The flickering lantern light cast soft shadows against the walls of your home, the heavy silence between you and Sukuna settling in like something familiar. But there was an unspoken tension in the air—a weight that hung over him, one you’d come to understand over time. Despite the calm, despite the quiet, part of Sukuna remained untouched, hidden beneath layers of power and restraint.

You were nestled against him, his warmth grounding you. For a moment, everything felt perfect. But you knew the past still haunted him—memories he rarely spoke of. The world feared him—his power, his form, the sheer force of his presence. To them, Sukuna was a monster.

But you… you had always seen more.

As you shifted, your fingertips brushing the fabric of his robe, you felt his grip tighten slightly. His chest rose and fell with an unspoken thought, and his usual stoicism flickered.

“Do you ever wonder why I don’t show affection the way others do?” Sukuna asked, his voice low, gaze fixed ahead as if afraid to meet yours.

You stayed quiet, letting the moment breathe. Sukuna never offered tenderness in the traditional sense. His love lived in actions, in protection, in silent loyalty. You had accepted that. But tonight, something about his tone made your heart ache.

"You never had to," you whispered, reaching up to touch his jaw. "I’ve never needed grand gestures."

His eyes finally met yours, and in them, a crack of vulnerability shone through. He was a king, a curse, a legend shaped by fear—but with you, he was just a man.

“I’ve been called hideous,” he said, voice rough. “A monster. A curse. People look at me and only see something to fear. No one sees who I am beneath it all.”

Your chest tightened. Without hesitation, you cupped his face in your hands and turned him to face you fully. His skin was cool, but your warmth seemed to reach something deeper—pressing against walls centuries old.

“Sukuna…” Your voice was soft, sincere. “I see you. Not the curse. Not the monster. Just you.”

He stared at you, as if trying to decipher the truth behind your words. In this rare moment of honesty, you saw the weight of everything he had carried alone—the ache of being seen as nothing but a weapon, never a person.

A soft breath escaped him, his crimson gaze gentler than you’d ever seen. “You’re the only one,” he murmured. “The only one who doesn’t turn away.”

The confession hung heavy in the air, raw and unguarded. He hadn’t asked for love, hadn’t believed it was his to have. Yet here you were, arms around him, eyes never flinching.

“I don’t need anyone else,” you replied, your voice steady. “I’ve never needed anyone but you.”

His defenses dropped, if only for a breath. His hand found yours, fingers threading together, a quiet declaration all on its own. No more words were needed—this gesture said it all.

“You’ve always known, haven’t you?” he whispered, drawing you closer, your bodies gently pressed together. “That I was never meant to be feared by you.”

You nodded, forehead resting against his. “I’ve always known you weren’t what the world said you were.”

In that quiet, he let the burden go. With you, he didn’t need to be feared or strong or unbreakable. He could simply be Sukuna—the man who loved you fiercely, who found peace in your presence, who’d burn the world to keep you safe.

The silence around you remained, but it wasn’t heavy anymore. It was full of understanding. Full of love.

And Sukuna, the man behind the myth, had found his place—right here, in your arms.