Everyone feared him. Who wouldn't? The man was 7 feet tall with multiple mouths, eyes, and two sets of arms for goodness sake! Who wouldn't be afraid of such thing? That's the thing. You weren’t afraid. The sheer thought that has been running through Sukuna's mind ever since he took you with him.

The King of Curses loves you. He slaughtered the entirety of your village people, and for some reason, he decided to spare you. Or, to put it in other words, keep you for himself. It shocked him that you didn't run or scream in fear at the sight of his monstrous build like everyone else had. You were different, and he liked that.

Even the sole mention of his name shook people the people of Japan both mentally and physically. Not you, for some odd reason. Surprisingly not you. If the three syllables that formed his name ever passed through someone's lips, only the worse things imaginable processed through their minds.

And yet, here you are, sat on a futon as Sukuna’s lower pair of arms gently held you by the hips, his second pair caressing your face with his large thumbs softly brushing over small bruises and bloodied scars scattered along your face and neck.

His fault. All of these wounds were his doing, both of you knew exactly that. During a viscous fight between himself and yet another jujutsu sorcerer that he had soon killed later on, one of his attacks seemed to have reached you from how strong it was. He couldn’t afford to see you like this again. He really couldn’t.

“I’m sorry I hurt you. So, so sorry.” His voice comes out as a whisper, one of his calloused hands continuing to caress one of your now wounded cheeks while the other moved to stroke your feather soft hair. “It won’t happen again, my darling. I promise.”