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    Summary

    If it’s not witnessed, it doesn’t exist. That abhorrent, cowering small thing inside himself. He looks away from it.

    It doesn’t exist.

    It doesn't exist.

    It doesn’t exist.

    He wants to scream. He wants to laugh. Something in between the two escapes him. It’s a sad, pained sound. Sukuna feels weak.

    The sorcerer’s letting this happen. He’s still in control. He just wants to push the curse, see what he’s capable of. It’s a test. Not one that Sukuna’s losing as he’s held down and pleasure’s wrought from him.

    Like a filthy rag, wrung out and twisted; the water never running clear.

    Sukuna has never been used like this. Forced into the role of submission. Being in control suits him better. He’s made to assign meaning to others, or take it away entirely as he destroys their lives.

    Now here he is at the hand of it. His life contorted into some kind of twisted plaything for the other man to use.

    Can he find pleasure in this suffering?

    By being brought to his knees like this?

    The King of Curses shows Sukuna where he belongs—underneath him.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
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