sukuna begs for forgiveness after hurting you ♡
part of my trueform!sukuna x his favourite chubby concubine series. more here
contains themes of violence.
you hadn’t planned for your conversation to go this way.
all you wanted was to tell sukuna how you feel, to communicate. you should’ve known better — you shouldn’t have expected more of him.
you stand in his chambers, staring up at him with glassy eyes, filled with hurt and regret. "you still refuse," you say, voice tight with frustration.
"after everything, after all the nights i have spent in your bed, after every time you’ve called me yours… you won’t make me your wife. why."
he glares down at you with all four eyes, narrowing them, two of his arms crossing over his broad chest. “wife?” he responds, letting out a low, cruel chuckle. “do i not give you enough already, woman?"
your throat tightens as he steps closer.
“perhaps you’re more foolish than i thought," he adds, a twinge of guilt in his voice — just enough for you to notice.
“it’s not enough anymore," you snap, voice cracking, a tear running down your face. "if i truly mattered to you, you’d claim me properly."
your heart twists tightly in your chest, like he’d just sunk his claws in and ripped it straight out. you thought maybe at this point, he’d soften slightly like he usually does — but no. he stands there, jaw clenched, expression darkening.
"you dare to question me?" he hisses, one hand darting out to grip your wrist tightly. his grip was more punishing than he’d intended, sukuna often forgot his own strength, how weak the human race is in comparison to him.
you gasp sharply, attempting to pull your wrist away, only forcing his grip tighter. he crowds you against the wall of his chamber, "i do not take demands, brat. you have forgotten your place. perhaps i should put you back in it like i do to the rest of them."
for a moment, you just stare at him. hurt, angry, wincing from his iron grip.
he immediately loosens his grip, looking down at his own hand like it had offended him — for once, ashamed of his own strength. ashamed that he’d hurt the only woman he’s ever truly cared for.
you take your opportunity to flee, tears streaming down your face as you run back to your private chambers. sukuna’s voice booms after you, but falls on deaf ears. you had nothing left to say, too many tears to cry in solitude.
the next morning, everything was quiet. you perched by your window, overlooking the gardens, clutching your severely bruised wrist.
it doesn’t take long before sukuna enters, your heavy doors swinging open a tad more gentle than usual. you didn’t rise and greet him as you usually would, or smile sweetly, in fact, you didn’t look at him at all.
he approaches slowly — almost cautiously. he stops in front of you, gaze immediately dropping to your wrist. the bruise was ugly, deep purple fingerprints marking your skin.
sukuna had never felt guilt before. not like this. it was raw, uncomfortable — and to make it worse, he could barely find the right words to say to you in this moment.
then, the unthinkable happened.
he drops to his knees in front of you, taking your hand in both of his. this action alone was greater than an apology. the king of curses kneeling before you, silently asking for forgiveness.
"i did not intend to hurt you," he says, voice low and rough, almost strained. you turn to look at him, slowly, eyes red and bloodshot from crying.
"…say something, woman. do not make me beg," he adds, brushing his thumb over your bruise as softly as he knows how. "stay with me, do not run from me again."
you swallow, flinching as he moves closer, burying his face in your lap. the way you flinched, the way you moved away, had him clenching his fists.
you were the only one who never feared him. and now, he may have just lost you forever.
the room falls silent again, save for the sound of your uneven breaths. you look down at sukuna, one hand reaching out to softly caress his hair.
your gentle act makes his body shiver, two hands now resting on your soft thighs, clutching your robes — silently begging for you to say something, anything.
"i forgive you," you say quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. your fingers thread through his pink strands, soothing him as if he was the one who was hurt.
he remains there for a moment before standing slowly, opening one of his hands to reveal a beautiful flower from the garden — your favourite, a tsubaki.
he slides the stem into your hair, watching you smile sweetly. cherishing every soft gesture due to their rarity.
you tilt your head upwards, gesturing for him to kiss you, not quite able to reach his lips. sukuna leans down, pressing a careful, soft kiss to your lips, much different from the possessive, rough kisses you’re often used to from him.
he truly had your heart. and you had his, despite the fact he’d never admit it.
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