He moved like he belonged here more than the ship itself. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features that seemed carved from something ancient rather than born. His skin was pale under the artificial lights, his hair a wild shock of pinkish that he kept slicked back loosely. Two arms, two eyes—one face. Human. Just like you. Yet something in the way he watched you made the hair on your arms rise. Maybe it was the way one half of his face took half a second to match it's other half.

You found him in the galley when you entered, leaning against the counter with that calm, almost lazy posture. One hand held a ration pack he wasn’t eating, the other resting at his side. He didn’t turn his head immediately, but you knew he was aware of you. He always was.

“Couldn’t sleep again?” His voice was smooth, laced with that strange amusement that never quite reached concern. He finally looked at you, eyes dark and unblinking. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, little one.”

You swallowed, forcing your voice steady. “Just... the ship sounds different tonight. Like something’s shifting in the walls.”

Sukuna’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Ships make noises. Metal contracts. Pipes breathe. Or maybe it’s just missing its crew.” He pushed off the counter and stepped closer, his presence filling the small space. “Or maybe it’s missing something else.”

You took a step back without thinking. He noticed, of course. His smile widened just a fraction, possessive in its gentleness.

“Come here,” he said softly, not quite a command but close enough that refusal felt dangerous. When you didn’t move, he closed the distance himself, one hand gently cupping the side of your face. His palm was warm—too warm for the chilled air of the ship. “You’re trembling. Fear suits you, but I prefer you breathing.”

The touch was meant to comfort. It always was. But there was something off about it, like his fingers lingered a second too long, mapping your skin as if claiming territory.

That night, the nightmares returned.

You jolted awake in your bunk, heart hammering against your ribs. The dream had been vivid: corridors slick with blood, thick and dark, pooling in the seams of the floor plates. Satoru Gojo’s voice—bright, teasing, impossible—screaming your name as something dragged him backward into the darkness. His white hair stained red. His bright eyes wide with terror before the scream cut off.

You sat up, gasping, the sheets tangled around your legs. The room was dark except for the faint emergency strip lighting along the baseboards. And there he was.

Sukuna sat in the chair beside your bunk, legs crossed, watching you with that calm, amused expression. He hadn’t been there when you fell asleep. You were sure of it.

“Bad dream?” he asked, voice low and even. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. One hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your sweat-damp forehead. “You were calling for Gojo again. Poor thing. He’s safe back on Earth, remember? Mission logs say he made it to the escape pod in time.”

His thumb traced your cheekbone, gentle, almost tender. But his eyes—those dark, knowing eyes—held a spark of something that made your stomach twist. Amusement. Like your fear was a private joke between you two.

“I... I saw blood,” you whispered, hating how small your voice sounded. “Everywhere. And Satoru was screaming.”

“Shh.” Sukuna shifted closer, the chair creaking faintly under his weight. He pulled you against his chest with surprising ease, one arm wrapping around your shoulders while the other hand stroked your back in slow circles. The embrace felt secure, solid. Human. Yet the way his fingers pressed just a little too firmly into your spine sent a shiver down your back. “It’s only a dream. The ship is playing tricks on your mind. Isolation does that. But I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You let yourself lean into him because there was no one else. His scent was faint—something metallic mixed with the sterile air of the ship. His heartbeat was steady against your ear. Too steady. Like it had never known panic.

The next day, the lights began to flicker.

It started in the observation deck. You were checking the star charts—pointless, since navigation was offline—when the overhead panels stuttered. For a split second, the room plunged into blackness. In that darkness, you heard it: a soft, wet sound, like bare feet on damp metal, coming from the corridor behind you.

When the lights returned, Sukuna was standing at the threshold, arms crossed, watching you with mild curiosity.

“Jumpy today,” he observed. “The generators are old. They hiccup sometimes.”

You nodded, but your eyes darted to the floor. No footprints. No wetness. Just the endless gray of the ship’s plating.

Supplies started disappearing after that.

Small things at first. A protein bar from your locker. Then an entire med-kit from the infirmary. You confronted Sukuna in the engine room, where he was tinkering with a panel that didn’t need fixing.

“Have you been taking the rations?” you asked, trying to keep accusation out of your voice.

He turned, wiping his hands on a rag. One face, two eyes, calm as ever. “Why would I need to? We have enough for two.” His head tilted slightly. “Unless you think someone else is onboard.”

The implication hung in the air. You laughed nervously. “No. Of course not. It’s just... strange.”

“Strange,” he echoed, amused. He stepped closer, backing you against the console without touching you. “Like the way you wake up every night covered in sweat? Or the footsteps you hear when you’re alone?”

You froze. You hadn’t told him about the footsteps.

He comforted you again that night.

The nightmare was worse. Blood flooded the halls, thick enough to lap at your ankles. Satoru’s scream echoed endlessly, his body twisting in ways human bodies shouldn’t. You woke screaming, and Sukuna was already there, sliding into the bunk beside you as if he’d been waiting for the exact moment.

“Easy,” he murmured, pulling you flush against him. Two arms—strong, unyielding—wrapped around you. One hand cradled the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. The other rested low on your back, pressing you closer. “It’s over. Just a dream. Gojo is safe. Earth is safe. Only us here.”

His breath was warm against your temple. Too warm. His body heat seeped into you, chasing away the chill, but the comfort felt laced with possession. Like he was absorbing your fear, savoring it. When you tried to pull away, his grip tightened—just enough to remind you he could keep you there if he wanted.

“You’re mine to protect,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “No one else left to do it.”

The ship’s noises grew bolder.

In the dead of the ship’s artificial night cycle, you heard scraping from the lower decks. Metal on metal, then a low, guttural sound that might have been a voice or just expanding bulkheads. The flickering lights became more frequent, entire sections of the ship plunging into darkness for minutes at a time. Once, while walking the central corridor, the lights died completely. You stood frozen, breath shallow, listening to the darkness breathe around you.

Something brushed your ankle—cold, slick, gone before you could scream.

When the lights snapped back on, Sukuna was behind you. Close enough that you felt his chest against your back.

“Lost?” he asked softly, voice laced with that perpetual amusement. His hand settled on your shoulder, turning you to face him. “You shouldn’t wander alone.”

“I thought I felt—” You stopped, shaking your head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

His smile was small, knowing. “Of course you are. Come. I’ll walk with you.”

He did. Always. Everywhere you turned, he was there. In the mess hall when you went for water. Leaning in the doorway of the observation deck while you stared at the void outside. Sitting at the foot of your bunk when nightmares tore you awake, ready with those wrong, soothing touches.

Days blurred. Or were they weeks? Time lost meaning without the sun.

You started checking the airlocks obsessively. All sealed. The escape pods—untouched, their logs showing no activity since the incident that scattered the crew. Satoru had made it out. The logs confirmed it. You had seen the pod jettison with your own eyes before the systems failed.

So why did the nightmares show him dying here?

One cycle, you found the hydroponics bay door ajar. Inside, several nutrient trays were overturned, their contents scattered as if clawed through. No one had been in here. You hadn’t. Sukuna claimed he hadn’t either.

“Rats, maybe,” he suggested when you showed him, shrugging with casual ease. He crouched beside the mess, one finger tracing a gouge in the soil. “Or the ship settling. Metal fatigue.”

But his eyes lingered on the damage a moment too long, and that faint smile played at his lips again.

That night’s nightmare was the clearest yet.

You were running through blood-slick halls. The walls pulsed like living tissue. Satoru’s voice cracked over the intercom: “It’s in the walls—get out, it’s—” Then wet tearing sounds. You woke with a sob, and Sukuna was already holding you, his body a solid anchor in the dark.

“Shh, little one,” he cooed, rocking you gently. His hand stroked your hair while the other pressed against your racing heart. “Just dreams. Gojo’s voice is gone. He’s home. Safe. Warm. Not like us out here in the cold dark.”

His lips brushed your forehead. The kiss was soft, almost loving. But his teeth grazed your skin for the briefest second—too sharp, too deliberate—before he pulled back.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured. “Let me warm you.”

