Work Text:
As soon as you got home from work, you knew something was up.
It was eerily quiet. The tv wasn't on and the living room looked as if no one had touched it.
The house was often filled with some sort of noise and Sukuna always made sure that the tv was always on or he was gaming.
“Kuna, I'm home.”
Nothing.
“Sukuna?!”
Silence.
Maybe he wasn't home? But where would he go?
You checked the whole house and his car was still here, yet no sign of him. Perhaps he went to buy some beer?
You were about to head upstairs until you heard a knock at the door.
Your heart started to beat rapidly in your chest.
Who could that be? Was it Sukuna? No, he would've called you.
You hesitantly opened the door to see a white and black ghost shaped mask staring back at you.
“Er, hello?”
There was no response.
“Can I help you?”
The mask turned his head slowly, and in a raspy voice, he said, “you're so cute.” His voice was distorted by some kind of voice changer.
You scoff. “Thanks, but I have a boyfriend. Now, if you'll excuse me-” You try to close the door, but the masked person wedges their foot in between the door, preventing you from closing it.
“I just have one question.” He doesn't move his foot.
You sigh heavily. “What is it?”
“What's your favorite scary movie?” he asks.
You roll your eyes then put your finger on your chin and tilt your head up cutely while you ponder. “Saw.”
He finally removes his foot and steps away from the door.
“That's a good choice”, he says. "Mine too. I love seeing people cut up."
Creepy.
You give him a curt nod and go to shut the door, but before it completely closes, he sticks his head in and whispers, “I'll be seeing you real soon.”
The door slams on his head and he grunts. You hear a chuckle as he walks away and then the sound of his footsteps disappearing.
“What the fuck?”
You quickly lock the door and take off your shoes and jacket, running up the stairs.
“Sukuna!” you shout as you look for him. You check every room possible, making sure the doors and windows are locked, yet the house seems as empty as a church on a weekday.
You breathe steadily trying to calm yourself down. It was probably just one of the neighbors playing a prank. Sukuna should be home soon.
As if he could sense your weariness, your phone beeps with a text from Satoru Gojo.
Gojo: Woman, I'm at the store with this moron Gojo. He rushed me and I ended up forgetting my phone, so I'm borrowing his. Need anything? ~Sukuna
You: I just need you <3
Gojo: can you two not get all mushy on my phone... ~Toru
You shake your head, putting your phone away, and decide to make some popcorn and watch a movie while you wait for him to get home. The second you slide the bag into the microwave you hear another knock at the door that makes you freeze. The store was at least ten minutes away, so there's no way Sukuna could've gotten home so quickly...
You tiptoe to the front door, peeking through the peephole. Nothing. Maybe it was just the wind.
POP! A kernel from the microwave sounds off, jolting your attention back to the kitchen.
This is getting really annoying.
You plop back onto the couch, awaiting your buttery snack to finish it's creation. You surf through the Netflix screen until you find something you like. The screen blackens and the room is pitch black, silent for a while the movie starts, the only sound coming from the kitchen.
THUMP! You flinch once again, the sound catching you off guard. Okay, what the fuck is going on? It sounded like some thing or some one, had fallen upstairs.
POP! POP! POP! The popcorn cried out for you, signaling it's readiness. You hurriedly take it out and leave the bag on the stove. You quickly open the top kitchen drawer and grab a knife. If someone really is here, I'm going down fighting you think.
Your phone rings.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
It would be dumb to answer the call. It's so obvious, yet something in your brain compels you to do so.
"H-hello?"
"I told you I would be seeing you again."
"Who the fuck is this?"
"Come upstairs and find out." The call ends, and you're left confused with a heart beating so quickly, you can hear it. You pull up Gojo's contact and hit call.
"We're sorry. The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service."
You dial 911.
"We're sorry. The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service."
BEEP ! Incoming text.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Nice try, sweetie.
Fuck, fuck. FUCK! My phone service isn't working. You pace in the kitchen as your mind racks with a million thoughts. I can't call for help or Sukuna. I just might have to face this guy.
You're not going to go up there.
Don't.
It's so obviously a trap.
That's how every dumb bitch in every horror movie dies.
Yet, your feet have a mind of their own, and they softly take you up the stairs. You hold the knife pointed outward as you ascend the stairs to your shared bedroom. Worst case scenario, if that masked person really did break in, you can use those self-defense moves Sukuna taught you and restrain them until the police arrive.
