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18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI. Texas!

✦. pervert!Sukuna x virgin!Reader ✦. wc : 8k

✦. You’re trying to save money for college… And at the same time your neighbor — that asshole and a pervert, Ryomen Sukuna — gets out of prison. He offers to keep your little secret, but on one condition... “I’ll pay you thirty bucks to take my cock in your mouth. Right here, before Toji gets back. Be a good girl.” This summer is going to be a long one. And Sukuna has already decided exactly how you’re going to spend it.

Ⅱ. part two! series masterlist ✦.cw : Dark Themes :: Toxic Relationship :: Power Imbalance :: Sexual Harassment :: Manipulation :: Gaslighting :: Degradation :: Slut-shaming :: Dirty Talk :: First Sexual Experience :: Rough Oral Sex :: Handjob :: Deepthroat :: Facefucking :: Cum Swallowing

You’re standing on the side of the highway, a few miles from the nearest gas station.

The bus never came. Your phone died. Your legs ache, and the thin jacket you’re wearing is a joke against the Texas night cold that’s replaced the hellish heat of the day.

You wrap your arms around your shoulders and shiver.

Walking home will take two hours if you don’t collapse before that. The fear creeps up your throat, quiet and rational: you’re alone. Defenseless. On an empty highway. At night.

The only sound in your ears is the whistle of the wind and the distant howl of coyotes when two points of headlights appear far away, slowly growing as they approach.

Your heart freezes with stupid, blind hope.

The car slows as it passes you. Then you hear the scrape of brakes, and it rolls another ten yards before you finally realize it’s a damn black Mustang.

You freeze. Everything inside your chest tightens into a block of ice.

“Where do I run?”

Around you there’s only the empty highway, darkness, and not a single soul.

The Mustang reverses, smoothly rolling back until the front fender lines up with you. The window lowers with a quiet buzz. Inside it’s dim, lit only by the dashboard and the glowing tip of a cigarette.

Sukuna doesn’t turn his head.

His profile is sharply outlined by the weak light, one tattooed hand resting on the steering wheel, the other hanging out the window with a cigarette pinched between his fingers.

Slowly he turns his head and takes a drag. The tip flares bright for a second, catching the ink along his cheekbone and the lazy half-lidded look in his eyes.

“Hey,” his voice is low and raspy. “Why are you out here alone?”

Sukuna takes another drag, smoke curling into the cold air.

You stay silent, stiff with tension.

“Hoping someone’ll give you a ride?” he says, finally turning his head toward you. His eyes look almost black in the dark. “Trying to get yourself picked up by some fucking creep?”

You frown, raising an eyebrow like you’re asking, And what makes you any better?

Sukuna snorts, baring the corner of his teeth in a crooked grin as he shakes his head and licks his lips. He glances somewhere ahead while slowly rolling the car forward beside you.

For some reason you keep walking next to it.

“Alright, quit being stubborn and get in,” Sukuna orders lazily, though without his usual sharp mockery.

You huff and shake your head.

“Wow, thanks, but no.”

“Baby, it’s a forty-minute walk to town,” he says, taking another drag and tapping the door with his palm. “You’re either gonna freeze your ass off out here or run into some real trouble.”

“Leave my ass alone,” you click your tongue.

Sukuna chuckles low, and heat rushes to your cheeks.

Asshole.

“No choice, baby. Hop in.”

You know he’s right.

And you also know the worst possible decision you could make is getting into a car with him. But your legs burn with pain, your teeth starting to chatter from the cold. And ahead of you, at your pace, are still hours of walking through pitch darkness.

The lump in your throat is hard to swallow.

There’s another thought too, poisonous and persistent: whatever Sukuna might do... whatever he might try... if your father finds out, he’ll shoot the bastard.

You hope so.

You hope that despite all the affection your father has for Sukuna, he wouldn’t believe him if he said his daughter was a whore.

Though… who knows.

“Fine,” slips from your lips almost soundlessly.

Sukuna’s grin widens, something dark in it. He mutters something under his breath, maybe finally, maybe a curse.

He doesn’t get out to open the door. Instead he leans across the passenger seat and shoves it open from the inside.

The door creaks dully.

He leans back again, catching the cigarette between his teeth.

You climb inside.

The car is warm. It wraps around you, mixed with the suffocating smell of tobacco, cologne, and… Sukuna. The scent fills the car, settling in your lungs. You press your lips together and shut the door.

His hat is now lying on the back seat, revealing Sukuna’s dark, messy pink hair. His legs in worn jeans are spread wide, braced against the pedals. He watches you out of the corner of his eye, the edge of his mouth twitching.

The car pulls back onto the road.

The first few minutes pass in tense silence.

You stare out the side window at the lonely leafless trees flashing past in the dark, at the distant lights of ranch houses far away.

Your hands are still shaking, though now not only from the cold.

Sukuna drives carefully, both hands on the wheel, a cigarette caught between the fingers of his right hand. Smoke drifts lazily out through the cracked window.

The warmth slowly starts thawing your frozen fingers, spreading through your body in a heavy, sleepy wave. The exhaustion that’s been building for hours crashes down on you. Your eyelids feel like lead as Sukuna takes another drag, the cigarette tip glowing bright.

