Thread by @orcinuska

[nsfw, horror au, non-con, fellatio, underaged]

#sukuita: yuuji grew up with a man in his bedroom.

he first spotted him when he was four. just like any sunshine toddler would, yuuji immediately viewed him as a friend ⎯⎯⎯an imaginary one, of course.

he would follow the lingering trails of a faint shadow around on stubby feet, his steps clumsily quick for someone his age. his mother used to ask him who he’s blabbering to, when the room is obviously empty, save for little yuuji.

with a wide, enthusiastic grin, he would chirp, “s’oonah!” his mother always dismisses it with a laugh of her own.

‘s’oonah’ was always a delight to be with, even if all yuuji did was chase his shadow, even if yuuji never got a glimpse of what ‘s’oonah’ actually looked like.

six when ‘s’oonah’ stopped visiting dear yuuji. eight when yuuji stumbled upon his very first explicit horror movie that traumatized him for years to come. ten when he spotted a familiar shadow lingering about in the bright walls of his living room.

eleven when he became paranoid of the sounds he heard when no one else would, of the stares he felt burning holes into him.

twelve when an unknown man resided in his closet.

when yuuji first noticed the doors of his closet slightly ajar, a set of blood irises arranged vertically staring at him through the gap, yuuji had run to his parents’ room, face wet with tears and sweat and snot.

as perplexed as they were, they allowed their son to sleep with them for that night. and the night after. and then the night after that.

thirteen when he stopped sleeping with his parents. fourteen when his parents sent him to therapy.

nothing works, and the man is always around. in the darkest corner of his room, under his bed, in his closet. always in the corner of his eyes ⎯⎯⎯he disappears when yuuji turns his head to catch a proper look.

it’s a common occurrence now, how yuuji cries himself to sleep while the shadowy figure stares at him from the corner of his room, how he wets his bed from fear due to a sudden caress of death-kissed knuckles (from under the bed) to his cheek.

he’s seventeen currently, and yuuji toes around the edge of sanity every now and then, ready to fall.

tonight is different. tonight, both the closet doors are opened wide, the monster gesturing for yuuji to approach. a sick invitation.

the youth stills, fear-stricken. he panics at the sight of the foreign hand, fingers ending with inhumanly long and sharp nails. perfect for gutting animals. for gutting /him/.

tentatively, yuuji steps towards his closet he has neglected for years, sweaty hands fisting the edge of his red hoodie. he stops a safe distance away from the outstretched hand, fearing for what’s about to happen.

his right wrist is seized all of a sudden, and he’s being hauled closer to death’s jaw. yuuji screams.

no one hears him. he’s alone in his home.

“p-please … i’m s-sorry …” he’s not sure what he’s apologizing for ⎯⎯⎯his scream, or to god, begging for mercy and to forgive him for his petty crimes in the past?

the hand releases its bruising grip on yuuji’s wrist to drag sharp nails against clothed abdomen languidly.

yuuji chances a peek into his closet, in hopes of catching a glimpse of a face. nothing. all he sees is an abyss, a never-ending darkness. he yelps in surprise when a nail gives his stomach a pointed prod.

“strip.”

it’s a voice yuuji has never heard before. its timbre low and gravelly, saturated heavily with the promise of nothing but death and decay. five years, and his first word is a command to see yuuji nude.

it’s sickening, it’s revolting ⎯⎯⎯yuuji dared not disobey.

and so, he strips. he strips with cheeks wet with tears, with strained hiccups punched out of him, with a body trembling in unadulterated fear. by the time he was bare, yuuji is outwardly sobbing.

the monster in his closet reaches out both his hands now, cold palms roving over soft skin and pliant flesh, long nails leaving red scratches behind. yuuji hears a growl from the darkness of his closet, and he sobs harder, line of vision blurring with tears.

large hands slide down his flanks, squeeze his ass, and drag black nails across lean thighs. yuuji squirms throughout the entire exchange.

he gasps when his prick is seized suddenly.

the hand starts to pump, and yuuji attempts to thrash out of the grip, until there is a threatening press of nails against his dick. the poor boy stills, helplessly accepting whatever is given to him.

there is a sudden wet lap to the underside of his cock; the action punching a confused moan out of yuuji. he slaps a hand against his mouth, horrified at the noise he made. even more horrified at himself for being aroused.

an amused chuckle sounded from the depths of the closet.

yuuji’s gaze drops to the hand on his cock. he chokes on a groan when he catches the sight of a /mouth/ on the palm.

“i’ve been watching you. watching you for years.” sensual licks soon transmutes into an overwhelming wet warmth around the entirety of his eager dick, and yuuji realizes he’s being given a blowjob. his very first blowjob and it’s by some unseeable horror.

“s-stop ⎯⎯⎯”

“you were always a tease; doll of a minx.” yuuji, in his lust-addled mind, could clearly make out the sneer in the monster’s voice. the tongue wraps obscenely around yuuj’s cock, before manifested lips give his reddened tip a mean suck. the boy moans.

“have always fantasized of violating you. but i have to wait for you to ripen.” sharp teeth grazes teasingly against the sensitive length, while the tongue laps and prods at his cock’s slit abusively, milking him dry and as if he’s trying to wriggle his tongue into his urethra.

yuuji’s entire figure is trembling like a leaf ⎯⎯⎯drool pooling out slacked mouth, eyes crossed.

“everyone knows, with patience comes the reward of the sweetest fruit.” it is when the mouth swallows him whole with his balls being tongued simultaneously did yuuji lose it.

he comes in ropes into the warm mouth of the hand with a cracked, high-pitched whine. the strong orgasm made him see white, and his knees buckled. clawed hands effortlessly catch him before he hits the ground.

yuuji pants against the support; before he knows it, he’s being reeled into the darkness of his closet. his protest comes in the form of a weak whimper.

“oh, my dearest little yuuji.” the youth can make out the outline of a grin, and the glint of sharp canines in the darkness.

“refer to me as sukuna; though, i /am/ better known as ‘s’oonah’ to you.”

the doors closes without a sound once yuuji is brought entirely into the closet.

⎯⎯⎯oruka.