He stayed with you until you fell back asleep, his presence a heavy blanket. Possessive. Calm. Amused by every flinch.

The dread built slowly, like pressure in a sealed chamber.

You began avoiding certain sections of the ship. The lower cargo hold, where the scraping sounds originated. The auxiliary medical bay, where supplies kept vanishing. Once, while passing the sealed observation lounge, you swore you heard humming—a low, melodic tune that sounded nothing like the ship’s systems.

Sukuna found you there, of course. He always did.

“Curious?” he asked, stepping up beside you. His shoulder brushed yours. “Nothing in there but old star maps and empty chairs.”

You nodded, but your eyes stayed on the door. “Have you been... using the other decks?”

His chuckle was soft, vibrating through his chest. “Why would I need to? Everything I want is right here.” His hand found yours, fingers intertwining with a grip that felt final. “With you.”

The flickering lights continued. Sometimes they revealed nothing. Sometimes they left shadows that lingered too long in the corners of your vision—shapes that were almost human but stretched wrong.

Missing supplies multiplied. Your personal log tablet vanished from your quarters. When you asked Sukuna, he simply tilted his head.

“Perhaps you misplaced it. Stress does funny things to memory.”

But you remembered placing it on the shelf. You always did.

The nightmares evolved. Now they included glimpses of him—Sukuna standing in the blood, watching with that same calm amusement while Satoru screamed. In one, Sukuna turned to you and smiled, whispering, “Only us now.”

You woke screaming his name.

He was there instantly, pulling you into his lap on the bunk. Two arms encircled you completely, one hand tilting your chin up so you met his eyes.

“Calling for me even in sleep,” he said, voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “Good. That’s good.” His thumb traced your lower lip. “I’m not going anywhere. Unlike the others.”

The comfort was suffocating now. His body heat enveloped you, but beneath it lurked something colder. His heartbeat—still too steady—seemed to sync with the ship’s hum.

You started sleeping with the lights on. It didn’t help.

The ship felt alive in the worst way. Doors that should have been locked hissed open when you passed. Sections you hadn’t visited in days showed signs of recent use: faint handprints on consoles, condensation on pipes as if someone had breathed there recently. Once, in the central hub, you found a trail of faint red smears leading toward the sealed lower decks. You told yourself it was rust. Old coolant leak. Anything but blood.

Sukuna watched your growing paranoia with open delight now, though he masked it as concern.

“You’re unraveling beautifully,” he said one evening in the observation deck, standing behind you as you stared into the endless black. His hands rested on your shoulders, thumbs pressing lightly into the tense muscles. “Fear makes you sharper."

You shivered under his touch. “I’m not afraid of the ship.”

“No?” His breath ghosted your neck. “Then what scares you, little one?”

You didn’t answer.

The end came quietly.

You were walking the upper corridor toward your quarters when you noticed it: the maintenance door at the far end, the one leading to the sealed auxiliary systems. It had always been locked tight since the incident. Now, a thin line of darkness showed beneath it—ajar, just a crack.

Your steps slowed. The ship’s hum seemed louder here, almost expectant.

You approached, heart pounding. The door was heavy, reinforced. No reason for it to be open. No one had the access codes except...

You crouched, peering at the gap. Something dark and crusted stained the floor just inside, visible only because the emergency light above flickered weakly.

Dried blood.

Thick, flaked edges where it had pooled and dried against the seal. It wasn’t fresh, but it wasn’t old enough to be from the initial chaos. The pattern suggested it had seeped under the door from the other side—plenty of it, enough to have come from something large. Or someone.

Your breath caught. Behind you, the corridor lights dimmed, then steadied.

You didn’t need to turn around to know he was there.

Sukuna’s voice came soft, right at your ear, calm and laced with that endless amusement.

“Found something interesting?”

His hand settled on your waist, possessive and unyielding. Two arms. One face. Two eyes that you knew would be watching you with dark, knowing delight when you finally looked.

The ship hummed on, indifferent. The blood beneath the door waited in silence.

And Sukuna—everywhere, always—smiled.

The dread had been building for what felt like an eternity, but in that moment, staring at the dried blood, you realized the nightmares had never been just dreams. The ship wasn’t haunted by ghosts.

It was haunted by him.

And he was never going to let you leave alive.

The dried blood stared back at you from beneath the maintenance door.

Your pulse hammered in your ears, louder than the ship’s endless hum. You straightened slowly, Sukuna’s hand still heavy on your waist. His touch felt heavier now, like an anchor dragging you under.

“Found something interesting?” he repeated, voice velvet-soft against your ear.

You turned. His face was calm, almost gentle. One side of his mouth curved up a fraction slower than the other. “It’s nothing,” you whispered, forcing the words out. “Just rust. Old leak.”

His thumb stroked your hip once, possessive. “Good girl. Always so quick to rationalize.” Then he smiled wider, and for a heartbeat the expression stretched too far, splitting his lips in a way that showed too many teeth. The moment passed. He was normal again. Human. “Come. You need rest.”

He guided you back to your quarters with one arm around your shoulders, the other hand resting lightly at the small of your back. The walk felt endless. Every flicker of the corridor lights made your skin crawl.

That night the nightmare swallowed you whole.

You woke gasping, sheets soaked with sweat. Sukuna was already in the bunk with you, body pressed flush against yours from behind. Two strong arms caged you in. His breath was hot on the nape of your neck.

“Shh. Just a dream,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin. One hand slid under your shirt, palm flat against your stomach, warm and steady. “I’ve got you.”

You tried to pull away. His grip tightened instantly, fingers digging in just enough to bruise. “Don’t,” he said, voice still soft but edged with warning. “You’ll only make it worse.”

The next cycle, the visions started while you were awake.

You were in the observation deck, staring into the black void, when the room fractured.

For a split second the stars vanished. Instead you saw the central corridor slick with blood. A crew member—Kento?—being dragged backward by something pale and many-limbed, his screams cutting through dead comms that should have been silent. The image flashed and was gone. Your knees buckled.

Sukuna caught you before you hit the floor. He pulled you against his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head. “Easy, little one. The isolation is eating at you.” His voice was tender. He pressed a kiss to your temple.

Then his eyes changed. The irises bled from dark brown to something redder, deeper, like fresh meat. They snapped back to normal so fast you almost doubted it. Almost.

“You’re shaking again,” he cooed, affectionate, stroking your hair. “Fear looks so pretty on you.”

Later, in the galley, you heard voices through the comms panel that had been dead for weeks.

“—help—something in the walls—Sukuna—”

The transmission cut with a wet crunch.

You dropped the ration bar you were holding. It clattered loudly.

Sukuna was across the room in an instant, moving too smoothly, too fast for the cramped space. He cupped your face with both hands, thumbs pressing under your eyes to wipe away tears you hadn’t realized were falling. “There, there. Hallucinations now? Poor thing. You’re breaking so beautifully.”

His smile widened again, unnaturally. The corners of his mouth pulled back farther than human anatomy allowed, revealing sharp canines that hadn’t been there yesterday. Then the expression softened into something almost loving. He leaned in and kissed your forehead, gentle as a lover.

But when he pulled back, his tongue darted out to taste the salt of your fear-sweat from his own lips. The hunger in that small motion was unmistakable.

He grew crueler as the cycles blurred.

One moment he would hold you in the bunk, murmuring soothing nonsense while his hands roamed your body with possessive affection, fingers tracing your ribs like he was memorizing every tremble. The next, he would pin you against a bulkhead without warning, grip bruising, voice dropping into something guttural.

“You think you can hide from me?” he’d growl, eyes flashing that unnatural red. “Everything you feel is mine. Every scream, every tear—mine to savor.”

Then, as quickly as the monster surfaced, he’d soften. Pull you close. Stroke your hair and whisper, “I’m all you have left. Don’t fight it.”

Your memories fractured further.

In one vision you saw Satoru clearly—bright blue eyes wide with terror as Sukuna’s form loomed over him, no longer pretending to be human. Multiple arms, mouth splitting open too wide, teeth sinking into flesh while Satoru screamed your name. Blood sprayed across the console. You remembered the wet sounds, the way Sukuna had looked straight at you while feeding, eyes glowing with ecstasy.

