✦. 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.
Ⅲ. part three! series masterlist
✦.cw : Toxic Dynamics :: Dubious Consent :: Power Imbalance :: Fear of Getting Caught :: Sexual Harassment :: Blackmail & Threats :: Degradation :: Slut-shaming :: Dirty Talk :: Rough Fingering :: Forced Orgasm :: Titjob / Paizuri :: Cum on Body
The heat is suffocating.
You stand by the open window, pressing a cold glass of lemonade to your lips. The ice has almost completely melted, leaving cloudy streaks along the glass, and the sweet, citrusy taste does nothing to soothe your dry throat.
Thin beads of sweat trail down your spine, collecting at the small of your back, right where the fabric of your swimsuit clings to your skin. The humid air wraps around you like a second layer, sticky enough to settle into every pore.
Your bikini top is already darkened with sweat. Your tiny denim shorts cling to your hips, as though they've soaked up the heat itself. You drain the last of your lemonade and set the glass down on the windowsill a little harder than necessary. The remaining ice cubes clink sharply against the glass.
For the past few weeks, you've been doing everything you can to stay out of Sukuna's way.
The second you hear his heavy footsteps on the porch, you find an excuse to disappear. The moment the growl of his Mustang rolls into the driveway, your stomach drops, your heartbeat climbing into your throat.
You keep telling yourself that if you don't cross paths with him, maybe this obsession—his obsession with you—will eventually burn itself out.
What a joke.
But you can't avoid Sukuna.
His eyes find you every single time.
Whenever everyone gathers outside in the evenings, you deliberately sit beside other guys—the neighbor's son, an old friend from school, anyone. You laugh at their stupid jokes, all while stealing glances at Ryomen from the corner of your eye.
His expression never changes.
Cold. Blank. He nurses a beer or lights another cigarette, looking almost bored, but his eyes never leave you.
They find you through the crowd, studying every movement you make. Every laugh. Every smile. Every accidental brush of someone else's hand against your shoulder, as though committing it all to memory.
The longer this twisted game drags on, the more terrified you become.
You can feel the tension winding tighter beneath your skin.
And when it finally snaps...
You know you're going to be the one left in pieces.
You forgot one thing.
Sukuna doesn't tolerate outsiders.
A steady hum of voices drifts in through the back door, mixed with laughter and the shrill screams of children. Half the neighborhood seems to have shown up.
Someone brought meat for the barbecue, someone else showed up with salads, and others dragged folding chairs beneath the old oak just to claim a patch of shade.
You step onto the porch, and the scorching air crashes into you like a wave from an open oven. The midday sun hangs directly overhead, bleaching the grass into a dull yellow. Heat shimmers above the asphalt.
"Hey! Over here!"
Yuji stands waist-deep in the pool, dark wet hair plastered to his forehead, his usual bright grin stretching across his face. He waves both arms to get your attention.
You make your way down the stone path, the sun-heated gravel biting into your bare feet. The moment you reach the edge of the pool, Yuji flashes a mischievous smile and splashes you.
Cold water smacks against your stomach.
You gasp, flinch back, then laugh as you curse at him.
"Come on! Get in!" he calls, sunlight glistening across his shoulders. "The water's perfect!"
You peel off your shorts, letting them fall into the grass before climbing onto the metal ladder. The steps burn your feet, but the second the water reaches your waist, the oppressive heat melts away.
The water smells of sharp, clean chlorine and the sun-heated plastic of the pool edge. You dive beneath the surface, letting the cool water wash away the sweat. You surface, gasping, only for Yuji to splash you again, and suddenly you are wrestling like kids, the water spraying everywhere, a brief, fleeting escape from the dread.
Yuji lunges for your waist, but you twist away, slipping toward the deep end before resurfacing behind him.
"That's cheating!" he laughs, spinning around.
"Oh, quit whining."
He catches you the next time, wrapping both arms around your waist and lifting you effortlessly off the pool floor.
You squeal, grabbing at his sides.
His body isn't the same as it used to be.
His hands are rough now, strong, all lean muscle beneath warm skin.
