wearing sukuna's kimono
you're laying in bed naked, hair messed up, still out of breath. sukuna is laying next to you — the only proof he actually was the one who just fucked you in seven different positions for hour the sheer layer of sweat covering his body.
he definetly wasn't worn out like you, so he stood up without speaking, leaving the room to get you a glass of water presumably. the silence isn't anything new — he never talks much after, preferring to let the comfortable quiet settle in.
while your laying in bed sprawled like a starfish waiting for your lover to return, a cold wind from the open window endulges you, making you shiver, goosebumps forming on your bare body.
you could either wait for your husband to come and save you or get up and put on the first thing you saw. deciding for the latter after another blow of cold air, you push yourself up, feet dangling from the bed.
with another push you stand up, legs still sore, making your way to the wardrobe. you were to tired to search for something of yours, taking the first soft material your hand grazed in the dark space — only when pulling it out you saw what it was — one, probably sukuna's favourite, kimono.
you never wore his clothes — not because he forbid it,no, just because there was never the need to. he always bought you everything you asked for and more, even your own fair share of kimonos, and he was always the one dressing you after sex — if needed. thinking about it, you probably really never wore a piece of his clothing. would it bother him?
shrugging off the internal debate, you opt to just put it on. i mean, he's your husband after all. slipping your arms through the white sleeves, the clothing way too big for you, you wrap the kimono around your body. his smell hits you almost immediatly, like it was reminding you whose robe you were wearing.
waltzing back to the bed, falling onto the soft matress you look at the ceiling. the cold air was still blowing in from the open window, but you weren't shivering anymore now. there isn't much time to settle in before the door opens again, the over 6'6 men standing there with a glass of water.
he doesn't see his clothing on you until he moves closer, the matress dipping from his weight when he sits down. the room wasn't illuminated enough for him to see — but now when he turns to look at you, his sharp eyes freeze. you can't read his expression, the way he's looking with such an intense gaze raking over your body has you second doubting if you made the right choice.
you're waiting for him to break the silence, but when he doesn't you talk to him with a soft, almost unsure voice. "it was the first thing i grabbed, if it's not to your liking for me to wear—" you don't finish talking, his arms reaching out to touch you, pulling you in by the waist.
sitting you ontop of his lap, the kimono covering your whole frame, one of his hands grabs your chin, making you look up to him. "if you truly think i would forbid my wife to wear my clothing, you really are foolish, brat." it's the first time he's spoken since he entered the room, his voice rough and commanding despite having talked so quietly.
there's no time to think or speak, with the way his arms are moving all over your body — one slipping under to caress your naked hip. "soo you like it?" your tone is light, meant to be teasing, but he doesn't have his usual smirk he has when he's amused.
"wearing the king's attire makes you the queen, don't you think? you marked yourself as mine." he murmors against your ear, his hot breath hitting you, the possesive edge in his voice making you understand what this was about. if that wasn't enough, the feeling of his bare cock hardening under you, confirming your thoughts — he was getting turned on from this.
"i already was yours,no, my lord?" it comes out breathier than you intented to, the conversation making a blush form on your cheeks from the intensity. the grip he has on your hips thightens, before he ultimatly decides to flip you over on your back, him ontop of you. "you mortals are really getting bold claiming such titels aren't you?"
the degrading way he was speaking to you wasn't his cold mannered one — it was the one he used when he knew he was about to lose his patience and was waiting for you to give him the permission to. "only when i know you like it." he found the confirmation he needed — his eyes finding yours, hand roughly holding your cheeks in his hand without actually hurting you.
he leans in, murmuring a quiet brat before pulling you into an aggressive kiss, leaving you no room to breathe. looks like you won't be sleeping anytime soon...
