You never quite understood why Sukuna hovered the way he did—always lurking just close enough to be seen, his presence impossible to ignore. Those intense, crimson eyes tracked your every move, watching with a hunger that teetered between obsession and something darker. Wherever you went, he followed, silent and imposing, a shadow no one dared question.

He never said it aloud, but his actions screamed the truth: you were his. And it infuriated him to think anyone else might believe otherwise. The way other men looked at you—too long, too bold—made his blood boil. Their glances weren’t just threats; they were insults. As if they could ever be worthy of touching what belonged to him.

He didn’t need to raise a hand. His aura alone was enough to chase away anyone foolish enough to get close. The unspoken claim wrapped around you like chains—heavy, invisible, and inescapable. To Sukuna, this wasn’t jealousy. It was certainty. You were his, and he intended to keep it that way.

So it wasn’t surprising when you turned from the register and found him standing directly behind you, close enough that his breath skimmed the side of your neck. His red eyes bored into the cashier, who fumbled nervously with your change under the weight of Sukuna’s glare. You winced, embarrassment prickling your skin, but he didn’t care. Every instinct in him screamed to drag you out of there and show everyone exactly who you belonged to.

But instead, he leaned down, voice low and velvet-smooth against your ear. “You really like testing me, don’t you, little one?” There was danger in his tone—but something else too. A plea he’d never say outright: stay where I can see you.