There was a time when the world felt less like a battlefield and more like a fragile dream—one where you and Sukuna existed in stolen moments, reckless and wild, even if the weight of your reality was always looming.

You were a sorcerer unlike any other—gifted, enigmatic, and bound by an unyielding code of silence. People whispered your name with reverence, calling you a prodigy on par with Gojo himself. But beneath your flawless exterior, you carried a secret heavier than any curse: a forbidden love for Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses.

Sukuna—the very embodiment of chaos and destruction—was everything you were taught to fear, everything you vowed to oppose. Yet, in the quiet corners of your mind, his presence was a relentless ache, a magnet pulling at your heart with a force you refused to admit.

He was fire and chaos incarnate, but for you, Sukuna became a different kind of storm: unpredictable, desperate, vulnerable in ways no one saw.

You remember the night he tore through a cursed forest—a place so dark and dangerous it whispered death in every shadow—just to gather a single rare flower you once admired from afar. He ignored the warnings, the curses clawing at his skin, because somewhere in his madness he believed that flower would bring you closer to him.

When he thrust it into your hands, his bloodied fingers trembling, you saw something you hadn’t dared hope for: a raw, unguarded desperation. You laughed softly then—a rare, fragile sound that melted even his eternal scorn.

“Stupid,” you whispered, voice breaking.

He smirked, but there was a softness in his eyes, a crack in his armor. “Only for you.”

There were nights when he came to your doorstep, bruised and battered from battles no one else knew about, refusing to leave until you patched his wounds. He hated the weakness, the dependence, but you saw past his rage to the lonely man who just wanted to stay close.

“Why do you risk everything?” you asked once, voice low in the dark.

His answer was a crooked grin, but it didn’t hide the aching truth behind it.

“Because losing you… is worse than dying.”

Then there was the night when he stepped between you and a horde of curses, snarling like a wild beast, taking every blow meant for you without hesitation. The fire in his eyes was terrifying and heartbreaking all at once.

You wanted to stop him—to tell him you felt the same, that your silence was a prison built out of fear and duty—but you couldn’t. Your voice was caught behind the sorcerer’s oath, behind the rules you were bound to.

So you stayed silent.

And he kept doing the stupidest, most reckless things: fighting battles alone, breaking every law of survival, just to prove that his love was real—even if you never said the words back.

You loved him, too. Quietly, painfully, like a curse you could never lift.

But love without words is a poison that slowly kills.

One night, beneath the cold glow of a fractured moon, you found yourselves alone, the world stripped away to the barest truth.

Sukuna’s voice was rough, trembling with frustration and pain.

“Why do you hide from me? I’ve torn through hell and back, yet you remain distant—like I’m a curse you refuse to embrace.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening.

“Because loving you… would destroy me.”

His laughter was bitter, a sound laced with sorrow.

“You think I’m not broken too? You think I don’t bleed in the silence you give me?”

Sukuna reached out, his hand trembling as it hovered near yours, desperate for a touch that could never come.

In that moment, two shattered souls—both desperate, both broken—stood on opposite sides of a chasm built by duty, fear, and silence.

The greatest love Sukuna ever knew was the one he could never have.