♡~Mei~♡

Abby

Romance

"THIS IS A PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT FROM YOUR LOCAL BROADCASTING STATION.

DO NOT TURN OFF YOUR DEVICE

DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE. 

ALL WINDOWS AND CURTAINS MUST REMAIN CLOSED. IF YOU ARE FOUND TO HAVE OPEN YOUR WINDOWS, YOU WILL BE ELIMINATED.

DO NOT ATTEMPT TO GO OUTSIDE. INDIVIDUALS ATTEMPTING TO ENGAGE WITH ANY EXTRATERRESTRIAL PHENOMENA WILL BE ELIMINATED.

IF YOU THINK YOU HAVE BEEN AFFECTED: ISOLATE IMMEDIATELY."

You sat there, bloodshot eyes straining as you took in the message before you. The only thing illuminating your pitch-black room was the TV, and your body was rigid as you held your breath. Tentatively, as if skies above would hear you, you exhaled and let the tightness leave your muscles. 

It’s been pure hell for the last few months. Socialisation and communication was at an all time low. Paranoia had struck the nation when outbreaks of psychosis had spread like wildfire. Reports of ritualistic behaviours, mass suicide and missing individuals was growing increasingly common. And there was no one to blame but yourselves. 

It was hostile. Everyone knew that. But people were so easily swayed by the illusion of salvation it seemed to give. It appeared to whisper and shone bright in the ever-lasting night sky. Bow to me, the voices said. Give in to your saviour. 

But there were no voices. The human mind was terribly weak, making up things that weren’t actually there. Theories began to emerge, causing waves of misinformation to reach even the most isolated corners of the world. No-one knew what was going on— not even the most experienced psychologist or astrophysicist. All everyone knew was that it couldn’t be trusted. People swore that it’d appear to breathe and pulse, but madness would soon follow those who dared to look up. 

Whether it was a vessel to harbour some sort of hostile entity, or whether it was the entity itself, no-one had a clue. All you knew was if you kept the curtains shut, you’d be fine. Mostly. 

A faint buzz brought you out of your thoughts. Cellular devices weren’t prohibited, per se. But you were rather cautious about using one. 

Blinking back the wave of exhaustion, you picked up your phone and saw that it was no other than Suguru, one of the very few you could rely on for support. He was a grounding force in your life, keeping you sane and served as a reminder that no matter how tempting it was outside, it wasn’t worth it. 

“Hello? Sugu?” You whispered, longing to hear the voice of your best friend. Your one and only, you’d often kid. You couldn’t hear anything from the other end of the phone except for some light breathing. With your brows knitted in confusion, you called out to him again.

“Ah, yes. Sorry, y/n. Did you see the recent alert?” Suguru sounded breathless. That was the first thing you noted. As if he’d gone for a run. But not in these conditions, right? 

You shook your head stupidly, as if he could see you. “Yes, we can’t open our curtains. Nothing new. Why?” 

The small huff of laughter you were so used to met your ears. It made you feel good for once, in a time where nothing felt right. But what your dear friend said next had your breath catching.

“My TV was telling me something different. Didn’t you see it? It’s safe again.”

Silence.

That wasn’t right. There had been no other EAS. You sat up straighter on the floor, mouth feeling dry. “No, actually. There haven't been any other messages. I would have texted you if there was,” you responded, forcing your voice to stay casual. But you were far from calm. Your mouth felt as if someone had stuffed cotton into it, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get a good breath of air into your lungs. 

“...it’s beautiful tonight, y’know?” Suguru murmurs so softly. You falter, feeling as if you were underwater. His words came out muffled as all the blood in your body rushed to your head. You should have hung up on him.

Save yourself. 

But like a fool, your trembling hands kept your phone by your ear. “S-suguru? Did you look…outside?”

Another chuckle, and you felt your heart rate picked up drastically. Surely, he didn’t?

“You sound scared,” he teased, eyes focused on one thing only from his own apartment not too far away from yours. His bedroom felt uncomfortably hostile and cramped. What other choice did he have but to open his curtain? “There’s no need to be scared, Not when it’s so peaceful.”

Your hand was shaking almost violently now, the combination of fatigue and tears prickling at your eyes making it unbearably warm in your room. “Don’t look at it, Suguru. Please don’t look at it.”

A soft exhale. Like he’s getting frustrated at you. But you need to remind yourself that this isn’t the Suguru you grew up with. It can’t be. Not anymore. 

He speaks again, but there’s a slight edge to the silk of his voice. “Don’t you trust me, y/n? Don’t you want to see the God hanging down from the sky? It calls to us all.”

Suguru sounds breathless now, as if he’s locked in reverent worship. You’re frozen now, refusing to listen to whatever was at the other end of the phone.

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Look out of the window, y/n. Can’t you see me burning under it?” The crackling of the phone grows louder, yet his voice comes through audibly. You swore you could hear your own voice echoing back at you the more you spoke. 

Nothing felt real. Your head was swimming. 

“Don’t call me by my name. Who are you, and what have you done to Suguru?”

