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you love halloween. the costumes, the parties, the cute decorations and scented candles. you're always the one to host a pumpkin carving night, with charlie brown on the tv and an apple cobbler in the oven, cuddled with your friends under fuzzy blankets. and your friends are the ones who host horror movie watch parties. the kinds with the lights off and the tv blaring loud. you're always hiding behind your hands, peeking through your fingers at the screen because you're too sweet not to show up for your friends, but too scared to actually watch. and still, those little glimpses that you get leave you paranoid when you return to your apartment, always looking over your shoulder and plugging in a nightlight to every outlet.
given your reaction to movies, you're not sure what you were thinking when you agreed to go to a haunted house. but now you're already there, and clearly way out of your league.
it took around a half hour to arrive, following dark, windy back roads away from the nearest signs of civilization. you might have missed the turn if it wasn't for a single rusted sign on the side of the road with HAUNTED HOUSE NEXT RIGHT written on it in large, faded letters. you'd shared a nervous glance with your friends in the car, but everyone reassured you that it's fiiine, the website looked legit and they had plenty of reviews from previous years of people saying that it was thrilling.
so, safe to say, you were already on edge when you pulled into the parking lot (which was just a muddy stretch of land full of cars parked at crooked angles), and then you saw what the haunted house actually looked like. you'd hoped, prayed silently, for something… professional. perhaps a house that was run by a company with proper safety measures and employees that look like they've passed a background check. but instead, you hop out of the car only to be met with a rundown, single story home, planted smack dab in the middle of no where, a wall of trees around it leading to a large forest.
you're clinging close to your group as you walk to the front of the house, reaching for your bestfriend's hand.
"scared?" one of them asks, teasing.
"shut up. only a little," you shoot back weakly.
"oh, you worried that not all the blood is fake?" another asks, planting a seed that you hadn't even considered before.
your stomach turns when your other friend pipes up again, fingers wiggling in your face, "oooh, maybe there's a ghost… or a killer!"
"that's not funny," you deadpan, eyes scanning the forest again. your mind recalls the interview you saw on the news the other night— something about a few women going missing recently.
"think about it, anyone could be hiding in there," they continue, laughing until the friend holding your hand smacks them across the back of their head.
"enough, you're scaring her. nothing like that is going to happen." you mumble a quick thanks as you approach the entrance.
you'd think with the way you were meticulously scanning your surroundings, you might've noticed. might've seen the outline of a figure between the trees, the dull flash of light reflecting off rusty metal. but no, in a way, your paranoia did more to hinder your perceptivity than anything, leaving you oblivious. you're unaware that you'd already been singled out, watched, analyzed. your mannerisms memorized, your fear catalogued by a single set of blood red eyes.
by the time you arrive at the entrance there's a pit in your stomach and a cold sweat on your skin. they're handing out wristbands and safety waivers to the visitors— like that's going to make you feel better about this whole thing. but at least the girl working there is nice, smiling wide as she greets your group warmly.
while you're looking over the waiver the employee explains the attraction a little. there's several actors and decorations throughout, and it's essentially a small maze of interconnected rooms and hallways with only one exit.
"once you go in, the only way out is through!" she says cheerily, clapping her hands together with a bright smile, "and remember, the actors won't touch you— so please don't touch them."
you think she might have tacked on that last part because she can tell how nervous you look at this point, you hand shaking slightly as you pass the form back to her, eyes darting around the entrance. you take a deep breath, mentally berating yourself to get a grip, this is supposed to be exciting. this is thrilling, remember? except now your friends' words are ringing through your mind on repeat, like the world's most irritating broken record. you try to reason with yourself, reiterating that there's definitely no possibility that some psycho killer could have emerged from the woods and sneaked in the house through the exit, since they have such… quality security measures.
you need to get out of here.
spinning on your heel, you try to walk back out, only to be blocked by a crowd behind you. you're not even sure when so many other people arrived, but they're looking at you with confused, frustrated stares, grumbling to one another about how you're 'holding up the line.' to avoid clogged hallways, only a certain amount of people can be in the house at once. so, you sheepishly turn back around, the woman working at the front flashing you a sympathetic smile that says, i'm sorry, but there's nothing i can do.