Your heart beats rapidly with every step you take. An advantage you have that the ghost doesn't is you know this house like the back of your hand. There's a secret door in the back of your bedroom closet that also leads to the hallway. You drop to a crawl and quietly sneak through the secret passageway. The ghost will never see you coming.
As you finally reach the door leading to your closet you inaudibly open it, firmly grasping the knob, as to not let its click make any noise. After you go through, you come face to feet with shoes you don’t own. Shit.
CLAP CLAP CLAP. He’s clapping, he’s fucking clapping.
“Impressive,” he laughs with that distorted voice. “I knew you would try to go this way.”
“Don’t hesitate,” you hear Sukuna’s training voice in your mind. “ Strike first. Ask questions when they’re where you want them.”
You do a side kick, aiming for the ghost’s knee. He stumbles backward, out of your closet and you use your bought time to stand to your feet. You rise, kitchen knife in your right hand. You finally size him up and holy fuck, he’s so much bigger than you. He’s at least a whole foot taller. He stares at you, waiting for you to make your next move.
You blink back your thoughts. Focus. You rush at him, aiming to stab him in the shoulder. You swing downward, pump faking, as if you were going for his groin, then at the last second, change directions, slicing him in the shoulder. The slice cuts through the fabric, barely piercing his skin. The knife has the tiniest drop of blood on the tip.
Is this guy insane? You internally deliberate. He didn’t even attempt to move.
“W-why,” you stutter out. “Why didn’t you dodge!?”
He scoffs. “Why would I dodge a meaningless attack like that?” The ghost tilts his head, wagging two fingers at you. Asshole. “Come at me again.”
You don’t rush this time, but wait for an opening. The ghost waves at you, taunting, and that’s when you decide to slice again. When he looks like he’s vulnerable, you aim for his chest this time. You use your body weight to thrust forward and the knife looks like it’s going to connect. Until it doesn’t. The ghost grabs your weaponized arm, then uses his other hand to force you into an armbar. He hooks his left arm over your right one, shifting the weight. He twists your hand backward towards the ground until you’re forced to make a decision.
In this position, you have to either drop the knife or you’ll drop to the ground. Either way, you’re fucked.
You try to hold on, but he’s too strong. He slightly presses down on your hand and it’s enough to make you wince in pain. You let the knife slip out of your fingers and he finally lets go of your hand.
For only a second.
The next moment, he turns you and puts you in a headlock, his left arm under your neck and his right one above your head.
“I told you,” he laughs. “Meaningless.”
“My boyfriend– ” you gasp out. “Is going to kill you.”
“Oh, really?” He lets you go and claps dramatically. The power in your room seems to suddenly go out and you’re both enveloped in darkness. Just outside of your room window you notice flashing lights coming through the crack in the curtains. The ghost pulls them back only for you to see Sukuna to be tied to a chair with strobe lights behind him. Your heart drops to your stomach.
“Please don’t,” your voice is shaky and raspy. You drop to your knees, not sure if the ghost can even see you in this darkness. “Please, please , don’t hurt him.”
As if on cue to torture you further, outside the window Sukuna is stabbed right in front of you. Your eyes well with tears and your breath gets stuck in your throat. Subsequently, the outside lights disappear and you're wrapped in darkness again. The lights in your room seemingly come back on and the ghost is walking back into your room.
“Sorry about your boyfriend,” he laughs. “All those muscles didn't help much.”
“Fuck you!” you spit at him.
“Tch. Good idea.”
“What–” you're cut off by the ghost grabbing you and tossing you onto the bed like you weigh nothing. Your vision is still blurry from the tears that are now streaking down your face, but your legs still work. You kick and kick and kick at him, scratching and clawing into his arms, but to no avail, he tanks it and pushes forward. It isn’t until he straddles you and has your arms pinned above your head, that you start to accept your fate.
The ghost lifts his mask up, ever so slightly, only to bend down and lick your tears. You twist your head away.
“You’re sick,” you snap at him again.
“Your tears are making me so hard,” he admits. You internally wretch and avoid his gaze. Sukuna, I need you. Your thoughts go to the only thing that can ever ground you. Sukuna, please, save me. Although, it was pointless to think that after watching the horror show earlier.
He releases one of your hands, only to guide it to his hardening length under his black robes. He then glides his finger across your lips.