“I crawled into his skin. Now, I burn,” a brief pause, the voice growing more distorted by the second. “But I have an eternity to get to know his flesh, and his body will learn to accept me eventually. Look outside.” 

You were so conflicted. Usually, you were so insistent on following the orders of the EAS. But underneath all of the distortion, Suguru sounded so at peace. Didn’t you deserve that too? 

“Y/n. Just one look,” he said. It sounded like him again. Not the other Suguru that made the whispers in your room grow more prominent. 

Would looking make you stop feeling like you were being watched from the inside of your skull? Would it end the constant urge to look into the mirror to check if the eyes of your reflection were still shut when you looked at it? 

And so the last of your resolve cracked after weighing out the pros and cons. Suguru would be proud, right? You finally listened to him for once. You winced as your knees cracked after hours of inactivity. The roar of white noise was dimming the closer you came to the curtain. The whispers seemed to pause. That was the last push you needed. It felt good to be so close to salvation. 

You cast your eyes back, glancing at the TV. If you hadn’t blinked, you would have seen the way your reflection was slower than you. One deep breath. 

Swoosh. 

You blinked hard once the curtain was drawn to the side, shielding your eyes with a pale arm and grimacing at the sensation of light. Suguru was silent now, the phone long forgotten in his hand. You didn’t even notice, not until you gathered your bearings and finally dragged your eyes to the window. 

Your stomach lurched.

“I-I don’t like this. Please stop moving like that.”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Your entire face glowed from the light outside and your feet were planted firmly on the scratchy carpet beneath you. You should turn back now, before you’re caught by the authorities—

“You’ve already looked.”

Cums in your conditioner bottle. He loves knowing that you wear him with you every day, that when people brush against you and inhale your sweet scent, they’re also smelling him. Satoru likes to think that it sends, on a cellular level perhaps, a message telling them you’re taken, by him. 

Intent on keeping this a secret, he does the grocery shopping every time you let him know you’re running out. Unscrewing the bottle, he places the head of his cock into the hole just as he’s about to reach his peak, jerking his long and pink cock off as fast as he can, biting his bottom lip to keep from making a noise that might alert you to the depravity that’s going on in the bathroom. 

Then, once he’s spilled his seed, he screws the lid back on and shakes vigorously to ensure it’s all mixed in properly and that every pump will have his cum in it. Satoru counts the hours until you excuse yourself to the bathroom and waits, in anticipation and with a leaky cock, for you to emerge all fresh and brand spanking new.

He’s never once told anyone else this, and he himself does not understand why he feels the urge to be so perverted. Sometimes he wonders how you’d react if he told you. Would you get mad? Make him stop? Or maybe you’d find it hot or adorable?

Whatever it’ll be, Satoru’s not eager to find out anytime soon. So, he continues his routine, smiles when you get a compliment on your hair, and frowns when you say you want to stop using hair conditioner and wear a hair mask instead.

What the heck is a hair mask?

Geto

Takes advantage of your sleeping form. It started off completely innocent. He just liked watching the faces you make: your brows furrow when you’re having a nightmare, your bottom lip quivers when you exhale just a little too hard, and you sometimes smile when you’re having a dream he can only hope involves him. 

But then, the urge to do something darker, something secretive overwhelmed him. At night, you’re completely vulnerable. He loves pushing what he can get away with. He’ll manoeuvre your body into positions he likes — arms wide open so he can see your breasts press against the thin confines of your tank top, nipples hard and poking through; legs spread and feet together in a butterfly position so he can see your panties tight against your pussy lips, the imprints defined and he can run his finger down the seam, pressing harder where your clit is just to hear your gasp; and keeping your body still so he can pull the neckline of your tank top down, baring your beautiful tits to the night air and wrap them around his cock.

He juts between the valley, tip knocking into your chin and leaving a wet trail that breaks off as he pulls back just to thrust forward again. Careful not to thrust too hard, lest the bed creaks and you're jostled awake, he uses the immorality of his act to get himself going, knowing that you're vulnerable to his ministrations. But Suguru isn't a bad boyfriend, so he leans back and presses hard against your pussy, rubbing you to an orgasm only your sleeping form can appreciate.

Ever the gentleman, he cums into a tissue and not into your mouth, and only then can he fall asleep beside you. Then, in the morning, he shrugs when you wonder why you're always soaked in the morning. Must have had a wet dream, he says.

Choso

Takes your dirty panties with him for moral support. You don’t know he does this and he’d very much like to keep it that way in case you chalk it up to him being a curse and not knowing what's right and wrong. He knows it's wrong. The truth is, he just really really likes you. Loves you, in fact. So, he sneakily steals a panty or two from the laundry basket and stuffs them in his pockets. 

There’s just something about being able to carry you with him whenever he goes. Whether, it’s whilst he’s in the car, sparring, or on a mission. He can take a piece of you out and inhale your scent, bask in your sweetness, and memorise every part of you to heart. 

Of course, his intentions aren’t entirely romantic and pure. He also really likes to jerk off with your used panties wrapped around his cock. It’s shameful and embarrassing and so depraved, he knows that, but that’s precisely what gets him going. Knowing you’d be shocked bye the extent of his adoration for you makes him thrust faster. He imagines you watching, with that saccharine sweet voice, telling him to show you just how much he loves you. And he never wants to disappoint you, so in the car, parked somewhere dark, he presses the cold, wet spot of the gusset to his nose and takes a long and deep inhale. 