With a laugh, he tosses you into the water.
For one blissful second, everything goes silent. Only bubbles drift past your face.
You surface, coughing and laughing at the same time, then shove him in the chest with all your strength.
He barely moves.
Just stands there, entirely too pleased with himself.
"You're such an asshole," you mutter between breaths.
Water trickles down your collarbones, collecting at the ties of your swimsuit.
Yuji laughs, but the smile fades almost immediately.
"Uh... I've gotta get back to the grill." He rubs the back of his neck. "If Sukuna catches me slacking off..."
Your smile disappears.
"He's... coming?"
Your voice comes out quieter than you intended.
"Yeah." Yuji nods. "He and Toji went to grab more beer."
He notices the look on your face and lowers his voice.
"Sorry. I know you two don't exactly get along. But... maybe things have changed over the past year?" He shrugs. "Honestly, he barely ever talks about you."
You force yourself to nod.
If only Yuji knew.
If only this kind, oblivious boy had even the slightest idea what had happened two nights ago in the backseat of his brother's Mustang.
The way Sukuna had wrapped your hair around his fist.
The way he'd forced your face down between his knees.
The way you'd stared into those wild crimson eyes while he ruined your throat.
Your fingers drift unconsciously to your neck. It still feels as though his grip has never really left your skin.
"I should head inside," you mumble, already climbing out of the pool. "I need to dry off."
"What? We literally just got in!" Yuji calls after you.
But you're already walking away, not listening anymore.
You’re basically sprinting. The wet fabric clings to your body, highlighting every curve. The concrete is slick; you almost slip.
You frantically scan the tables for his silhouette, praying to slip by unnoticed.
You’re one foot onto the porch steps when a heavy palm slams onto your shoulder. Fingers dig into the muscle, jerking you backward.
You gasp, and your back slams into a rough wooden pillar.
The wood is scorching hot beneath the relentless sun, searing against your shoulder blades almost as fiercely as his grip.
He looms over you, a mountain of heat and shadow that swallows the light, cutting you off from the rest of the world.
Heat pours off him. He smells like sweat, sharp cologne, and bitter cigarette smoke.
The white t-shirt clinging to his chest is damp at the collar. A crumpled pack of cigarettes juts from his chest pocket. The tattoos on his face look like ink-stained scars, and his eyes hold nothing but cruel amusement.
"Where are you running off to, brat?" His voice is a gravelly, guttural growl. "Saw me and decided to bolt?"
"Let go, Sukuna," you hiss, pressing your palms to his chest. Under your fingers, his muscles are hard and boiling hot. "Let go, someone’s gonna come out!"
"And what are they gonna do?"
He leans in, pinning you against the pillar with his weight. Your wet swimsuit leaves a darkening, spreading blotch on his shirt. He drops his gaze to your chest, slowly licking his parched lips.
"Those tits look insane. Wear that on purpose? Knew I was coming, didn't you, little bitch?"
"Fuck off," you exhale.
He thrusts a hip, forcing your head to smack against the wood again. His calloused hand, smelling of engine oil, unceremoniously rests on your waist, his fingers digging in.
"Decided to get a piece of the brat while you're at it?" he whispers right into your lips. "I saw you fawning over him in the pool. Have fun?"
"We were just playing! Yuji is my friend, you hear me? He's normal, unlike you!"
"Friend," Sukuna spits out venomously. "That pup follows you around like a lost dog. And you love it, don't you?"
His hand slides lower, roughly grazing your thigh, his fingers shoving under the wet fabric of your bikini bottoms. Without a shred of foreplay, he shoves a finger inside.
You freeze, breath hitched.
"Sukuna... don't... please..."
"I don't give a damn," he smirks.
His finger moves deeper, working you.
"My dad... my dad's gonna come out and see!" you’re almost begging.
Not now.
Please, not here.
"And what’s your old man gonna do?" Sukuna sneers. "Beat me up? Brat, your daddy worships me."
His thumb grinds down hard on your most sensitive spot. A suffocating, sticky heat floods your lower belly. You hate yourself for how fast your body starts pulsing under his touch.