“Open,” he commands.
“Make me,” you refuse, defiance all over your face.
“That can be arranged,” he laughs. Not letting his hold on you go, he grabs the knife off the bedside table. When the hell did he put that there? Was it when the lights went out? The knife slides against your cheek, then tantalizingly slowly down your neck. It hovers above your chest before it’s digging into your shirt. He pulls the knife down, slicing your top in two. But he doesn't stop there. The knife continues its venture, cutting open your bra, then your skirt and panties open.
The ghost tightens his grip on your chin, tilting your head up as the knife drags down your stomach, cold and teasing against your heated skin. Your breath hitches when the tip circles around your navel before trailing lower, stopping just above your pelvis.
“You’re so tense,” he murmurs through the voice changer, pressing the flat of the blade against your hip. “Is that fear? Or something else?”
You bite the inside of your cheek, refusing to respond. His weight pins you down, his body heavy against yours as his free hand slides up your ribs, fingers skimming over the shredded fabric of your shirt.
“Still not talking?” he chuckles, shifting his hips just enough for you to feel the hard outline of his cock pressing against your thigh. “No protests? No begging? Maybe you want this.”
“Fuck you,” you hiss, struggling against his grip.
The ghost tuts, clicking his tongue. “We’ll get there.”
He sets the knife aside, leaving it close enough for you to see its gleaming edge from the corner of your eye. His newly freed hand replaces the cold metal with the warmth of his fingers, ghosting over the curve of your waist, then lower—gripping, teasing, exploring. His touch is rough, calloused palms scraping over your soft skin, but calculated, like he’s memorized every inch of you.
It’s terrifying how well he seems to know your body.
You swallow hard, clenching your fists as his hands travel lower.
“Oh?” he remarks as if he’s made some new discovery. “You’re wet.”
No. Impossible. You would never get wet for anyone aside from your boyfriend. Especially not this monster. He’s probably hideous under that mask.
He slaps you across the face, and you wince in pain. It stings, but you know that wasn’t at all his full strength. The ghost uses this opportunity to force his lips on yours, tilting his mask up once again. His kiss is hard, forceful, and his tongue slips through your parted lips, licking the roof.
You try to push him away with your free hand, but his hand finds its way to your throat, squeezing just hard enough to make it difficult for you to breathe. Your nails dig into his wrist, a futile attempt to make him let go.
He breaks the kiss, smirking. You can feel his breath against your lips, warm and shallow, and it makes your skin crawl.
“Now for the main event,” the ghost whispers. He reaches to remove his cloak, and as he pulls it off, his black undershirt rides up slightly, exposing a glimpse of inked skin beneath.
Your breath stutters.
Your eyes dart to his stomach, tracing the familiar dark lines curling over his abs, trailing up to his ribs–
Tattoos.
Your stomach flips, shock crashing into you like a wave.
No. No, it can’t be.
But as he finally pulls his shirt off completely, standing over you in nothing but those dark pants and that haunting mask, the truth slams into you.
The tattoos. The scars. The physique you’ve memorized with your hands and lips a hundred times over. Your eyes go wide with surprise.
Sukuna.
Your entire body tenses beneath him as the realization hits, and the ghost tilts his head, amused by your sudden change in expression.
“What’s the matter, y/n?” he questions, rubbing his erection through his pants. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost .”
He chuckles, and your blood runs cold. You remain silent, still processing everything you’ve just seen.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is still distorted, still playful, but now you can hear it, the underlying smugness that’s so unmistakably him.
You don't reply.
You can't.
You just stare at him, unable to form any coherent thought, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance.
Sukuna removes the rest of his clothes, keeping nothing but that forsaken ghostface mask on. He then climbs on top of you, straddling your waist and pinning your hands above your head once more. His cock brushes against your stomach as he leans over you, the tip slick and glistening, and you realize how wet you are.
This is fucked.
He takes a moment to appreciate the view, his eyes raking over your body, admiring his handiwork. The remains of your clothes are scattered across the bed, barely covering you. Your hair is a mess, sticking to the sides of your face and neck, and your lips are red and swollen from his rough kisses.
Fuck, he loves seeing you like this.
He takes his cock in his hand, giving it a few lazy strokes before rubbing the head along your slit. He teases you, dragging his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick.
With how wet you are, he doesn’t need any lube tonight.
