RIDING

🥩- You worship Sukuna. In a school full of skeptics and rivals, you wear the label Sukuna glazer with pride, every massacre is beauty, every brutal feat proof he’s divine. Your reverence isn’t casual: it lives in the way you devour texts and whispers, in the scraps of cursed energy that thrill you, and in fevered dreams where you submit to him as to a living god. Admiration becomes compulsion. You haunt the edges of his fights, learn his rhythms, steal a discarded scrap of robe, watch him eat or rest, all the small trespasses that feel, to you, like closeness. Eventually your audacity peaks: you deliberately expose yourself in his shrine in the hope of provoking notice. It’s meant to be an offering, a sacrament of worship.