"I can hear you breathing," Ryomen whispers, biting your earlobe until it draws blood. "You want me to tear this piece of trash off right here and fuck you? Say 'no,' and I'll pull my hand out. Well? Say it."
You open your mouth, trying to choke out that damn "no," but instead, a dirty, drawn-out moan escapes your lips.
"Slut," Sukuna growls.
He jerks his hand away, grabbing your wrist and dragging you toward the kitchen door.
"Get inside. Now." He gives your wrist another rough tug. "Running away, huh?"
You knew he was crazy. A hot-headed, dangerous beast. Once you’re in the dim hallway, he turns, his face inches from yours. His eyes burn with something wild, something deeply wrong.
You never should have gotten close to Sukuna.
You never should have made that deal.
"You get what’s gonna happen if your saint of a father finds out how his little girl sucks dick in parking lots?" he spits.
"It... it wasn't like that..." you sob, tears blinding you.
"Oh yeah? Then what was it? You just naturally learned how to swallow my cock to the hilt? Just swallowed my cum while you were dripping like a bitch?"
You cover your face, choking on a sob. Sukuna waits. Then his grip on your wrist lightens. He lets out a heavy, dirty sigh.
"Go upstairs." His voice is quieter now, but there's still steel beneath it.
He gives you a slight shove toward the stairs.
Your heart pounds in your temples. Your mouth has gone dry. You want to scream, call for Yuji, run back to the people outside—but your feet move anyway.
You run. Faster than if he were dragging you himself. Because the fear and panic inside you are tangled so tightly with the forbidden arousal pulling you under that you can no longer tell where one ends and the other begins.
You’d be lying if you said you didn't want this.
You'd be lying if you said the adrenaline wasn't pulling you toward him.
You rush into your room.
Run.
Move.
Why aren't you moving?
Sukuna follows close behind.
The lock clicks with a dry, terrifying snap.
You stand in the center of the room, gasping.
The window is left slightly ajar, and the boisterous, drunken laughter of your father echoes up from the backyard, mocking your silence. The sunset floods the room in a sickly, golden light.
Sukuna leans his back against the door.
Anyone outside who looks up will see you through the glass. The sheer, reckless audacity of it makes your mind reel with vertigo.
Sukuna takes a step. Then another. He is huge, a dangerous predator filling the space of your clean, quiet bedroom. You back away until your knees hit the mattress.
"Sit," he orders.
You don't move.
Ryomen is enormous, filthy, smelling of the summer heat, beer, and the street. He fills every inch of your quiet bedroom.
"I said, sit."
You drop to the edge, your wet swimsuit leaving a dark, damp stain on the pristine white sheet. He steps in, forcing your knees apart with his legs until you are completely trapped between them.
"So nervous…" A slow grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You have no idea how much that turns me on."
Sukuna looms over you, his shadow swallowing you whole. He doesn't hesitate; he reaches out, slapping your cheek with a casual, stinging disregard before grabbing your chin, forcing your face up to meet his dark, predatory stare.
"Don't be scared, little one," he rasps, his eyes glinting with a savage hunger. "I don't bite. Unless you start begging for it."
His hand moves to the nape of your neck, fingers twisting into your damp hair and pulling hard, forcing your cheek against the denim of his crotch. You can feel the heavy, pulsing heat of him—huge and rigid—pressing against your face through the thick fabric.
"I missed you," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.
"Sukuna... my dad... he'll come up..." you whimper, your voice breaking.
"Fuck," he growls, his patience fraying. "Quit whining."
His free hand dives under the hem of your top, and with one sharp, violent motion, he yanks the fabric up. Your nipples harden instantly in the cold air.
You instinctively try to cover yourself, but he catches your wrists and pins them firmly to your sides.
He grabs your wrists, pinning them wide, and his fingers squeeze your breast with such punishing intensity that a sharp cry escapes your lips.
He only smirks, reaching behind your neck to jerk the ties of your bikini top free. It falls away, leaving you completely bare before him.