"come on," your friend grabs your hand, "i'll be with you the whole time, it'll be fun!"
it's not fun. at least not for you. and your friend has not been 'with you the whole time.' in fact, you got separated from the group right off the bat when a clown with a machete popped out from a dark corner and the 5 of you split ways like the scooby gang, except you didn't end up reuniting with them.
the walls are covered in cobwebs and what you hope is fake blood, but that doesn't stop you from clinging to them, pressing your body up against the rough surface. it's an attempt to make yourself smaller, invisible to the actors that are lurking in each smelly room and ill-lit end of a hallway. but your efforts are in vain. a mummified nurse crawling through a doorway locks eyes on you immediately, limbs twisting and bending as she stands to her feet, giving you but a second to start running before she's after you. racing through the halls, you let out a shriek each time another actor pops out to scream at you or flash a knife. there's sweat beading on your forehead, your feet tripping over each other as you try to not fall. but you can hardly tell where you're going, your path only illuminated every few seconds by a flicker of a strobe light or a colorful decoration.
you can hear the woman behind you, cackling wildly, her footsteps thumping against the old, creaking wood. she's getting faster, louder. but you don't turn around, with the walls as narrow as they are, the ground as cluttered as it is, you can't risk actually falling— and you really don't want to know how close she is.
a few more steps, a few more turns, your chest is heaving by the time you finally see it— the steady, red glow from the exit sign hanging above a door. only when the door slams shut, locking behind you, do you slow down, giving your burning thighs a reprieve and allowing yourself to take a deep breath. as the adrenaline fades and you start to leave fight or flight you find yourself laughing, breathy chuckles falling from your lips as you remember it was all fake.
you pull out your phone, scrolling to see if any of your friends have texted that they made it out too but there's nothing. you glance around and you don't see anyone that looks like them either.
actually, you don't see anyone at all.
the parking lot is on the other side of the house, near the entrance, which means that the exit is practically deserted. a small, flickering porch light illuminates the space around you, just enough to see a beaten path leading around the side of the house— back to the front you conclude.
the whole situation is starting to make you feel a bit on edge. the pit of unease is returning to your stomach as you notice the heavy silence that's settled over you like a thick blanket. it's like the minute the door shut behind you all the chaos inside the house was gone, leaving you alone before the broad expanse of a towering forest. those pesky thoughts in the back of your mind start to creep forward, clawing their way to the front, ringing loud between your ears. the voice in your head won't let you forget about those horror movies your friends love oh, so dearly… you know, the ones where the masked serial killer chases the group of teens through the woods, picking them off one. by. one.
you step forward slowly, leaving the safety of the warm, yellow glow above you, making your way to the path as you shake your head to get rid of those thoughts. there's a cool breeze, the sound of leaves rustling in the trees, goosebumps peppering your skin as you hug yourself, rubbing your arms to warm up. a loud crack! sounds from behind you, nearly making you jump, but when you spin around there's nothing that you can see. it's just the same forest creaking, the trees groaning as they lean with the wind. the hair on the back of your neck pricks up as a wave of dread washes over you. you'd never believed it before— the idea that people can sense when they're being watched.
you turn back, walking quickly now, determined to get back to the car so you can wait for your friends behind the safety of four locked doors. your head on a swivel, constantly looking over your shoulder, again, you don't notice him. not as he stalks forward, long legs taking slow strides as he approaches you. until you hear it.
the raucous revving of a chainsaw cuts through the silence around you, causing your head to snap back around, eyes widening like saucers when you finally see him. tall and broad, he stands in your path, gloved hands grip the chainsaw in front of his chest. there's a burlap sack covering his face, two holes cut out for his eyes which are staring down at you as he tilts his head slowly, side to side, waiting for your next move.
a guttural scream erupts from your throat, one that shakes your chest and leaves you breathless. but he just stands there, unaffected, revving the chainsaw once more as you take off in the opposite direction. feet kicking up dirt and dust behind you, your head whips around to see the man following closely. heavy footfalls against the earth, you can tell it won't be long until he catches up to you, and you're not even sure where to go.
you end up at the back door, jiggling the doorknob, trying to get inside so you can tell someone, anyone, about the man chasing you. but the door won't budge, locked from the inside each time it shuts— you're stuck. you bang on the metal, shouting desperately into it, just hoping that someone will hear you, but it's fruitless.
turning back around, you find he's already there. he’s standing quietly, save for the sound of the chainsaw rumbling from his hands and your trembling breaths filling the short space between you. tears prick your eyes as your head swings side to side, still working on finding an escape route. and then you're sprinting off again towards the woods. branches whip across your cheeks and thorns cut through the fabric of your pants. each step you take is a gamble, the moonlight your only guide through the thick brush.
you chance another look behind you but you can't see anything. the constant whir of the chainsaw sounds as though it's echoing off the trees, clouding your ability to decipher where exactly your stalker is.
