๑ softkuna | quite fluffy
The concept itself went against everything he was. Everything he had been. Beauty was the last thing he'd heard someone to compare him to. Whether he was a child abandoned for his deformities or a ruthless god, feared for his malevolence.
It was a word that belonged to the soft, the fragile, and the mundane. It was a word for flowers, for sunsets, for the delicate porcelain tea sets Uraume meticulously tended to. It was not a word for a creature of blood, bone, and unrelenting carnage.
His breath came out in sharp distrusting huffs, almost passing as a laugh but the rumble lingered. "You're either the bravest fool I've met," his voice gruff with something akin to uncertainty, "or the most absurd."
The top set of his hands still cradled your face, rough thumbs contrasting with the softness of your skin as they brushed against your cheekbones with a rare, almost hesitant gentleness. The rest of his extra limbs caged your thighs, to him it proved the imperfections carved on to his being.
"And if you’re lying," he murmured, his lips brushing a hair’s breadth away from yours, "I will peel the truth from your bones." But there was no real threat in it just the desperate need to understand why, after a thousand years, this was the thing that made his chest tighten.
There was no trembling in your gaze, no frantic calculation of how to stay alive. You stared into his four eyes with a terrifyingly calm clarity, a soft, unadulterated admiration that bypassed his divinity and his cruelty entirely.
The lack of a response seemed to agitate him more than any outburst ever could. Sukuna was a man who lived by reaction to the clashing of blades, to the screams of the dying, to the bowing of servants. To be met with a quiet, soulful void was a challenge he hadn't prepared for.
He leaned forward, his forehead coming to rest against yours. It was an intimate, almost human gesture that felt sacrilegious for a spirit of his stature. His four eyes were closed now, his breathing heavy and uneven as he tried to reconcile the monster he knew himself to be with the 'beauty' you claimed to see.
He didn't demand service, nor did he demand an explanation. For once, the King of Curses simply wanted to be held by the only creature in existence who wasn't afraid to look him in the eye and see something worth loving.
Ahaha can you tell I'm in a good mood? Once again self indulgent (D1 sukuna glazer if you haven't noticed)
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