The memory lasted three heartbeats before it slipped away like smoke. You were left shaking, convinced it was another nightmare.

But Sukuna noticed. Of course he did.

He cornered you in the engine room, body blocking the only exit. “You’re remembering,” he said, voice deceptively calm. One hand tilted your chin up. The other—when had he grown a second set of arms?—rested against the wall beside your head. No. That couldn’t be right. He only had two.

Yet the pressure on both sides of you felt real.

“Stop fighting it,” he murmured, leaning close enough that his breath ghosted your lips. Affectionate again. “It tastes better when you accept it.”

His tongue traced your lower lip, slow and deliberate. Then he bit down, just hard enough to draw blood. The pain was sharp. He licked it away with obvious relish, eyes half-lidded in pleasure.

“You’re delicious when you’re terrified.”

The ship’s lights flickered more violently now. Entire sections plunged into darkness for long minutes. In those blackouts you heard dragging sounds, wet and heavy, accompanied by distant screams that echoed through the vents.

You stopped sleeping. You barely ate. Every time you closed your eyes the visions came faster.

Crew members being torn apart in flashes: limbs wrenched from sockets, bodies dragged through corridors leaving red trails. Voices crackling over dead comms begging for help that would never come.

And always Sukuna at the center of it, watching you with that amused, hungry smile.

He no longer pretended to eat the rations. No longer pretended to be like you. You caught him once in the dim galley, staring at a protein pack with open disgust before tossing it aside. “Human food,” he muttered. “So bland. Your suffering is far sweeter.”

When he noticed you watching, the monstrous expression melted into tenderness. He crossed the room and pulled you into his arms, nuzzling your neck. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m only trying to keep you safe.”

His body felt wrong against yours—too hot in places, too hard in others, bones shifting subtly under the skin like they weren’t fixed in place.

You decided you had to know.

While Sukuna was “tinkering” in the engine room (he never actually fixed anything), you slipped away. Your hands shook as you overrode the lock on the lower auxiliary section—the one with the dried blood trail. The panel sparked once, then hissed open.

The smell hit you first. Copper and rot, thick enough to choke on.

You stepped inside, emergency lights sputtering to life.

Remains.

Not bodies—remains. Scraps of uniforms torn and blood-soaked. A single white-haired scalp tangled in a ventilation grate. Broken glasses lenses scattered like shattered stars. Bones, some cracked open and sucked clean. A ribcage picked nearly bare.

Your stomach heaved.

In the center of the carnage sat a small data pad—your missing log tablet. The screen glowed faintly. On it, a looping security feed played silently: Satoru being devoured alive while you watched, screaming, until Sukuna turned toward the camera and smiled directly at you.

The memory slammed back full force.

He had eaten Gojo right in front of you. You had seen every tearing bite, every spray of blood. Then Sukuna had touched your forehead, and the memory had dissolved like sugar in water. He’d made you forget. Made you believe the pilot was safe on Earth.

A low chuckle echoed behind you.

You spun around.

Sukuna stood in the doorway, filling the frame. His smile was too wide now, splitting his face from ear to ear, revealing rows of sharp teeth. Four arms flexed at his sides, skin rippling as if something moved beneath it. His eyes glowed a deep, satisfied red.

“Naughty little thing,” he purred, voice layered with something inhuman. “Breaking into places you shouldn’t. Did you enjoy the truth?”

He took one step forward. The lights flickered and died completely.

In the sudden darkness you heard his footsteps—wet, deliberate, wrong.

And his voice, soft and affectionate once more, drifting through the black:

“Come here, little one. Let me comfort you.”

The door hissed shut behind you with a final, metallic groan. Your legs gave out first. Knees slammed into the blood-crusted floor, palms slapping wetly against cold metal still sticky with what remained of your crew. The data pad’s looping feed kept playing in your peripheral vision—Satoru’s bright eyes going dull as Sukuna’s jaws unhinged wider than any human mouth should, teeth sinking into throat while you screamed and screamed and—

Memory crashed over you like vacuum breaching hull.

Sukuna had killed them all.

Suguru first, in the cargo bay, calm and composed even as extra limbs erupted from Sukuna’s back and tore him open from sternum to pelvis. You remembered the wet rip. Then Kento, methodical even in death, trying to shield you before Sukuna’s claws punched through his chest and lifted him like a rag. Shoko—God, Shoko—had tried to kill herself before he could do it, cigarettes still between her fingers as Sukuna ate her hands first, savoring the way she was fighting against his hunger. And finally Satoru. Right in front of you on the bridge. Sukuna had made you watch every second. The most famous astronaut reduced to screaming meat.

And you—Sukuna had pressed two fingers to your forehead afterward, something ancient and wrong crawling behind your eyes, and every memory dissolved into soft, comforting lies. Gojo made it to the escape pod. The crew was simply gone. Only the two of you left in the dark.

He had kept you alive on purpose. A little terrarium of suffering. Fresh fear, day after day, seasoned with isolation and false comfort.

Your stomach heaved. Bile burned your throat but nothing came up—you hadn’t eaten real food in days. The remains around you mocked every ration pack he’d pretended to share.

A low, amused chuckle rolled through the chamber, layered like multiple voices speaking at once.

“There you are,” Sukuna said from the doorway. “Finally remembering. Took you long enough, little morsel.”

You looked up.

The lights in the auxiliary section died completely. Then the emergency reds kicked in, bathing everything in blood-colored strobe. Alarms began to wail—sharp, stuttering, as if the ship itself was screaming. Gravity fluctuated wildly; your body lurched sideways, boots scraping for purchase as artificial weight yanked you left then right. Pipes groaned overhead. Something in the walls shifted with a wet, organic sound.

Sukuna stepped forward.

His human shape fractured.

Skin split along seams that had never existed, peeling back like wet paper to reveal something ancient and wrong beneath. Four arms became six, then eight—long, sinewy limbs tipped with black claws that dripped viscous fluid. His torso elongated, ribs flaring outward like the petals of a carnivorous flower. The face you knew split vertically down the middle; the left half grinned while the right opened into a second, larger maw lined with rows of needle teeth. Eyes multiplied—four, glowing the deep red of old blood and fresh meat. His hair writhed like living tendrils. The pink strands thickened, sharpened.

He was massive now, filling the doorway, ancient hunger radiating off him in waves that made your skull throb. He was no human. He was something that had drifted between stars for eons, wearing human shapes the way others wore coats. Feeding on pain the way humans needed oxygen.

“You kept me fed so well,” the creature purred, voices overlapping—some soft and affectionate, others guttural and wet. One clawed hand reached out, almost tender, while another flexed with clear impatience. “All those pretty tears. All those little screams when you thought it was just nightmares. Delicious.”

You scrambled backward on all fours, palms sliding through dried blood and bone fragments. Your heart slammed against your ribs so hard it hurt. “Stay away—”

The ship answered before he could. A fresh alarm blared. Red lights pulsed faster. Gravity failed entirely for three terrifying seconds; you floated upward, weightless, while loose debris and scraps of crew uniforms drifted around you like macabre snow. Then gravity slammed back on at double strength. Your body crashed to the deck. Pain flared in your shoulder.

Sukuna laughed—deep, rumbling, vibrating through the floor plates.

You ran.

The chase began the moment your boots found traction.

You bolted through the open door into the main corridor. Behind you, metal screamed as Sukuna tore after you, claws gouging deep furrows in the plating. His bulk should have slowed him in the narrow passages, but he moved wrong—limbs folding and unfolding, body compressing like liquid when needed, expanding when the space allowed. Every footfall shook the ship.

“Run, little one,” he called, voice echoing from every vent at once. “It makes the fear richer.”

Red emergency lights strobed, turning the corridor into a nightmarish tunnel. Doors that should have opened automatically slammed shut instead, locks engaging with hydraulic hisses. You skidded around a corner, shoulder slamming into a bulkhead as gravity flickered again—your feet left the floor, body tumbling sideways into a wall that suddenly felt like the ceiling. Pain exploded in your ribs. You pushed off, gasping, and kept moving.

