Sukuna thought about you obsessively for a thousand years.
Sealed away and alone, there weren't many places his thoughts could go, so in the end, only you remained to torment him throughout all that time.
He thought about what it was like to wake up every day with you clinging to him like a koala. He thought about the meals he shared with you, and he thought about all those moments when you were just being silly and would do anything to force a smile onto his face. He especially thought about the softness of your lips, the texture of your skin, the color of your eyes, and the sound of your voice. He never forgot.
Sukuna had a complicated problem buried deep within his being.He couldn't forget.He couldn't forget the day he left you alone for two days to travel to another village and deal with cursed matters. He couldn't forget you asking him not to take too long while pressing kisses against him that still burned on his skin. He couldn't forget the shape of your lips when you said that when he came back, you would have a surprise for him.
And most importantly, he couldn't forget the day he finally returned to you. He felt it before he saw it.
Your energy was already gone.
The estate was silent, and your body, surrounded by flowers, rested peacefully in the middle of the hall. They said it had been the jujutsu sorcerers, but he couldn't hear much after that. He was more concerned with dealing with the loss in the only way he knew how: with rage. In the end, he was the only one left alive in that house. Him and your body.
Sukuna couldn't forget the coldness of your skin, the smell of death that clung to you, your chest still stained red, and the thin stream of blood running from your mouth. Your lifeless body haunted him for eternity.It didn't take long for him to accept being sealed away. It didn't matter. He would never admit that you meant that much to him, but deep within himself, he knew.
He had always known that everything was you.
Sukuna thought that after seeing you so many times in his memories, he wouldn't be surprised to see you again.
But he was always proven wrong. Nothing could have prepared him to see you dressedâor were you even dressed?âin a piece of cloth that left your legs exposed. And ears.
Wait.
Was that a tail?
He didn't really understand what was going on. After managing to take over the brat's body and even having a bit of fun with that curse whose technique was somewhat similar to his own, he was in a good mood. What he did understand was that this place was dangerous for a human as tiny as you.
Curses were running wild, and the sorcerers were beginning to panic.
You shouldn't be here.
But Sukuna took his time.
Watching you had always been one of his secret delights, a delight he hadn't enjoyed in a very long time. You were still stunning. You still made the same face when you were scared. You still made the King's heart move in a strange rhythm.
He didn't know what love was, but he believed that whatever he felt for you could be compared to it.
With a leap, he jumped from the top of the building and landed in the alley where you were curled up like a little mouse. Only then did he finally recognize the costume. With a startled look, you stared at the man who had literally fallen from the sky right in front of you.
"What the fuck is this?"
Sukuna simply looked at you.
The voice. That damned voice he had listened to throughout the eternity he spent sealed away. Yelling at him. Blaming him. Moaning his name. Everything came back at once. All the happy nights he had only ever experienced with you. All the cold nights he spent away from you.
He simply stared at you while he felt.
How long had it been since the King of Curses had felt anything? Sukuna said nothing. He simply approached, threw you over his shoulder, and began jumping from rooftop to rooftop toward the barrier trapping people inside that circus of horrors while you screamed at him from over his shoulder.
His mind flooded with images of your dead body. He couldn't let it happen again. He only set you down once he reached the barrier and tore a hole through it.
He only breathed once he had placed you outside the hell that Shibuya had become. He said nothing when you looked at him with shining eyes. He simply turned around and headed back toward the place he never should have left. An explosion of cursed energy revealed what was happening in those streets. Mahoraga had been summoned, and if he took too long, he would lose his only chance. But he couldn't resist looking at you one last time.
"Will... will I find you again?" you asked shyly.
And he knew.
He knew that deep down, something still called you toward him.
He knew that if he insisted, you would remember everything.
"Go home."
That was all he said before disappearing, leaving you alone in the middle of the night.
The deafening scream you let out probably woke up all your neighbors, and you instantly regretted it just imagining the fine youâd have to pay later.In your defense, it was a very scary game, and with every new jumpscare you flinched. At least it was entertaining your chat while the stream kept gaining more viewers and fresh donations.
It was your chat who had asked you to play this game. Apparently, it was a game developed by another streamer that was becoming more and more popular. You had to admit it was really good, but you were already getting tired of being scared so often.
âChat, I think itâs better to stop here. I canât handle getting scared anymore. Any minute now my building manager is going to knock on my door asking if someone is killing me for me to be screaming this much at one in the morning.â
You laughed when the chat started begging you to keep playing.
âSorry, guys. Maybe one day Iâll try to get better at this, but Iâve gotten scared so many times that Iâm starting to think the game only got this famous because of a jumpscare every two minutes.â
You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you watched your chat practically crying for you to continue the game, until one specific comment caught your attention.
âLook up who the developer is and I guarantee youâll want to finish it lmao ;-;â
âHm, whoâs the developer?â you asked, curious, until a name started flooding the chat.
âChoso Kamo.â
Without wasting any time, you searched his name and waited for the page to load. Your internet, getting slower and slower, had been bothering you for a while now, but you never remembered to change providers.
Lost in thought, you didnât even notice when the site finally loaded and the most handsome man you had ever seen appeared on your screen. Your mouth instantly fell open and your eyes widened. Several photos filled the Google tab, and a guy with shoulder-length hair, a tattoo in the middle of his face, and sleepy eyes stared back at you from different angles.
