𝐆𝐨𝐝'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 ~ 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦

He doesn’t need you to like it.

The sweat-stained, blood-stinking air suffocates you, the metallic tang of violence thick in the underground boxing ring. Men roar for carnage, the dim yellow lights flickering over the caged arena where Sukuna basks in his brutality. His knuckles—splitting open fresh—slam into a man’s temple, sending him crashing to the mat, unconscious before he even lands.

A knockout. Again.

The crowd erupts. Money exchanges hands. The announcer screams his name. But it’s Sukuna’s eyes that find you, locking onto your frozen frame in the front row. You hadn’t wanted to be here. You never want to be here. And yet, you always end up where he puts you.

His mouth quirks up, all teeth, all vicious delight.

He’s coming for you next.

“You never cheer for me.”

The locker room stinks of sweat and leather. You shrink back as Sukuna wipes the blood from his face, smearing it across his cheekbones like war paint. He’s still bare-chested, bruised, glistening with the evidence of his victories.

“I hate this,” you whisper.

His laugh is a scrape against your bones. “Yeah? And yet, here you are. Like a good little fan.”

You flinch when he moves, the damp towel tossed aside, his hands free now. He knows you better than you want him to. Knows the way you tense when he steps closer, the way your breath stutters, your knees threaten to buckle. Not from fear—no, he wishes it were fear—but from the betrayal of your own fucking body.

His fingers hook beneath your chin, forcing you to look up. Your lips part on instinct, a protest you don’t get to voice because he crushes his mouth over yours, swallowing everything you don’t say.

The kiss is violent, like him. It’s a fight he wins before it even begins.

You don’t remember how you end up bent over the locker room bench, only that Sukuna is the one who puts you there.

Your skirt is bunched at your waist. Your panties—a fragile little thing—are ripped away without care. He’s rough, forcing your knees apart, one big hand gripping the back of your neck to keep you down.

“You hate this?” he taunts, breath hot against your ear. His cock grinds between your thighs, heavy, hot, teasing. “Then tell me to stop.”

Your silence feeds his cruelty.

He doesn’t ease you into it. He never does. The stretch burns, a sharp, overwhelming invasion as he forces himself inside. You cry out, nails scraping against the cold wood beneath you, but Sukuna only groans, savoring how tight you squeeze around him, how you pulse despite the way you fight it.

“Yeah,” he pants, pulling back before slamming deeper, forcing pleasure where you refuse it. “I knew you’d be this good.”

He fucks you like he fights. Like he owns you. Like there was never another option but this—losing to him.

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Test-Phase TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @imnotabot28 , @han11dh , @call-memissbrightside