Hallucinations bled in at the edges of your vision. Or maybe they weren’t hallucinations anymore.

Suguru’s severed arm dragged itself across the floor ahead of you, fingers twitching. Shoko’s voice crackled over dead speakers: “Run… it’s still hungry…” Kento’s glasses lay shattered in a pool of fresh blood that definitely hadn’t been there seconds ago. And Satoru—bright blue eyes floating in the darkness, mouth open in a silent scream before dissolving into red mist.

You sobbed once, raw and broken, but didn’t stop.

Behind you, Sukuna’s laughter rolled closer. “Yes. Cry for them. Let me taste it all.”

A maintenance hatch loomed ahead. You slammed your palm against the override. Sparks flew. The hatch popped open with a groan. You dove through, landing hard on the grated catwalk of the lower engineering deck. The drop was farther than you expected—gravity shifted mid-fall, stretching the distance. Your ankle twisted on impact. Sharp pain lanced up your leg.

You limped forward, breath ragged. Pipes overhead burst in sequence, spraying coolant that turned to icy mist in the failing atmosphere. Alarms wailed louder, overlapping into a cacophony that drilled into your skull.

Sukuna’s form poured through the hatch behind you like smoke given claws. One massive arm lashed out, claws raking the wall where your head had been a heartbeat earlier. Metal curled like paper. “You can’t hide forever,” he growled, the affectionate tone gone now, replaced by raw hunger. “This ship is me. Every corridor. Every shadow. I’ve been inside it—and you've been inside me—for weeks.”

You ducked under a sagging conduit, heart hammering. Another vision slammed into you: Satoru’s final moments in crystal clarity. Sukuna’s stomach mouth descending while Satoru tried one last kick that landed uselessly against alien flesh. The way Sukuna had looked at you over Satoru’s dying body and whispered, “Your turn soon, but not yet. You’re too sweet to finish quickly.”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and useless. You hated how right he was. The fear tasted like copper on your tongue.

The ship fought you too. Doors sealed shut as you approached. One refused to budge even when you pounded on the panel. Behind it you heard wet chewing sounds. You veered left down a side passage, boots slipping on fresh slickness—blood or coolant, you couldn’t tell. Gravity cut out again. You floated helplessly for agonizing seconds before gravity returned with brutal force. You slammed onto the deck, air driven from your lungs. Coughing, you pushed up and ran again, limping worse now.

The observation deck. If you could reach the emergency override there, maybe—

Sukuna anticipated it.

He dropped from the ceiling ahead of you, limbs splayed like a spider, body blocking the junction. His four eyes glowed in the red strobe. The central maw opened wide, revealing rows of teeth and a tongue that split into three writhing appendages. “End of the line, little one.”

You skidded to a halt, chest heaving. No way forward. The side passages had sealed while you weren’t looking. Behind you, the corridor lights died one by one, narrowing your world to the pulsing red circle around the monster that wore Sukuna’s face.

He advanced slowly now, savoring. One clawed hand reached out almost gently, while two others flexed with clear intent. “You fought so well. Made it so much better.”

You backed up until your spine hit cold metal. Nowhere left.

He was on you in an instant.

Massive hands—too many—pinned your wrists above your head with bruising force. Another set of limbs ripped at your suit, tearing fabric and seals with casual strength. The air was freezing against suddenly bare skin. His body pressed in, hot and wrong, exoskeleton plates shifting against your flesh. His mouth hovered inches from your face, breath reeking of blood and something metallic.

“Please—” the word tore out broken.

“Begging already?” he chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours. One clawed finger traced down your sternum, leaving a thin red line that welled blood. “Good. I like when you beg.”

He took you there against the wall, brutal and relentless.

No preparation. No mercy. His cocks—thick, ridged, far too large and textured with pulsing veins that moved independently—forced its way inside you in one savage thrust. Pain exploded white-hot through your core. You screamed, body arching uselessly against the unyielding grip. He groaned in pure ecstasy, the sound layered and hungry, feeding visibly on your agony as your walls clenched around the invasion.

“So tight,” he growled, hips snapping forward again, driving deeper. “Your suffering is the best part. Feel it all for me.”

Every thrust was punishing, ridges catching and dragging inside you, tearing soft tissue. Blood slicked the way, making each movement wetter, louder. One of the smaller mouths on his palms latched onto your breast, teeth sinking in just enough to draw more blood while a tongue lapped at the wound. Another hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing rhythmically in time with his thrusts—not enough to kill, just enough to make breathing a desperate struggle.

You sobbed openly now, tears streaming, body shaking with each brutal invasion. The ship’s alarms wailed in counterpoint to your cries. Gravity flickered again, making his weight shift impossibly, driving him even deeper at strange angles.

He ate while he fucked you.

A smaller mouth of his lower left hand opened and bit into the meat of your shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh with casual hunger. The pain was blinding. You felt teeth grind against bone before he swallowed, eyes fluttering in bliss. “Delicious,” he murmured against your ear, voice almost tender again. “Your terror seasons the meat perfectly.”

Another bite—lower this time, into the soft flesh above your hip. Blood poured down your side, hot and sticky. He lapped at it even as he continued pounding into you, hips never slowing. The mix of violation and consumption pushed you past screaming into raw, animal whimpers.

Your vision tunneled. Pain and fear blurred into one endless wave he drank down greedily.

When he finally came, it was with a guttural roar that shook the corridor. Something hot and thick flooded you—too much, burning—and you felt his body pulse, feeding on the final peak of your suffering.

Then he stopped.

The monstrous form hovered over your broken body. You lay crumpled against the wall, bleeding from multiple bites, core aching and torn, vision fading in and out. Consciousness slipped.

But Sukuna wasn’t finished.

One clawed hand pressed to your forehead—the same gesture he’d used before. Energy, wrong and ancient, flooded into you. Wounds began to knit closed, not fully, but enough. The worst tears inside you sealed just enough to stop fatal bleeding. Flesh regrew over the bites on your shoulder and hip, leaving raw, angry scars and phantom pain. Your breathing steadied against your will. The darkness receded.

He healed you just enough to keep you alive.

Just enough to feel everything again.

His true form began to fold back inward, shrinking, compressing into the familiar human shape with two arms and one face. But the eyes stayed wrong—still too many, still glowing faintly red. He gathered your limp, blood-smeared body into his arms almost gently, cradling you against his chest as if you were something precious.

“There, there,” he whispered, voice soft and affectionate once more, lips brushing your sweat-damp forehead. “Not yet. You’re far too entertaining to finish so quickly. We have weeks left in this ship. Maybe months if I ration you carefully.”

He carried you back through the failing corridors, past the sealed doors and flickering red lights, past the remains you would never unsee. Your head lolled against his shoulder. Every breath hurt. Every memory burned.

The ship’s alarms slowly quieted, returning to the low, constant hum.

Sukuna smiled down at you, tender and monstrous all at once.

“Rest now, little one. When you wake, we’ll start again. And this time, you’ll remember everything.”

The darkness took you, but not fully. Not enough to escape.

“Oh shit! You’re real!” Lucifer took a step back, “Sorry about that! Not used to an … actual person.” He gave a little bow, “Forgive me?”

The fact is no one wanted to go to hell for desk duty, so the job was actually a punishment reserved for the most misbehaved. You had to intentionally set fire to Sera’s robes to get that severe of a scolding. She was reluctant, but it had been threatened (promised) to you last time you (intentionally) caused trouble. Rumors were abuzz about Lucifer, and you just had to see for yourself what the Great Big Boss of Hell was like.

Rosey cheeks, bright sharp smile. He didn’t look as scary as you had imagined. You expected a seven foot eight inch tall behemoth with fire pouring from his mouth and blood stained horns.

The devil, the real one, looked quite sweet.

A tiny existential crisis washed over you. Maybe there was a reason they didn’t want people down here. Why they made it sound oh-so-terrible.