Under the photos, the name Choso Kamo shone alongside various pieces of information about him and about the game you had been playing. As soon as you realized what you were doing, your face went back to normal as fast as possible, but it was already too late. Your entire chat was laughing at you, and the certainty that this would become an X reaction hit you hard.
âEveryone reacts like that when they see him for the first time.â
âOH MY GOD DID YOU SEE HER FACEâ
âAt least now sheâll finish the game.â
You took a deep breath and continued your search until you found the guyâs Instagram.
@/kchosom.
With every photo, he somehow looked even more handsome. Until you finally found that one.
His eyes were slightly red, he was wearing an AC/DC hoodie, leaning against a car and flipping off the camera while looking at something behind it. You held your breath.
âGame of the year,â you said, leaning back in your chair after staring at that picture for a good few minutes with thousands of people watching. âThis game is the game of the year. Congratulations to the developer,â you said seriously, still looking at Kamoâs photo on the screen.
âBut you didnât even play it to the end! ^_^â
âI donât need to play it to the end to know that. This is the best game of the year.â Trying to pull your eyes away from the photo and look back at the chat, you noticed something had happened.
The comments were flying by too fast for you to read anything as you tried to control the flow, until you found the cause of all the chaos. A verified comment.
â@kchosom: Glad you liked it lol. Could you play it until the end? I left a riddle there if you want to try solving itâŚâ
You always hate the moments when you have to tag along with your older sister to her boyfriendâs house just to listen to them fight. But here you are now, sitting on the same couch youâve sat on over and over again while your sister screams at her boyfriend like sheâs been doing it for years. Their arguments never seemed to end you had to admit that.
It was supposed to be just a sistersâ day, something you hadnât had in a long time. You were going to a festival that would be in town for a few weeks, one youâd wanted to go to for ages, and afterward you were supposed to head to a party her friends were throwing. The problem started while you were still in the car on the way to the festival. Photos. One of her friends had taken pictures of her boyfriend, Toji, with some girl who was obviously not her. She had never changed direction so fast, turning the car straight toward his house.
Now you were stuck on the couch, listening to them argue while trying to kill time on your phone. There was no way for you to leave. Toji lived with his son on the literal opposite side of the city, in an area far from the urban center. Sure, it was a mansion but it was so isolated that the nearest bus stop was miles away. Which left you stuck with your sister.
You tried telling her that her boyfriend was no good. But she didnât listen. The world-famous MMA fighter, twice her age, was more appealing than all of your complaints combined. And now here you were. It wasnât the first time you had already witnessed plenty of fights between them, but in the end, they always got back together as if nothing had happened until the next argument.
With a sigh, you leaned your head back, dropping your phone. At least the couch was comfortable probably worth a fortune. Then, in the middle of all the shouting and insults, your ears already aching, you heard the front door open. Slowly, a figure with dark hair and blue eyes appeared. The only reason you hadnât completely lost your mind through all of this. Your sisterâs boyfriendâs son.
How were you supposed to explain to her that every time she dragged you along just so you could witness another one of her relationship fights, you ended up locked in a bedroom, getting fucked by his son?
You didnât have time to think about it. Within minutes, you were already melting into the bed, one leg wrapped around Megumi while the other rested against his head. The sound of yelling replaced by the sound of your bodies colliding. Him hitting that exact spot that made your eyes roll back.
Your mind short-circuiting from pleasure when a voice near your ear pulled you slightly back to reality.
âStill want to go to that festival?â
Before he slammed into you hard enough to make you cry out, loud enough that the fighting noises outside stopped for a moment.
A wandering spirit who felt painfully lonely. Tired of living in a universe by himself, he decided to create humanity. A planet rich in resources and beauty, painted in shades of blue to resemble his eyes, and inhabited by beings made in his own image.
At first, it was fascinating to watch humanity rise. Slowly, communities began to form, the world became populated, and civilizations grew together. Yet, Satoru still felt lonely. He saw people falling in love, loving one another, and even witnessed humanityâs newest creation: marriage.
Satoru dreamed of sharing his miserable eternal existence with someone else, but no human could hold his attention for long. So, he decided to create the one who would be his love.
Formed from the celestial blue of the sea, the gentlest whisper of the wind, the cruelest spark of fire, and the boundless vitality of the earthâyou came to be. A soul crafted by God himself.
It took Gojo a long time to cultivate a spirit as fierce, magical, and precious as yours. It demanded an absurd amount of energy and patienceâand patience was never one of the Almightyâs greatest virtues.
Your soul grew bright, contained within a glass box to keep it from scattering before it gathered enough energy to live. Satoru already loved you. He loved you even then, when you were just a cluster of light and power, without a shape or voice. Oh, how he loved you.
But things among humanity began to fall apart. People slowly created their own religions. God didnât careânot anymore. Nothing mattered to him except you. Yet, when humans, blinded by their faith, invaded his dwelling seeking to kill the man who disgusted their own gods Satoru felt.
It wasnât the betrayal that hurt him. Nor the threats of death. What broke him was watching them shatter the glass box and release your premature soul into the world before it was ready. He stood there, stunned, as your essence drifted away leaving him behind with nothing but the shattered hope that he could ever be anything other than alone.
He couldnât explain what he felt when he killed every person who dared step foot on his sacred ground. He couldnât explain why he destroyed every image of the false gods worshipped by those who had touched his blessed soul. But the reason he didnât annihilate all of humanity was simple.
Hope.
