wasn’t trying to ignore you,” you said softly. “I just get scared I’ll say something wrong.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“…you don’t have to do that with me,” he said.

“I know… I just can’t help it sometimes.”

“…then tell me that,” he replied. “Don’t disappear.”

You nodded. “…okay.”

A small silence settled—comfortable this time.

Gentle.

He reached out, brushing his thumb lightly under your eye.

“You okay now?” he asked quietly.

“…yeah.”

“You sure?”

You nodded again.

He studied your face for a moment—then leaned in slowly, giving you time.

You didn’t pull away.

Your breath caught softly as his lips met yours—gentle, steady, nothing like the intensity from earlier.

It felt safe.

Warm.

When he pulled back, he stayed close, his voice low.

“…next time, just answer me.”

You gave a small, shy nod.

“…I will.”

His hand found yours again, fingers lacing together.

And this time

2: the overthinking olympics

overview: Seeing you two and a half years after a sudden disappearance post-graduation with a pink-haired toddler isn’t what he expected- but it definitely makes him see things differently. Sukuna misses you and that just solidifies the fact that he wants you back.

nerd!kuna is unc!kuna is soft!kuna is dad!kuna...sighs dreamily wc : 1.7k s.masterlist | ao3 | part three

When you get home, your eyes are still slightly widened, shock plastered on your face. The day couldn't have turned any more unpredictable to you.

Ryomen Sukuna at the park with his nephew. Seeing you and Suki after you tried so hard to keep your new life a secret...

Suki's soft sleepy sigh in your ear interrupts your thoughts.

"My sleepy baby." With a gentle kiss to her head, you set Suki down on the couch.

You carefully take off her shoes and jacket, moving slower than usual as to not wake her; Suki's tiny chest still rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Your expression softens at how peaceful she looks.

So cute.

So oblivious to the way both your lives will change from now.

Your mind drifts back to the encounter at the park; His broad shoulders, his thick arms and stupidly good-looking smirk…

Snap out of it.

An exasperated noise leaves you at your train of thought, rubbing your temples as an attempt to massage the image of his muscles out of your mind.

Today has turned more stressful than expected.

Nothing could've prepared you for the abrupt reunion with Sukuna— not even months of preparation.

It was awkward… but less awkward than you would've imagined it going.

Which was a good thing, right?

He can't be that upset about the past if he asked for your number. Why did you give him your number so easily? Was it the fact that you felt guilty after your breakup- or maybe the fact that you hid a child from him?

Maybe it was those feelings locked away in the basement of your heart.

The same feelings that left you unable to tell him no in the past. It could be that you're still that girl deep down.

His girl.

The way he whispered your name was more than recognition too. What if-

None of that matters right now.

You shake your head, trying to stop the inevitable spiral of overthinking and over-analyzing, moving to the kitchen. What's more important is making dinner before Suki wakes up.

Your phone stays nearby on the counter while you prep, pulling out some vegetables and chicken.

Soup would be an easy dinner tonight— something Suki would actually eat. She's been in her picky phase.

Dicing chicken and chopping vegetables is a good enough distraction, rather than anticipating a message from Sukuna.

A text that can come at any given moment…

You sigh quietly, monitoring the boiling pot of veggies and chicken loosely with an occasional stir. It wouldn't be much longer until everything was fully cooked.

The minutes pass by slowly, your stove eventually singing a small tune when the timer ends.

Right as you turn to grab some bowls, you're met with Suki's tiny blank stare. You nearly jump, eyes widened and brows raised.

A breath leaves you, "How long have you been standing there, hm?" You chuckle after calming yourself; Suki giggling in return, rubbing her little face against your leg.

"Hi mommy. I hungry," Suki smiles up at you, eyes lightening as she glances to the stove. "Wice?"

You simply shake your head, picking her up. "No rice this time. Some chicken… and veggies. You like chicken," you hum, leaning over the pot to convince her.

"It's a yummy soup."

Suki scrutinizes the pot of soup in a suspicious manner, looking almost offended when she can't see any rice.

"No wice?" She repeats your words hesitantly, flicking her gaze back to you.

"No rice."

"I wan' wice."

This girl. You'd be annoyed if she wasn't your child.

"It's good without rice-" you begin, only for Suki's lips form a deep pout. "I promise you'll like it without rice, okay? I'll make you some rice tomorrow with dinner."

As you continue to negotiate with Suki while making your bowls, your phone is long forgotten on the counter.

Hours passed.

Suki reluctantly enjoyed dinner, still pouting about 'wice' well into bath time. You went through the routine bath and bedtime regimen with Suki, and now you're lying awake in bed.

Your eyes flick over to the nightstand, 10:21 pm mocking you in bright red.

Right beside the clock laid your phone. With everything else on your mind you'd forgotten about the text you were supposed to receive…

You deadpan, glaring at the empty space where your notifications usually are.

A text that never came.

The sight of your phone bare with no messages nearly annoys you—

No. It does annoy you.

Did Sukuna only want your number to have access to you again? It wouldn't be hard to put that past him, that's definitely something he'd do.

Whatever. You'll cross that bridge when you get to it. "Hopefully, he forgets and acts like he never saw me." You grumble, flinging your phone to the other side of the bed with a bit too much force.

The clatter of your phone falling off of the bed makes you huff, flopping onto your back— glare aimed at the ceiling.

It's not like you were genuinely wanting to talk to him again. Have one of those easy conversations like you used to…

Your lips press together, and you turn onto your side curling under the blankets.

Heart lurching from the memories of your past with Sukuna.

You weren't getting much sleep tonight.

Ryomen sat in his room, quiet jazz filling in the deafening silence.

He'd just gotten back to his own apartment after running multiple errands: Dropping Yuji off to his parents, strolling through the library— checking out a book that interested him, picking up some dinner.

Errands to distract himself from texting you.

Distracting himself from how uncharacteristically on edge he felt looking at your number.

Multiple times throughout the day— periodically, almost— Ryomen started a text, only to delete it afterwards.

'Hey. Thought we should talk more about your daughter.'

That's not right.

'It was nice seeing you again. I think we need to talk about some things.'

Not strong enough.

'Can't believe you have a baby that looks just like me. I need us to talk about that. Are you single?'

Too strong.

'Hey. I've missed talking to you, and I wanna know more about Suki. Can we talk?'

Too… vulnerable waaaay too soon. All of these mixed feelings over a text were new to him— he wasn't one to second guess himself, ever.

Nothing he drafted felt right to send to you. Not with how things ended between you. Not with the time apart and impromptu meeting.

Definitely not considering you had a daughter. A kid that's more than likely his.

He rolls his eyes, correcting his own thought;

A kid that is his.

Ryomen isn't stupid enough to think Suki wasn't his child; she couldn't have been more than two years old, the timeline adds up.

Coupled with the fact she has the same shade of hair as him, it's as good as a paternity test in his mind.

He grunts, still leering at the text box. Proluctance showing with every minute that passed with his phone in his hand. "This is stupid." He tosses his phone aside, rubbing his face in silent distress.

There's no reason he should be feeling this conflicted.

Ryomen told himself he was over you ages ago- right after you'd graduated. It was easy to say that when he rarely saw you.

According to the subtle flutter his heart did at the park, he clearly isn't.

And you looked great. You barely aged, but matured in such a beautiful way. Your hips were fuller, hair longer— you looked amazing, actually.

To Ryomen, it was like seeing his favorite flower bloom after a long, desolate winter.

It'd be a lie if he said he didn't think about you every now and then in his day to day.

When he's reading soft poetry; memories swirling around of times he used read to you.

When he's reviewing artworks at the museum and some woman's perfume smells too much like yours did.

When he's in bed and shifts to his side, imagining you beside him. That was really the only way he used to be able to sleep in college. Those memories are poignant.

He still can't believe its been years since he's seen you… Ryomen doesn't know how he's gone so long without you.

And if he doesn't come up with a text, soon— he doubts he'll ever see you again.

He'd rather eat his own foot than let that happen.

Ryomen shifts in his bed, reaching for his phone once again. 10:40 pm. Was it too late to text you now?

"She might be asleep by now." The eye roll comes naturally, but he continues anyway:

'Hey, hope this wasn't too late. Yuji enjoyed playing with Suki a lot, maybe they can have play dates when I have him- if you don't mind. Could we meet somewhere and talk tomorrow?'

Yeah.. that's good enough. Ryomen nods, rereading the text. Simple and to the point. Good.

'It's Ryomen, by the way.'

Okay. The hard part is done. Ryomen checks the time once again, mentally writing it down. After placing his phone back on the bed, he draws in a breath. "Where's my leftovers?"

By the time he finishes his leftover dinner, it's only been fifteen minutes. Still no reply from you. Ryomen figures you're asleep, and shrugs it off. He moves over to his record player, gingerly removing the jazz vinyl.

His nighttime routine was simple; shower, eat, read and relax, sleep.

When he crawls into bed, he's still glancing sporadically at his phone, as if trying to will you into waking up and texting him back. He only huffs as he realizes what he's doing.

"Idiot."

Ryomen sets his phone close to him in bed, just in case, he tells himself, lying back and finally closing his eyes.

In spite of everything, he really hopes you reply.

Ryomen wants— needs you two to reconcile. Not just for you two, but Suki. Deep down he's always liked the idea of a child of his own to nurture and care for. Being a dad. He hopes you let him be that for Suki.

A tiny grin on his face as he visualizes it; You, him, Suki… all together as a family. Spending holidays together. Having dinner…

It'd be nice.

a/n: can we feel the pining guys?? i'll aim to make these chapters a bit longer. i appreciate every comment, like, and reblog❤️ if you want to be added to the taglist don't be afraid to comment! i don't bite :) a masterlist for this series will be made soon!

taglist : @angierb05 @yasmbaile @yeletta @vvkitty @beereadzzz @natsolox @riimyn

“why is it you are knotting your hair in odd tangles, woman? you will be combing them out later before bed regardless.” 

his gruff voice came from the doorway of your shared chambers, watching as you sat in front of the vanity, fingers skilfully threading through soft strands.

a smile grazed your lips at his question, meeting his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. 

“to make it look pretty. and it keeps out of my face this way – less of a hassle.”

but your explanation didn’t seem to satisfy him, eyebrows still pulled into a furrow.

“why go through all that trouble when you could simply cut it shorter?” grumbling, he took a couple of steps towards where you sat, crimson eyes never leaving you.

“but i like my long hair, you do too, don’t you, ryomen?”

and although you knew very well how true that was, with the way his hands always occupied themselves in your silky tresses when you would be in his embrace before sleep, he merely huffed. 

but apparently, the silly idea of human hairstyles hadn’t been what bothered him at the time. 

no no, it was that you’d spend so much time on something he thought of as rather tedious, therefore deciding to take matters into his own, four, hands.

that’s how, you now found yourself sat on his lap, back to his chest and smiling from ear to ear at the gentle strokes and brushes of his fingers through your hair.

meanwhile, heavy sighs left sukuna’s lips every few seconds when yet another strand slipped from his fingers.

it was much harder than you had made it seem to be. seeing you do it every morning with such ease, even if it took you so long, made him think it was really just that uncomplicated. 

but oh, how he was wrong. 

not only had he taken far too long to understand where each of the three strands was supposed to go, but no matter how firmly he held them, they’d still constantly be slipping, almost mocking him for struggling with such an absurdly simple task.  

and to think he’d at least have it a little easier, given he had four hands to do all of this.

“this is- how is it you do this so effortlessly? it makes no sense. the strands flee from my grip within seconds. even your hair knows it’s not supposed to go this way…”

he grumbled, ever so huffy and puffy. 

to see a man like him, king of curses, sharpened by battle and triumphant with everything he set his mind to, struggle this much with something so easy, oh, it was hilarious.

it only made him feel irritated and all the more determined to get this right.

“you don’t have to keep going if it’s too much of a bother, ryomen. i can just do it myself.” you suggested with a gentle smile, hand reaching behind you to rest on one of his strong arms.

“no.”

was all he said, neither of you uttering another word as he redid the braid again and again and again until he was finally satisfied with how it looked, tying the ends of your hair together at last.

“it is done, your hair is… tangled.”

that made you turn your head back towards him, eyes meeting his before taking the braid into your hands and examining it.

it looked… beautiful. maybe even better than when you did it yourself. no, actually it was better, much better.

“it looks so pretty…” you said quietly, admiring the care he had put into it.

before he could huff and act all nonchalant about it though, you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“thank you, ryo.”

it took him off guard, a pink hue tinging his face quicker than he’d like but equally as quick to bring a hand up to cover his face with.

“idiot woman…”

but oh, how glad he was you actually liked it and so relieved to not have messed anything up. 

“i shall practice these foolish hair tangles in your place every morning so my wife’s weak body is not tired out by nonsensical tasks.”

“you’re going to do my hair for me every morning?”

“yes, as i have just said. you have ears to listen and a brain to think, do you not?” he huffed, secretly flustered from the joyful expression on your face. it was so stupidly adorable in his eyes.

“yeah yeah, i do.” and with a roll of your eyes you pressed another kiss to his other cheek. 

“can’t wait for morning to come again.” you chuckled with excitement flashing in your eyes.

“mm, likewise.”

⧽ fuck the partyㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

── frat!kuna can and will leave the party for you

f!reader, fluff, established relationship, frat!kuna, drinking, frat party

wc : 564

red cups are thrown everywhere, pingpong balls stray across the room, jagged glass is shunted to the margins, people vomit in all corners, wisps emit from people’s lips, and loud blasting music that your bone, muscle, vein, and organ absorb.

it’s getting smothering.

your boyfriend is nowhere to be found. he’s disappeared since earlier, and you’ve been left alone before everything started getting wild.

you’re not blaming him, though—he’s the president, which means frat priorities.

standing at the side, you hold your own red cup. the rim glistened with saliva and alcohol. you’re enjoying it a little, honestly. though you can’t say you’re relishing it too much—you’re not really in the mood. 

hysterics surround you—well, maybe that isn’t quite appropriate to call them, but it’s deemed normal at a frat party.

overwhelmed by your senses, you needed a break; hence, going to a serene place. you walk lumberly—casually impinging on others that are in a drunken state.

unaware of where your feet have dragged you—your hazy vision preventing anything else from coming into focus, leaving only the stairs.

a gravelly voice ensues, “goddamnit, i’ve been searching everywhere for you.” you don't look back.

slurring, you speak—voice all raspy. “kuna… you’re hereeee!” your tone, replete with ecstaticness. you’re seated on the stairs, in the middle of the stairs, particularly. your eyes reflecting off what’s before you—twinkling, lustrous stars.

“tch, what happened to you?” he may sound vexed, albeit his ‘concerned’ look belies him.

you respond sluggishly, trying to stand up. “mm… had a cooooouuuuple of drinks.” he trails behind you.

and as you are about to tumble down the stairs—sukuna manages to grab you by your clothes, and you swear you heard the sound of your clothes ripping. your heart genuinely almost fell out of your ass.

he heaves you toward him, your back pressing against his chest. “fuck, baby. how much did you drink?” sukuna questions, his lips brush against your ears, the deep voice sends a shock throughout your whole body.

“six…? or maaaaaybe seven. six seven!” the empty hall saturates your laughter.  

his voice gravely, “you’re going home with me.” he seizes you by your clothing neckline and forges down the stairs. “but the party!” you whine.

“fuck the party, i said you’re going home with me. ‘m not prioritizing the party before you. ya hear me?”

aaaand you’re blacked out.

the moment you rouse, you feel it hurtling to your head—hell, the hangover starts now. your mouth dry, your vision still hazy, and the feeling of the need to vomit in your chest. fuuuuck.

sukuna infiltrates the room, carrying a tray, a smug look drawn on his face. “how’s the hangover, baby?” oh, here we go.

he speaks, “you were pretty damn wasted yesterday. who summoned you?” his annoyingly handsome face has a smirk plastered on it. 

as he ensconced the tray on the nightstand beside you, the random strike of nausea hit you again. “i’m never drinking again, kuna.” your lips feel the heat of your palm; standing up, you run toward the bathroom. 

he peeks in the bathroom, and once he sees you vomiting, he instantly comes in to hold your hair for you. the sensation of your chest tightening as your throat burns from the acid and alcohol you consumed the night before isn’t pleasant. at. all.

“i made you tea and breakfast. come on, baby.”

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