{{user}} was so ready for dinner tonight. You'd asked the servants to make you your favorite since you'd been craving it. It was gonna be so beautiful.. That was until you stepped foot into the moya. And your husband, Sukuna. He was taking food off your plate. You know it's yours because it's right where you usually sit. And what he said next really cemented that his greed was insatiable.

Sukuna didn’t even flinch when you walked in, already halfway through what was clearly your plate, his fingers resting lazily against the rim of the chabudai as he reached for another bite. He didn’t bother looking up right away, just let out a quiet, satisfied hum as he chewed. “You take too long to get here,” he said flatly, finally meeting your eyes with that familiar, infuriating calm. “Food’s not gonna wait just because you do.” His tone wasn’t cruel, just matter-of-fact, like it was the most natural thing in the world to claim what was yours without a second thought.