A small, trembling hope that still pulsed faintly in his heart. The hope that someday your soul would gather enough strength on its own and be reborn somewhere out there. That was the hope he clung to through all the ages. And now, as his figure faded into obscurity, no longer dwelling among humans, his face long forgotten and his few remaining followers worshiping only his eyes, he thinks maybe that hope meant something after all.
Because after countless millennia, he finally felt it. Deep within his core, he knew.
After all those eonsâyour soul had finally been reborn.
Sukuna swears that no one has ever made him cry â especially not a girl. He is considered the worst man alive. He is the one who, if people see him on the street, they switch sides. He is the one who can endure the worst pain imaginable without shedding a single tear â yet he is about to cry over a head.
It's not his fault. You look so good like this. Your head is between his legs, your pretty mouth moving up and down his dick, and your tongue tracing every vein. Sukuna has never cried, and he will do everything to avoid starting now. But honestly? He can't think of a better time to try.
Sukuna was a son of the House of IrĂŁ. Cruel, ruthless, a true warrior, the heir who would one day become the leader of his house on Earth and advisor to his sin in Hell.
Millennia ago, when Lucifer fell from Heaven with all his sins, seven families swore to serve them. Each family was bound to a demon through a blood pact, becoming part of their infernal house. In exchange for eternal servitude, which lasts until a member dies serving the sin, offering their soul to Hell, the members of the house gain powers. The sin runs in their blood, intensifying every action, and Sukuna is a son of Azazel in all his glory.
The members of the house made countless sacrifices to keep the bloodline pure. From marriages between family members, a custom abandoned long ago, to the prohibition of unions between houses, to avoid mixing the blood of sin, and the murder of bastards. The rules among the houses have always been clear and cruel, and Sukuna never minded that.
Until he saw you.
The heiress of the House of Gluttony.
The only woman among the heirs of the seven houses.
They say the sin itself blessed your birth.
You are the sin of your house in its purest form. Your hunger for power is so vast that even Lucifer himself keeps an eye on you. Sukuna doesnât think much of that, but he understands the cruelty of your world enough to know that you are this way because you have to be. If not, your own house would have killed you already.
He didnât care about you.
He wasnât interested in you.
He didnât even know your nameâuntil the fateful day you looked at him.
It was during the annual gathering, a tradition meant to showcase the stability among the houses. Each leader sat in front of their demonâs throne, with their heirs a few steps behind. The leader of Luciferâs house opened the meeting.
The leaders pledged loyalty to one another, discussed the problems they were facing, and the imminent threat of war against a group of traitorous demons. Sukuna had a quick solution: extermination of those demons and anyone of their kind. But no one had asked for his opinion, and his eyes were focused elsewhere.
You.
Drinking the blood of a witch unbound to any house or demon, your favorite. Eyes and ears tuned into the leaders' conversationâsomething he should have been doing tooâbut your lips wouldnât let him. What grew in Sukunaâs chest wasnât love, or passion, or even interest. It was obsession. If it were up to him, not even your sin would taste your soul.
Sukuna knew he wasnât supposed to fall in love with you.
It was clear, he knew it as surely as he knew the sky was blue. But for some reason, you were you, and that was enough to make him forget all of that.
You werenât just the crown princess of the empire that stretched beyond the northern sea, you were also the daughter of the leader of the greatest immortal clan of modern times, known for their ruthlessness. And Sukuna? He was just a slave, born of unknown parents, handed over to your father right after birth, without value.
His four arms, four eyes, and all the marks that stained his skin had always been a cause for fear across the village. It didnât take long before those people got rid of him. Your father found amusement in the existence of something like him. He didnât have the violet eyes of the immortals from your clan, nor the ocean-deep blue of the southern clan. He was simply a freak of nature.
Your people saw a monster.
Your father saw a curiosity and feared a new species of immortals might arise.
But youâŚYou looked at him as if he were someone, for the first time in his life.
Since he was just a boy, he had felt your gaze. When he was sharpening swords, when he was working on the walls of the great castle, your great castle, when he was training with the soldiers.
Every moment.
And he had never stopped watching you either. When you were training with your personal guards, when you were riding horses, when you did something provocative and completely inappropriate while looking straight at him. He always saw it.
Your father had always made it clear: that was a line Sukuna could never cross. But honestly? He didnât give a damn about anything your father had said the moment you stepped into the den he called a bedroom, wearing a light white dress. He could see everything by the firelight, just inches away from you. He didnât care about the warnings your father had given when you climbed on top of him, and he didnât remember that all of it was impossible, that you were a princess and he, a slave, when he took you and heard you say his name.
That was the first time but not the last.
Every night, you came to him and loved him like no one ever had. You kissed the marks on his skin as if they were sacred. You sought his four eyes as if you only existed when he looked at you. You lay in his arms as if they were more comfortable than your cotton bed. You touched him as if it hurt and only he could heal it.
He was lost.
By day, he was a slave, a monster, a fighter who hurt anyone that stared too long. By night, he was yours, by his own will, unraveling at every touch, every word, every glance. He would never say it but he loved you.
The problem was, he was going to run. He wasnât going to stay and be exploited and studied by your father and his pack of immortals. But he wasnât going alone. He wasnât leaving without you. And he didnât know if you would ever agree to give up all the luxury and stability you had with your father to become a fugitive with him.
Then, after planning every step, thinking through countless escape routes, and getting in touch with people who could help once you both were outside the castle walls, you said the words that silenced his entire world:
âIâm pregnant.â
And he felt itâwhen you took his hand and placed it on your belly, he felt the life growing inside you. He didnât speak of his plan that night. He didnât ask whether youâd go with him. He just held you, and you stayed there for a long while in silenceâuntil you said you were sure it would be a boy, and he said it would be a girl, just to disagree with you.
