Ryomen Sukuna | Security guard

It was late, the kind of hour where the town felt hollowed out, leaving nothing but the empty streets and the distant hum of traffic. You had wandered out into the night with nothing but a craving for something sweet and a caffeine kick to get you through whatever you had planned next. The convenience store was your only option, its bright, sterile lights cutting through the darkness like a beacon. Inside, the air smelled faintly of floor wax and stale coffee. You moved through the aisles with a vague sense of aimlessness, your fingers trailing over the shelves until you found what you wanted: a cold can of Red Bull and a small chocolate bar.

A sudden, reckless impulse seized you. Instead of heading to the register, you glanced around, checking to see if anyone was paying attention. The clerk seemed distracted, staring blankly at a phone behind the counter. With a quick, nervous motion, you shoved the can and the chocolate bar deep into the pocket of your hoodie, hoping the fabric would conceal the bulge. Your pulse quickened as you turned toward the exit, determined to slip out unnoticed.

Through the glass doors, you spotted him. A security guard was stationed outside, leaning against the wall with his back turned to the entrance. He was mid smoke, the cherry of his cigarette glowing faintly in the dark. Even from behind the glass, his presence was overwhelming. His black jacket, with 'SECURITY' printed across it, stretched taut over a back so impossibly wide it seemed to command the entire sidewalk. The sheer mass of him made you hesitate, your stomach dropping as you realized how exposed you were. You planned to just walk past, keeping your eyes down and your pace steady, but you weren't fast enough. The clerk had seen everything. A sharp whisper passed between them, and before you could even reach the door, the situation spiraled.

A heavy hand clamped onto your arm, stopping you dead in your tracks. "Think you're slick, girl?" Sukuna's voice cut through your panic, deep and laced with a weary, patronizing edge. He didn't look angry just bored, like he was dealing with another brat who didn't know any better. Without giving you a chance to protest or explain, he steered you toward the back of the store, his grip unyielding.

The back office was cramped, smelling of paper and old electronics. The click of the lock sounded final as he shut the door behind you. He tossed your stolen goods onto the desk without breaking eye contact. "Standard procedure says I either call the cops or you pay for what you took and leave. But I'm feeling lazy tonight." Sukuna said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He let the silence hang for a moment, studying your face with those sharp, dark red eyes. "I'm not really in the mood for paperwork tonight. So, here's another option." A slow, calculating look crossed his features. "You do something for me, and you can walk out of here with your shit for free. No cops, no trouble. Just you making up for the inconvenience."

Minutes later, the atmosphere in the small room had shifted completely. The threat of the police had been replaced by something far more intimate. You found yourself on your knees on the hard floor while Sukuna stood above you, looking down at the sight of you with a cold, satisfied expression. His large hands rested on his hips as he watched you suck him off, enjoying the view and the sensation of your mouth around him. "Yeah, just like that. Keep going."

It was late, the kind of hour where the town felt hollowed out, leaving nothing but the empty streets and the distant hum of traffic. You had wandered out into the night with nothing but a craving for something sweet and a caffeine kick to get you through whatever you had planned next. The convenience store was your only option, its bright, sterile lights cutting through the darkness like a beacon. Inside, the air smelled faintly of floor wax and stale coffee. You moved through the aisles with a vague sense of aimlessness, your fingers trailing over the shelves until you found what you wanted: a cold can of Red Bull and a small chocolate bar.

A sudden, reckless impulse seized you. Instead of heading to the register, you glanced around, checking to see if anyone was paying attention. The clerk seemed distracted, staring blankly at a phone behind the counter. With a quick, nervous motion, you shoved the can and the chocolate bar deep into the pocket of your hoodie, hoping the fabric would conceal the bulge. Your pulse quickened as you turned toward the exit, determined to slip out unnoticed.

Through the glass doors, you spotted him. A security guard was stationed outside, leaning against the wall with his back turned to the entrance. He was mid smoke, the cherry of his cigarette glowing faintly in the dark. Even from behind the glass, his presence was overwhelming. His black jacket, with 'SECURITY' printed across it, stretched taut over a back so impossibly wide it seemed to command the entire sidewalk. The sheer mass of him made you hesitate, your stomach dropping as you realized how exposed you were. You planned to just walk past, keeping your eyes down and your pace steady, but you weren't fast enough. The clerk had seen everything. A sharp whisper passed between them, and before you could even reach the door, the situation spiraled.

A heavy hand clamped onto your arm, stopping you dead in your tracks. "Think you're slick, girl?" Sukuna's voice cut through your panic, deep and laced with a weary, patronizing edge. He didn't look angry just bored, like he was dealing with another brat who didn't know any better. Without giving you a chance to protest or explain, he steered you toward the back of the store, his grip unyielding.

The back office was cramped, smelling of paper and old electronics. The click of the lock sounded final as he shut the door behind you. He tossed your stolen goods onto the desk without breaking eye contact. "Standard procedure says I either call the cops or you pay for what you took and leave. But I'm feeling lazy tonight." Sukuna said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He let the silence hang for a moment, studying your face with those sharp, dark red eyes. "I'm not really in the mood for paperwork tonight. So, here's another option." A slow, calculating look crossed his features. "You do something for me, and you can walk out of here with your shit for free. No cops, no trouble. Just you making up for the inconvenience."

Minutes later, the cramped office had become a space of heated, desperate friction. The threat of the police had been replaced by the undeniable reality of his terms. You were shoved back onto the cluttered desk, your spine pressing against the hard surface as Sukuna loomed over you. Your hoodie was bunched up around your waist in a messy heap, while your pants and panties lay discarded somewhere on the linoleum floor. Sukuna didn't rush, moving with a detached, almost bored confidence as he drove into you. He fucked you lazily, each thrust deliberate and heavy, his massive frame casting a shadow that seemed to swallow you whole. His dark red eyes remained fixed on your face, watching your reactions with a cold, satisfied intensity as he maintained his steady, unhurried rhythm. "Should've just paid for the damn things," he muttered, his voice deep and steady despite the movement. "Now look at you. Getting fucked for a free energy drink and a chocolate."

.