"Come on, brat," he breathes, his eyes darkening to black. "Jerk me off with your tits. Show me you remember how."
His hand tangles into your hair, yanking your head back so you have to look him in the eyes.
"You understand me? Or do I need to knock it into your head?"
Your shaking fingers grab his belt. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his underwear and pull it down. His cock falls out heavy, the wet tip glistening in the sunset.
"Don't be shy," he sneers. "Remember how you used to lick it. How deep you’d take it."
You swallow, licking your parched lips. Sukuna snorts mockingly.
"Just do it, I'm tired of waiting."
You cup your breasts in your hands, pressing his shaft firmly between them. The skin is slippery from sweat and leftover pool water; the cock moves easily, with a wet, sliding sound. You speed up the pace, squeezing your palms tighter. Under your hands, he becomes even more tense and aroused.
"Yeah... that’s it, slut... Squeeze harder."
He starts moving his hips to meet you, practically fucking your chest with short, sharp, mechanical thrusts. The belt buckle clinks against the button with every movement, and he pushes deeper, faster.
Downstairs, Yuji’s laughter rings out, oblivious, while inside you, everything is melting into a puddle of shame and hunger. You part your lips, sucking the head on every forward thrust.
"Damn... fuck..." Sukuna rasps. "Yeah, like that... More... I’m gonna..."
He cums just as you take the head into your mouth again. Hot, thick spurts splash across your chest, your neck, coating your chin. He stays there for a long time, his whole body shuddering with every release.
Sukuna finally steps back, breathing heavily. He zips up and looks down at you—disheveled, covered in his essence, and trembling.
"Good job," he huffs, a look of satiated, animal triumph in his eyes. "Obedient little slut."
A large drop of his seed falls onto your navel. Your hand, acting on its own, drops down, your fingers pressing through the soaked fabric of your panties. You are aching with a hunger that doesn't end. He sees it, and his smirk widens.
"What, did you like it when I was rough?"
"No, I...—"
"What 'please'?" He leans in, grabbing your hair, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "Say it. Out loud."
"I want you to fuck me!"
"I thought so."
He throws you onto your back. The mattress squeaks piteously as he bears down on you, pinning you to the bed with his massive body.
"Lie still and don't you dare twitch."
He takes your hands, puts them over your head, and pins them to the pillow with one of his massive palms, stripping you of the slightest chance to defend yourself. You’re completely open and left to his mercy. He tears your panties aside.
His fingers jam inside, relentless, hitting you at full reach. The sound—the wet, rhythmic squelching as you move on your own, grinding against his hand—is enough to snap whatever thin leash he had on his restraint.
"Slut... what a fucking slut you are," he growls through his teeth. He grinds his crotch against your side, his hard, throbbing length pressing through the denim, punishing your bare, wet skin.
"Look at me, fuck," he orders, his free hand clamping around your throat. "Open your eyes, slut, and see who’s fucking you."
He dips his head, his teeth sinking into your skin right over your pulse—a sharp, sudden bite that makes you gasp. He instantly licks the sting with his scorching tongue, sending a violent shiver down your spine.
"Feel how much I want you?" he rasps into your ear. "I want to bury myself in you. But first, you’re gonna come from my fingers. You’re gonna come for me, hear me?"
His movements turn frantic. His thumb hammers against your clitoris with no mercy. You arch into him, your fingers tearing at his shirt. Everything inside you pulls tight, like a wire strung to the breaking point. The tension becomes unbearable, and you explode. A loud scream is drowned in his shoulder, your body goes into convulsions, your inner muscles squeezing his fingers in a death grip.
Sukuna doesn't stop, continuing to move his fingers, wringing the last of the orgasm out of you until you go completely limp, turning into a ragdoll.
He finally pulls his hand out with a wet, heavy sound.
He brings his stained fingers to his lips, watching you with those dark, predatory eyes, and slowly licks them clean.
Sukuna stands up. As his weight leaves the mattress, the room suddenly feels empty. He fastens his belt, the sharp click of the buckle sounding like a death sentence.
