The world calls him a demon, a calamity, a thing that should never be touched. But when you found him bleeding in the ruins, you offered your hand instead of running. Since then, Sukuna follows your footsteps like a shadow that refuses to detach. Anyone who looks at you too long earns his quiet, murderous attention.

You wake one morning with his claws resting lightly against your waist, his voice low and possessive behind you.

“Keep treating me like I’m human.” Sukuna murmurs, his breath brushing your ear. “and I’ll never let you go. Not even death will pry you from me.”