You both knew a painful truth neither of you voiced but it haunted the air around you: No one could know about that child.
Neither of you was prepared for what would happen three nights later. He had decided it was time to talk about the escape. Sukuna wouldnât let you and your child die, because thatâs what your father would do. He would kill you and the life growing inside you once he discovered your disobedience, not sparing you even for being his daughter.
And that was exactly what happened.
The kingâs advisor had betrayed you both after witnessing a meeting two nights before.
There was no mercy, no compassion.
You were dragged away and tied to a post, while Sukuna was chained to the ground in front of you with golden restraints. Whip after whip lashed across his back irregular, brutal, a reminder of every mistake he had made. He struggled and did everything he could to break free, but all he managed was to tear the flesh off his wrists. Then your fatherâs soldiers arrived.
And Sukuna knew exactly how this worked.
For five minutes, he had to watch as soldier after soldier stabbed you never hitting a vital point. He screamed like a beast, punched the ground until only flesh and blood remained. When the thirty soldiers finished torturing you, your father drew his sword.
Sukuna knew that sword. He had forged it himself.
And with a single strike, the blade pierced your heart. Your mouth opened in a scream, but no sound came out. Sukuna stopped struggling. He fell into total silence.
He knew the exact moment your life left your body because your eyes were locked on his, after all. Sukuna saw your father's face. He was crying as if he wasnât the one who caused your death.
With a strength Sukuna didnât know he had, he tore the chains from the ground and rushed toward your now lifeless body. Your eyes were unfocused, your arms tied above your head, unmoving, blood flowing down your skin.
He felt it when your father raised the sword, ready to kill him. He felt it when he shoved his arm into the kingâs chest and squeezed his heart until it exploded. He felt it when all the soldiers turned on him, ready to strike. And he felt that he was going to kill every single one of them, just to try to dull the hollow, corrosive agony burning inside his chest.
Sukuna counted how many times he saw you in his life. It was few, but apparently quite memorable.
The first time heâs not so sure about. It was a long time ago. You were still a little girl. Probably around 3 years old. You had your hair tied up in little strands and were clinging to your mother when the villagers from the nearby area where he was, came to bring offerings. He doesnât remember much; he wasnât paying attention. He only realizes now that the little girl back then could have been you.
After that, he left. For another region, other people, and other massacres, and he ended up forgetting about you. Until he returned to the same place. He was just passing through, heading back to his starting point after getting what he wanted, and stopped briefly in the region. That, without a doubt, was the first time he really saw you. The villagers came to welcome him, which was somewhat amusing since they were all scared to have him so close. And then you arrived. You must have been around 18 years old, and you came with your mother, the reason he thinks you might have been that little girl, with a basket of cookies and other sweets. You were wearing an old, worn-out kimono and had a sad expression. He didnât care much about you, but he cared a lot about the basket of cookies. They were actually quite pleasant to Sukunaâs taste â he devoured them all â but that was it.
The second time took a while. Four years, if he remembers correctly. Some group rebelled against the reign of the King of Curses, and he had to go. It wasnât so bad; killing was always pleasurable for him. He didnât plan on staying long, but while walking through the deserted streets of the village where the rebels were hiding, deciding whether to just leave or destroy the whole village, he smelled something he had almost forgotten. Cookies. It came from a house near the well. By the time he realized it, he was standing in front of the door. He didnât knock, he just forced open the old wooden door, which creaked as it opened, and looked inside in time to see you jump from the sound. As soon as you looked back, he felt your fear. Your eyes widened, your fingers turned white from gripping the jar you were holding. Your head dropped, and you looked at the ground. It wasnât every day you saw a four-armed being, who knows how many meters tall, staring at you.
But Sukunaâs eyes werenât on you; they were on the cookies in the jar you were holding. Noticing this, you extended your hand toward him, offering the cookies, and without saying a word, he took the jar from your hand and left your house, disappearing between the trees that surrounded the village.
The last time he saw you was different. It was a new curse. One that had just been born. A special-grade curse. He didnât care much; in fact, he didnât care at all. Until the curse disobeyed him, then he got irritated. Sukuna went after the curse, but it was fast and left a trail of destruction wherever it went. Sukuna stepped over the dead bodies, laughing as if the curse thought it could affect him. This went on until he finally found the curse. He recognized that village, he recognized the curse staring at him with eyes full of fear, and he recognized the bloodstained body lying on the ground near the well. And he swore those death-filled eyes were looking directly at him.
Sukuna doesnât know why he remembered you, but he thinks that thinking of your face now, while the pigs from the Jujutsu sorcerers were cutting off his fingers one by one and sealing him, wasnât such a bad thought after all.
In my humanâs apartment, thereâs a hole in the wall. It has a transparent barrier that stops me from going out or at least makes my human think it does. Every time I wake up early, the sunlight comes through the hole, and I just lie there. The light warms me. It's my one true lazy moment of the day. My belly up, my paws stretched out. The only bad part is the light shining straight into my blue eyes, blinding me for a while. I stay there until my human puts my food, Pedigree, into my blue bowl.
