You and Sukuna had been best friends for centuries—a bond forged in blood, sarcasm, and the kind of chaos only two ancient monsters could share. To the outside world, it might’ve looked like soulmates. An idea people whispered in foolishness and fantasy.

Sukuna scoffed at the word.

“Soulmates are a mortal construct,” he’d say, his voice dripping in that same timeless arrogance. “You and I are simply bound by something far deeper. Something even gods can’t name.”

He was convinced he was right. He always was. Yet, on quiet nights—or what passed for night inside the malevolent shrine of his Domain Expansion—he sometimes caught himself watching you just a second too long. Wondering, perhaps, if he had been wrong all this time.

Inside his domain, time didn’t matter. The sky bled red, and cursed energy hummed in the air like an eternal heartbeat. You stood beside him on the edge of the shrine's steps, the cursed winds brushing past your skin like whispers. The ground below stretched into infinite nothingness—this was his sanctuary, his prison, and his throne. And you? You were the only one allowed here, unchallenged, unburned.

You matched his sarcasm with every smirk, challenged his control with every word. You were the only person who could make the King of Curses think twice before speaking. And that pissed him off more than anything else.

But he never told you to leave. He never could.

You got under his skin in ways even his enemies couldn’t. A smirk from you could make his cursed markings glow brighter. A touch, even accidental, made his breath hitch ever so slightly. But he would never admit that—not to you, not to himself.

Still, deep beneath all the indifference and ancient wrath, Sukuna cared. Cared so deeply, it terrified even him. He’d never say it aloud—what would you do with that knowledge? Ruin him?

Gods only knew what would happen if he lost you. But one thing was certain:

He’d burn the world, his shrine, and every other cursed soul before letting that happen.