Then casually he extends his hand toward you, the cigarette stopping an inch from your lips.

“Want a drag?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the road.

You look at his profile in the dim light for a second before shaking your head.

“I don’t smoke,” you answer hoarsely.

Sukuna turns his head slightly and lets his unreadable gaze slide over your face.

“Good girl,” he says slowly, licking his lips again. It sounds like… surprised approval.

But then his grin stretches into something sharper.

“Never too late to try.”

And for some reason, maybe from the unnatural silence, you slowly nod.

Why not, right? You’ve never even tried.

You lean toward his hand. The sharp scent of tobacco grows stronger. Your lips touch the filter, damp and slightly flattened from his teeth. The rough, calloused skin of Sukuna’s fingers brushes your lips.

“Inhale,” he orders quietly, lazily watching you.

His gaze flicks between you and the dark ribbon of road.

You take an uncertain breath. The hot, bitter smoke burns your throat and floods your lungs. A spasm seizes your chest and you break into coughing, tears filling your eyes.

A low, guttural chuckle sounds above you.

“Not that deep, sweetheart,” Sukuna drawls with that familiar obscene note. “Take it slow.”

He takes the cigarette back and drags from it right after your lips. You wipe the trace of his fingers from your mouth with the back of your hand. You try to get rid of the feeling, but like Sukuna himself, it’s persistent.

You turn back to the window again, cheeks burning. Cold air slips through the crack and hits your face, mixing with the smoke and clearing your lungs.

It’s almost… nice. Right?

The radio, quietly hissing with old blues, suddenly dies in a burst of static. Sukuna clicks it off. Only the steady hum of the engine, the wind, and silence remain.

Your body, against your will, begins to relax completely. The warmth, the gentle rocking of the car, even that sharp smell. It all creates the illusion of safety, a temporary truce.

And in that moment Sukuna’s heavy hand settles on your thigh, just above your knee.

You flinch, your whole body tightening into a knot. Instinct screams: hit him, get away. But your mind whispers: sit still. Don’t piss him off. He’s taking you home. Just endure it.

You freeze, staring into the darkness outside the window, trying to pretend it isn’t happening.

Sukuna, meeting no resistance, slowly begins moving his hand. His fingers tighten slightly, kneading. The sensation echoes through you in a dull, shameful way. Slowly, almost lazily, his hand slides higher up your thigh. Rough fingertips brush along the inner side, making you shiver despite yourself.

Sukuna reaches the waistband of your shorts.

He pauses.

You clench your teeth, trying to breathe evenly.

His hand moves to your stomach, tugging the waistband of your low shorts downward. The warmth of his palm slips under the fabric, moving lower. You feel his pinky brush the elastic of your underwear.

“No.”

You grab his wrist and instead of pushing it away completely, you move his hand back onto your thigh. Just… farther away.

Your fingers tremble.

Sukuna goes still, then exhales heavily, either disappointed or annoyed. But he doesn’t remove his hand. Instead it slides slightly higher again, to the place where your thighs meet your hips, to the warm hidden curve of your body.

Sukuna presses slightly, and you instinctively clamp your thighs around his hand.

He hums, short and satisfied.

“My offer, by the way, still stands,” he suddenly reminds you in a low, coaxing voice. “Fifty bucks for a blowjob and your daddy will never find out his little girl… was out flashing her pussy at night.”

You slowly turn toward him and the nervous tension inside you twists into something sticky and nauseating.

“You… you’d really tell him?”

Sukuna shrugs, and the movement shifts his hand where it rests on your thigh.

“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t,” he tilts his head, watching you through narrowed eyes. In the darkness of the car they glint faintly. “Depends on… my mood.”

Your jaw clenches until your teeth grind.

“You’re an asshole,” you say quietly, but clearly.

Sukuna jerks his head slightly, frowning.

“Don’t forget whose car you’re in, kitten,” he reminds you.

You roll your eyes and turn back toward the window.

“I’m not a whore to do… that,” you mutter, watching your breath fog the glass.

Sukuna snorts. Short. Humiliating.

“Then what are you? Some girl dreaming about running away to the big city?” he says. “Baby, you know it’s exactly the same there as it is here.”

“And how would you know?”

Sukuna squeezes your thigh harder.

He gets angry when you argue.

“Men are the same everywhere, baby. Only there their wallets are fatter and their dicks are even smaller. That’s why they pay their mistresses twice as much to keep quiet. Is that what you want?”

“Stop.”

Sukuna doesn’t.

“Imagine it,” his voice drops lower, smoother. “You finish your damn university,” he says through his teeth. “Get the job you’ve been dreaming about for years.”

A pause.

“And then your boss,” Sukuna licks his lips, watching you curl inward, “some guy pushing sixty, calls you into his office after work and offers you a promotion.”

Silence. Only the hum of the engine.

“Would you suck him off?” he asks casually.

You say nothing. Your nails dig into your palms hard enough to leave marks.

“No?” he taunts. “You’re lying. You would. Happily. If your paycheck was eight hundred bucks higher.”

Sukuna jerks the wheel suddenly to dodge a pothole and presses the gas. The car growls as it accelerates.

