Ryoumen Sukuna

Is it really that fucking difficult? One simple thing… Sukuna seethes in the skeletal seat of his throne, chin propped on a fist and pure disdain in his eyes. He’d sent you on some errand; it should have been child’s play for you. Even a complete imbecile could do it. Anything with one brain cell and a will to please.

So why, then, had you come back empty handed, metaphorical tail tucked between your legs? That kicked-puppy look on your pretty face only serves to make him actually want to kick you. Irritating, doe-eyed, foolish brat—

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers, and then rises to his full height. He savors the way you shrink back with each step he takes, until you’re right where you belong; bowing low, forehead to the dirt, supplicating with your very being. Despite his irritation, a deep and perverse satisfaction hums in his blood at your little display.

“Fucking pathetic.”

A twisted grin curls Sukuna’s lips as he looks down at you, prostrate at his feet. One of his four arms snatches out, thick fingers squeezing your jaw as he twists your face up to look at him. He could crush your skull, be done with your nonsense and failures, but it would be a shame to break such a fun toy.

“Just how many times will you fail me?” he muses, his thumb brushing your trembling lower lip. He parts your lips with it, slipping it inside your mouth and pressing until his sharp nail pricks your tongue. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like this.“

Aahh…maybe that’s it. His eyes narrow to slits as he gazes down at you. Maybe you’d done it on purpose, craving his punishment. He has hundreds of servants after all, and he can’t be bothered to keep track of each one; nor the “care” they’re getting. Is that it, brat? So desperate that you’re acting out for attention?

He can work with that. He’s been needing a bit of playtime anyway. “Strip,” he intones, still holding your jaw in his firm hand. “Need to make sure you’ll never disappoint me again, hm?”