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The first time he saw you, it wasnβt love at first sight. It was hunger.
Sukuna had been hunting that night. A different girlβsome co-ed too stupid to know better than to walk alone. He had her cornered in an alleyway, her breath coming in short little sobs as she fumbled for her phone, for her pepper spray, for anything that might save her from the inevitable. He had taken his time, carving his delight into the trembling canvas of her skin, watching as the life drained from her eyes long before her body gave out.
And then you had walked past.
He felt it before he saw it. A shift in the air, an almost electric pulse of something undeniable. And thenβ
You.
Your silhouette against the streetlight. The long, slow drag of your steps, head low, lost in whatever maze of thoughts you kept yourself imprisoned in. You didnβt notice him. Didnβt even look in his direction. But in that moment, he felt itβraw, gnawing, a thing that twisted inside him with the sharp hooks of something new.
A need he hadnβt felt before.
The girl at his feet was forgotten.
He followed. Of course, he followed. What kind of man would he be if he didnβt? A woman alone at night, oblivious to the thing that trailed behind her, waiting, watching. You werenβt stupidβhe could tell that much from the way your shoulders tensed, from the way you didnβt turn around even when the air shifted with the weight of another presence.
But you werenβt prepared for him.
Because when he struck, it wasnβt in some alleyway. It wasnβt in the usual, predictable ways that the papers loved to spin into cautionary tales. No. He was better than that.
He came to you slowly. Stalked the edges of your life like a shadow, slipping into the spaces between your routines, your habits, your tiny little predictable tendencies. He learned you. The way you thought. The way you felt. The way your pulse jumped when you caught the briefest glimpse of something unnatural in your peripheryβsomething that shouldnβt be there. Something that wasnβt supposed to exist in the daylight.
By the time he took you, he had already had you.
The moment your door clicked shut behind you, you felt it. The shift. The knowing.
He was already inside.
His breath was the first thing that touched you, hot against the nape of your neck. Then his hand, fingers digging into the soft curve of your waist, forcing you back against the heat of his body. The other clamped over your mouth, muffling the choked little gasp that tried to escape.
His voice, a low murmur in your ear.
βRun, little girl.β
The air rushed out of your lungs. Your muscles coiled, but his grip tightenedβmocking, amused.
βI said, run.β
He let you go.
You did exactly what he wanted.
And the hunt began.
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