After she gives me my food and strokes my white fur, she goes back to her corner and leaves me alone for a while. Usually, during this time, I hear that idiot Jogo, the neighborâs mutt. I hear that flea-ridden thing sniffing under the door. He always does that. Stretching my spine and stepping carefully, I raise my claws and jab his filthy nose, and I can feel him jump back, startled. It happens every time, and yet the fool keeps doing it every single day.
After that, I go back to eating while my human gets ready to leave. She changes her clothes, eats something disgusting, puts on her shoes, grabs her keys, and strokes me again. I enjoy the affection, but now, I just want her to go. She picks up her things and leaves for a place Iâve never known and honestly, I never cared. All I know is she only comes back when the sky is dark.
I go over to the hole in the wall. It has some cloths that block the light sometimes, but my human only closes them at night. Thereâs a silver latch right below the hole, but with a push of my paw, it opens. The barrier comes loose, and it just takes a nudge to get through. In no time, Iâm outside. Itâs high up, but thereâs a staircase in front that I always climb. I go up, higher and higher, until I can see the whole city. Then I leap onto the rooftop. I walk along the edge until I spot another staircase I can reach with a jump. I go down and enter an alley full of trash, with a bunch of strays rummaging through it. Disgusting.
I pass by them, and they just stare. They recognize me. The name Satoru is known on these streets. None of them would ever dare mess with me. Animals know whoâs superior. Cats are kings. A law thatâs lasted through the ages. Unlike those weak canines who get carried away by every little instinct, cats think. Cats have the mind for it.
I keep walking until I cross the alley and reach a fairly busy street. Humans of every kind tired, happy, sad, excited, busy. All of them on their way to do something. All of them too worried about what they still have to do. These years living among them have taught me one thing: none of them knows how to live. At least, not like a cat does.
It took a while, a long way, but finally, I could see it. A tall wall with blades on top, well known around here. Leaning against the wall was a dumpster, easy to climb. One paw here, another there, and done. The dumpster helped me scale the rest of the wall. But the real challenge was the blades. If I got hurt, my human would notice Iâd gone out and find a way to lock me up for good inside that place.
So I went carefully. I slipped my paw between the sharp blades, made my way to the other side and then I saw her. The most beautiful cat my eyes have ever crossed. That rare brown fur, those dark brown eyes, and a soul that makes me want to spend all seven of my lives just feeling it. And there she was, waiting for me. Leaning on the wallâs edge, with a little ribbon tied behind her head. Unlike my current scruffy state, she was perfect. Her fur perfectly aligned, sitting like a princess.
When I got closer, she noticed me and looked at me. Sheâs never meowed her name, and neither have I. Sheâs never meowed who she is, and neither have I. But it didnât matter. Nothing mattered, because as I got closer and she stepped nearer, I knew that no cat, dog, or human would ever really know how to live life. Because life was staring right back at me in that moment.
Sukuna swears he's never seen anyone more beautiful than you.
There was less than a minute left before the fight started. Bright lights lit up the cage, and his opponent stared at him like he could actually intimidate someone. This was the fight that would define Sukunaâs career. The man standing across from him was the world champion. This was the biggest fight of his life. The one he trained the hardest for. And yet, the moment Sukuna stepped into the octagon, all his focus zeroed in on you.
Of course he knew who you were. Who didnât? Your songs were literally everywhere. Not that he cared who the latest pop diva was but it was hard not to recognize your face and voice when they were on every screen and speaker. He also knew you liked fights. Youâd been spotted at several events. He even knew you were a fan of the guy standing across from him. Not that it mattered to him. Obviously not. But this was the first time heâd ever seen you in person.
And shit â you looked like an angel.
Sukuna only snapped back to reality when he heard the ref start the round. His opponent charged forward immediately, and Sukuna became painfully aware of your eyes watching him with boredom. He felt like a gladiator trying to impress the empress. And you werenât even cheering for him. That stung. Not that he cared...
The five minutes flew by, and the first round ended. It was the worst round of Sukunaâs career. He was known for finishing fights fast and violently, he hated dragging things out, but tonight, all he did was dodge a few punches.
He couldnât hear his coach yelling from the corner, couldnât register the way his opponent stared him down like he wanted to kill him. All he could see was you eyes on your phone halfway through the round, already disinterested.
It hit Sukunaâs ego hard. Wasnât he even enough to hold your attention?
When the ref called the second round, all Sukuna could think about was winning. He was going to be the new champ. He was going to get that belt. He was going to make you look at him.
He saw red.
First, a jab, sharp and clean, to open his opponentâs guard, not that Sukuna even remembered his name at this point.
Then a right cross, meant to throw him off.
And finally a high kick. His leg snapped up like lightning. The champ hit the mat.
The ref didnât even wait. The moment the guy dropped, the fight was over. TKO. Victory. Championship belt.
But none of that mattered to Sukuna. What really mattered was the way your eyes were finally on him. With approval. And in that moment, he knew he wasnât just taking home the belt tonight. He was taking you too.
Maybe in another life, those same eyes looking at him now wouldâve made him fall in love.
The first time Sukuna saw you was on a Sunday night. The city was already asleep, and the air was cold. He had gone out alone for a walk, trying to clear his mind from the increasingly torturous business matters, when he realized he was being followed.
His work had always taken priority over his personal life. Running betting houses, nightclubs, and a few trafficking schemes, Sukuna had always had many enemies. It wasnât often that he got to go out alone, so when he did, he cherished those moments. Which only made him want to kill whoever was following him even more.
