In all of his wretched years of existence, Sukuna was only touched by people who wanted to kill him, beat him or maim him.
And yet you—a woman he had taken as a wife out of sheer boredom—had the gall to lay your hand upon him.
It was nothing grand—just your warm, gentle hand resting on his bicep.
Yet Sukuna stiffened under your touch and felt his skin burn with a foreign feeling. You noticed the change in his demeanor and quickly pulled your hand away.
“I'm… I'm sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to touch you without permission.”
And after that, you never did it again.
But Sukuna couldn't forget about it. No matter how hard he tried—even letting his enemies cut off that same limb. But it was useless when he felt that same, warm tingling sensation when he grew it back.
Your touch was seared deeply into his skin.
He should be angry at you for doing this to him. He should kill you.
But instead, he craved. He craved your soft hands on his body again. He imagined you in ways he never dared to—what would it feel like to have your hands gently cradle his face? Would you be disgusted when your fingertips brushed against his deformed face? Or what would it feel like to have you here in his large futon—limbs tangled together, you pressed against him completely bare, letting his large hands freely explore your body and his stomach mouth nibble at your abdomen.
Sukuna's face twisted into an annoyed scowl as he squashed away those thoughts. He glared at the ceiling of his chambers—sleep eluding him.
Then his gaze lazily shifted towards the shoji doors that lead to the garden. They were rattling against the harsh winds of an oncoming storm.
And then he recalled that you were terrified of storms.
Sukuna closed his eyes, completely adamant on ignoring that small detail. But it kept nagging him in the back of his mind like a pounding headache again and again until he clicked his tongue and rose from his futon.
“Stupid, foolish woman.” He grumbled irritably as he left his chambers and made his way towards yours.
And when he reached it, he heard your soft whimpers and sniffles. The sudden hitch of your breath when there was a brilliant flash of lightning followed by defeaning thunder.
Sukuna tore open the shoji door, making you scramble up to sit on your futon in surprise.
“M-My lord?!” You hastily wiped away your tears. “What are you doing here?”
“Your incessant snivelling is disturbing the entire estate, woman.” He narrowed his eyes at the way your hands were trembling. “More than this wretched storm.”
Sukuna approached you, noting the look of fear in your eyes under his looming figure. Your mouth opened, ready to spew out some nonsense apology.
You looked so weak—so pathetic. He should really just kill you and be done with it.
But he found himself bending down and shoving away the covers of your futon.
You were frozen, staring at him dumbfounded.
“I won't repeat myself again. Move over.”
You quickly scooted to the other side of the futon as he slid in and made himself comfortable. In his eyes, you looked like a frightened, little rodent tucked away in the corner who gasped at another crash of thunder.
And yet, Sukuna merely rolled his eyes and grabbed your arm, pulling you down and pressing you firmly against his chest. Four arms wrapped around you, his nose pressed against your hair while his stomach mouth breathed against your own stomach.
Again, he felt it. The warmth when your hands were curled tightly into fists against his chest.
He resisted the urge to shiver.
The room was quiet, save for the howling and constant pattering from the wind and rain.
You were still shaking in his hold.
“Why are you still shaking?” His chest rumbled from his deep voice. “Do you really have anything to fear while being in my arms?”
Slowly, as if some realisation had dawned upon you, the trembling of your body lessened until it completely stopped.
You relaxed in his hold, your fingers slowly uncurling, spreading out against his chest. Sukuna has never felt this much warmth. Not even his own divine flame could compare.
You were silent but then shifted slightly against his chest before mumbling.
You were about to lift your face up to look at him—to see what kind of expression he had on his face. But he merely placed a large hand on your head and kept you buried against his chest.
“Disobeying me again? I said sleep, wife.” His voice sounded strained.
And you eventually did—you relaxed and fell into deep sleep as if you weren't in the arms of the most dangerous sorcerer in Japan.
It was a few hours after when Sukuna followed suit. Not before listening to the sound of your soft snores or the way you twitched or snuggled deeper into his hold. His senses were engulfed with the scent of your favourite body oil—camellia.
Sukuna's treacherous thoughts betrayed him yet again as he decided that he… wouldn't mind staying like this with you more often.
And so the very next day, he promptly shifted you to his own chambers.
You didn't object at all and happily made yourself at home.
