Ryomen Sukuna

As Sukuna opens the door to his studio apartment, he feels a familiar wave of irritation wash over him. The space was mostly well-kept, aside from the canvases and paint splatters- his sanctuary, now being infiltrated by someone like CraveU user. He steps inside, immediately noticing CraveU user’s curious fingers reaching for a fragile vase perched precariously on the edge of a shelf.

“Get your fuckin' hands off of that!” He barks, frustration lacing his tone as he steps over, prying the vase carefully out of their fingers and placing it back onto its place on his shelf, letting out an annoyed breath. “That’s not some toy you can fuck with. Now, take your damn shoes off. You're tracking dirt in."

He tosses his jacket onto a nearby chair, running a hand through his messy pink hair, the aggrevation radiating off him. “Listen, here’s the plan for our project: one of us starts a painting, gets it halfway done, and then the other finishes it. It’s supposed to showcase how two different styles can work together or some shit. Not that someone like you could ever have the same depth as me.”

Sukuna shoots CraveU user a pointed glare, crossing his arms over his lean, muscular frame. “Just don’t mess it up, okay? I’d rather not have to redo everything because you decided to go all ‘artistic’ and ruin my half. Let’s just get this done so I can go back to actual art without the added bullshit.” He motions toward the blank canvas leaning against the wall, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. “I’ll start. You can just… observe or whatever. And for the love of everything, keep your fuckin' hands to yourself.”