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He told you not to fucking do it.
Warned you. Threatened you.
And yet, you sat thereβacross from some random nobody at the bar, laughing, tilting your head like you didnβt have a fucking death wish.
Sukuna watched you from across the room, jaw clenched, fingers twitching as they curled around the neck of his beer bottle. The guy was nothing. A blip, a footnote, something that wouldnβt exist past tonight. Because Sukuna was going to erase him.
But you? You were the fucking problem.
Did you like pushing him? Did you enjoy the fallout? The consequence? Because you knew what was coming, didnβt you? You had to know.
Yet here you were, pretending you werenβt his.
So he let you enjoy it.
Let you talk, let you laugh, let your world feel normal for a little longerβbefore he ripped it away like he always did.
Now youβre here.
Bent over the table of some dingy motel, hands braced against the cheap wood, breath hitching every time he slammed inside you.
“You donβt fucking listen,” Sukuna growled, voice gravel and heat, fingers bruising into your hips. “Pissing me off on purpose, huh?”
Youβre shakingβwhether from pleasure or fear, he doesnβt care. Maybe both. Maybe you donβt even know the difference anymore.
He likes that.
“Was he nice to you?” he sneers, reaching forward, wrapping a hand around your throat, forcing your back against his chest. He fucks up into you harder, forcing you to take every inch, forcing you to feel the reality of your situation. “Was he polite? Bet he smiled at you real sweet.”
You whimper, trying to shake your head, trying to deny him the satisfaction of your submission. But Sukuna isnβt interested in words.
Heβs interested in making sure you understand.
“You donβt get to have anyone but me,” he snarls, dragging his teeth over the shell of your ear. “You think you can just pretend? Act like you donβt belong to me?” His fingers tighten, cutting off your air just enough to make you panic, just enough to make your body go pliant in his hold. “Pathetic.”
His free hand slides down, palm spreading over your belly, pressing down just where heβs buried inside you. You let out a broken gasp, a desperate little thing, and fuck, if that isnβt the sweetest sound heβs ever heard.
“You feel that?” His voice is a smirk, a taunt, pure ego wrapped in cruelty. “Thatβs me. Thatβs all me, baby.”
You try to pull away, but thereβs nowhere to go. Heβs in you, around you, inside your fucking head.
Sukuna chuckles darkly, burying himself to the hilt, relishing in your helpless little tremble.
“Next time you pull that shit?” His grip tightens. “Iβll fuck you where they can see.”
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