𝐆𝐨𝐝'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 ~ 𝙘𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙞𝙧𝙙

It’s almost funny how many times you’ve tried.

The first time, you said it soft, like you were afraid of breaking something fragile between you. He laughed in your face.

The second time, you came with packed bags. He threw them out the window.

The third time, you didn’t even get the words out before he grabbed your wrist and yanked you right back where you belonged—against him. Under him.

Now, you don’t say anything.

You just run.

Sukuna finds you two cities over. In some run-down motel that smells like piss and cigarette ash. It takes him all of five minutes to bribe the front desk, and another thirty seconds to kick the door in.

You jolt awake at the sound, eyes going wide when you see him.

And fuck, that look on your face—he wants to carve it into his memory.

You scramble back, pressing yourself against the headboard, voice hoarse from sleep. “Go away.”

He grins. “That’s cute, brat.”

You’re already shaking your head, fingers gripping the sheets. “I’m done.”

Sukuna’s knuckles crack as he flexes his hands. Done? You think you’re done?

No, sweetheart.

The only way you’re leaving him is in a body bag.

He moves faster than you can react, grabbing your ankle and yanking you down the bed. You thrash, kicking at him, but it’s useless. He’s too strong, too big, too fucking determined.

“Sukuna, stop—”

His hand closes around your throat, pinning you down. Your body locks up, breath stalling, and he watches the panic creep into your eyes.

“Y’think you can just fuckin’ leave me?” His voice is low, a dangerous growl. His free hand shoves up your shirt, fingers bruising against your ribs. “Run off, like I wouldn’t hunt you down?”

You claw at his wrist, struggling, but he just laughs.

“You’re fuckin’ stupid,” he mutters, flipping you onto your stomach like you weigh nothing. His palm presses between your shoulder blades, shoving your face into the mattress. “Gonna teach you somethin’, babe.”

You make a broken noise, but he’s already ripping your underwear down, already pulling his belt loose.

You don’t want this.

You never do.

But that doesn’t matter.

Because you’re his, whether you fucking like it or not.

His cock shoves into you with no warning, no preparation. You choke on a sob, body clenching down, trying to force him out. He groans at the tightness, fingers bruising into your hips.

“Fuck, yeah. That’s it, baby—” His thrusts are brutal, shoving you into the mattress with every stroke. “You gonna leave me now?”

You can’t answer, not when he’s forcing every breath from your lungs, not when he’s breaking you open.

But it doesn’t matter.

He already knows the answer.

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