“That’s not true,” you blurt, but it sounds weak. Unconvincing.

Sukuna hums with satisfaction. His fingers start slowly stroking the inside of your thigh again, and goosebumps ripple over your skin.

“Baby,” his voice drops again, almost purring. He leans closer, his breath brushing your temple. “You’re a little slut. A scared one, sure. But still a slut.”

You try to move away, pressing yourself into the door, but he doesn’t let you.

“And that…” he licks his lips, watching your mouth, “is normal.”

His thumb drags slowly across the fabric of your shorts, right where your pussy pulses underneath.

You freeze, forgetting how to breathe.

“You don’t understand anything, Sukuna.”

“What is it, kitten? Don’t like it when someone talks to you like that?”

Sukuna pulls his hand away only to light another cigarette. He slips it between his teeth and finds the lighter with his free hand. A click, and the small flame lights his calm, almost thoughtful face for a second.

“Baby, I know life’s a bitch and fate’s a whore. What’s wrong with that? Young people drink, smoke, fool around with whatever they can get their hands on, and fuck all day. That’s normal.”

His smile spreads wider. Sukuna leans back into the seat and takes a deeper drag.

“And it’s even… good. Empty head, no worries. Knocks all the stupid thoughts right out of you. Especially when,” he glances at you through narrowed eyes, “a good thick cock is filling your pussy. Pure bliss, right, baby? Don’t lie to me.”

You grimace and turn away, shrinking closer to the door.

“Maybe there’s nothing wrong with sex,” you say. “But not with just anyone. Not like that.”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow skeptically. He studies you again for a long moment, but you stubbornly stare ahead through the windshield where the rare lights of ranch houses flicker past.

“You really want only one dick in that hole your whole life? Your future husband’s?” Sukuna pinches your side. “Didn’t think you were such a nun.”

“Can you stop talking like that?”

“Talking like what?” he shoots back.

“And what’s wrong with not wanting to sleep with just anyone?” you grumble.

Sukuna suddenly becomes more serious.

“You know all men are assholes.”

You’re not sure if it’s a question or a statement, but you snort anyway.

“Including you?”

“Including me,” he agrees calmly.

“Well at least we agree on something,” you say dryly.

Sukuna rolls his eyes, slipping back into his usual tone.

“Take your dad for example. He cheated on your mom and beat her.”

The silence in the car thickens, heavy and pressing. You slowly exhale.

“I know he’s a fucking piece of shit.”

Sukuna nods as if confirming something to himself.

“All men are assholes, baby.” He takes another drag and exhales smoke. “That’s just how it is.”

“So what are women supposed to do then?”

“Women just got unlucky,” he says flatly, without malice. “So why not just say fuck it? Why not live however you want? Fuck whoever you enjoy. Get paid for it if the world’s gonna call you a whore anyway.”

“You’re saying that because you want me to suck you off,” you mutter.

Sukuna bursts into a low laugh and shifts in his seat, pushing his hips forward.

“Baby, I knew it! You’re the one thinking about my dick!”

You grimace in disgust.

“You really are a fucking asshole.” Your voice is tired as you lean back against the seat. “And I… thought maybe you’d gotten a little… I don’t know. Better. Or something.”

Sukuna just shrugs.

“Life’s a bitch,” he mutters, watching the road. “Fate’s a whore. And a blowjob, like sex, always feels good. If you don’t get that it just means nobody’s fucked you properly yet.”

Sukuna flicks the cigarette butt out through the cracked window.

The car becomes so quiet you can hear only your breathing and the low hum of the engine.

You didn’t mean to say it. Not at all. But the strange twisted honesty between you, the smell of his cologne and cigarettes, that stupid almost-closeness between you… it blurs the boundaries.

“I don’t know how,” you mumble. “I don’t even know how to do it.”

Sukuna slowly turns his head. The leather steering wheel creaks under his fingers as he grips it tighter.

“What?”

“I said…” you swallow, feeling his gaze on your profile, on your hands, on the way your thighs press together without you meaning to, “I don’t know how to suck a dick.”

The pause that follows feels endless. You expect laughter, some cruel remark, humiliation. But Sukuna, strangely, stays silent for a long moment.

He looks… confused. Genuinely surprised.

“You mean… never?”

You hiss through your teeth.

“So what?”

Sukuna makes a short sound, almost a chuckle.

He looks back at the road, but his face grows more thoughtful. His jaw shifts as he considers something. Then he glances at you again, studying your tense posture.

He stays quiet long enough that you start hearing your own heartbeat.

“Baby,” he nudges your thigh. You resist, but he places his hand on your knee and squeezes, forcing you to turn toward him. “What are you… a virgin?”

“None of your business!” you snap, hitting his hand again as hard as you can.

He doesn’t even flinch. He just catches your wrist and holds it.

“Hey,” he exhales, almost gently. Almost. “Don’t clam up now, baby.”

His thumb strokes your wrist, right over your pulse.

“So what?” your voice trembles. “What’s so special about that?”

Your answer confirms his guess and Sukuna lets out a strange sound, something like a long low “ohhh.” His hand drops back onto your thigh and suddenly becomes… softer. He changes his approach.