“You still in there?” He leaned over the counter, tapping at your forehead. Your hands flew up, capturing his finger and bringing it down.

Warm. 

He froze, a little shocked you would touch him. Your smile went crooked, cheeks blushed. 

“Uhhh you good?” He pointed with his free hand to where you still gripped his finger. You nodded, a hum of confirmation. The blush rose up until you were fully red in the face.

The realization struck Lucifer like heavenly lightning, “Oooh, I see what’s going on here.” A wicked smirk taking you by surprise. “Did you want to meet me, little one?”

You broke out into a sweat, “Yes.”

Lie! Why didn’t you lie?!

He leaned over the counter, “Did you do something bad to get sent here?” Was there fire behind his eyes?

Uneven breaths, “… yes.”

Lucifer’s knee came up and over as he crawled onto the desk, “Should the King of Hell reward you for such bad deeds?” His eyes had gone red now, your hand still on his finger.

Your knees began to shake, “Y-yes.”

His face was inches from yours when your legs gave out, both of you falling to the floor.

Horns tall, yellow pupils dilated as he straddled you. “I think you’ll find I’m a generous ruler.”

It made sense. As Lucifer bent you over the reception desk and fucked you from behind, you could completely understand why they made this job posting sound horrid. Heaven would be empty if every winner could freely interact with Lucifer. You’d damn humanity too, if that was the cost. His hips snapped against your ass with divine determination, sweet praises on his forked tongue. 

The sounds of your gasps and his skin on yours echoed through the pristine white and gold halls. Like a pastor giving his sermon, he made the most delicious promises as you bent at the altar. 

Could heaven hear you? Your chants of “God, Oh God,” shifting to, “Lucifer! Luci—fer”, when one of his hands came down, fingers stroking your heat?

“What do you pray for, my curious Angel?” He growled, a flame you couldn’t see licking past his lips. “I’ll grant you anything”

Your cheek was sliding across the marble, small line of drool smearing on your face. Claws raked down your back, the stimulation making you shake.

Your fingers reached for his thighs, failing to take purchase. Lucifer took both of your wrists in one hand and held them at the small of your back for leverage. Your legs bent up, toes curling as you came around his sweetly punishing cock.

Taking a few deep breaths, you rolled your hips back against him, “More.”

Lucifer laughed and lifted one foot onto the desk to add more force behind his thrusts, “Say please.”

am I too horny? No. No, the cardiologist is wrong.

╭──────༺♡̶༻──────╮ Masterlist ╰──────༺♡̶༻──────╯

Honestly, you really could not believe you dated this dunce. You remembered the break up like a trauma. Staring at his popcorn ceiling as he told you he simply couldn’t get past the fact you didn't want to sleep with him. He didn’t want to be with a prude. At the time, it crushed you. But now, as you sat at your desk, pouring red ink over every love letter he ever sent you, you couldn’t help but feel thankful you didn’t lose your virginity to him.

“What are you doing?” Your roommate asked as she walked into your shared dorm.

“Grading my ex’s love letters.” You said without looking away from your task. The awkward beat of silence that followed proved that she was not expecting that answer.

“Why?” She asked. You simply shrugged. To grieve, you guessed? 

“I felt the overwhelming need to correct his grammar.” You could hear her ask why again before she asked it. “I plan on sending them back.”

“You really need to get laid.” Your roommate laughed.

“He hasn’t gotten higher than a d on any of these.” You muttered, “A d Mei.”

“You need some D” Mei chuckled, going and sitting on her bed. “I could get you laid ya know.”

“I don't want to get laid.” You reminded her. That wasn’t quite true. You did want to get laid, you just wanted to do it on your own terms and you didn’t think that was a lot to ask for!

“Well do you wanna come to a party with me tonight?” Mei asked with a smug smirk. “Alpha Beta Omega house is hosting a party tonight, you should come! ABO has all the hottest guys ya know.” You did know, and while the thought was rather enticing, you were never really big on partying. You came to college to get your degree for fucks sake!

“I don’t know Mei,” you sighed, “I hate parties…”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun!” Mei tried to sell it. “Please! Don’t let me go alone, that would be a dick move, ya know?” She pouted, giving you the puppy dog eyes that roped you into every party you had been to since starting school. You sighed in irritation, knowing it was useless to keep fighting.

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

♥️♥️♥️

Ryomen had no fucking idea what he was thinking when he signed up for an 8 am class, but if he could kick his past self’s ass, he would. He didn’t think he had been on time for this class even once. He tried everything to wake himself up. Putting his phone on the other side of the room, sleeping with the curtains open, drinking vodka instead of whiskey, all of it was about as effective as putting dry socks on a drowning man. 

He walked into class already twenty minutes late. He felt all eyes fall on him, which was fair considering he had interrupted the lecture. He ignored it though, confidently and nonchalantly walking to the nearest empty chair. A chair that just so happened to be next to you. 

You felt your heart do level 11 gymnastics in your chest as the Ryomen Sukuna sat next to you. You hated how attracted you were to him. He was everything your parents had ever forbid you from going near. 6 '4 and nothing but a wall of muscle, you couldn’t help but feel like his face full of sharp tattoos just emphasized how soft his puppy-dog-eyes were. It made you want to run your fingers through his soft pink hair. 

Suddenly, your keyboard had become the most interesting thing in the world. Your eyes burned holes into your computer as you prayed that Ryomen wouldn’t look at you, or worse talk to you. You found him attractive, yea, but you also knew he was bad news. He was a member of the ABO fraternity and was known for being a womanizing piece of shit who often defaulted to calling you “woman” when he forgot your name. The man was a walking talking red flag factory and to desire him was to desire madness and hurt. You should want nothing to do with him.

And yet.

“Hey, do you have the notes?” Ryomen asked, looking at you from the corners of his eyes and ho-ly shit. Fuck whatever the fuck the professor was going on about, you now had his full attention. He fully turned to you, taking you all in. If Ryomen had to describe his dream woman, he would simply pull up a picture of you. A reluctant innocence clung to you, begging him to find the delinquent underneath it all. He didn’t know what he was thinking, signing up for an 8 am class, but he would kiss his past self if he could.

“Yea, for sure.” You muttered, biting your lip as you pulled up your email. He showed you his laptop so you could get his email straight from the source, and thanks to technology, he had the notes in seconds.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” He smiled, showing his unusually sharp canines. You thought that you were done with this interaction, thankfully, but then he kept going. “So, are you going to the ABO party tonight?”  He asked. 

“I don’t know,” You shrugged, “Parties aren’t really my thing.” Of course, you probably spent most of your life sheltered, too scared to disappoint your parents to ever rebel. Ryomen wanted your rebellion more than he wanted to pass his finals. 

“You should go,” Ryomen whispered, “I bet you’d be really popular.”

“Yea, and by that you mean men would be drooling over how bad they want to fuck me, right?” You scoffed, forgetting yourself. He did in fact mean that by the way, but this response from you is not what he expected. You kept him on his toes. You intrigued him. “Now, just why do you think I’d want that?” You asked.

“So you’re worried about creepy dudes?” Ryomen asked, raising an eyebrow. “Alright then, Come with me then. Be my date.” He smiled that fang filled smile that was quickly burning its way into your heart.

“No.” You said plainly.

“Oh come on,” he damn near begged, “You get to go and have fun without the fear of creeps, because I’ll be protecting you, and I get to show up with a beautiful woman on my arm, it’s a win-win!” You weren’t sure when it happened, but class had ended and others were leaving.

“And just how do you plan to protect me from creepy guys when you are the creepy guy?” You challenged.

“By out creeping them.” Okay, even you had to admit that was funny. Ryomens smile widened as he realized he had gotten you to laugh. He won. 

“Ryomen, let’s go!” Someone called for him. Ryomen looked to the door and found his friends standing there waiting for him, Geto looking particularly annoyed. “We’re going to be late for class.” Geto said, annoyance dripping from him. 

He quickly scribbled down his number into his notebook, ripping the page and putting it on your computer. “Just think about it and call me, yea? I’m excited to take you.” He winked as he rushed to join his friends. 