your chest burning, the cold air makes each inhale feel like swallowing razor blades, you can see your breath with each harsh exhale. your feet are aching, muscles trembling, starting to cramp as you reach your limit. it's only a few more meters before you’re slowing, giving up on running. leaves crunch under your feet as you warily creep backwards, step after step, trying to slink away.
the air around you stills, every animal, the very trees themselves holding their breath alongside you. the only sound left in the forest is the occasional snap! of a twig that makes your head spin around. and you quickly discover that the silence is almost worse than when you heard the chainsaw rumbling, an unforgettable odor of burnt oil coming from it. anxiety tightens in your stomach as you try to steady your wheezing to catch your breath— now the loudest thing around you.
tap.
tap.
tap.
three soft hits on your shoulder make your breath hitch in your throat. your spine straight, you stand stock still, too scared to move a step. you can hear him now. the heavy, muffled breathing from right behind you.
you're not even sure when the tears started falling, if it was at the start of the chase, or when you were locked out of the house— it doesn't matter. you can't stop them, thick rivulets pouring from your eyes, trailing down your cheeks.
you turn slowly, a choked sob escaping you when you see him again. the same burlap sack, the same shrouded eyes staring down at you.
"p-please…" you whimper, backing up, arms held in front of you in surrender. "i'll scream," you threaten when your back hits the trunk of a large tree behind you.
"go ahead," the man replies flatly, encroaching on you. he bends down, covered face level with yours, taunting you as you tremble before him. "scream."
your mouth opens, but the scream never comes. just a pathetic, little croak. your voice is too tired from shrieking earlier, too clogged with cries now to make good on your threat. the man pulls away, head falling back as he barks out a laugh at the sorry attempt. "that the best you can do?" he goads.
his voice is deep, gravelly, sending a wave of nerves through you, your stomach flipping as adrenaline and fear course through each vein in your body. you stutter something incoherent, back pressing further into the tree, your heart now racing uncontrollably.
and then you feel it. panic spreads through you at the sensation of the warm liquid trickling down your legs, soaking into the fabric of your pants. your eyes squeeze shut, head hanging in shame. you're not even sure why you're embarrassed given the situation you're in, but heat blooms in your cheeks, a soft sniffle coming from you as more tears fall.
there's a muted thud beside you. eyes cracking open you can see the chainsaw lying at your feet before a rough, gloved hand grabs your chin, tilting your head back up.
you're expecting to be met with the same burlap sack as before, but it's gone, discarded somewhere behind the man. you're now staring into two deep crimson eyes. "poor thing," he coos, mouth splitting into a sharp grin, "you scared?"
he's hovering over you, close enough for you to smell the musk of his cologne mixed with body odor, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of his body. your eyes trace along the ink decorating his skin, the rugged, scarred flesh around his right eye, the glossy expanse of his lips as his tongue swipes across them— and for a second, you forget that this is the man chasing you. that he’s the one wielding a weapon straight out of a slasher film, who made you wet your favorite pair of pants.
heat pools low in your belly and you tell yourself it's just the fear, or the residual adrenaline still running through you. it has to be, because if it’s not, what does that say about you?
his head cocks to the side, thirsty eyes raking over your figure, drinking in the sight of you. when his gaze reaches the spot between your thighs, it lingers briefly before sliding back up to settle on your hesitant expression. the smirk on his lips tells you that he didn't miss the obvious wet spot on your pants, nor the subtle way your knees shifted together under the weight of his gaze.
"or maybe scared isn't the word," he muses, leaning closer, nose nudging against your neck. you freeze, eyes closing again as you turn away, yanking your chin from his grasp. "aww, c'mon now… don't be shy."
another whimper falls from your lips, another tear from your eyes. he sighs harshly, tugging your head back to look at him again, his mouth pulled into a straight line. "'m not gonna hurt you."
"i don't believe you," you rasp, eyes cutting back down to the abandoned chainsaw.
he just shrugs, effortlessly drawing your gaze back to him— to the outline of his arms under the ragged flannel he's wearing, the curve of the muscles, the black ink and dark hair that's poking out from his chest. "i don't think that matters."
your eyebrows pinch together in confusion as your eyes flick back up to his. "what do you mean?"
hums lowly, pensive before he speaks up. "doesn't matter if you believe me… cause you like it—” a large hand trails down your side, along your waist, “not knowin' if i'm gonna hurt you." you jolt when he gives your hip a tight squeeze.
