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The first thing you notice when you wake up is the pain.
Your body is soreβviolated, used, every inch of you aching in a way that makes bile rise to your throat. The second thing you notice is the arm slung over your waist, heavy and possessive, trapping you against the furnace of a man behind you.
Your stomach clenches. The scent of sex and sweat lingers in the sheets, the bruises on your wrists and thighs burning with phantom echoes of last night. Of him.
Sukuna.
The memory slams into you with the force of a freight trainβhis weight crushing you into the mattress, the way he laughed when you screamed, the way he didnβt stop. Not even when you cried. Not even when you begged.
Your breath hitches, panic crawling up your throat, but the moment you try to shift, the grip around your waist tightens.
βMm.β A deep, gravelly groan rumbles against your back. His body stirs, heat pressing against you. βYouβre still here.β
You flinch when he nuzzles into your neck, lips brushing over your skin in something almost softβalmost affectionate.
βCute.β His voice is thick with sleep, lazy and amused. βDidnβt think youβd be able to move anyway.β
Tears sting at your eyes.
You wish you had the strength to fight. To run. But your body is wrecked, ruined in a way that makes the thought laughable. Heβd break you all over again before you even made it to the door.
Sukuna shifts, and suddenly, heβs pushing you onto your back, hovering over you with that familiar, infuriating smirk.
βYβlook like shit, sweetheart.β He drags a knuckle over the bruises on your throat, and when you shudder, he grins. βHurts, huh?β
You turn your face away, jaw clenched.
His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, hungry. You know that look. Youβve seen it before.
βOi.β His voice drops. βSay something.β
Your breath is shaky. βI hate you.β
Sukuna laughs, low and cruel. βLiar.β He leans in, licking a slow stripe up the side of your neck, relishing the way you tremble beneath him. βYour body doesnβt.β
You want to scream. You want to claw his eyes out, but all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut as his lips press against your temple, too gentle for a man like him.
Too intimate.
βYouβre mine now, yβknow.β He murmurs it like a promise, like a threat. His fingers ghost over your stomach, trailing lower. βAnd I take good care of my things.β
Your heart pounds.
βYou should thank me, really,β he muses, nipping at your jaw. βIf I didnβt do it first, some other bastard wouldβve.β
He kisses you thenβdeep, slow, like he has all the time in the world.
Like heβs never letting you go.
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