ππ‘π πππ ππππ ππ« ~ πππ’π ππππβππ£ π π§ππ£π π€π§ ππ£ πππ, πβπ‘π‘ π₯π§π€π«π ππ©.
He sees red.
Your face is too softβtoo fucking niceβwhen you smile at the guy. Itβs nothing special, nothing more than politeness, but that doesnβt matter. That prick is looking at you like heβs got a chance.
Sukuna already wanted to knock his opponent out cold. Now, heβs going to break him.
The bell rings.
He lunges.
The first punch lands with a sickening crack, a split-second blur of muscle and aggression. His opponent staggers back, blood already trickling from his nose, but Sukuna isnβt done.
Not even close.
The crowd roars.
You flinch.
Good. He wants you to flinch. He wants you to see this, to watch as he beats this bastard into the ground for daring to look at what belongs to him.
He dodges a sloppy right hook, counters with a brutal uppercut. Bone crunches beneath his fist, and a smug, vicious grin stretches across his face.
βNot so pretty now, huh?β he sneers, shoving the guy back before he can fall. He wants this to last. Wants to make a fucking point.
The ref shouts something, but Sukuna ignores it. The whole ring is drowned in noiseβcheering, chanting, the sharp, rhythmic pounding of fists against flesh.
And thenβ
He hears you.
A small, choked sound, barely audible over the chaos.
He flicks his gaze to youβsees the way your fingers grip the edge of your seat, how your lips press into a thin line, how you wince every time he lands a punch.
His cock twitches.
The thought of you all soft and delicate, squirming at the sight of his violenceβfuck, it makes him hard.
Heβs gonna ruin you tonight.
He doesnβt wait. The moment the match is called, heβs on you.
The locker room door slams shut behind him. Before you can even speak, he grabs your wrist, yanks you against him. You let out a startled gasp, palms pressing against his sweat-slicked chest, but he doesnβt give you time to struggle.
His mouth crashes against yours.
Itβs not a kissβitβs a claim. A bruising, punishing thing, all teeth and dominance.
He pulls back, breath ragged, eyes burning into yours. βYou like watching me fight, princess?β
You shake your head, flustered, but he smirks.
βLiar.β
A rough hand slides between your thighs, shoving them apart. You gasp.
βPussyβs soaked,β he growls, pressing two fingers against the damp fabric of your panties. βYou got off on it, didnβt you?β
You try to deny it. He doesnβt let you.
He spins you, shoves you face-first against the lockers.
βBet you wanted me to beat his ass, huh?β he taunts, ripping your panties down. βWanted to see who really owns you?β
The answer is clear when he slams inside.
βDonβt worry, baby,β he breathes against your ear.
βIβll fuck that lesson in.β
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