Your breath catches in your throat as he nudges your entrance, the tip of his cock pressing against you. You squirm beneath him, trying to buck your hips away from him, but his weight pins you down, trapping you in place.
His grip on your wrists tightens, and his other hand finds its way to the knife. He raises the blade, pressing the cold metal against your throat.
"Don’t move."
You hold still, terrified of the blade.
Sukuna chuckles, and you shiver, the sound sending a chill down your spine.
He leans closer, the mask grazing your skin. “I'd hate to have to cut you.”
He presses the knife harder against your throat, enough to draw a thin line of blood. You wince, hissing through gritted teeth, and he laughs, a low, rumbling sound that reverberates through his chest.
“There's my girl.”
He eases his hold on your wrists, sliding his hand up your arm, over your shoulder, and to the base of your throat. His fingers wrap around your neck, applying gentle pressure as he guides himself inside.
His cock stretches you, filling you completely, and you cry out, arching your back.
Fuck, it hurts, but it hurts so good.
“So tight,” he groans, his voice muffled through the mask. “I'm gonna make you take it all, princess.”
Your breath comes in shallow gasps, the feeling of his cock filling you taking over your senses. You're so wet, yet his size makes you feel like you're going to rip.
His grip on your neck tightens, and he begins to thrust, fucking you with deep, deliberate strokes.
You cry out, tears streaming down your face, and he picks up the pace, the sound of his hips slapping against yours echoing throughout the room.
“So fucking good,” he growls, his voice strained. “You're such a good little slut for me.”
His words send a jolt of pleasure through you, and you bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan that's threatening to escape.
You hate how much you love this.
“Don't hold back,” he coos, his hand leaving your throat and finding its way to your clit. His fingers rub tight circles over your sensitive bud, and you let out a strangled moan, the pressure building inside you.
You can feel yourself getting close, your walls clenching around him, and his thrusts become erratic, losing their rhythm.
He leans down, his mask brushing against your cheek, and his voice is a low growl in your ear.
“I want you to come for me, princess.”
He presses the knife against your throat again, just enough to remind you of its presence, and that's all it takes to
You come hard, screaming his name, and he follows, emptying himself inside you with a grunt.
His cock pulses, filling you, and the sensation is almost enough to send you into another orgasm.
He pulls out of you slowly, a trail of his cum dripping down your thigh.
“Mm, perfect,” he sighs, running his fingers over your skin.
You lay still, trembling from the aftershocks, and he takes a moment to admire the sight before him. You're a complete mess, covered in sweat and his cum.
Your hair is tangled and your cheeks are stained with tears. Your lips are red and swollen, and the cuts on your throat are still bleeding, the crimson droplets streaking down your neck.
You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
“I could fuck you all day,” he hums, stroking his cock, already half hard again.
He slides his fingers over your slit, collecting his cum on his fingertips.
“And I will,” he purrs, bringing his hand to his lips. He licks his fingers clean, savoring the taste of you mixed with him.
“Mm, sweet” he moans.
You shiver, and he laughs, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.
“You did so good for me, princess.”
He pulls his mask off and his pink hair cascades down, framing his handsome features. He tosses the mask aside, revealing his signature fanged smile.
“How'd you like my little surprise?”
“S-sukuna…”
He smirks. “Yes, baby?”
“I hate you,” you whisper. “You really scared me”
“Keheheh.” He laughs, shaking his head. “No, you don't.”
He pulls you into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in the crook of your neck.
You can feel his breath against your skin, hot and heavy, and the sensation sends shivers down your spine.
“You did so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy.
“Kuna, please...,” you beg.
“Shh, I know, baby,” he says, brushing your hair back and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I'll take care of you.”
“Should I show you some mercy,” he questions, whispering into your ear. Mercy . The safeword you and Sukuna had agreed upon when you first started dating. You gently shake your head and he nods. If you really wanted this to be over, you could say "mercy" or "red" and everything would stop.
His hands move to the back of your neck, and he gently massages your muscles, his fingers working their magic.
“So tense,” he teases. “Let's fix that.”
You groan, closing your eyes and letting the sensation of his touch wash over you.
You can feel his cock pressing against your thigh, already hard again.
“Such a whore,” he hums, his fingers digging into your skin. “Always ready for my cock.”
You squirm, trying to break free of his grip, but he holds you tight, his grip unrelenting.
