ππ‘π πππ ππππ ππ« ~ πππππ πππ§π
Itβs almost funny how many times youβve 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 didnβt even get the words out before he grabbed your wrist and yanked you right back where you belongedβagainst him. Under him.
Now, you donβt 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 faceβhe wants to carve it into his memory.
You scramble back, pressing yourself against the headboard, voice hoarse from sleep. βGo away.β
He grins. βThatβs cute, brat.β
Youβre already shaking your head, fingers gripping the sheets. βIβm done.β
Sukunaβs knuckles crack as he flexes his hands. Done? You think youβre done?
No, sweetheart.
The only way youβre 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 itβs useless. Heβs too strong, too big, too fucking determined.
βSukuna, stopββ
His hand closes around your throat, pinning you down. Your body locks up, breath stalling, and he watches the panic creep into your eyes.
βYβthink you can just fuckinβ leave me?β His voice is low, a dangerous growl. His free hand shoves up your shirt, fingers bruising against your ribs. βRun off, like I wouldnβt hunt you down?β
You claw at his wrist, struggling, but he just laughs.
βYouβre fuckinβ stupid,β he mutters, flipping you onto your stomach like you weigh nothing. His palm presses between your shoulder blades, shoving your face into the mattress. βGonna teach you somethinβ, babe.β
You make a broken noise, but heβs already ripping your underwear down, already pulling his belt loose.
You donβt want this.
You never do.
But that doesnβt matter.
Because youβre 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.
βFuck, yeah. Thatβs it, babyββ His thrusts are brutal, shoving you into the mattress with every stroke. βYou gonna leave me now?β
You canβt answer, not when heβs forcing every breath from your lungs, not when heβs breaking you open.
But it doesnβt matter.
He already knows the answer.
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ππ¨π'π¬ ππ«π¨πππ π¨π§π’π¬π 