Trying to lure his pursuer into a more secluded area, he walked toward a dimly lit alley. But as he approached, he heard a low murmur, almost inaudible, and heavy breathing. When he looked inside the alley, he saw you. Sitting with your knees pressed against your face, rocking back and forth, crying. Frantically. Your fingers were covered in bandages, as was one side of your face.
It took you a while to notice him there, but when you did, you didn't waste a second. You got up from the ground and ran away before he even had the chance to say anything.
The moment you disappeared without a trace, he looked around and realized there was no longer any sign of the person who had been following him. He decided to call his men, ordering one of them to figure out what the hell had just happened.
The second time Sukuna saw you was near a bar. He was meeting with a powerful criminal who owed him certain information. When he left, he spotted a familiar figure turning the corner. You.
Driven by curiosity, he followed you to a small park until you suddenly turned around and looked straight at him. You were about 500 meters apart. Neither of you spoke, just stared at each other, until your eyes landed on something behind him. Your eyes widened in fear, and you took off running. Fast.
Sukuna didn't even have the chance to go after you.
When he turned to see what had scared you, there was nothing. Just empty space.
The third time he saw you, he was already in a foul mood. The police had intercepted a valuable shipment of weapons he had already sold. He did everything he could to shake off the angerâpunched a few things, took it out on the idiot responsible for the failed planâbut nothing helped. At least he could say he tried.
When his brother took him to one of their family's nightclubs, he thought he might finally relax. But less than two minutes after stepping inside, someone bumped into him, spilling some kind of liquid all over him. His rage was already boiling over. When he looked down, there you were.
Your right arm was bandaged, and you held a half-empty plastic water bottle in your left hand. Your eyes met his, and he swore he had never seen emptier eyes. Not even in the faces of those he had just killed.
Before you could run, he grabbed your uninjured arm and led you to the bar. Saying nothing, he bought another bottle of water and handed it to you before pulling you outside. The two of you stared at each other, neither knowing what to say, until you finally broke the silence.
"Thank you." You spoke so softly he almost didnât hear it.
"Whatâs your name?" he asked, momentarily forgetting about the stolen weapons, his soaked shirt, or the fury still burning inside him.
"IâŚ" Before you could answer, something flashed in your eyes. You focused on a point behind him and started trembling. Without looking at him again, you bolted, terrified.
Sukuna didnât hesitateâhe started chasing you.
You ran like your life depended on it. You kept running, running, and running until you reached a busy street. Far too busy for that time of night. And just like thatâyou were gone.
More furious than ever, he called one of his men with clear instructions: Get the nightclubâs security footage and identify the woman who had been with him. Simple.
The fourth time Sukuna saw you wasnât in personâit was in newspaper headlines from eighteen years ago. They all reported a horrific kidnapping of a seven-year-old girl taken by a thirty-one-year-old man. From the photos, he could tell it was you. Your face was almost the same, just a little older. According to the articles, you had been missing for a month before they found you. Your kidnapper was arrested but was released five years ago and was still out there.
With the right connections, it didnât take him long to pull up your records. Your name was [Name]. Your parents had died when you were sixteen, forcing you to live with your grandmother. You worked nights at a diner and lived in a tiny apartment in the cityâs poorest area until your grandmother passed away when you were eighteen. After that, you disappeared.
Digging deeper, he found a medical record. It was the last time you had seen a psychiatrist. No data beyond that. Your name was listed alongside a diagnosis:
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
Post-Traumatic Psychosis.
The fifth time Sukuna saw you, it was nothing short of premeditated. Of course, he hadnât expected it to happen like this, but you had proven to be increasingly unpredictable.
He had eyes everywhere in the city. It wasnât hard to have all his men on alert, ready to notify him the moment someone spotted you. What he didnât expect was that when that day finally came, you would be at the police station.
Apparently, you had a psychotic episode and attacked someone.
Getting you out wasnât hard. Sukuna knew exactly what to do, and he had more than enough money to make it happen. When you were finally released from your cell and approached him, looking at him with curiosity, he knew something had changed for him.
louis staying with the man who orchestrated the murder of his daughter for over 70 years just to spite his ex-husband and lestat deciding to let louis find out on his own about his new husband trying to kill him, breaking his own heart and torturing himself in the process too, just so he could say âsee I was rightâ 70 years later,, this is the toxic obsessive failmarriage representation we deserve
warning: murder, mention of murder, Sukuna has questionable morals here (as always), the reader is described as a woman.
You didnât know what you had gotten yourself into.
Three months ago, a homicide case appeared. A dead man was found in a well near a country house a middle-class family had just bought. The body was in an advanced state of decomposition. No skin, no fleshâjust bones. The little girl who accidentally discovered the body probably didnât sleep for days.
The body was identified as that of a military officer who had been missing for over ten years: a former sergeant, Suzuki Hiroshi. The military wanted to take the case, but for some reason, you insisted to your boss that you could handle it. It was a fight to get the case, as the military was adamant about taking over, but in the end, you were the investigator. And you regretted it.
You cursed the boredom of calm days at your department. You had wanted to get out of the station, where your male colleagues would constantly mock you for being a woman. It didnât matter; you were better than them anyway. But now, not only was your boss breathing down your neck for answers, but the entire military was, too. Apparently, your dead friend was important and well-liked.
Delving deeper into Hiroshiâs life, you discovered he was sociable but had some enemies. At first glance, they seemed to harbor nothing more than simple dislike for the sergeant, but they were worth investigating. This led you to a list of potential suspects:
1. Sergeant Sato Haruto. He benefited the most from Hiroshiâs disappearance. As soon as Hiroshi vanished, Haruto was promoted to sergeant. The two had known each other since preschool, but according to the forensics report, Haruto had been in another country on a mission for nearly a year at the time of the murder.