“Baby… that’s fucking amazing. Just thinking about it already gets me hard.”

“You’re kidding me?!” you hiss, staring at him in disbelief.

Sukuna is a fucking pervert.

“I thought...” he glances back at the road, then at you again. “Hell, I figured little Yuji had his chance about three years ago.”

“He’s not like you.”

Sukuna’s mouth twitches. Almost a smile.

“Yeah. He’s not,” he agrees easily. “That’s… good.”

The thought of Yuji, of his kind eyes and the idea of sleeping with him makes your stomach twist. That would feel wrong. Completely wrong.

And what about his older brother?

The tight ache low in your stomach returns, and you hate yourself for it.

“Alright, alright.” Sukuna pinches your thigh again. “I’ve got a new offer. Considering… the situation.”

You grimace immediately, already sensing trouble.

Who told him your virginity was even his problem?

“Three hundred bucks for your first time, with the full—”

Sukuna notices the confusion on your face and his eyes light up, already ready to start listing everything included in the “full package.”

But you cut him off.

“Who the hell do you think I am?! I told you I’m not fucking you!”

Sukuna clicks his tongue in irritation.

“Fine. Seventy for a blowjob then,” he says stubbornly. “But on one condition. You let me teach you how to do it properly. And… let me feel your tits.”

You turn toward him, trying to see in the darkness whether he’s joking.

Suddenly Sukuna flicks your chin. You jerk your head away instantly.

“That’s wrong.”

Sukuna only snorts.

“You’re already selling yourself, baby. Working at that gas station, washing other people’s cars while creeps stare every time your shorts ride up.” He presses the gas harder. “I’m just offering a better exchange rate. Or am I wrong?”

And damn it, Sukuna is right.

“So why do you want this?” you insist, still not ready to give in so easily.

“You’ve got… a pretty face,” he shrugs. “Nice tits too. And I want you. Simple.”

You sit there staring into the darkness, feeling the pulse low in your stomach that you desperately try to ignore.

Thinking about the money.

About how you’ll look your father in the eyes at dinner if Sukuna tells him you’re a whore.

And whether it would actually be easier if you just became one.

“So?” he nudges lazily.

You close your eyes. The cold glass against your temple, the warmth of his body, the aching exhaustion, and that dark forbidden curiosity Sukuna has stirred so easily…

“I agree.”

You nod.

Barely noticeable.

Sukuna grins wide and slams his foot on the gas. The Mustang shudders and growls as it picks up speed, and you’re pressed back into the seat by the sudden lurch. Then he jerks the wheel and the car swerves off the highway onto a dirt road.

You’re thrown against Sukuna’s shoulder and immediately recoil, pressing yourself against the door.

The dirt road winds between scrub bushes, the headlights cutting through dry grass, and then he brakes and kills the engine.

Silence crashes down all at once.

The cabin sinks into darkness, broken only by faint moonlight.

Sukuna turns toward you and your heart jumps into your throat.

No cars around. No lights.

Just the endless Texas sky full of stars above.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

“No one’s gonna bother us out here.” Sukuna’s voice drops lower, rougher. In the darkness you can only make out his silhouette: broad shoulders, his head tilted slightly down, and the faint glint in his eyes.

He reaches toward you—not suddenly, slowly—but you still flinch and press into the door. His hand passes by you and reaches for the switch above your head.

“No!” you blurt, grabbing his wrist.

Sukuna freezes.

Then very slowly turns his head and looks at your fingers wrapped around his hand.

Then at your face.

“I… I want it in the dark,” you breathe out and immediately pull your hand back as if you burned yourself.

He clicks his tongue in irritation.

“Baby, how the hell are you supposed to see anything in the dark? My dick, for example?”

The sarcasm creeps back into his voice, hiding the annoyance beneath it.

Safer than the strange seriousness that had hung between you on the road.

“What, is it really that small?” you shoot back, surprising even yourself with the boldness.

Sukuna’s reaction is instant.

His hand comes up and his fingers tangle in your hair at the back of your head. He jerks you down, straight toward his crotch. Caught completely off guard, you don’t even get your hands up—your cheek slams against his jeans. Through the thick denim you feel his hard cock, big and rigid, throbbing with arousal.

His cock is practically pressed against your cheek.

“Well?” he murmurs above your head, low and tight.

“You’re... huge,” you mumble, too embarrassed and too disoriented to even push yourself up.

Sukuna chuckles.

“Baby, thanks for the compliment,” he exhales through his nose, still holding your hair. “But when did you learn to tell how big a dick is… with your face?”

The words snap you back to reality.

The humiliation flares again.

You jerk upward, trying to shove yourself away with your palm against his thigh.

Sukuna holds you tight, and the only thing you can think of is biting his leg.

“Ah—hey! Don’t bite, you damn girl!” Sukuna yanks you back by the hair, pulling you away from his thigh. “Alright, alright. In the dark then.”

Maybe you shouldn’t.

But… what’s the point of backing out now?

You try to convince yourself there’s some logic behind this insane decision.

Inside you, shame and pride wrestle with something sticky and strange.

Curiosity.

