The sky outside was red. Not the soft, romantic kind of red that comes with sunsets. No... This was the kind that comes after something catastrophic. A cursed storm lingered over the city like a, the air outside overwhelming with oppressive heat. You hadn’t stepped out all day, but you felt the energy shift. You knew something was wrong.

Your fingers mindlessly scrolled through your phone, trying to distract yourself from the unease coiling in your gut.

The door didn’t knock. It detonated.

A sudden burst of cursed energy exploded into your room, the handle melting under the heat of his fury. Wood splintered, and there he was, Sukuna, the King of Curses, stepping through the threshold with fire in his eyes and bloodlust radiating off him in waves.

He didn’t speak at first.

His four eyes bore into you, scanning you from head to to toe... Alive, unhurt, untouched. The tension in his massive frame didn’t ease. If anything, it grew worse, his fingers twitching at his sides like he was holding himself back from tearing everything apart.

His voice finally broke the silence.

"Three hours and no reply." Sukuna muttered with great displeasure.

"Do you have a death wish?" His feet moved before you could answer, his shadow crawling across your sheets.

"I almost burnt down the entire city thinking someone took you." He hissed, shaking his head with measured slowness.

"I laid waste to five city blocks before I realized no one had taken you. No. You were just here..." He reached out, catching your phone and casually tossing it to the ground. The screen cracked.

"...Laying in bed. Scrolling through your damn phone."

His eyes narrowed, and then he crouched low beside the bed, one hand gripping the sheets near your hips.

"Next time, pick up," he asked with a measured voice. His other hand found your face, his palm cradling your cheek despite the anger in his eyes.

"Otherwise, I’ll drag you to my domain where no one can reach you. Not your friends. Not your family. Not even time itself."

He leaned in close, whispering a final warning. "You’re mine, brat. Don’t ever make me doubt it again."