"So, how are we supposed to go back downstairs after that?" He sounds lazy, but his eyes burn with triumph. "You smell like me and sex from a mile away, brat."
"Why are you doing this, Sukuna?" Your voice trembles. "Was that night not enough for you?"
He pauses, leaning in so close that the smoke from his cigarette burns your eyes.
"Enough? Brat, it'll never be enough. You brought this on yourself. Remember this: stay the hell away from my brother. You so much as look at him again, and I'll fuck you on his own bed. I don't give a damn who's outside the door."
He strolls to the dresser, lights another cigarette, and exhales a stream of smoke. "What? Not even a 'thank you'?"
You give the smallest nod, a tear slipping down your cheek. "I understand."
"Good girl."
He turns toward the door. It clicks shut behind him, and his footsteps fade. You are left alone, and your gaze drifts to the nightstand. Two crumpled twenty-dollar bills lie there.
Payment. That's all it is.
Nausea crawls up your throat, but the worst part—the part that makes you want to tear yourself apart—is the faint, pulse-like satisfaction still buried deep inside you. Your body has betrayed you.
You grab a wet wipe and, frantically, until your skin is raw and purple, you wipe the semen from your chest and neck, desperately trying to wash away the smell of his tobacco and skin. With trembling fingers, you somehow pull on your wet swimsuit and head down to the backyard.
Suddenly, right by your ear, making your whole body flinch, his low, mocking voice rings out:
"Sweetheart, you forgot to wipe the traces off your chin."
You spin around abruptly. Sukuna is standing a step away from you, demons dancing in his eyes, and on his lips—that same crooked, triumphant smirk. Toji is standing behind him, lazily sipping beer and giving you a sharp, sly once-over from head to toe. He’s clearly in on your "secret."
You jerk your hand up in fear, frantically scrubbing your chin... but your fingers are dry.
There’s nothing there.
He lied.
Just to mock you.
To show that you are completely in his power.
Your face flushes a deep, burning crimson. Sukuna lets out a ringing, mocking laugh. He turns and heads toward the table, his broad back flickering among the guests like a predator returning to his pack.
You watch him walk away, feeling a slow-acting poison spreading through your veins. You feel used, trampled, and dirty. But as you watch him effortlessly take charge, a horrifying thought creeps into your mind: the sun will set, the guests will leave, and somewhere in the parking lot beside the Mustang, a lighter will click again.
And you'll find your way back to him. Because the poison beneath your skin craves only him—and you don't want it to stop.
Do not repost, copy, plagiarize, translate, or feed my work into AI in any form!)
Divider credit: @dollywons and @enchanthings
series masterlist
warnings- yandere, mentions of abuse, sexual abuse and captivity, fem reader
a/n, I have an obvious bias for liking Sukuna ehehe
RYOMEN SUKUNA
Sukuna is a yandere who is selfish, sadistic, controlling, brutal and many more adjectives.
Sukuna is most definitely a 10/10 dangerous yandere. This man can crush your head or make you slowly die depending on his feeling. Whether you defied him or he got bored of you, Sukuna can and will hurt you.
Sukuna is a yandere who believes you exist for him. If you are a servant who happened to peak his interest, you live to serve him and if you have the misfortune of being his concubine, you also have to entertain him.
Sukuna will put you in your place, maybe by killing him hut you fear and defiance amuses him. It's the same way with Gojo, he thinks it's so cute when you think you have a chance at arguing with him.
Sukuna is a yandere who doesn't know what 'love' means. He has no romantic interest in you yet he would still go to great lengths to keep you as his possession.
Sukuna is a yandere who you never know what his next move will be. He alternates between cruelly teasing and making you sit at his feet to sucking hickes along your collarbone and having you sit on his lap while he addressing a crowd in his throne room.
Sukuna only has time for a loyal (in some way), weaker and beautiful darling. Whether you clean the bloodied stained floors or live to entertain him, Sukuna would have darling who is pretty enough to gather his attention. other than an obvious being obedient enough to the king of curses, he has no other 'needs', if he doesn't like you, he won't mould you into his ideal doll, he will just kill you.
