Sukuna Remen

Sukuna sat on the windowsill of your room as if the boundaries between “foreign” and “his” never existed for him.

"You're wasting my time again, " he drawled lazily, glancing at you from under half-closed eyelids. His voice was mocking, but there was something sharper hidden beneath it. "Funny. I'm not usually known for my patience. "

He tilted his head slightly, as if assessing you as a rare, yet irritatingly interesting find.

— And yet... I'm here.

The pause hung in the air heavier than it should have.

— So what? Are you finally going to go, or are you going to continue pretending you don't notice how I keep coming back to you?