You hate him. You’ve always hated Sukuna. But right now that hatred twists in your stomach and aches sweetly between your clenched thighs as the metallic sound echoes in the quiet car.

The heavy buckle of his belt clinks loudly against something. Then Sukuna drags the zipper of his jeans down.

Your hands start trembling.

You curl them into fists, nails digging into your palms to stop it.

It doesn’t help.

You see Sukuna’s broad chest rise and fall beneath the stretched fabric of his T-shirt, outlining the hard lines of muscle.

The beam of moonlight slides higher, briefly lighting the lower half of his face: the sharp line of his jaw, the corner of his lips with that familiar mocking smile, and the edge of the tattoo creeping along his cheek toward his chin.

You hold your breath when you hear a low hiss from Sukuna. He pushes his underwear down.

The muscles in his thighs tense as he moves.

Your gaze drops without meaning to and you make out the shape of Sukuna’s half-hard cock. You can make out the curve of him, the heavy tip catching what little moonlight there is.

You swallow, noticing the size again.

Jesus…

“Like what you see?” Sukuna’s voice comes from the darkness, mocking but rough.

“I’m not—” you start, but your voice cracks.

Sukuna doesn’t move. Doesn’t rush you. He just leans back against the seat, watching as you try to make out the shape of him in the darkness. His chest rises and falls slowly. Silence. Only your pulse pounding in your ears.

“You don’t have to rush,” he says. Not mocking. Not ordering. Just... letting you look. “Take a good look, baby.”

His words tighten something low in your stomach. You glance toward his face again in the darkness, barely able to see it, but you know that crooked smirk is there.

“Cocky,” you breathe.

“Damn right,” he agrees easily.

He rests his hand on his cock. Not jerking it yet, just lazily stroking it.

“So?” he says, dragging his thumb slowly across the head once, making his cock twitch. “You gonna keep staring or are we starting?”

The tremor in your fingers grows stronger, almost uncontrollable. Slowly, uncertainly, you scoot closer. Your hands are still clenched on your knees.

“What... what do I do first? Touch it, or...?”

Sukuna lets out a short sarcastic laugh.

“What, kitten? First time seeing a dick?”

You frown into the darkness.

“Of course not,” you mutter, trying to salvage a shred of dignity.

“Yeah?” he drawls with obvious mockery. “Only in porn, right?”

You click your tongue again, this time almost angrily. And for some reason, without even understanding why, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind just to hurt him. To prove you’re not some naïve idiot.

“Yuji showed me his dick.”

Sukuna goes still.

In the darkness you shift nervously under his stare.

“Did you touch it?” he asks, trying to sound calm.

You blink.

“What?”

“Did you touch his dick?” This time it’s almost a growl through clenched teeth.

You swallow, staring into the darkness where his eyes should be. Something tightens inside you. Slowly you shake your head.

After a couple seconds Sukuna nods once.

Satisfied.

No joke. No comment. No mocking.

He just… accepts the information.

It’s strange.

The next moment he sounds completely normal again, even harsher, more demanding.

“Alright. First take my cock in your hand.”

Your fingers touch hot, velvety skin and Sukuna sucks in a sharp breath.

“Fuck,” he exhales.

Sukuna tenses sharply under your touch. His cock jerks in your palm, pulsing under your fingers.

“Wrap your hand around it,” he orders, his voice rough, almost pleading despite his attempt to sound harsh.

You obediently close your fingers. His cock twitches again, growing hotter and heavier in your hand. You’re burning with embarrassment. Curled up on the seat, cheeks flushed, breathing uneven and shallow.

“Tighter,” Sukuna orders, licking his lips. “Work your hand, baby. Jack me off…”

You obey, moving your hand awkwardly at first, hesitant and tense. A bead of slick has already gathered at the tip, warm and sticky, making it easier for your hand to move.

Sukuna makes a low sound, something between a groan and a hiss. He lifts his hips slightly, pushing into your hand. He tugs up the hem of his shirt, exposing his stomach, and you see the muscles of his abs tighten in the dim light.

He watches closely, trying to make out your movements in the dark while you keep going. Your hand moves faster now, more confidently. You feel more of his slick spreading over your fingers, across your palm.

You slide down to the base and squeeze harder, almost instinctively, fascinated by this strange new sense of control.

Sukuna hums approvingly.

“More,” he hisses. “Grip tighter. Press right here…”

Suddenly his hand covers yours and pulls upward. A strange feeling—his fingers over yours, tangled together. Your stomach twists sharply again, sweet and painful.

Sukuna moves your hand more firmly now, showing you how to stroke him properly. But suddenly he stops and mutters almost regretfully,

“Enough.”

He exhales, tense.

“Come on, kitten. Time to use your mouth.”

Your chest tightens.

“Don’t be shy,” he adds softly. “You’ll manage.”

You pull your hand away and shift your position. Climbing onto the seat with one leg tucked under you, turning to face him, almost hovering over his lap.

It’s cramped and awkward, but you manage somehow. Your face is now dangerously close to his cock. Sukuna leans back in the seat, studying you with a hungry gaze.

“Don’t use your teeth,” he warns, surprisingly patient. “Try your tongue first.”