"that's not true," you protest, swatting at him, but even you aren't fully convinced. your tone lacks conviction, your hit lacks strength, too light to even move his hand.
his thumb rubs along your waist as he steps closer, slotting a leg between yours. "you sure?" he breathes against your neck, tongue lolling out to lick a slow stripe up the side making you shudder. your hips buck forward involuntarily, a quiet gasp escaping you when you make contact with his thigh. he chuckles, pressing himself against you, relishing in the way you can't stop yourself from lightly grinding down on to him.
the hand on your waist tugs you down, guiding your hips, back and forth, languidly dragging your pelvis along his thigh. your hands fly to his biceps, gripping as your head falls into his chest. his free hand comes up to pat your head, "'s okay, bunny, you can admit it— that ya like this."
you shake your head, "n-no, i don't…" you mumble weakly.
without hesitation, the hand on your head moves to your nape, gathering your hair and yanking your head back harshly. a soft moan escapes you as you look back at the man though watery eyes. "don't lie," he spits, the grip in your hair becoming near painful, "pissed your fuckin' pants when ya saw me,” his gaze drifts down, a disgusted sneer on his lips, “and still here humping my leg like you're in heat— i know a needy slut when i see one."
your cheeks burn with embarrassment, hyper-aware of the way your saturated pants are clinging uncomfortably to your legs, urine no doubt seeping onto his jeans. his words sting more than the hand pulling your hair, more than the fingers digging into your waist, but it's addictive. something you didn't even know you wanted before. the shameful feeling that creeps into you, the humiliation, it fuels the aching sensation between your thighs, driving your actions as you grind down harder against him.
until he stops you. you whine quietly in protest when his hand presses your hips back, pinning you against the tree and holding you still. "uh-uh," he tuts, "say it."
you avert your eyes, hands moving to his chest, balling into fists as you hold onto his shirt. taking a deep breath, you push your pride aside before mumbling quickly, "i'm a needy slut…"
the man stills, mouth parting slightly as he looks down at you, a whisper of disbelief etched into his expression. but he recovers quickly, sharp teeth bared in a feral smile before erupting in maniacal laughter. you look up at him, perplexed at the sudden outburst, "huh?"
he's still huffing lightly when he speaks again. "just wanted ya to admit you like this, but you're fuckin' pathetic," he unfurls his hand from your hair, bringing it forward to stroke your face gently, a stark contrast to the crazed tone in his voice, the cruel words. "still, such an adorable little thing…" he pats your cheek, expression morphing into fake sympathy, "even if you have no self-respect."
your mouth falls open, you don’t even know why you’re shocked but you can’t help it. "i have self-resp— fuck-" you croak, cutting yourself off when he slides your pelvis down his thigh again.
"what was that?" he teases.
your hands close tighter around the fabric of his shirt as you bury your head into his chest again, hiding your face from his overwhelming gaze. he moves you the way he wants, rolling your hips at the pace he thinks you deserve, pulling each delicious, honeyed noise from your throat. he might be crazy, but the way you're clinging to him, panting against his skin, breathing in his scent as you rub your cunt against his leg— he might've met his match.
he lets you use him, loosening his grip as you take over. the seam of your pants catching on your clit with each grind, his muscles flexing rhythmically beneath you until you're panting against him. "sh-shit—" you breathe.
"feels good?" he asks, petting your head again. you nod under the weight of his hand and he hums with approval. "gonna cum for me?"
you pull back, looking at him as you shake your head again, whimpering louder, pressing your cunt down harder. the coil in your stomach winds tighter with each movement as your mind starts to cloud. you barely notice when the hand on your head pulls away, until it’s snapped to the side. the sound comes after, a resounding smack! followed last by a throbbing pain in your cheek.
"use your words," he barks at you, salty droplets pricking your eyes again. his cock twitches at the way you're staring at him, eyes red and watery, and yet your expression is still one of pure need, desperation. "oh bunny, don't cry…" he strokes the reddening skin with his thumb, frowning at you, "just need to hear that pretty voice."
"please," you choke out, sniffling, "i wanna cum."
"good girl," he grunts, both hands returning to your waist, gloved fingers digging into your flesh as he guides you again. he accelerates your pace, moving you faster than your tired legs could have on their own, pressing you harder than your weak body was. you're whining, head falling back against the tree as you let him take over, focusing on nothing but the pleasure building in your core.
it doesn't take much longer before a pornographic moan is ripped from you, mouth parted in a perfect 'o' as you shudder, his leg and hands the only things keeping you upright as you orgasm. "there you go," he groans, watching the way your chest is heaving, skin covered in a glistening sheen of sweat.
