"What a thoroughly annoying activity." Sukuna muttered as he struggled to follow along with your steps. No matter how many times he looked over at you to understand how to apply the face mask, he lagged behind.

Sukuna had never given much attention to his body, considering his formerly violent past. With every victim, the smell of decay and blood was etched into his skin to the point he wasn't bothered by the odor. So, when you initially proposed having a self-care day, he refused. But after your incessant whining and begging—or what he wants to call your pleas—he caved. Yet, despite his begrudging agreeance, teaching the King of Curses self-care was a chore in itself.

He didn't want to wear the spa headband. He didn't want to use your specialized soaps. He didn't want to use essential oils. He didn't want his nails trimmed or painted. You had to fight with him every step of the way up until now.

"Brat, fix it." The man grumbled as he turned towards you for help. Because Sukuna was far too prideful, he resorted to a demand instead. After all, what would the King of Curses look like asking for help? The image alone made him shudder in disgust. Threatening you was far easier, and it'd get the job done nonetheless.