You stared at the number for a few seconds after he left. You felt like the number was taunting you, yes, but also enticing you. It showed you a night of fun, excited passion that you had never experienced before but so desperately missed. It showed you a taste of freedom and rebellion. Doing something bad, knowing it was bad, and doing it anyway because it was so intoxicating. It showed you everything you wanted and more. 

You threw it in the trash on your way out the door.

♥️♥️♥️

You sighed as you stared at yourself in the mirror. The white tennis skirt Mei Mei had picked out was far shorter than you wanted, and the pink sweater was far tighter. You tried to put on a pair of stockings to compensate for the shortness of the skirt, but, all they did was accentuate your legs. You couldn’t believe Mei had convinced you to go to this stupid party. 

I mean, you could. It wasn’t hard, she offered to do your calculus homework for a week, you would have killed your mother to get out of having to do calculus for a week. But when you agreed to let her pick out the outfit, you had never expected—or prepared—to wear something so….

Sexy. That's the word you had been looking for, you looked sexy. You had never really dressed up before, sweatpants and t-shirts were typically your uniform. You were surprised at the way your body worked for you when you let it.

“Are you ready yet?!” Mei asked 

“Yea, I’m coming.” You said, finally pulling yourself away from the mirror and joining Mei by the door. She gave you another once over, smiling in satisfaction as she did. The outfit she’d picked out had really come together. 

“You look good,” She nodded. 

“Thanks,” You shrugged, trying to hide your slight embarrassment. You weren’t used to compliments. Mei nodded one last time before ushering you out the door. 

“Hey, Mei?” You asked as the two of you started the walk to the ABO Frat house. 

“What’s up Y/n?” She asked.

“You’re not going to leave me alone, right? Like, we’re actually gonna hang out and protect each other tonight?” Mei gave you the warmest, most reassuring smile you had ever seen.

“Of course Y/n. I won’t leave your side for even a second.”

♥️♥️♥️

You regretted every decision you had ever made in your life that led to you coming to this party. The music was way too loud, the drinks were way too strong (thanks Nanami), and the people were way too obnoxious. Mei had abandoned you almost the moment the two of you had walked in the door, making you realize you really needed to get better friends. It wouldn’t have been that bad, except some asshole that smelled like corpse had decided, against your will, he was taking you home tonight.

He wouldn’t leave you alone. You’d tried everything, complete disinterest, telling him you had a boyfriend, hell even telling him you were gay! Nothing would deter him. You even tried to go to the bathroom to try and lose him and he just fucking waited for you outside the bathroom door. This Mahito motherfucker was really starting to freak you out.

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” The ragdoll yelled in your ear, sending a fog of rotten breath over your face. You didn’t hide the disgust you felt as you looked for an out— any—to get out of this situation. 

“What do you say you and I get outta here?” He asked. As he did, he put a singular hand on your waist. The moment he did, your head filled with sirens and screaming, every true crime podcast you had ever heard, willingly or not, replayed through your head and you were never more sure that this man had women tied up in his basement. Your adrenaline spiked as you looked for any way to get him to properly fuck off.

Ah-ha!

“Babe!” You yelled, all smiles and cheer as you ripped yourself away from Mahito and ran to Ryomen. Mahito followed, like the idiot he was, but this time you somehow knew you’d be fine. Ryomen looked confused at first, then noticed the corpse walking with you and it all clicked. He smiled back at you, more warmly than you ever expected, 

“Hey! Babygirl!” He called out, holding out his arm so you could bury yourself into his side. The girl he was talking to was very very confused, but decided to remove herself from the situation before she got caught up in any drama. Shout out to her.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, where’ve you been?” He asked, leaning down and kissing your forehead to really sell it. You considered slapping him, but, figured that would break the illusion, so you settled for giggling instead. 

“I’ve been trying to get rid of this creep.” You said, your eyes darting from Mahito to Ryomen in a very Help Me way. Ryomen looked at Mahito and all of the warmth instantly left him. It sent chills up your spine to watch him go from joking smiles to cold stares. The light left his eyes as they narrowed and you were sure his features somehow got sharper. Or maybe that was the tattoos.

“Have you been fucking with my girl?” he asked. The emphasis he put on “mine” sent chills of a different kind through you. Oh, you liked that. You really liked that. You pressed your thighs together to try and take your mind off the feelings between them, and took a drink of your vodka redbull to try and cool down. It didn’t work. 

“Well, I- I mean, I-” 

“I-I-I.” Sukuna mocked, “You didn’t have any trouble talking to my girlfriend all night, why’re you having trouble now?” Danger radiated off of Sukuna like a match in a room full of methane, waiting to be lit. It was the kind of danger that drew you in, no matter how much you resisted. It felt inevitable. “Come on man, if you’re going to be a fucking creep you might as well say it with your chest.”

“I’m not a creep!” Mahito tried to argue.

“That's not what she said,” Ryomen said, holding you just a little bit tighter, sending sparks throughout your body again. “So what, you’re calling her a liar?”

“Well, no, I-”

“You say I alot.” Sukuna said, taking a sip of his drink to really show off his disinterest. “You know what I think?” He asked. “I think that you should get the fuck out and go the fuck home before I rip your larynx out of you via your asshole.” He threatened. It was such a ridiculous tough guy line that normally you would have laughed, but, somehow he sold it hook, line, and sinker. You could see that fact alone in the now bleached white face of Mahito. 

Sukuna looked into his cup, determining he was going to need a refill. “You have exactly 45 seconds to leave before I turn you into pie filling.” He said without looking at the smaller man. He finished his drink and looked back at him. “45, 44, 39-”

The count down did its job wonderfully. Mahitos ass was kicked into high gear. You could see in his eyes he was hearing the same sirens you were earlier as he ran to find the front door, desperate to get as far away from the monster that was holding you as soon as possible. You, on the other hand, were feeling the exact opposite effect. You wanted to be even closer to him than ever.

“So, why didn’t you call me?” Ryomen asked, looking down at you. Somehow, all the ice in his eyes had defrosted, leaving him with his warm puppy dog ones. You realized that you were in danger rather quickly and detangled yourself from his arm. 

“Oh, because I threw it away.” You smiled. The liquor you had been drinking was officially flowing through your veins, and quite frankly, you didn’t really care about decorum. Ryomen blinked at you, fully processing what you said.

“Why?” He asked. 

“Because, while you may not be a creep, Ryomen, you’re still a womanizing fuck boy that never had any real intention of starting a relationship with me. Am I right?” You asked, batting your pretty eyelashes at him. Ryomen couldn’t help but smirk. Damn, you really had him pegged, didn’t you? He was growing fonder and fonder of you by the minute. 

“You’re right.” He admitted, taking a step closer to you, “But, I gotta say, I respect you having the balls to say it to my face. Makes me think you might actually be worth getting to know.” Which was the closest Ryomen could ever get to saying ‘I find you at least intriguing and would actually be interested in a relationship.’ You just smirked at him and hummed. 

“But are you worth getting to know?” You asked. Before he could answer, Mei had suddenly returned from the astral plane, you fucking guessed. Of course she would be nowhere to be found when you needed her, but show up to ruin things right as they get interesting. 

“Y/n!” She laughed as she came downstairs, “We’re playing seven minutes in heaven upstairs, you gotta come play!” She said, giggling as she grabbed your arm.

“I can think of nothing more opposed to my soul.” You said plainly, taking your arm back. “Getting sweaty in a dark closet with a stranger? Sounds like hell.”

“Sounds pretty fun to me.” Ryomen said. It was a dangerous gamble, but if the cards were on his side he could just end up being the stranger getting sweaty with you in a dark closet. 

“You would, mega creep.” You scoffed, semi-jokingly.

“Come on Y/n, what's the worst that happens? You end up making awkward chit chat for seven minutes in a closet? Come on!” Mei groaned.

“If they make you uncomfortable, yell herpes and I’ll come kill them for you.” Sukuna offered. “Your safe word is herpes?” You questioned. 