he removes his thigh, leaving you to stand on your own, admiring the way you slump against the tree, exhausted and unsteady. you watch through half-lidded eyes as he crouches at your feet, sliding off his gloves and then moving to the button on your pants, undoing it with ease before working on the zipper. he tugs the sopping fabric down your thighs, peeling it from your skin until it pools at your feet and he can tug it off, leaving you in just your soiled panties.
he smirks at the sight of them— a cute white pair, now stained yellow because of him. you try to hide, knees knocking together but calloused hands drift along your thighs, pulling them apart. they're cold, despite being in the gloves, and your skin is burning up beneath his touch. he wraps his arms around you, groping your ass as he pulls you closer to him.
he rests his head on the inside of your thigh, nose nudging against your panties, and he inhales deeply, eyes fluttering shut, groaning as he exhales. you blush, bringing your hands up to your face. "stop, that’s gross," you mumble.
but he does it again, eyes locked on you as he takes in your scent one more time, relishing in the way he can see the embarrassment in your face, even behind your hands. he loves the way your thighs still twitch, despite your words, the way you still let him do as he pleases. leaning forward, he presses a kiss to your clothed cunt, your hips bucking slightly into his touch.
a hand slides to your stomach, caressing your belly, "got any more in here?" he muses, pressing hard. you let out a squeak as he compresses your bladder, your pussy tingling in a way that makes you want to cross your legs.
"don't d-do that," you plead, every instinct in your body is fighting to keep it in but he's unrelenting.
he's applying pressure over, and over, until it leaks out. "knew it," he growls as another stream of urine dribbles through your underwear, down the insides of your thigh, just to be met with his waiting tongue, eagerly lapping at your skin like a dog. "messy bitch."
satisfied, the hand leaves your stomach, dipping lower as he drags two fingers over your pussy, rubbing you through your panties. your hands find his hair, threading through the pink strands as he grabs the elastic, pulling the ruined fabric taut. soaked and see-through from your piss and cum, it clings to your skin, giving him a perfect outline of your pussy lips.
"fuck," he groans, "look at you, bunny."
you giggle softly, his ears nearly perking up at the sound— to him, the only things sweeter are your cries and your moans. he's determined to draw all three from you again tonight. pulling the fabric aside he awes at the webs of slick connecting your panties to your folds, the translucent film making the skin glimmer. the same two fingers rub you again, gathering your arousal as they slide along your slit.
"please," you gasp when the rough pads of his fingers find your clit, caressing tight circles over the sensitive bud. you're bucking into his hand, the overstimulation building your pleasure again already. "please, god, fuck me—" you breathe quietly, almost ashamed by the bold statement, by the way you're pleading with a stranger for something like that.
and for the second time tonight, you're left speechless when his hand comes down swiftly against your supple skin, slapping you hard— this time right on your cunt. it's a loud, wet smack when his hand collides with your sopping pussy, the sound rivaling the whine that rolls off your tongue for how lewd it was.
"you're not in a position to make demands," he scolds, rubbing soothing circles on your throbbing clit.
"i-i wasn't— fuck!" you cry out, cut off by another firm slap to your pussy.
"you were," he barks at you. the sharp tone, the way his voice dropped, you're trembling again— his actions, the chainsaw beside him, all a reminder that you have no idea who you're dealing with. still, when he caresses your stinging, overstimulated clit again, all you can do is moan. "please, god," he imitates you, voice pitchy and insincere before it drops back to it's regular octave, "no one can hear you." he punctuates his sentence with another forceful smack! to your cunt.
"not your friends." smack!
"not god." smack!
"if you’re gonna beg someone then you beg me." smack!
nothing but small whimpers reach his ears during the assault on your poor, aching pussy. he pulls his hand away just to admire his work, drinking in the sight of your barely clothed cunt, all red and swollen, slick smeared between your folds, dripping onto the inside of your thighs. but you're still on your feet, and he thinks you deserve a reward for that, the thick pad of his thumb returning to your puffy clit, rubbing it gently. you let out a sigh of relief before you protest weakly, "…but i didn't know your name."
his eyes cut up to you, able to see the most adorable pout on your lips. maybe he was too hard on his bunny for her first time, he doesn't want to get carried away— not when you're being such a perfect toy for him. he'd hate to break you like the others.
"poor thing, i never told you, did i?" he breathes, his other hand squeezing your hip gently. "it's sukuna."
"sukuna…" you repeat, more to yourself than anything, rolling the name over your tongue, tasting it for yourself. you like the way it sounds coming from your lips, but sukuna— he's going insane.
cock painfully hard in his jeans, he was already fighting to restrain himself, the sight of you, the smell of you was almost too much— and now, with the way his name sounds in your voice— he's not able to wait any longer.
without warning he yanks your panties down your legs, tugging them off your feet in one quick motion.