“I'm going to fuck you again, princess,” he promises, his voice husky with desire. “I'm going to fuck you until you're screaming my name, begging me to stop.”
"Kuna!"
His fingers grip the back of your neck as he pins you down, his body heavy on top of yours.
You can feel his cock pressing against your ass, and his fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place.
“That's right,” he growls, his lips brushing against your ear. “Scream for me, baby.”
He rubs the tip of his cock up and down your wet slit. The mixture of both of your fluids being the perfect lube. He edges the angry, reddened head against your lower entrance. Once, twice, three times before he finally slams his cock into your ass, filling you completely, and you cry out, his name a broken prayer on your lips.
“Fuck, y/n,” he moans, his voice strained. “So. Fucking. Tight.” He thrusts with each word.
“It– it hurts,” you whimper, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.
“Shh, I know, baby,” he soothes, his fingers tangling in your hair. He stops his movements in you, studying your face. “Just relax, let me take care of you.”
His grip on your neck loosens, his hand trailing down to your breast. He pinches your nipple, rolling the hardened nub between his fingers, and you moan, arching your back.
His lips brush against your cheek, feather-light kisses tracing along your jawline.
“That's it, baby,” he encourages, his voice husky with desire. “Just feel.”
He starts to move, pulling out slowly, then thrusting back in, burying himself deep inside you. You moan, your eyes rolling back, and he sets a slow, steady pace, his cock filling you completely with every stroke.
“Such a good little slut for me,” he coos, his fingers twisting in your hair. “Taking my cock like a champ.”
“K-kuna, please,” you gasp.
“Shh, I know,” he purrs, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “Let me make you feel good, baby.”
You nod, biting back a sob. He presses his lips to yours, swallowing your cries, and his hands find their way to your breasts, his fingers squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.
You can feel the pressure building inside you, your body humming with anticipation, and you reach for him, your fingers gripping his hair as he pounds into you.
“S-sukuna, I'm–” you can barely get the words out, the feeling of his cock stretching you sending waves of pleasure through you.
“I know, princess,” he groans, his voice a low growl.
With one of his hands, he starts to vigorously rub your clit while his cock still pounds into your ass.
The feeling of his fingers on your clit and his cock filling you is too much, and you scream out, your body trembling as you come undone.
“Sukuna!” you exclaim, your legs shaking.
“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic.
He leans down, his lips ghosting over yours, and he whispers, “Come for me, y/n.”
With those words, he sends you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you. You cry out, your nails digging into his back.
“Oh, f-fuck,” he moans, his cock throbbing as he comes, filling you with his hot release.
He collapses on top of you, his body spent, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone. The tips of his pink hair tickling your face.
“Fuck, baby,” he pants, his breath ragged. “That was incredible.”
“Yeah,” you sigh, your voice hoarse. “It was.”
You both lay there, catching your breath, and enjoying the afterglow of your orgasms.
After a few minutes, he slowly pulls out, and you whimper at the loss, his cum dripping out of your ass and onto the sheets.
“I'm still mad that you scared me,” you pout into his chest. “I really thought someone had hurt you.”
“Keheheh,” he gives you his infamous laugh as a response. “Sorry, princess. It was the only way.”
You look at him, confusion written on your face, urging him to explain.
“I had Yuji throw on my clothes and sit out there,” he explains. “The brat owed me a favor, and since we’re twins, it was the perfect opportunity to trick you.”
“But, the tattoos…” you tilt your head skeptically. “How did you guys?”
“Sharpie,” he simply responds. “That’s why Gojo and I were at the store.”
You think about the plan, how intricate and well executed it was. He must have had this planned for weeks.
It was so perfectly Sukuna.
You sigh. You can't stay mad at him. Besides, it was originally your idea for him to surprise you with your mask and CNC kink. You just never imagined it would happen at the same time.
“Next time,” you warn him, pointing a finger in his face. “I'll be the one surprising you.”
“Keheheh,” his signature laugh reverberates. “I'll be looking forward to it.”
He presses his lips to yours, his kiss gentle and tender. “I love you, y/n,” he whispers. “Happy Valentine's Day.”
"I love you too, Kuna," you murmur back, closing your eyes and letting sleep claim you.
Sukuna smiles, content with his work.
“Sweet dreams, baby,” he kisses the top of your head.
It was definitely the perfect Valentine's day.