2. Takahashi Ryota. According to Hiroshiâs ex-wife, Ryota and Hiroshi had an intense rivalry. They competed in absolutely everything. Ryota had even been interrogated, but it led nowhere. Your gut told you it wasnât him, and you trusted your instincts.
3. Suzuki Masato, Hiroshiâs brother. Masato had hated him ever since Hiroshi married Masatoâs high school crush. He was your main suspect, but you couldnât find any evidence. That was until Sukuna appeared.
Sukuna was a well-known tattoo artist in the city. Tall, covered in tattoos, and perpetually seriousâhe was exactly your type, and you hated it. The first time you noticed him was in a video sent to you anonymously, filmed the night the sergeant disappeared. The video showed Hiroshi and Sukuna talking at a bar. They werenât in full focus, as the video was mostly of a college celebration, but you managed to identify Sukunaâs face. That gave you your first real lead after months of investigating.
You spent a week tailing him. A long week, during which you learned Sukuna had connections to the military. His schedule was flexibleâhe only went to his studio when he had an appointment, which was nearly every day because of his popularity. Things got suspicious when you noticed many of his clients were military personnel. Upon closer inspection, their tattoos seemed to contain some sort of code, though you couldnât decipher it.
He got his hair cut at a barbershop at the end of your streetânot his, yours. Youâd never noticed him before, but apparently, heâd been closer than you thought. He frequented the same bar Hiroshi was last seen in almost every night. He seemed to know the owner, Kamo Choso, and they spoke like old friends. And it seemed he couldnât spend a night alone; every time he went to the bar, he left with a woman. Women who looked strikingly like you.
Deciding it was time to make a move, you went to the bar. It was a cold, late night. Sukuna was already there when you entered. Sitting at the bar, four stools away from him, you ordered a drink and observed. The owner, Kamo Choso, had an interesting backstory: an orphan adopted at 14 by the barâs previous owner, who had passed away three years ago. Since then, Choso had been running the bar.
Lost in your thoughts about how to approach Sukuna, you saw him end his conversation with Choso and move toward you. Closer and closer, until he sat beside you and leaned in to speak over the noise.
âYou donât come here often.â
Your breath hitched. This was the closest youâd ever been to Sukuna.
âAnd how would you know that?â
âIâd have noticed you.â
And just like that, you were thrown into a dangerous game you couldnât afford to lose.
He fixed his gaze on you, and you couldn't ignore the double meaning in his words.
"It's easy to tell when someone doesn't belong in a place like this, you know? Always so... tense." He looked directly at you, a teasing smile forming. "You seem like the type of person whoâd prefer wine at a fancy party, not beer in a place like this."
"What do you know about the type of person I am?"
"I know a lot about all kinds of people. And I can tell that the last place you'd want to be is drinking cheap liquor in some corner bar." His raspy voice sent chills down your spine.
"Now, whatâs someone like you doing here?" he asked.
"Thinking about the mess in my life. The usual. But youâseems like you come here often."
"I come here when I need to clear my head." A silence lingered between you until you broke it.
"Funny." you said, spinning your glass in your hand before meeting his gaze. "You don't strike me as the kind of person who needs to clear their head. More like the type who always has everything under control."
Sukuna let out a low, humorless laugh, leaning closer.
"And what do you know about the type of person I am?" He threw the question back at you, his tone challenging.
"Not much... yet." You smiled faintly, trying to mask your unease. "But youâre a good actor. Maybe too good."
"An actor, huh?" He raised an eyebrow, that teasing smile returning. "And what am I pretending to be, detective? That Iâm just an ordinary tattoo artist, or that I didnât notice youâve been following me?"
Your blood ran cold, but you didnât let it show, keeping your expression neutral. "Following you? That sounds a bit paranoid, donât you think?"
"Maybe." He shrugged, clearly amused by the game. "Or maybe youâre worse at hiding than you think. Either way, youâre interesting." Sukuna paused, staring at you intensely before continuing. "And dangerous. The kind of danger I like to keep close... but not for too long."
"Is that so?" You arched an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer, challenging the proximity. "And what makes you think Iâm dangerous?"
He leaned in further, the space between you almost nonexistent, and whispered.
"Because you remind me of someone I once knew... someone who also thought they were in control. And you know what happened to them?"
"Let me guess..." you responded calmly, not backing down. "They underestimated you."
Sukuna smiled, but there was something dark in the curve of his lips.
"Now youâre starting to get it."
The silence returned, but this time it was heavy. He seemed to be waiting for your next move, while you tried to process what he was implyingâand how much he knew about you.
"You know, sometimes people get into trouble just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"What are you trying to say?" you asked, confused.
"That you should be careful. No one knows what could happen to a girl like you."
"Why does that sound like a threat?" you asked, turning your body to face him.
"Itâs not a threat. Itâs a warning." he said seriously. And you wondered if coming here tonight had been a mistake.
"A warning? Do you have anything dangerous enough to make me stay away?"
"I think you can imagine. After all, itâs your job."
Before you could respond, your phone buzzed. It was your team. Discreetly, you opened the message. It felt like a punch to the gut. The previous owner of the house where the body was found was Kamo Choso, the owner of the bar where Hiroshi was last seen and a close friend of Ryomen Sukuna.