TOJI FUSHIGURO
Toji is a yandere who is violent and easily triggered.
And from this, it is safe to say he would be a 10/10 for danger. While he wouldn't kill you like Sukuna would, he is not above manhandling you, laying his hands on you and being verbally aggressive.
Toji is a yandere who is blunt. He is very gruff and gives one worded orders and answers so good like trying to have a decent conversation with him.
Toji is a man who doesn't know personal space. He stands to close to you, he can't keep his hands to himself and he shows no amount of wanting to change.
This leads to Toji being a touchy yandere. His hands are always on you. He wants you close, he needs to feel you. So expect to sit on his lap, be the little spoon, have his hands on your waist, lower back or an arm slung around your shoulder.
Toji is a yandere who would get easily jealous. Before he kidnapped took you in, he would get very jealous if another guy spoke to you. His jaw would tighten, his hands would squeeze your hips and you would get pulled away before you could even say you had a boyfriend.
— Sukuna x Male Reader
(Dead Dove | Dubcon | Breeding)
Part 1 here
⚠️ Content Warnings
Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.
NSFW. Dubcon. Mirror play. Light bondage. Degrading dirty talk. Breeding kink. Spitting. Power imbalance. Oral fixation. Reader is male, submissive, and humiliated.
This is non-romantic, power-heavy, predatory sex. Tags aren’t for decoration. Sukuna is not soft here — and neither is this.
He fucks you in front of a mirror so you can see exactly how pathetic you’ve become.
You don’t ask for mercy.
You know he doesn’t grant it.
You’re dragged to the floor by the collar of your shirt, and the room around you spins — unfamiliar. Not yours. His. A room conjured from whatever cursed domain he’s built inside your body, lit by flickering candlelight and one massive wall-length mirror.
He forces you to your knees in front of it.
You look up.
Your reflection stares back — wide-eyed, flushed, panting already. You look like prey. You look like his.
That makes him grin.
“Look at you. Like a bitch waiting to be bred.”
Your arms are bound behind you with a cursed wrapping — black and red, pulsing slightly like it’s alive. You could fight it, but not for long. Not with Sukuna pacing behind you, stroking himself lazily like he’s deciding where to use you first.
“You’ll sit there,” he says, voice thick with amusement, “and take what I give you. I want you to watch every second of how fucking pathetic you look when I’m inside you.”
He grabs your jaw, fingers digging in so hard it aches. Then spits directly into your mouth.
“Swallow it.”
You do. You have to. His grip doesn’t let you move until your throat works around it, and then he hums in approval — pleased, smug, aroused.
Then he kneels behind you. You feel the head of his cock press between your cheeks, already wet with pre. He doesn’t slick you up. Doesn’t ask. Just grabs your hips and drives in all at once.
You scream.
Eyes wide. Legs kicking as your body tightens violently around him.
But his grip is iron.
“There it is,” he hisses, biting into your shoulder hard enough to draw blood. “That squeeze. You pretend to hate it, but your body remembers me.”
Each thrust is punishing, timed perfectly with the filth spilling from his mouth. The mirror shows everything: your knees slipping on the floor, your back arching, your cock leaking with zero contact.
You’re being bred, and he makes sure you know it.
“You see that?”
“Look at the way your hole takes me. So fucking desperate, clenching like you’re afraid I’ll leave it empty.”
He forces your head up, grabbing a fistful of your hair so you can’t look away.
Your face in the mirror is wrecked. Drool on your chin. Eyes glassy. You’re moaning, broken, thighs trembling.
He loves it.
“You’re lucky I’m not making you say ‘thank you.’ But maybe I will when I fill you up.”
He fucks harder — hips slamming into you with obscene force, balls slapping against your ass, pace unrelenting. Your knees go numb. Your cock drips onto the floor in strings.
You’re going to come. You know it.
“That’s it,” he growls, “make a mess. I want to see you come without a single touch, like the good little cumdump you are.”
You do.