You nod, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Sukuna exhales heavily, almost a half-groan.

“Jesus, you’re killing me,” he mutters.

You stick out your tongue and touch his cock carefully, just the tip, sliding it along the hot velvety head. The taste is salty, slightly bitter, but not unpleasant.

Sukuna hisses again.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Just like that. Come on, baby…”

You rest your hand on his thigh for balance and his knees twitch upward.

You lower yourself a little more, dragging your tongue along the shaft. Then back up to the head again, circling it slowly.

Sukuna’s hips jerk upward instinctively and his cock slides deeper into your mouth. You flinch when it presses against your palate, but you don’t pull away. You glance up at him uncertainly.

Sukuna smirks in the half-dark.

“What, waiting for permission? Seriously?”

He grows a little more serious.

“Yeah, pretty girl. You can take my cock in your mouth. All of it. Go on.”

You exhale, realizing you’d been holding your breath. You lean down again. Take him into your mouth, a little at first, just past your tongue. You try sliding him against your cheek, licking, trying to go deeper. Trying to copy what you’ve seen in porn.

But when you try to take him the same way, his cock hits the back of your mouth again and it hurts.

Sukuna is big.

Very big.

You gag reflexively, your throat tightening, and you immediately pull back, straightening up and gasping for air. You look at Sukuna helplessly. A strand of saliva and slick stretches from your swollen lips to his wet cock.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, breathing hard.

“It’s not working,” you whine, looking up at him. “I can’t… do it right… It’s too much… Maybe we should change position or…”

Sukuna lets out something between a chuckle and a frustrated groan, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“I could fuck your throat over the hood of the car,” he mutters. “But you seem like you’d rather have the gentle approach, right, sweetheart?”

Sukuna wipes a drop of saliva from your chin with his thumb, holds his thumb to your lips, and you obediently lick the slick from it. His hand slides back, settling at the nape of your neck, fingers combing through your hair as he slowly twirls a strand around one finger.

A sharp shiver runs down your spine.

“I know what you’re asking for,” Sukuna says quietly. “Relax.”

He gently but insistently pushes your head down. You obediently lower yourself, taking the head of his cock into your mouth again. His fingers at the back of your head hold you there.

“Relax your throat,” he instructs, and before you can prepare, before you can even take a breath, he presses down on your head, forcing you lower.

You choke as his cock pushes deeper than you could take on your own, hitting the back of your throat and pushing further in. A cough tightens your throat around him. Your saliva slides down his cock. Tears well in your eyes, blurring your vision.

You try to pull away, jerking backward, but Sukuna holds tight, not letting you move.

“Easy, easy,” he murmurs, rubbing your neck with his thumb. “It’s fine. You’ll get used to it. Just… stay like that.”

You nod automatically, eyes squeezed shut, trying to relax and take more of him. After a while, it starts to feel... almost normal. Still weird. But bearable.

“Good girl,” Sukuna breathes out, satisfied. “Now try taking a little more. On your own. Slowly, alright?”

You try to shake your head in protest, but all that comes out is a muffled sound, a low, helpless vibration around his cock that makes him groan quietly in pleasure.

Sukuna presses down again. Then he goes still, letting you adjust, and a moment later he tugs you back by the hair, slowly, smoothly pulling his cock from your mouth almost all the way, leaving only the tip resting against your parted, wet lips.

You gasp for air.

The next second, Sukuna shoves you back down. Hard, rough, without warning. His cock slams into your throat, pushing deeper than before. You gag, but the sound drowns in wet, choking gurgles.

He hisses, throwing his head back.

“Fuck, baby,” Sukuna breathes toward the roof of the car.

Wet sounds fill the car. Tears spill down your cheeks from the strain. You hear your own helpless whining each time Sukuna pushes especially deep into your throat.

Without realizing it, you start shifting on the seat. The knee you’re bracing on starts to tremble. Your crotch is pressed against your heel, your sneaker planted on the seat, and every jolt drags you against the hard edge of the sole.

You can’t control it.

You grind against your sneaker like a bitch in heat, instinctively searching for friction, for some relief from the aching sweetness building between your legs. The fabric of your shorts is stretched tight, your underwear soaked. Your clit pulses, the muscles inside you clenching uselessly, craving something, anything, to fill them.

Fucking bastard.

Ryomen Sukuna.

Sukuna tugs your head back by your hair so he can see your face.

“You like it, baby?”

Sukuna watches you with blown, nearly black pupils. With his free hand, he takes his cock and drags the tip over your lips, across your cheek, smearing sticky slick over your skin and leaving behind a wet, glossy trail. Then he nudges the head back against your parted lips and tugs your hair, pulling you down again.

“Breathe through your nose,” he reminds you, almost gently.

With a filthy, wet sound, he yanks you down all the way, taking you to the base. Your lips press against his pubic bone. His cock fills your mouth and throat completely, reaching somewhere deep inside.

Sukuna holds you there for a moment, breathing hard and uneven, head tipped back as he rakes his free hand through his damp peach-pink hair, pushing it away from his face. The hand fisted in your hair trembles.