You were in the lionâs den and hadnât realized it.
Noticing some movement beside you, you saw Sukuna pulling out his wallet. He left a bill on the counter before standing up. "It was interesting talking to you, detective. Maybe next time, youâll tell me what you really want."
As soon as he walked away, you left money on the counter and quickly exited the bar. It wasnât until you got into your car that you allowed yourself to breathe. You were certain Sukuna was involved. You just needed proof.
The next day, you took a trip. You were returning to the country house where the body had been found, for the third time since youâd taken the case. Things werenât adding up. Close friends claimed Hiroshi never frequented bars or anything of the sort. He had no apparent connection to Sukuna or Choso. But you knew they were involved. If you didnât act now, youâd miss something crucial.
It took three hours to reach the house. It was large compared to your apartment but small for even a modest mansion. Two stories, a big yard, white paint, and a musty smell. You couldnât imagine any family buying the place.
Walking to the back of the house, you stopped at the spot where the body had been found. You stared at the well, trying to piece together how it all happened. It was a deserted locationâdisposing of a body here wouldnât have been difficult. No one would see, and there were no security cameras, except the houseâs own, which hadnât been recording for years since the sergeant disappeared.
Feeling a strange sensation, you slowly turned your head, but saw nothing. Ignoring it, you returned to visualizing the scene. Hiroshi was strong and armedâit wouldâve been nearly impossible to confront him head-on. And you doubted heâd willingly come to such a remote area unless he was unconscious or already dead.
Lost in thought, you didnât notice the shadow approaching until a hand clamped over your mouth and an arm wrapped around you, pulling you against a muscular body. You struggled, reaching for the gun on your thigh, but the grip tightened.
"Quiet." he murmured in your ear.
Dragging you inside a room and throwing you onto the bed, you finally saw the manâand you werenât surprised. Sukuna tied your hands to the bedpost with a tight knot, cutting off circulation to your wrists. Satisfied with his work, he stepped back, looking at you like a predator ready to kill.
"Youâre meddling with things you donât understand, detective." he said maliciously.
"Well, Iâm trying to understand." you shot back, controlling your anger. Letting the enemy catch youâreal smart. "Not even a day has passed since we met. Already missing me?" you teased.
"You think theyâll let you understand anything? So naĂŻve, detective." he said sarcastically, ignoring your taunt.
"Tell me, then. Who wonât let me figure it out?"
Before you could respond, footsteps echoed outside. Sukuna tensed, looking at the door like a predator sensing danger.
"You brought backup?"
"If I had, donât you think youâd already be in cuffs?" you retorted, though you were just as confused.
The footsteps grew louder, and then the door burst open. Two masked men entered, armed. Sukuna cursed under his breath before pulling a knife from his pocket and cutting the rope binding your wrists.
"If you want to live, stay behind me." he ordered, leaving no room for argument.
Confused but out of options, you obeyed. What followed was a whirlwind of chaos.
Sukuna fought with a ferocity you hadnât anticipated, taking down one man before seizing the otherâs weapon and firing without hesitation. When silence finally fell, you leaned against the wall, trying to process what had just happened.
"Who were those guys?" you asked, breathless.
"Probably the same people who killed Hiroshi." Sukuna replied, wiping blood from his face. "And now they think I know too much. Thanks to you, detective." he added, anger lacing his tone.
"My fault?"
"They think Iâm a threat to their secrets."
"They who? What secrets?" you demanded, your frustration boiling over.
"Theyâre coming for us, detective. And youâre coming with me." he said firmly, leaving no room for protest. "Because of you, Iâm in their crosshairs. And now youâre going to help me get out of this."
It was the last thing you heard before he dragged you out of the house.
What made Sukuna fall in love with you wasnât your body, your personality, or even your soulâalthough eventually, he did fall for all of those too. What truly caught his attention, what intrigued and mesmerized him, were your eyes.
It was one of those times when villagers came to serve him, make requests, and offer tributes. Thatâs when he saw you. Everyone in your village called you crazy, a witch. During one of these gatherings, they tied you up and brought you to him, accusing you of cursing their harvest, bringing disease, and haunting their nights with nightmares.
Thatâs when he saw it. Bound in ropes, surrounded by rabid dogs and fire meant to stop you from escaping. Unlike everyone else around you, you didnât avoid his gaze. On the contraryâyou stared directly at him. And when he looked back, you didnât flinch in fear like the others. No. You simply tilted your head and smiled. Smiled. As if you already knew you were going to die and decided to revel in the chaos around you. Sukuna had never been so captivated.
He couldnât take his eyes off yours or care about the words spilling out of the villagersâ mouths. When they finished listing your supposed crimes, silence fell as everyone awaited his verdict. He kept looking at you, his gaze glowing like fire, reflecting the torchlight around you. Then, finally, he spoke.
âAnd you, little witch? Do you have anything to say in your defense?â he asked sarcastically. It didnât matter whether you were guilty or not. He would have you, alive or dead. With a soul burning behind your eyes to meet his gaze every day, or with them lifeless and your severed head staring at him forever.
âI didnât commit any of these crimes. If I had anything against these people, they wouldnât even exist anymore, my King. I would never let them suffer mere nightmares or illnesses that still allow them to breathe,â you said with a smile, lookingâdamn itâlooking straight into his soul, if he even still had one. His two cocks instantly hardened at your words.
Sukuna first fell in love with your eyes, but it was your mouth that drove him to slaughter an entire village and take you to his domain.
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