Lap of Luxury
Heian Sukuna x Reader
Dinner has ended hours ago, but you’re still heavy with it - simmered fish, fragrant rice, sweetened chestnuts. The brazier in your chamber glows warm, flushing your cheeks where you sit curled on cushions, lazily finishing a bowl of fruit. Your sleeves keep slipping down your wrists, your hair loose from its pins, your whole body softened into the warmth and quiet.
The screens slide open without warning. The force alone tells you exactly who it is. Sukuna fills the doorway, tall and broad and far too sharp for the cozy room. His gaze skims you once, taking in your drooping eyes, the way you cradle the bowl of fruit like it’s too much effort to lift.
“tch.” He shuts the screen with a single push, dismissing the servants without a word. Then he strides forward, and you almost scramble to rise - but his hand is already pressing your shoulder back down.
“Stay.” The command is quiet, but absolute.
He settles himself beside you, sprawling onto the cushions like the space was made for him alone. Then, with that unsettling swiftness, he hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you bodily into his lap. You give a startled sound, half protest, half gasp, but his chest is already at your back, his hand spanning the soft curve of your belly.
“mmh. look at you,” he murmurs against your ear, low and amused. His thumb presses lightly into your waist, then strokes over the swell of it. “Soft everywhere. Lazy little thing, melting into the fire like you’ve forgotten how to stand.”
You bristle faintly, but your body betrays you - you are melting, your head tipping back against his shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut. His hand roams deliberately, squeezing the plush of your thigh through silk, dragging slow over your hip.
“You know why you’re like this?” he asks, voice edged with that dangerous humor. He doesn’t wait for your answer, only huffs a quiet laugh. “My doing. Feed you well, keep you warm, keep you safe. And this-” his fingers skim under the edge of your robe, just enough to brush bare skin-“is what I get. A little creature too soft to fend for herself, made for nothing but lying in my lap.”
Heat floods your cheeks, a pulse of protest trembling at the tip of your tongue - but he tilts your chin with two fingers, forcing your eyes up to meet his. His smirk is sharp, but his gaze is heavy, almost… proud.
“You’d waste away without me,” he says, almost conversational, though his thumb is stroking slow circles over your jaw. “Don’t even try to deny it.”
Your throat tightens. You don’t.
Instead, you let him press you down further against him, until your body is fully reclined into his hold. He nips at your ear, amused when you shiver.
“You’re going to blame me for this, aren’t you?” His hand grips your thigh, squeezing until you squirm. “Every inch softer, every sigh lazier. My fault, hm? You’d still be sharp and restless if I hadn’t ruined you.”
Your breath catches, and for the first time tonight you dare a quiet answer, a whisper against his throat where your lips brush when you tilt your head. “Then you’ll have to keep feeding me.”
The sound he makes is half growl, half laugh-genuine amusement, genuine approval. His grip tightens around you.
“Greedy little thing.” His mouth finds your temple, hot and fleeting. “Good. That’s exactly how I want you.”
And with that, he leans back into the cushions, settling you fully across his lap like a treasure he intends to guard, his hands never leaving your soft, sated form.