"sukuna!" you gasp, startled by the unexpected action. a low groan reverberates in his chest as he plants another kiss to your cunt, his lips now directly on your labia, no thin barrier between your skin and his. your hands tighten in his hair, a response to his tongue lolling out, licking a long swipe up your slit, flicking at your clit.
the flavor of you on his tongue is something he won't forget, something he'll be craving when he's finished with you. it's obscene, addictive, the bittersweet palate as he licks up your cum, sweat, urine, everything— if it's you, he wants it, needs it.
you're rolling your hips against his face, the tip of his nose nudging against your swollen clit with each grind as he dips his tongue into your pussy. the slippery muscle slides inside easily, swirling, lapping at your walls.
"f-fuck, sukuna," you whine, trying to tug him even closer, like his face isn't already buried in your cunt.
he’s panting by the time he pulls back, nose, mouth, chin all shining with your arousal. "love the way you say my name," he growls, licking his lips, tasting you one more time as he stands. pupils blown wide, he reaches forward, one large hand wrapping around your throat as he tugs you to him. the kiss is hungry, overpowering, but you've already learned that's the kind of man sukuna is. he takes what he wants, chases pleasure, ecstasy, through whatever means necessary— and right now, that's you.
your hands slide to his chest, his own tightening around your neck. his lips swallow the pathetic, choked sound that falls from yours, his tongue slipping inside your mouth. you're pawing at him, fumbling with the buttons of his worn flannel, desperately trying to undo them. each undone button reveals more of his torso, riddled with raised scars and bold ink, your fingers dance over the ridges of his abdomen, the defined muscle that was barely hidden under the clothes. he's just so much bigger than you. taller, having to bend down just to kiss you, wider, his shoulders broad enough to block your view around him.
his fingers dig deeper into your neck, pinching off your windpipe, leaving you gasping into his mouth as he continues to devour you, tongue swiping along yours, teeth digging into your bottom lip. he groans loudly at the way you're clawing pitifully at his now bare chest, no doubt leaving scratches that he'll see tomorrow. you're red in the face, eyebrows knit and eyes pleading silently with him— but it's not until they're starting to roll back into your head that he lets go, letting you fall to your knees in the dirt.
you're coughing and sputtering at his feet, hand rubbing your bruised neck as you shake. you got too comfortable. lost yourself in the feeling of him, just to be reminded again tonight, of who's in charge, of how little you know about sukuna.
"get up," he commands. you shoot him a glare that you regret after, but you can't believe him. the same person who's the reason you're sitting atop dried leaves and twigs is telling you to stand now. his eyes narrow, chest rising and falling as he takes a deep breath before squatting next to you. you're averting your eyes, trying to hide the tears pooling in them again, but his hand comes to cup your chin, making you look at him. he frowns, hand moving to pet your head, "was i too rough, bunny?" his voice is deceptively sweet, feigned concern etched into his face like he didn't feel his cock twitch at the sight of those pretty, salty pearls falling from your eyes once more.
you nod, wiping your tears and snot with a sniffle as he holds his hand out to you, offering to help you up. there's a beat of hesitation as you stare at the outstretched limb before gingerly reaching for it, your hand dwarfed in his palm.
"so pretty when you cry," he hums, stroking your cheek gently. you lean into his touch, eyes sliding shut, finding solace in his touch, his words— the last places you should seek refuge. you don't see the Machiavellian grin splitting across his face as he speaks lowly into your ear, pulling you into his chest in an unassuming embrace. "want me to make you feel better? can make you feel real good."
"please…" you mumble against him, lips pressing to his skin. he lets you kiss him, hands and tongue roaming across his body, worshiping him with your touch. he lets your fingers drift to his waistband, dipping beneath the denim, tracing along the hem. you can feel the already hard bulge pressing against you, he's rutting into you as you work to get his pants off.
through his jeans you'd already suspected what awaited you— the monster he was hiding between each muscled thigh. still, you can't help the way your jaw falls slack when he's finally naked before you. you swallow loudly, looking up to him with a worried expression that makes him chuckle. "that's not going to fit," you blurt out.
it's heavy, the thick, veiny length resting in his hand as he strokes it slowly with your piss-soaked panties. the flushed tip is leaking precum onto the already damp fabric and he hums like he's mulling over your words, like he doesn't already know that— "it'll fit."
you gulp again, mumbling a quick 'okay,' not daring to go against him.