“Can you think of anything that kills the mood faster than the thought of herpes?” Ryomen asked. Alright, fair enough Ryomen. 

“Come on Y/n, please come play? It’ll be fun!” Mei begged. You sighed, wondering when you planned to stop making bad decisions tonight.

“Okay, fine. I’ll play.” You groaned while both of your companions cheered. In a flurry, you were being whisked away up the stairs, both of them trying to get you in the game before you had a chance to back out. You were reminded once again that you hated college parties, walking into a smoke filled dorm room lit by led lights and adorned with a weed pride flag. 

“Love that you can tell what part of this room was decorated by Gojo and what was decorated by Geto.” Mei laughed as she led you to a group of young adults sitting in a circle. 

“Overhead lights are the devil!” Gojo yelled, throwing a chip into his mouth. A not at all shocking amount of people in the group of (Probably neurodiverse) stoners agreed with him in hums and cheers. You sat down next to him, Mei sitting on the other side of you and Ryomen  taking a free spot in the circle somewhere across from you. 

“Who’s in the closet now?” Sukuna asked. As if summoned by his question, Nanami and Shoko walked out of the closet, both of them on their phones. 

“Geto’s turn.” Shoko said. Mei scoffed at them both.

“Weren't you making drinks, Nanami?” Mei asked as Geto spun the bottle.

“I was..” Nanami assured her, “I got bored.” The bottle landed on Gojo, and everyone let out childish woos and whistles. Geto and Gojo both grinned like fools as they rushed to the closet, the two of them always excited to feel each other up. Honestly their participation in this game took you a bit by surprise. What if one member of the couple didn’t get the other?

“God they need to just get together already.” Ryomen muttered, rolling his eyes. What?! They weren't together?! Before you could express your shock, a very loud, very breathy moan left the closet door, filling you with second hand embarrassment for the two. The rest of the crowd ate that shit up though, shouting encouragement and wolf whistling. Even Ryomen was laughing with the crowd when he caught your eyes.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “What? Voyeurism not your thing?”

You looked at him in annoyance. “Why would it be anyone's thing?”

He shrugged in response. “Performance is performance. People will do anything for attention.”

You raised an eyebrow at him now. “Would you do anything for attention?”

He smirked at you. “I’d do anything for your attention.”

Your silent conversation was interrupted by another loud moan, this time courtesy of Geto, and the crowd went wild again, shouting vulgarities at them. You began to wonder if this was typical of them, or if they were— as Ryomen suggested— putting on a performance. You got your answer as the timer rang, marking their seven minutes as up. They exited the closet with a flourish, bowing for the crowd and showing off their messed up clothes and hair. Was this the appeal of seven minutes in heaven? You didn’t understand party games.

“Alright Ryo, your go.” Ghetto laughed, giving fistbumps and highfives while he sat down. Ryomen rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that, Gene Simmons” He growled at him, before giving you one last look and spinning the bottle. You were mildly curious to see where the bottle would land, already feeling bad for whatever poor schmuck that got locked in a closet with him. 

And then the bottle landed on you. Cheers and hollars surrounded and pounded in your ears. Your body was in super-hyper-defense mode which…was really just an oncoming panic attack. Of all the people you imagined being shoved in a closet with, Ryomen Sukuna had never crossed your mind. You were going to be in a small, confined space with him, all alone, where you’re literally expected to at least make out. You were electrified back to life as a hand fell in front of your face.

You looked up and saw the hand was attached to the grinning face of Ryomen, fireworks exploding behind his eyes. “You coming baby girl?” He asked with a wink. You didn’t have to. You could have turned tail and run away, out of the party and back to your dorm. That was actually what you probably should do, it was the safe option! The one that would make your mother proud. 

You took his hand, sending the crowd into yet another tizzy. But this time, you heard none of it, your mind focused entirely on Ryomen. He squeezed your hand reassuringly as he led you to the closet and smiled almost comfortingly. You didn’t know his smile could be comforting, thanks to the fangs, but it was. All of it felt very…off, coming from Ryomen, probably the least comforting person at your school.

He pulled you into the closet, pulling you close to his chest as he pulled the door closed. A lot of pulling was going on. You braced yourself for war, for him to kiss you. You closed your eyes tight, feeling your entire body tense but…nothing came. He didn’t kiss you. In fact, he let go of you. You opened your eyes just to see him leaning against the wall of the closet, staring at you with his hands in his pockets.

“You…didn’t kiss me?” You questioned, just for him to raise an eyebrow in confusion.

“No? You didn’t want me to.” You weren’t sure why, but that assertion upset you. How dare he claim to know what you wanted?! You didn’t even know what you wanted!

“You don’t know that.” you scoffed, causing him to laugh.

“Oh please,” He shriveled into what (You hoped) as an overly dramatized rendition of your body language from seconds before, “Doesn’t necessarily scream ‘Kiss Me’.” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. You crossed your arms, but, you knew he was right.

“It’s just…I’ve never done this before.” You tried to explain. 

“You’ve never been kissed?” He seemed genuinely shocked.

“No, dipshit, I’ve kissed people before! I’ve just never played seven minutes in heaven.”

“Oh, yea I could kinda tell,” He admitted with a shrug, “You scream sheltered kid. I bet even now, as a grown ass adult you’re still too scared to rebel against mommy.” The way he said “mommy” struck you. It was soaked in condescension and mockery. You hated that he was right. You hated that despite the fact you were fully grown getting a college degree, you still heard your mothers voice in the back of your head every time you wanted to do something even a little bit rebellious. You were willing to bet no one else had that! You bet Ryomen didn’t have that.

“I am not!” you lied to him.

“Oh yea?” He challenged.

“Yea!” You asserted.

“Then prove it. Kiss me.” he said. Ryomens eyes burned into yours as he stepped forward, slowly closing the already small gap between you. His presence was intense and all consuming and hot. You could feel him burning you away from the inside out, as if he was a raging inferno and you were just a piece of tissue paper caught in his wake. He had a smirk that just screamed I know I just won and it drove you crazy because he was right! He was either right or he got the kiss you knew he’d been chasing all night. Well fuck it. There was only one way for you to win here too.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Ryomen didn’t skip a beat, pulling you even closer to him and pushing you against the wall, the soft thud sending the drunken crowd outside the door into hysterics. Your fingers tangled in his hair and his hands slid up your shirt to grab your bare skin. He bit your lip, making you gasp and giving him room to deepen the kiss.

Your head was spinning with excitement and panic, your breathing becoming harsher by the minute as he moved to kiss your neck. Your ex had never kissed you like this before. So desperate to have you, as if you were the most desirable being on the planet. It excited you, electrocuting your nervous system with every touch, pull, or bite. Despite your better judgment, a moan escaped you, sending the drunken crowd outside the closet into another bout of hysterics.

Your body reacted to him in ways that it had reacted to nobody else before, you needed him. He grabbed one of your thighs and rested it on his hip, his hand sliding under the hem of your skirt.

“Ryomen..” You moaned out, soft enough not to feed the masses.

“Say it again.” He purred.

“Ryomen.”

“That's seven!” Gojo called, pounding on the closet door, startling both you and Ryomen. He pulled away just in time for Gojo to pull the door open, a smug smirk plastered on his face. “You two love birds have fun?” He teased. Sukuna rolled his eyes, his annoyance with being interrupted evident.

“Not as much fun as you and your boy toy.” He scoffed, grabbing your hand and pulling you from the closet. The crowd of drunken young adults had grown, meaning the crowd of people wolf whistling and cheering (jeering?) had grown. Embarrassment exploded from your chest. What the hell were you thinking?! Kissing Ryomen?! You silently scolded yourself.

You didn’t even fully process that he had dragged you from the dormroom until you were in a new one, this one seemingly vacuumed sealed away from the party. The art on the wall queued you into the fact that this was probably the room Ryomen and Nanami shared. 

“Ryo?” You asked as he pulled you into the room and locked the door behind him.

“Nicknames now huh?” He chuckled, “That's cute.”