The car shakes with the ferocity of his jerking. One hand gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white and the other holding your panties to his cock head, connecting his tip to where you were and imagining that it’s your pussy wrapped around him. The scent, the wetness, the wrongness of it all makes him cum harder than he should. And just in time to pick you up too. This way when he gets to have the real thing with you, he’ll last longer. 

Toji

Pisses you off on purpose. Can’t blame him. You’re so fucking adorable when you’re mad. Seriously. You make this pouting face when you think whatever excuse he’s giving you is complete and utter bullshit, which it is. Then, you’ll cross your arms, pushing those bouncy tits up, foot tapping and accentuating your long legs. Stomping around and yelling as if you know what you’re doing. You should know by now that raising your voice only gets him hard. And damn, when you smack his chest to get his attention, it makes his dick jump in his boxers. 

Leaving the toilet seat up or not using a coaster, all of it irks you and gets him going. Of course, he doesn’t do it often; you’ll goddamn leave him if he did, that’s for sure. So, he saves his little tricks up his sleeve for when he’s really horny. Like now, when he didn’t take the meat out of the freezer to defrost in time for when you came home. You’re talking his ear off about how irresponsible he is, shrugging off your work clothes one by one until you’re left in a white button up and just panties, completely blind to how he’s grinning ear to ear, watching you bend over, showing him the smooth, round fats of your ass. 

God, he loves the infuriated look on your face. You’re fuming. The best part about it all is the angry sex you’re about to have. Maybe you like to get mad at him for the same reason. Maybe you hope, as you walk up to the door of your house, that he’s fucked up something, anything. And who is he to deny you? So, with faux indignation, he grabs you by the throat and hisses for you to shut the fuck up, get on your knees and open that pretty mouth of yours. Put it to better use than yapping, he says, eyes rolling back at the intensity of your suction.

Nanami

Swaps out your birth control for sugar pills. He knows it’s wrong. God, does he ever. But the temptation is too hard to resist. Kento’s already pushing it with the fact that he convinced you to get on the pill so you can make love with no barrier between you two but he just had to go a step further and make sure that the pill is useless. 

It only started recently. He just wanted to fuck once knowing he could be making you a mommy at any given moment. The thought of you all plump and round with his child drives him crazy. It makes him rut into you with no rhyme or rhythm, just pushing the overflowing cum he’s already pumped in there deeper into your pussy, tutting when they spill out of you. Thumbing the errant drops, he tells you to open up and pushes it down your throat; if his cum won’t go into your womb then it should go into your stomach, right?

The tears in your eyes from the overstimulation makes his cock throb. This one of the very rare moments he ever allows himself to make you cry and he imagines you'll also cry tears of joy when you find out you're pregnant with his child, and again when the baby, a little girl he hopes, is in your arms.

Kento knows he’ll be good to you. He’ll be so good. He’ll massage your swollen feet, waddle you over to the toilet, pulling your panties down for you when you can’t, tending to every craving no matter how odd and no matter at what time. You know he’ll be a good father — he’s sweet, caring, firm when needed, reliable and dependable. So, he reasons that you won’t mind if his seed does take hold. 

You love raw sex just as much as he does, after all. 

Sukuna

Makes you think he’s going to kill you. He has no remorse. The high is incredible. You have a penchant for pissing him off, so when his irritation finally boils over, you see a glint in his eyes and a tick in his jaw that very much tells you one thing: run. 

Of course, he has a soft spot for you so he gives you a head start. He’s a monster, not a man. Every part of him is attune to his surroundings. He knows every inch of the estate and better yet, he knows you. Where you like to hide, where you think he’d think to look, and where your little legs could take you in the short time he gave you. Sukuna could seek you out immediately, but the fun isn’t in the victory. It’s in the conquest. 

Voice loud, he taunts, “I can smell your fear, woman. I can hear your pathetic quivering. I know where you are. And when I find you, I’m going to tear you to pieces.”

For the effect, he even picks up an unnecessary weapon. A stoke or an axe, something that will make a chilling noise as he drags it along the wooden floor or scrape it against the wall, letting you know he’s getting closer and closer. His cock is throbbing in his robes, heavy and swinging, as he takes a deep inhale of the fear permeating the air. It’s salty from the sheer prospect of pain and death, but also sweet because it’s undeniably yours. 

Entering your chambers, he rolls his eyes at how utterly predictable, and foolish, you are. You clear haven’t learnt from any of the stupid horror movies you’ve forced him to watch — hiding under the bed is the worst thing you can do. He reminds you of that when his big hand wraps around your ankle, fondling the frail bone, and tugs. Sukuna rejoices, and leaks cum, at the blood curdling cream you let out. 

You dangle in the air as his monstrous form towers over you. When he sniffs at your pussy and smells the juices you’re leaking out too, he knows you get off on the thrill too, and perhaps, that’s the real reason he loves this so much.