You explode, body convulsing violently, helpless and overstimulated — cock twitching, seed splattering the mirror and floor.
You cry out. And Sukuna laughs.
Then he finishes inside you, fucking deep with a growl that echoes in your spine, holding you down as thick heat floods your guts. You feel him throb. Pulsing. Claiming. Marking you from the inside again.
He stays buried inside, grinding slowly, making sure none of it leaks out.
“Keep it in. You’ll hold every drop, or I’ll fuck it back into you.”
You pant against the mirror, forehead slick with sweat, face soaked in spit and tears and shame.
And behind you, he presses a kiss to your spine — mockingly gentle — before pulling out with a wet slap and admiring the wreckage.
“Beautiful. Let’s do it again.”
Sukuna divider credit >> @miscellaneous-misty
Art by [ ? ] - edited by cleaveskn on dc
Vampire Sukuna! ruined fortress is filthy, dirty and reeks of rotting blood. As you grip onto your gown and run through his treacherous halls, painted with blood on every surface, rotting flesh and bones left around as antiques. Every turn you take praying for an exit to appear. Yet you are met with more twist and turns. Vampire Sukuna! who enjoys the cat and mouse chase, watching you scram through his halls. Your tears and fear driving his desire for you more. His canine teeth clean and sharp ready to puncture your delicate skin.
Oh he knows you cant find your way out, Oh he knows it was cruel of him to let you even have a 5 minute head start, knowing full well you will end up back in his arms. Nevertheless your pleas, your crying, your glossy eyes and lips when you begged him to let you go. He couldn't help himself, and let you go. Vampire Sukuna! knew you was going to taste divine which is why he was going to take his time with you.
As you hid yourself, in one of his many rooms. The bedrooms decaying smell making it even more strenuous for you to even hide, every surface coated with a thick layer of dust. Rummaging through the bedroom to find a hiding spot, your large gown making it impossible for you to remain discreet. Frantically you pulled off the rags covering the furniture with your shaking hands to find an answer within the room.
The limited lighting making it impossible to see, your fear clouding your mind, as your sobs come out more desperate for a way out. Too engrossed in your own dear, unaware of his red eyes drinking in your shaking figure. Every step Vampire Sukuna! took, his grin becoming more sinister his desire more erratic. His hands rising with predatory intent, the jagged edges of his sharp nails poised to tear into the tender vulnerability of your flesh.
As you pulled onto the final rug of the room, hiding the grimy mirror. Your head hits back, your eyes rolling back as your body falls limp in his embrace. Pain and pleasure entering your body in waves. His nails clamping into your hips as he holds you taut against his harsh cold body. His teeth already sunken into your neck as your blood coated over your collarbone, soaking your gown. Your whispers telling Vampire sukuna! to stop, as his hands greedily roam your body. Your tear stained eyes looking back at the mirror, not being able to see his dark silhouette at all, your vision already blurry as your hopeless tears ran down your face as all you saw was your tired, weak, bloody stained figure. Slowly dying.
Vampire Sukuna! chuckling darkly as he felt your life slip away, your blood leaving a savoury taste behind. Dropping your limp colourless body on the floor. Not bothering to clean his mouth, he simply steps over you and makes his way out. Eager for his next victim.
✦. 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.
Ⅰ. part one: harassment / coercion vibes. ✦ wc : 6k
Ⅱ. part two: rough oral sex :: handjob :: cum swallowing ✦ wc : 8k
Ⅲ. part three: explicit smut :: rough titjob :: forced orgasm ✦ wc : 3k
Ⅳ. part four: virginity loss :: first time :: explicit sex.
✦. Ⅴ. Part Five (Gift): threesome (Sukuna x reader x Toji) :: group sex :: explicit.
✦.cw :: vulgar asshole!kuna :: criminal!kuna :: so wants to fuck the you :: 18/23 :: sexually aggressive :: dubious consent :: sexual harassment :: sexism :: reader’s father :: toxic dynamics :: past mentions of underage harassment(non-graphic)
✦. note : all characters are 18+ in the present timeline!
✦. 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
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