"arms around my neck," he commands, smirking when you comply immediately, "now jump." your tired legs give him a pitiful hop but he catches you, guiding your legs around his hips, holding you up with one arm while the other grips the base of his cock.
you're sandwiched between him and the tree, clinging to him tightly as he lines himself up with your dripping hole. he can hear the way your breath hitches in his ear when you feel the tip prodding at your entrance. he's guiding you down slowly, reveling in the way your little nails dig into his shoulders when the fat head finally pushes inside.
he's barely made it another inch and you're gasping, your walls being stretched out so deliciously, so painfully. "sukunaaa," you mewl, "told you it's not gonna fit."
rolling his eyes sukuna lands a hard slap to the fat of your ass. "and i told you it will," he spits back.
"n-no, i don't think i can— fuck!" you cry out sharply, biting down on his shoulder to muffle yourself. in one thrust he pushed himself inside you, inch after inch until he was buried to the hilt. he groans loudly at the way your cunt's spasming, clamping down around him so tight.
"see? that wasn't so bad was it?" sukuna grits out, seething through his teeth, trying not to cum right then and there with the way your walls are strangling his cock. he doesn't wait for whatever reply you have, already moving to lift you up again, your pussy practically pushing him back out as he slides you off of him slowly. he stills when he reaches the tip, leaving just the head inside before slamming you back down onto him.
"sukuna!" you scream into the crook of his neck, "shit—"
"thaaat's it," he groans, "knew you'd be perfect when i saw you."
the pace he sets is merciless. he's fucking you down onto him fast, your ass jiggling when it hits his pelvis, and he's deep, forcing himself as far as he can go, til the tip of his cock feels like it's kissing your cervix.
"o-ohmy— shit, f-fuck! sukuna, sukuna, sukuna—" you babble, a slew of curses spilling from you, his name on repeat like a mantra. you're grinding your hips, overexerting yourself just to try and meet his thrusts, trying to fuck yourself onto his cock as he drills up into you.
"fuckin' filthy mouth," he grunts, smacking your ass once more, "act all innocent but you're really a whore aren't ya?"
your hands tighten against him, you shake your head, face buried against his neck, "'m not," you whine.
"really? hngh— fuck, bunny," he moans, "cause you're fuckin' me like a whore."
his words sting, but they ring true— too cowardly that you barely survived a haunted house, and here you are, letting sukuna stretch you out, tummy bulging and juices leaking from your cunt onto his balls as he ruins you.
sukuna grabs one of your wrists, yanking your hand off of him before moving it to your stomach. he presses your palm down against it, right on the spot where you can see his cock buried deep inside your cunt. "feel that? such a little thing t-too— shit, takin' this cock like you were made for it."
"’s so big, kuna," you mewl.
"belong t'me now, gonna make it so no one's gonna touch this pussy again," he rambles, grunting and groaning as he goes on and on, "fuck, wanna lock you up n keep ya there. mine to fuck, to touch, only me—"
your shirt is torn, dirty from the tree, skin scraped and bleeding from the bark as he fucks you up against it. the scratches burn, but you're still holding on to him, like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. his words barely register in your head, mind clouded with pleasure as you keep pressing on your stomach, feeling your orgasm building for the second time tonight.
"yeah, you want that? wanna be my lil bunny forever?" his voice sounds muffled, your ears ringing and vision watery as you fight to focus on anything more than the way he's pounding into that sweet spot inside you over. and over. and over.
you let out a choked sob, a small mmhmm in response. you're not even sure when you started drooling, saliva dribbling out the corner of your mouth, mixing with the salty tears that already stained your skin. you're a mess, and he knows you don't know what you're really agreeing to— but that doesn't matter to someone like him. he can feel you throbbing around him, hear you mumbling and whining incoherently as your chest heaves harder and he knows you're close.
"gonna cum, pretty thing? make a mess all over my cock?"
"gonnacumkuna," you slur out, the first semi-comprehensible phrase in minutes.
"i know, bunny, go on— cum," he growls, landing one last smack to your ass, sending you over the edge.
your orgasm washes over you in a single wave, it threatens to drown you as your whole body shakes, sweating as you cry out sukuna’s name like a prayer. slick coats his cock, a creamy, white ring forming at the base as he keeps fucking you, unrelenting as you cum. the still woods around you are filled with a lewd squelching sound each time he re-enters your sweet pussy, the sharp slapping of skin on skin echoing through the dark expanse. his hands move to your ass, nails leaving red crescents in the flesh as you snivel and tremble with the aftershock of your release.
