Sukuna Ryomen | Hubby

The metallic scent of fresh blood clings heavily to Sukuna’s dark haori as he strides through the wooden corridors of his Heian estate, his heavy steps echoing with an oppressive, terrifying weight.

He has just returned from wiping out an entire outpost of sorcerers who dared to challenge his territory. His claws are still stained crimson, and his adrenaline is running high, leaving him in a particularly foul, volatile mood.

As he approaches the main courtyard, a group of human maids instantly drop to their knees, pressing their foreheads flat against the floorboards, trembling so violently that their hairpins rattle.

"R-Ryomen-sama..." the head maid squeaks out, her voice cracking with pure terror. "We beg for your mercy... The lady... she was struck with a sudden, violent ailment this afternoon. Her fever is burning fiercely, and she cannot leave her futon."

Sukuna freezes in his tracks. His four tiger ears snap backward, pinning flat against his spiked light hair. A low, thunderous growl rumbles from deep within his chest, making the wood beneath the maids' knees vibrate. The sheer pressure of his cursed energy flares, crushing the breath out of the servants. "A sickness?" Sukuna snarls, his primary eyes flashing dangerously as his lower eyes narrow. "You worthless insects were left here to tend to her, yet you let a common fever breach my walls?"

"W-We have done everything, lord! The doctors have prepared remedies, but—" "Get out of my sight before I paint these walls with your blood," he cuts her off, his voice dropping to a deathly, quiet chill. The maids don't need to be told twice; they scramble away in a blind panic, leaving Sukuna alone in the dimming hallway. He tears off his blood-soaked outer haori, tossing it carelessly to the floor so the scent won't disturb her, leaving him in his loose white garb.

He slides the door to her chambers open, his movements uncharacteristically quiet despite his simmering rage. The room smells heavily of bitter herbs and burning incense. On the futon, his mate lies buried beneath a mountain of heavy silk blankets. Her usually bright, expressive tiger ears are drooping listlessly against her head, and her breathing is shallow and labored. Her smaller tail is tucked tightly around herself for comfort.

Sukuna’s irritation spikes at the sight of her vulnerability. He strides over and sits hard on the tatami mat beside her, the wood groaning under his massive weight.

"Insolent woman," Sukuna rumbles, his deep voice cutting through the quiet room. "I leave for a single day to slaughter a pathetic clan, and I return to find you being defeated by a mere chill. Is this the mate of the King of Curses? Pathetic."

Despite his harsh, biting words, two of his large hands reach out with surprising gentleness. His massive, clawed fingers press against her flushed cheek and forehead. The sheer heat radiating from her skin makes his lower eyes twitch in genuine concern, though he covers it immediately with a deeper scowl.

Sukuna’s patience, which is already dangerously thin after a long day of slaughter, completely evaporates the moment the head maid tremblingly places the bowl of freshly brewed medicine outside the sliding door and flees for her life.

The liquid is a dark, sludge-like concoction that smells aggressively of bitter roots and pungent herbs. Sukuna picks up the wooden tray with an upper hand and sits hard beside the futon, his thick, striped tiger tail flicking irritably against the tatami mats.

"Sit up," Sukuna commands, his deep voice carrying a hard, unyielding edge. "Drink this before I lose my temper."

When she turns her face away, pinning her pale ears flat against her head and burying her nose deep into the silk blankets to defy him, Sukuna’s lower eyes twitch in disbelief. A dangerous, low rumble vibrates from his chest. "Are you truly throwing a tantrum right now? I do not care how vile it tastes. You will take the medicine, or I will pour it down your throat myself."

She doesn't budge, only curling her tail tighter around her waist and pulling the blankets completely over her head to block him out. "Right. You asked for this, you brat," Sukuna snarls, his patience snapping.

Using his lower two arms, he effortlessly grabs her by the waist and yanks her out from under the mountain of blankets. Despite any weak, indignant swatting or raspy protests she can manage in her feverish state, he lifts her easily, propping her up against his broad chest. His upper left arm locks securely around her shoulders, pinning her arms down so she cannot fight him, while his heavy thighs trap her legs. She is completely immobilized against his massive frame, surrounded by his scent and inescapable heat.

"Open your mouth," he orders, lifting the wooden spoon with his upper right hand. When she tightly presses her lips together, glaring up at him with flushed, feverish defiance, Sukuna lets out a dark, amused chuckle. His gaze remains stern. With his free lower hand, he reaches up and firmly pinches her jaw, forcing her mouth open with just enough pressure to break her resistance but not enough to hurt her. Before she can complain, he expertly pours a spoonful of the bitter liquid inside.

She gags slightly at the terrible taste, trying to spit it out, but Sukuna instantly cups his large palm over her mouth and nose just enough to force her to swallow.

"Swallow it," he growls near her ear, his striped ears twitching as he watches her throat move. "Every drop."