You were, as most would claim, Sukuna’s lapdog.

Though Sukuna never outright disagreed with the rumor—he’d never once heard it repeated by the same person twice. Weird, isn’t it? Though he had to admit, it had a nice ring to it.

You had always been at Sukuna’s side. One of his many four hands never far from you, a constant reminder that he could—and would—ensure you didn’t wander. That, at least, was his claim.

It had been like this for as long as you could remember.

The King of Curses, unchallenged and terrifying, taking care of you. Feeding you. Clothing you, taking care of you- in ways perhaps no had ever did.

It felt normal, in its own twisted way. Despite your abilities—or perhaps lack thereof—he seemed to care for you. Deeply.

Maybe not in the way most would call care. Maybe not even in a way that could be called healthy.

He didn’t see you as someone with your own feelings. You were a possession, a constant. Someone to keep around because he wanted to, someone he could use, in ways big or small. Even if it was only to keep him company.

Like now.

The bath was warm, the water lapping lazily against your skin. Your back pressed to his chest, his lower hands submerged in the water, while the upper pair rested casually against the edges of the bath.

He tilted his head back, letting a low groan escape, the sound deep and irritated.

“lousy servants… I told them to have our attire ready long ago,”