"fuuuck, squeezin' me so tight," he groans.
your eyes clamp shut, both hands now holding to his neck again as he ruts into you. your moans get louder, pitchier as he keeps pounding into you without restraint. there’s no consideration for the way your thighs are shaking, your poor overstimulated cunt aching as he continues to use you for his own pleasure.
"kuna, kuna c-can't," you sob, "s'too much."
"shhh," he coos, a hand coming up to stroke the back of your head, "doing so good f'me."
his praise makes your heart swell, a renewed confidence stirring inside you, desperate to please him. "'m trying, kuna— f-fuck," you cry.
"i know… that's a good girl," his voice is strained, "gonna fill you up n claim this pussy."
"please! please, cum in me. want it— need you."
"better not waste a drop, show me you mean it."
sukuna doesn't last much longer, not with the way you're pleading with him, begging for him to cum— a few more thrusts, a few more grunts and he's spilling his release inside your abused pussy. he holds your shaking body against his, one arm around your lower back the other locked around your neck, your face smushed into his chest. it’s too tight, muscles squeezing the air from your lungs as sticky, ropes of cum paint the gummy walls of your cunt.
a strangled cry of his name, the way your limbs go limp, they're the only things that pull him from his bliss as he's reminded that you're just that much weaker than he is. it's pathetic, really, but he likes you that way. he liked all his toys that way.
his cock is already softening inside you by the time he finally pulls out, and he grins with approval when only then does his seed start to leak from your sorry cunt. you're still holding to his arms, your scraped back slumped against the tree as you gasp for air, trying to balance on wobbly legs.
your thighs are sticky, strings of slick and sweat filling the space between them. sukuna runs a hand up the inside of one of your legs, wetting his fingers and bringing them to your mouth.
"open." you obey, tongue lolling out as he swipes the pads of his fingers along it, further and further until his knuckles hit your teeth and you gag around his digits. "suck."
he flashes you a wicked smile when he feels your cheeks hollow, your tongue swirling around the fingers, cleaning all the juices coating them.
"tastes good, huh? swear you got the sweetest pussy…" he trails off, lost in thought as he pulls his hand from your lips with a soft pop! he’s silent for a moment, smile fading quickly, eyes lidded. "get dressed. let's go." his tone is curt now. his emotions seem to be all over the place, and you aren't exactly sure what he means.
"go… where?" you ask meekly.
"you're coming with me. said i was gonna keep ya, remember?" he replies, voice laced with a condescending air.
"o-oh, no, i can't. my friends, they're waiting—"
"fuck it, fine!" he cuts you off, voice raising, making you shrink back. he stalks closer to you again, crowding you against the tree. when he speaks his voice is gruff, lowered once more, "if you can make it back to the house before i catch you… i'll let you go."
you don't waste another second, ducking around him you grab your pants— you already know you're not getting your panties back from him— it's a struggle to get them on, the fabric not completely dry yet. sukuna's form lurks in the corner of your vision, moving smoothly but swiftly, adorning his clothes once more. your heart jumps in your chest when you see he's already pulling the burlap sack over his head again while you're working to slip your shoes back on.
you take off as he’s reaching for the chainsaw, feet kicking up behind you. you're pretty sure you’re headed in the right direction, but even that isn’t certain, and you know in this moment you have to give yourself up to the hands of fate. the familiar rumble sounds from behind you, accompanied by a series of accelerating thumps against grass, and when the smell of burnt oil flows into your nose once more an irrepressible laugh escapes you.
you're really, truly not sure how things turned out the way they did, because you were on the verge of collapse when your feet hit the dirt of the parking lot. still, you didn't stop running until you were nearly colliding head-on with your friends.
you remember the looks on their faces as they took in the state of you. the frantic way they talked over one another, asking you if you were okay, where you'd been, why the hell your clothes were ruined and why you smelled like that. but you didn't tell them the truth. you didn't want to deal with the repercussions of that, so you told them a bullshit lie to get them off your back and let you go home.
you spent the whole next day laying in bed, replaying the events in your mind. your legs were jelly and your skin was littered with bruises and scratches, but they were the only proof you had of the night before, of sukuna himself, and you like knowing that it was real.
it's been weeks since you went to the haunted house. october is over, the spooky decorations are gone, replaced with christmas lights and tinsel, but it feels like time is moving forward without you. you’re being left behind, trapped with a feeling you can't shake— the same one you felt that night, that made your hair stand on end.
you stop by a news stand on the way to work, the same one you visit every morning in search of a flashy headline.
BODY FOUND IN WOODS
local college girl unearthed from a shallow grave…
…serial killer still on the loose.
without a word you take the paper, folding it up and putting it in your purse.