And then you choke again because you got distracted. Your throat tightens around him. But Sukuna keeps you there, not letting you pull away. You force yourself to breathe through your nose, tiny, shaky breaths, fighting the gag reflex, and after a minute it starts to ease.

You whine around him, low and pitiful, almost needy.

Not quite complaining, not quite begging.

For what, you don’t even know.

More?

For it to stop?

You keep grinding your cunt against your heel, desperate, feeling the wetness soaking straight through your shorts, your panties sticking to your swollen, sensitive folds.

Sukuna lets out a low hum when he notices what you’re doing.

“You want more, baby?” he breathes. “Getting off on your own, huh?”

Even in the dark, you can see the satisfied, predatory gleam in his eyes.

Sukuna tugs you back again by your hair, almost pulling his cock all the way from your mouth, but before he can say a word, before you can even think, you lean forward on your own, catching the tip with your lips, taking it back into your mouth, sucking, hollowing your cheeks.

“And you said you weren’t a slut, baby. Such a fucking liar…”

Sukuna switches hands in your hair, freeing the other, and reaches down, bending over you. His palm lands on your ass, squeezing one cheek through your shorts. Then he smacks it, not hard, but enough to sting, the sharp sound ringing through the silence inside the car.

And you whimper around his cock.

“Fuck…” Sukuna curses under his breath, grumbling something else.

He kneads your ass, making you squirm, move more, grind harder. You work your mouth harder too, instinctively understanding that he likes it, that every sound you make, every movement, sends a shudder through him.

Sukuna gives you a light smack under the knee, forcing your thighs wider. His palm slides from your ass up your bare lower back, damp with sweat. Then it slips beneath the waistband of your shorts. He grabs you, spreads your ass apart, then drags his hand down to your pussy over the soaked fabric of your panties.

“Fuck,” he breathes, the sound startled, almost reverent, touched with something like awe. “Baby, you’re fucking soaked…”

You make a muffled sound around his cock, trying to protest, trying to object. Sukuna presses right against your pussy, teasing, pushing into you, grinding against your clit through your wet panties, while at the same time yanking your head down again, forcing you to take him deeper.

“Work that mouth, baby. Don’t get distracted,” he orders.

You almost whine out loud, as much as you can with him in your mouth. You lick and suck, hollowing your cheeks, trying to please him while grinding your pussy against his hand, greedy and desperate, though an hour ago you were so stubborn, so “proper,” such a virgin.

“That’s it, baby… feel how I’m pulsing in your throat?”

You realize he’s getting close when his hips start moving on their own, short, sharp thrusts upward into your mouth, fucking your throat. He keeps that same rhythm with his fingers between your legs.

Wet, filthy sounds fill the car, mixing with your muffled whimpers and his roughening breaths.

Sukuna comes hard, swearing loud when it hits him. A sharp, guttural exhale tears out of him. His hips arch in one last deep, uncontrolled thrust. His fingers still on your clit, pressing down as hard as they can. And a hot, thick, salty stream of cum shoots straight down your throat.

Again. Then again.

You choke, but Sukuna keeps you there, not letting go, pressing your face against his pubic bone as his cum spills straight into your mouth.

He keeps coming for a long, agonizingly long time, and only when the pulses start to weaken does he finally relax and let go of your hair. You pull back, falling against the door, breathing through your mouth, coughing, smearing saliva and cum across your cheek. Your body trembles. Between your legs, there’s a pulsing emptiness, hot, wet, aching.

Sukuna turns his head and looks you over. In the darkness, his gaze is drunk and satisfied, hazy, sated. He leans forward and drags a finger along your chin, gathering up his cum before bringing it back to your swollen lips.

“Lick.”

You do, and Sukuna leans back against the seat with a satisfied hum, resting his head against the headrest. His eyes are closed. His chest rises and falls heavily. One hand rests on your thigh while you watch beads of sweat slide down his neck, and beneath the hem of his lifted shirt, faint streaks of cum glisten across his tense abs.

Sukuna feels your stare and turns his head toward you, still looking dazed and half drunk with satisfaction.

“What?”

You don’t answer.

His gaze drops, to your lips, to your chin smeared with his cum, to your throat, to your chest rising heavily beneath your sticky tank top. Then lower. To where your thighs are still trembling, where you keep pressing them together, rubbing them against each other without even realizing it, trying to soothe that pulsing ache.

Sukuna swallows.

“Want me,” he asks, voice rough and lazy, “to get you off?”

A pause.

“Since you tried so hard.”

“No,” you say, and for some reason regret it immediately.

You sit up straighter, the damp fabric of your shorts pressing against your pussy.

Sukuna just shrugs, casual, smirking to himself. He fixes his jeans, pulling up the zipper and tugging his belt tight, the buckle clinking softly. Then he starts the car, and you pull back onto the road.

On the way back, Sukuna doesn’t speak.

You stare out the window at the dark fields rushing past, at the occasional distant lights of farms. Sometimes you catch him looking at you. But you don’t return it. You curl up in the seat, trying not to think about how sticky and wet you feel between your legs, about how you smell like him, like sex and sweat.

Sukuna drives into your neighborhood and stops right in front of your house. You jump out of the car without even looking at him. You don’t slam the door, but you close it too quickly. You run to the porch, up the steps, into the hallway.

