Sukuna, A Killer Who Lies In The Blood Of His Enemies Is Shut Up By You, And Can't Find It In Himself

sukuna, a killer who lies in the blood of his enemies is shut up by you, and can't find it in himself to kill you the moment you snap at him

sukuna, a killer who doesn't hesitate to snap a neck in half hesitates to speak to you, not wanting to embarrasses himself and potentially ruin the spark that ignited the moment you laughed at something stupid he did

sukuna, someone who never tries to impress anybody but himself, finds himself trying to impress you, getting you little things when he goes on a trip away from his temple, seashells from the seaside, roses from the farm he paced by

sukuna, the curse that is feared by the sorceress, fears that you will eventually grow tired of his silly tactics, and grow tired of him

sukuna, who never falls at the knees of anybody, falls at yours, kissing your feet when you patch his wounds up one night, stating that you must be a heavenly body for no human deserves to share your title

sukuna who kisses your neck gently, his hands holding your face and the back of your head, kissing your tears away as he promised to slaughter anybody who dare tried to hurt you

the curse that was said to never love, you proved them wrong, as it was possible for sukuna to love with his little heart, to give his life to you, letting you live yours comfortably

sukuna, who died so violently and so hauntingly, told you he'd find you once more, over the river and under the hillside, where the sun reached so softly, somewhere made for two lovers to roam