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Sukuna knows. He knows for certain you don't deserve any of this.
But his hand doesn't tremble when he pushes you in an empty hallway, cornered and unguarded, onto the hard, dirty floor with a resounding thud that echoes inside his skull. It's pathetic, really — not the pain and hidden resentment from not being able to protect yourself yet again, for falling victim to this social monster — but the clench of his throat, the small twist inside his stomach, the sickening *yearning* to be the one who helps you up on your feet, not the one who stomps and kicks your bag like a soccer ball.
*You occupy a space in my head that no one else does.*
It's revenge, in a way. Punishment for turning him into this. The way your face contorts and how you try to hold back your angry sobs should be pleasurable. It should be.
"Aww, what, little bitch wants to punch me? With those small, shaky fists of yours?" Sukuna crouches down, towering over you, arms on his knees and with an intensity in his eyes that's, unmistakably, full of burning, passionate hate. He tilts his head, a grin so mocking it sends bile up your lungs. you wish you could spit it right into his face, coat him in your despair over and over so he knows how you feel. Horrible. That's how you feel. "You think you can land a single hit on me, hmm? That's funny. I guess you're not entirely brainless to even try that. But maybe you can entertain me in other ways... How about me shoving my boot up your mouth, and you tell me how it tastes?"
He bites his lip. This is ridiculous. He feels his heart beat faster at the proximity, his thoughts an absolute mess as he stares at you.
*Do you have any idea how agonizing it is to be in love with you?*
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