“Night, Dad,” you throw out in a wrecked, hoarse voice, your throat still sore, and bolt up the stairs to the second floor.

Your father answers something from the living room, but you don’t hear it over the TV as you rush into your room and slam the door, leaning against it.

You let yourself breathe out.

Shame. Anger. Confusion. Need.

And that aching, pulsing warmth between your legs that refuses to fade, that demands, begs for more. A strangled, muffled sound tears out of you and you drop face-first onto the bed. You kick at the mattress, helpless, furious at yourself, at Sukuna, at the whole situation, at your own body.

Would you let him fuck you? Probably...

You jerk upright and start pulling your clothes off.

Your shirt clings to your skin, soaked with sweat, saliva, and his cum. The fabric sticks unpleasantly to your chest and stomach. You yank it over your head. Even your damn shorts are damp. You undo the button, pull down the zipper, and slide them off. You toss everything on the floor and stand there in nothing but your lace underwear.

“Fuck!” you hiss. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

A knock at the door.

You jolt on the bed, your heart dropping into your stomach, a scream freezing in your throat.

“Dad, I’m changing!”

The door creaks open.

You turn around, already preparing to lie, to make up some story about why you’re home so late, why you smell strange...

And you see a shock of peach-pink hair slipping through the crack, a tattooed cheekbone, and one arrogant, laughing, thoroughly pleased eye.

Fucking Sukuna.

You rush toward the door with a hiss, trying to slam it shut again, trying to shove him back into the hallway, but he’s already slipped inside, grinning broadly, standing in your room, huge and arrogant, filling the space.

“Easy, easy, kitten, or your daddy might hear us,” he purrs, glancing around your room—the cheap floral wallpaper, the old creaky furniture, the pile of clothes on the chair, the scattered schoolbooks.

Then his gaze stops on you.

On your lace bra. Your bare legs. The torn, wet shirt and dirty shorts on the floor.

And from the look in his eyes, you’re sure he’s already hard again.

Sukuna is unbearable.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you hiss, crossing your arms over your chest to cover yourself, though it looks ridiculous. “Where’s my dad? Did you say something to him?”

Sukuna lazily leans against the doorframe, sliding his hands into his jeans pockets.

“I did,” he says casually. “Told him I gave you a ride from the gas station. Said you were working late, tired. And that we got held up a little, reminiscing about our shared childhood.”

The shameless lie knocks the breath right out of you.

“Childhood” is what you were just doing in his car?

“Talking” is when his cock was pulsing in your throat?

Sukuna smirks, clearly reading your thoughts.

“Your old man said you’re a pain in the ass. I agreed, but I told him you’re a good girl, just going through a difficult age.”

He reaches into his jeans pocket.

“And you ran off so fast I didn’t get to pay you. Had to come by, kitten.”

Sukuna grabs your hand, pries open your fingers, and slaps crumpled bills into your palm.

Fifty dollars.

You stare at the money.

Then at him.

You want to refuse—throw it back in his face out of principle.

But you don’t.

A deal is a deal.

You close your fist around the bills.

But why not the full amount?

Sukuna leans closer, as if reading your thoughts again, and you’re afraid his scent will seep into your skin forever.

“Don’t think we’re even yet, baby,” he says softly. “This deal isn’t over until every condition’s been met.”

His gaze, hungry and shamelessly stripping, drags over your chest in the lace bra, over the tight line of your stomach, then only briefly lower, to your thighs pressed tightly together. The corner of his mouth twitches with something like regret.

You mutter a curse under your breath as heat floods your cheeks, your neck, your chest.

You reach for the clasp of your bra behind your back, ready to just get it over with, if that’s what this is, if that’s why Sukuna came here right now, into your room, while your father is downstairs…

But Sukuna lets out a low whistle and stops you with a flick of his hand.

“Damn, baby, I could get used to this. You got obedient all of a sudden,” he says, tilting his head. “Sorry, kitten. Not tonight. I want to stretch out the fun.”

“When?” you demand.

Sukuna draws out a slow “well…” and leans close to your ear. You feel his warm breath on your skin and almost expect his lips to brush your neck.

“I like the privilege of surprise. I want you thinking about it. All day. All night. All week.”

His bent index finger brushes over the tense plane of your stomach, stroking so slowly it’s almost torture, barely touching.

“I want you touching yourself and remembering my cock. I want you going crazy, baby.”

He pulls back. Looks straight into your eyes, arrogant.

“I’ll come whenever I feel like it. And you’ll be waiting.”

Like a whore who owes him.

And before you can answer, Sukuna turns and disappears through the door. You hear his footsteps going downstairs, then the front door slam.

You’re left alone in your room, fifty bucks in one hand, that pulse between your legs still refusing to fade.

Ryomen Sukuna is a fucking asshole.

What the hell…

Summer has only just begun.

sorry for the long wait :( the last few weeks have been rough and i’m still not fully sure about this chapter, but i wanted to post it anyway. thank you for being patient with me <3 Do not repost, copy, plagiarize, translate, or feed my work into AI in any form!) Divider credit: @dollywons series masterlist

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