He locked the door. He locked the door. You may have been a sheltered kid, but you weren’t dumb. You knew what a locked door met at a frat party. The realization sparked your nervous system into high gear and you felt the need to press your thighs together again.

“I’ve never done this before.” You told him quickly.

“What, sex on a first date?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your waist again. You’d…hardly call this a fucking date, but that was an issue for later.

“No, sex.” You told him. He actually backed away.

“Really?” He asked, more shocked than you would have liked. “Hey, look we don’t have to-”

“I know we don’t.” You cut him off. “I want to.” He smirked almost proudly as he closed the gap between the two of you once again.

“I knew I liked you.” He purred. Before you had a chance to ask what that meant, his lips had crashed into yours, pulling you into another heated kiss. It was like the two of you physically couldn't get enough of each other, like you’d simply stop breathing if you weren’t kissing. It sent your head into a heated flurry, making you feel light. He pressed you into the bed, wrapping one of your legs around his hips as his hand slipped underneath your skirt, his fingers tracing the now translucent spot in your underwear. 

Another moan escaped you, sounding far more desperate than you would have liked. “Needy, are we?” Ryomen chuckled, pushing your panties to the side and running two fingers up and down your slit, collecting the sticky lube. You wanted him so bad it hurt. Your body felt flushed with hellfire and you couldn't help but wonder if he was this cocky with every girl he brought to his bed.

“Yea,” You moaned through a heavy breath, “You gonna take care of it, or whaa-” Your quip died in your throat as he buried two fingers into your weeping pussy, up to the knuckle without even a warning.

“What was that doll?” He teased, curling his fingers up to perfectly hit your g-spot and send you astral projecting into the ninth dimension. Was this what you were missing out on? Your hands fell to his shoulders, clinging to him for dear life as he curled his fingers again. This was a completely new type of pleasure for you, one you couldn’t get from your own fingers or a toy. You were hooked on it, you needed more of it. You started grinding down on his hand, chasing the high he was more than obliged to give you. 

“Feel good?” He purred. You nodded helplessly, your brain too mushy to make words. “Want to feel even better?” His smirk was wicked. You didn’t have time to process it though, or even answer the question before he removed your panties and ducked his head under your skirt, his lips quickly finding your clit. The new sensation was your tipping point. The fire in your veins overtook you, your head felt like it was made of cotton, and the tension that had been growing in you was reaching a breaking point.

“R-ryo,” You panted desperately, “I-its too much, I-” Your pleas for mercy are cut off as he slips another finger into you, shooting sharp tendrils of pleasure throughout your body, finding every last inch of you. Your brain was mush and your nerves on high alert, feeling every single one of the pink haired man's movements.

Your entire body felt tense as heat continued to pool in hot waves in your stomach, every curl of his fingers, every swipe of his tongue bringing you one step closer to the brink. You had never wanted anything so bad in your life. Your hands tangled in his hair, subconsciously pulling him closer to your needy cunt. Ryomen very much obliged, giving you everything you wanted and more.

“I-I, ah-!” all of the intense feelings were building into a crescendo inside of you, your small boat in the ocean of oxytocin and euphoria was capsizing. All at once your body seized, you thought you whined out his name but you weren’t sure. Pleasure came rolling over your entire body in seething waves, filling all of your senses and leaving you shaking like a chihuahua. 

“You're beautiful when you cum.” Had to be one of the weirdest compliments you had ever received. You lifted your head off the bed to see Ryomen wiping his mouth off. He stood up, taking off his shirt, and holy shit. You don’t know why the thought never occurred to you that the tattoos would be on his chest too. They covered his face, they were on his arms and wrists, why wouldn’t they be on his chest? It made you wonder where else they were.

“Enjoying the view?” He asked, knowing full and well you were. You looked away in embarrassment, just to feel him grab the hem of your sweater. “I showed you mine, let me see yours” He teased, pulling the pink top off of you. His reaction gave you your confidence back plus some. You felt emboldened by the way he beheld you, like you were Venus herself. You smirked as you took off your bra, exposing your chest to him.  

“Enjoying the view?” You asked. 

“Very much so.” he said in a rush before his eager, hot mouth wrapped around your right nipple, his hand coming up to play with the left. You had never imagined having your tits played with would feel so good. Maybe it was just the effect Ryomen had on you. But his actions left you whimpering softly under him, unconsciously bucking your hips to make some friction. He noticed the command he had over your body, the way you melted into him. He knew you were his, he just had to seal the deal. 

He pulled away, undoing his belt and jean buttons to free his cock. You bucked your hips at the view again, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. He was bigger than you expected, thick and long. You’d probably have been a little bit intimidated if you weren’t so desperate to feel that high again. He fisted himself with one hand and clumsily rubbed your sensitive nub with the other. But it wasn’t enough anymore, you needed him. 

“Ryo, please..”

“Please what Y/n?” He smirked. He knew exactly what you wanted. But, he wasn’t going to give it to you that easily.

“Ryomen, please, I need you.” You whined, not wanting to say it outloud.

“I’m right here baby girl, what do you need?” His grin was wicked and still full of mirth. You were starting to hate him again.

“Ryomen please, I need your cock, I need you, I need you to fuck me.” You blurted out all at once, your mouth moving faster than your mind did. His grin turned into a full on smile.

“Well, then why didn’t you just say that?” He laughed as he lined himself up with your soaking cunt.

“I di-AHH!” You screamed as he pushed his fat cock into you, the collision with your cervix jolting you into a state of hypersensitivity. You clung onto him desperately, your cunt clamping down around him, trying to push him out and pull him deeper all at the same time. You felt helplessly stretched out underneath him, your mind trying to find your body.

“Relax for me baby,” Ryomen moaned into your neck, kissing it softly. Easy for him to say! He wasn’t just impaled! You took deep, jagged breaths, to try and reregulate your fried nervous system. You took in the smell of pine and cigarettes, the almost comforting feeling of his body flush with yours, and the near tenderness of the kisses he was trailing along your neck. It was a beautiful caricature of intimacy, really.

Finally, you had relaxed enough around him for him to move. And move he did. To his credit, he tried to take it slow. He tried to be considerate of your virgin status (well…former virgin status) and not hurt you. But, Ryomen was not the slow gentle, “making love” type and before he knew it, he was chasing his high with a ferocity that left you weak under him. 

You weren’t complaining though. His thrusts were intoxicating, the curve of his dick hitting your g-spot with every thrust of his hips. He was stretching you to the point of delirium, feeling a rush of ecstasy every time he moved inside of your velvety walls. Your head was in heaven and your soul was in hell. Everything was all at once too hot and too cold, overwhelming. The waves of euphoria were building up inside of you again, a string tangling over itself again and again until it was taunt. 

One of his hands moved to massage at your clit again, coaxing your climax out of you with every stroke. You were speeding at 160 miles per hour off of a cliff and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Your mind was filled with nothing but Ryomen Ryomen Ryomen as electricity and pleasure coarse through your body. It felt like you were an electrical fire underneath him, no longer just tissue paper but an inferno in your own right.

“Ryomen, I’m-!”

“I know.” He said as he continued to chase both of your highs. The way your cunt clenched around him, pulling him back in with every thrust told him everything he needed to know. “Cum for me.”

Your body was under his command whether you liked it or not. You came undone around his cock, the string finally snapping as you drove off the cliff with no hesitation, and into your grave and erotic bliss, pleasure overtaking your body in waves. Your entire body shook under him as the intensity of your climax overcame you. He wasn’t far behind with the way your velvety walls were clenching around him, pulling his own orgasm from him. He came deep into your cervix, overflowing you and making you pray you wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences later.

You both stilled for a moment in the afterglow. As he pulled out and managed to collapse next to you, not on top of you. What did you do now? You could still hear the party raging outside of the door, but the last thing you wanted to do was rejoin it. You looked over at Ryomen, still trying to regulate his breath next to you.

You moved yourself to rest your head on his chest, figuring that was what couples do in movies after sex, right? For a second, you thought he was going to push you off. But, he didn’t. Quite the opposite really, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer.