˚ ༘ ❀SYNOPSIS: sukuna won't let you touch his face.
˚ ༘ ❀CW: reader is blind, fem reader, true form sukuna, you two are married, fluff, slight angst. comfort
You and your husband were sitting comfortably in the garden.
To him, the garden that sat behind the estate was nothing more than “a large patch of dirt and weeds”. The same large patch that his white and red-haired personal servant, Uraume, had been subjected to hearing complaints of ever since you’d, to his dismay, expressed your love for it.
Though every day, he’d get closer and closer to telling the gardeners to burn every blade of grass down. But the words would never escape. They couldn’t. No matter how many mouths decorated the different areas of his body, the command never came. Since he led you by hand into the flowery wonderland he had before brushed aside, you found much comfort in it.
After a while of navigating the garden on your own, you had soon figured out where each of the specific patches of flowers lay. And each day, you’d venture out to the garden, whether it be early mornings or late nights, crouch down, and touch the same species of flower. Snapdragons.
You would never see what beauties the small bundle of petals created, with the bouts of ombre–each ranging from yellows and oranges to vibrant violets and blues. It was true that sight was not a sense you possessed–for you had never seen anything since birth. But the softness the petals brought to your fingers was enough for you. After he witnessed you enjoying the flowers, he ordered that the whole garden only be filled with them. That served as the reason it stayed. It comforted you. And that brought him comfort (well, as much comfort the King of Curses could feel).
The foreign feeling couldn’t help but creep up inside him when you looked so peaceful sitting there with the warm sun brightening your face, which caused your lips to curl into a small smile.
In a way, the garden was both you and Sukuna’s safe haven. Rubbing a small fragment of the petal belonging to a snapdragon between your index and pointer finger, you took in each other’s silence. It was a comfortable silence. The kind where after years of knowing, and listening, it was nice to just have a moment of peace with the person you love.
Well, at least you called it love. You didn’t know what he called it. It was true that he had stayed loyal and never treated you differently from when you two were married, though you never heard the words, ‘I love you’ come out of his mouth. Public displays of affection (even a mere touch could set him off) were never his specialty either. But much as he didn’t want to admit it, his servants and everyone else around him (including you) knew that he had a soft spot for you.
In private however, he had no problem with you feeling his body. The ridges of his abs, or the extra pair of arms that– for some reason–didn’t deter you from “seeing” him. He knew you saw with your hands, besides verbal descriptions given by him, your hands guided your making of the world. Of him.
Every night, you would place your hand on some part of his body. Whether it be an arm or his chest, your hand was positioned somewhere on him. He never cared. Most nights he’d lie there and scoff lightly at your eagerness to feel him. Most nights. Other nights would consist of your hand palm slowly reaching toward his shoulder, then his jaw, and then–
You never knew what facial features your lover donned above his chin. Before you could make a mental map, a larger, firm hand was wrapped around your wrist, bringing it to your side, ultimately stopping your physical venture.
Sukuna would never expand on why he did it; you were always met with a curt, “Stop.”
You never argued. Never pressed. You’d either respond with a nod or, “Alright. Goodnight, dear.” To where his grip loosened, and you could feel the bed dip where he proceeded to lie down with a gruff.
Whenever you sat alone with yourself, you’d try to theorize why he acted this way about his face. Surely he wasn’t homely! Upon your weekly tea with Uraume(which Sukuna still felt uncertain about), the stoic servant would sit across from you, and discuss aspects of Sukuna’s life he knew the demon wouldn’t share. They never shared too much though. Most responses to your questions were kept vague or ambiguous. Though one topic that never were met with these responses were ones of his past relationships.
During these weekly chats, you learned the majority of his relationships were with concubines. They estimated around seventeen; each one designated to a separate need of his volition. You weren’t shocked, you suspected that was the case(the concubines that is, you thought the number was absurd). Upon learning the large quantity of his concubines, you felt a small feeling of anxiety build up. However, your self-conscious thoughts were diminished when Uraume mentioned right after, when Sukuna realized the feelings he harbored towards you were more than mere toleration, he demoted them all. Demoted being banished from the temple.
Perhaps he himself thought he was ugly? No, even you knew that Sukuna cared little about how others saw his appearance. . . his ego would never let that happen.
You sat in the same spot in the garden for half an hour trying to figure out the reasoning behind it. You knew you would never push him for fear of making him uncomfortable (though you knew it wouldn’t take much for him to just pin your hands above your head).
It was the third attempt this week you’d tried to touch his face. At first, Sukuna had compared the experience to swatting away a small gnat. Now his comparison had upgraded to being in the strongest heat wave in summer with a swarm of gnats, each in the form of your hands which inched closer and closer to his facial features every night.
Usually, he’d lie down and feel your hands on his body, the action slowly lulling him into sleep. However, the slits under his larger set of eyes couldn’t help but follow the not-so-subtle way that your hand moved from his lower abdomen, to his chest, clavicle, and then–
He’d grab your wrist, stopping you while letting out a gruff command for you to stop. He felt slightly pitiful for the way your brows furrowed in confusion. The feeling was quickly pushed down when he felt the bead of sweat running down the side of his face.
Despite the constant reassurance from Uraume, he still couldn’t shake the weird feeling every time his eyes darted to your ever-approaching palm. It wasn’t fear, he never felt fear. What was there to be afraid of? He could easily defend himself against a mere human with clouded irises.
Usually, he has no issue letting your hands roam. It was custom. In fact, he expected it. So much so to the point where he’d immediately resort to a line of skeptical questioning of whether or not you were feeling well when he wasn’t met with the familiar feeling.
In the past when he had concubines serving him, he never cared if they looked at him, or touched his face. Sometimes it annoyed him when the woman he was bedding’s only desire was to feel all over his face. But he quickly finished and kicked her out, it never warranted the same reaction he had to you.
It wasn’t until the third time that week, he had come to the terrible realization. He wasn’t in fear of any physical danger. Rather, the fear that when you finally feel his face, you would be the one to leave. For fear of having finally realized he was a monster.
Well. . .not a monster. But he doubted that you would be happy about being married to someone who dawned two faces, one that was unfortunately misshapen, and an extra pair of eyes. After another talk of his true thoughts with Uraume, they had brought up your nonchalance of him having four arms and a mouth on his stomach. . .where he decided the reasoning behind that was because you had no problem being pinned down under him with said four arms.
After another night in bed which again was a result of a failed attempt, you took off to the garden–after waiting for Sukuna to fall asleep. At least you thought he was.
You listened for the soft snores that would have usually pulled you into a soothing sleep, but this time they acted as a signal for you to leave.
You wrapped a blanket around yourself and navigated through endless doors until the feeling of soft grass under your feet told you that you were in the garden. You plucked a petal off of a snapdragon and sat down at the small table Sukuna had a few servants build and install.
You felt the soft petal whilst thinking. Still trying to come up with a sound reason when–
“I thought I might find you here. Why aren’t you sleeping next to me?”
A familiar deep voice–though groggy from sleep–filled in the silence of the night. You clenched your fist, crushing the petal. “Thought you were asleep.”
“I was not. I watched you walk out of our bed, and now, here you are.”
He sat down in the chair next to you, which was significantly larger due to his broader size. You both sat in silence, shrouded in your own thoughts when you spoke up.
“Why won’t you let me touch your face?” You could feel the slight shift in the air, the light illuminating from the moon feeling much colder.
“I do not understand why you are so adamant about touching my face. When will you stop these feeble attempts?”
“When you finally let me touch it, I will. You act as though I am trying to hurt you anytime I try,” you frowned slightly, feeling hurt. He folded his arms, “It is annoying that you choose to stay so persistent.”
“And it is annoying that you are not willing to tell me why you will not let me see you.”
“You see plenty of me,” he responded with a roll of his eyes–which he wouldn’t have done had you been able to see the action.
“I feel your body. I want to truly see you. Just tell me why you won’t let me touch you. Please.”
After what felt like hours of silence, he spoke up, his voice somber.
“If I tell you. . .will you drop it?”
“If it’s a valid reason,” you murmured with a shrug.
“Very well. I feel as though when you touch me–see me,” he paused, “you will be repulsed by me. And leave.”
Your movements stilled. Trying to gather your thoughts. You wouldn’t have thought in thousands of years that Ryomen Sukuna was insecure. You were at a loss for words.
Still at a loss, you reached your hand out towards his face. You expected him to say something. To push you away. He didn’t. You felt his chin, then traced his jawline, so sharp you were certain it could cut diamonds.
Your hands moved further up to his eyes, and then. . .his eyes again? You thought you had accidentally felt his eyes again, but when your fingers felt up and down, it seemed as though you had felt four eyes.
Sukuna saw your brows furrow in confusion. “I have four eyes, woman,” he groaned, but still didn’t pull away from your hold.
You didn’t say anything, just kept moving up his face. One hand felt his hairline, soft hair tickling the underside of your hand. The other–the one on the right side of his face—felt what appeared to be a lump of bare skin that should’ve been the start of his hairline as well.
You paused, not knowing whether to speak on it or continue. Sukuna didn’t speak either. Just waited for you to say something. A look of repulse maybe or anything else. Your expression, however, stayed stoic.
“Sorry,” you muttered before reaching out again.
You finally finished your “inspection” of his face. Truth be told, you weren’t disgusted. Far from it. Sukuna already had four arms, a mouth on his stomach, etcetera; so, why would an extra face and extra set of eyes be any different?
“So,” Sukuna started, voice almost whisper-like. “Go ahead and say it.”
“Say what?” A beat of silence.
“What I already know you’ll say.”
“Ah, that I still find you handsome?” He perked up, almost falling out of his chair.
You let out a soft laugh, “Really, ‘Kuna, is this what was troubling you? Your eyes. . .or ‘face’? I do not find your appearance alarming, or strange. In fact, I find you even more captivating.
He smirked, “You’re insane, woman,” the insult had no true bite to it though, “But, you truly do not find my eyes or face concerning?”
You shook your head, “Not at all. If you think about it, your eyes make up for mine, don’t they?” you teased.
His lips twitched into a small smile. “Very well then,” he stood up, “now can you please come back to bed? It’s freezing out here, and if you get a cold, I will not console you.” You complied but secretly knew that he just wanted to go back to sleep with you.
That night you both fell asleep peacefully, your body lying on top of his. And your hands, of course, now resting comfortably on either side of his face.
˚ ༘ ❀AN: had writer's block for weeks now so i practically forced myself to write this ╯︿╰. working on a fic for my bbg choso now. hope you enjoyed! requests are open. have a lovely day/night
