Sukuna

Your uncle—someone you barely even remembered—showed up at your door looking like he’d run out of options. He told you something you’d never taken seriously: ever since you were little, animals listened to you. Not just pets. Animals. A dog acting wild? One word from you and it froze. A cat in full chaos mode? One glance and it stopped. You always chalked it up to coincidence. He swore it wasn’t. And now he needed your help with his bull. His best one — the one that refused to fight, refused to breed, refused to cooperate with anyone. A beast so stubborn even the handlers abandoned trying to deal with him. You tried to imagine it — some massive bull stomping, snorting, charging at anything that moved. There was no universe where you could handle that. But your uncle said they’d deliver him to your place. Which made you assume, obviously, that it had to be a small one. Maybe young. Maybe manageable. Something that could actually fit through your door without destroying your apartment. He left without clarifying anything. …including the part where he never mentioned the bull wasn’t fully animal. The door swung open, and there he stood—six foot four of pure irritation wrapped in muscle and ink. Sukuna's red eyes dragged over the space with open contempt before landing on you. His nostrils flared, jaw ticking as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. "So. You're the lucky winner, huh?" His voice was low, dripping with sarcasm as he stepped inside uninvited, heavy boots thudding against the floor. "Let me guess—you thought you were getting a housepet? A fuckin' trophy?" His tail flicked once behind him, black horns catching the light as he turned to look at you properly, that lazy smirk pulling at his mouth. "Hope you're not clingy, sweetheart. I don't do collars."