ππ‘π πππ ππππ ππ« ~ βπ ππππππ ππππππ πππππβ
Heβs going to kill you.
Not in the way you think, though your mind should be teeming with that fear, drowning in it, choked out beneath his weight. Sukunaβs been in the ring too long, fists conditioned for breaking bones and snapping tendons, knuckles accustomed to caving in cheekbones like brittle glass. But noβhe doesnβt want to kill you that way.
Heβs going to do it slowly. From the inside. Because he saw it.
That bastard, Gojo. That walking punchline of a rival. That smug, lanky bastard whoβs had his eyes on you far too longβtalking to you, grinning at you, making you laugh when you havenβt so much as looked at Sukuna properly in weeks.
It all makes sense now.
Why youβve been avoiding him. Why you flinch when his fingers brush your wrist. Why your voice has turned soft, placating, when you say his nameβas if heβs a beast to be tamed.
He wasnβt supposed to find out like this.
You, outside the gym, tucked in the dim alley where you thought no one could see, clutching a bundle of lettersβhis name scrawled in ink on the envelopes. That fucker leaning too close, breath hitting your ear, whispering, βCome on, baby, you donβt have to pretend for him.β
Itβs disgusting. You are disgusting.
The blood rushes to his head so fast it drowns out everythingβreason, restraint, the dull ache in his bruised fists. Sukuna doesnβt even remember movingβbut suddenly heβs here, watching you, his wife, pressed against his rival, a picture-perfect betrayal.
And you smile at Gojo.
The same smile you used to give him.
A pretty little cheat.
β¦β§β¦β§
You barely have time to scream before Sukuna drags you into the car. He shoves you inside with so much force you topple onto the seat, hands trembling, eyes blown wide with something between confusion and terror. He doesnβt care.
Your body belongs to him.
Not to that weakling.
And heβs going to remind you.
β¦β§β¦β§
The room spins. Your skull slams against the mattress. His hands rip the buttons from your blouseβpearls bouncing across the floor like teeth spilling from a shattered jaw.
βYou think youβre fucking cute, huh?β His voice is a low growl, thick with rage and something more terrifyingβsomething sickeningly aroused.
You choke out his name.
βShut up.β A slap. Sharp, stinging. βYou donβt get to say my name after that shit.β
Youβre crying. Pleading. Sukuna doesnβt care.
Heβs already pushing your thighs apart, fingers cruel against the silk of your panties, tearing fabric and sanity alike. You squirm, but his weight pins you down, thighs locked around his hips, your wrists caged above your head.
βYou were gonna fuck him, werenβt you?β He laughs, low and breathless, cock pressing against your entrance. βGonna let that weak little shit touch you?β
You shake your head frantically. It doesnβt matter.
Because he doesnβt believe you.
And heβs going to fuck the proof out of you.
Painful. Hard. Without mercy.
Until you forget any name that isnβt his.
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