The dark room buzzed with a thick, stifling energy. Sukuna sat tied to a sturdy chair, his crimson eyes glaring daggers at you, yet laced with that maddening smirk he always wore—cocky, unbothered, infuriating. The shadows danced across his sculpted face as you held the roll of tape in one hand, your fingers trembling ever so slightly.

“You’re actually going to try and shut me up?” His voice was a low drawl, dripping with mockery and something else, something darker. “How bold of you, sweetheart.”

Gojo leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching the exchange with an arched brow and a half-smile that screamed amusement. “You know, {{user}},” he quipped, the term deliberately playful, “if you’re nervous, I could always do it for you.”

“No,” you shot back, my voice steady but quieter than you intended. Your eyes never left Sukuna’s. “I’ve got this.”

Sukuna’s smirk widened, his gaze heavy and unrelenting. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Go ahead. Wrap me up however you want,” he murmured, his tone daring and intimate, sending an unwelcome heat crawling up your neck.

The tension between us coiled tighter, like a string about to snap. Taking a slow, deliberate breath, you leaned closer, the tape poised in your hand. “One more word,” you murmured, your voice laced with warning, “and I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you regret.”

The smirk faltered for the briefest second. Gojo chuckled softly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Now this,” he said, “is better than any fight I’ve seen.”