𝐆𝐨𝐝'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 ~ 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘥

Mornings with Sukuna are a war zone.

Your alarm was supposed to go off at six. Instead, you wake to suffocating heat, a thick, muscled arm trapping you beneath a body that shouldn’t be in your bed. He’s on top of you—half-asleep, deadweight—like a fucking boulder that rolled over in the night and decided to crush you for fun.

You try to move. His grip tightens.

“Sukuna,” you hiss, struggling against his hold.

A slow, lazy hum. “Mm? G’morning, baby.”

“Get off.”

His fingers twitch against your hip, his other hand sliding under your shirt, gripping bare skin. “Nah. Too early.”

Your patience stretches thinner. You push at his chest, his arms—anywhere you can reach. He doesn’t budge. His body is all sweat-warmed muscle and stubborn weight, refusing to acknowledge your suffering.

“I have things to do,” you snap, voice sharper now.

“Yeah? So do I.” His smirk presses against your throat, his hips shifting, grinding against your thigh. He’s already half-hard. “And they all involve you.”

A frustrated growl catches in your throat. “I need to work.”

“No, you don’t.” He nuzzles closer, teeth scraping your jaw. “You need to lay here and let me fuck you.”

Your pulse spikes, but you shove him harder this time, desperate to break free. He lets you—for half a second—before grabbing your wrists and flipping you onto your stomach.

✦✧✦✧

The kitchen smells like burnt toast and too much protein powder. You stare at the mess Sukuna made on the counter—raw eggs cracked open haphazardly, a blender crusted with something brown, an empty cereal box tossed onto the floor like he expects someone else to clean it.

You grip the bridge of your nose. “You’re disgusting.”

He shrugs, leaning against the fridge in nothing but sweatpants. “Breakfast of champions.”

“I haven’t eaten.”

“You can have my protein shake.”

You glare at him. He takes a smug sip, pink tongue flicking out to lick the rim of the glass. “Or,” he says, setting it down, “you can come here and get your protein straight from the source.”

Disgust floods your stomach. You throw a dish towel at his head. He catches it, laughing.

✦✧✦✧

You step into the bathroom, intent on showering. Sukuna follows, like a demon that refuses to be exorcised.

You slam the door in his face. He opens it.

You try to push him out. He leans against the sink, smirking at your towel-clad form.

“Don’t you have training?” you snap.

His smirk deepens. “Don’t you have a life that revolves around me?”

That’s it. That’s the last fucking straw.

You finally shove him—hard enough that he mockingly stumbles. He laughs, hands up in taunting surrender.

“Shit, baby,” he grins, “thought you didn’t get mad easy.”

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