you and kaiser had been at it for what felt like hours now, making out on the couch like you were trying to eat eachother’s mouths off.
kaiser pulled away first, gazing into your eyes, “need you.” he whispered, barely giving you time to react before he began to tug the waistband of your sweats down.
but as soon as he did, there it was. your spongebob lucky drawls.
kaiser’s jaw fell open in a silent ‘o’ but nothing came out, he was just staring in shock.
“what the fuck?” he cursed, half-confused and half-offended. “no way you still wear this.” he gazed into spongebob’s stupid eyes painted on your crotch, scoffing.
“what? it’s spongebob. it’s tuff.” you bit back a giggle, kaiser felt offended how fucking spongebob was closer to your body than him.
he pulled your sweatpants back up before clearing his throat and getting up.
“i’m not having sex with spongebob.”
a/n: this is the smallest thing ive ever wrote pllsss 💔
2025-2026 — @reositos ★ don’t copy/modify/translate/repost to other sites. also don’t feed my work to ai.
I cannot begin to stress how important Alysa Liu is to a sport like figure skating. This is a sport that is rife with abuse and that has silenced women and has forced them to do as they’re told in order to win medals. This is a sport where authoritative figures exercise an immense amount of control over athletes from their childhoods.
Alysa left the sport because of burn out. Because of what she went through. When she came back, she said that she’d skate to whatever music that she wanted. That she’d be in charge of her training schedule. That she’d be able to take a very active role in choreographing her programs and choosing her costumes. Her entire comeback has been about her taking authority over her career. She is in charge of her own career, as it should be. As it should always be.
And she is now the Olympic Champion. Her trajectory is proof that an athlete taking control of their training, of their joy, and of their competitive career is absolutely paramount to success in sport.
hiiii <3 i love ur writing! could i request married life w kaiser if ur not too busy ❤️
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 MARRIED LIFE WITH KAISER ⋆˚࿔
.☘︎ ݁˖ synopsis : life with your husband
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ content + warnings : timeskip! au, domestic fluff, fem! reader | ft. michael kaiser
𓏲ּ𝄢 author note .ᐟ hellooo i hope i didn't take too long for ur request. thank u so much for the suggestion and the support (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶). i made it much longer than the previous one so i hope you enjoy it! the topics are kinda of all over the place as i was writing every idea that came to my head in the moment.
MICHAEL KAISER ─ life with him feels dramatic, intoxicating, undeniably his.
married life with kaiser is never subtle. he doesn't do subtle
he kisses you like he's claiming victory after a last-minute goal. it's slow, confident, a little smug of course. especially in public. especially when he knows people are watching
his ego doesn't shrink after marriage. if anything, it expands
"of course they're staring," he murmurs once at an event, blue eyes glinting, fingers tilting your chin up. "you're married to me."
but it's not just arrogance, it's pride.
he loves beautiful things. tailored suits, polished boots, the sharp scent of his cologne. and you? you're his favourite luxury
he absolutely insists on dressing you for formal events. not in a controlling way, just dramatic
he'll stand behind you in the mirror, long fingers adjusting the fabric at your waist, platinum-blonde hair falling into his eyes.
"perfect," he hums. "stand next to me. let them see what perfection looks like."
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
at home though? he's surprisingly clingy.
not in an obvious way though. kaiser would never admit that
you'll be walking past him and suddenly there's an arm hooked loosely around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.
"where are you going?"
"the kitchen."
"hm. unnecessary. stay."
he loves resting his chin on top of your head, or on your shoulder if you're sitting
his presence is heavy, warm and intentional
when you two are home together, he always wants to be touched. not even in a desperate way. just constant and grounding
he’ll be sitting on the couch, scrolling through match replays, and without looking up he’ll tug at your wrist until you’re standing between his knees.
“stay.”
that’s it. no elaboration.
his hands slide to your hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles through the fabric of your shirt and he exhales like you’re the only place he can actually rest.
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
after late training sessions, he comes home quieter
he'll shower, towel dry his hair, then slide into bed behind you without a word. his body is warm and solid, like an anchor.
he doesn't just wrap an arm around you. he pulls you flush against him.
nose brushing the back of your neck. fingers clutching your waist. slow inhales.
"don't move," he murmurs, voice low and rough from exhaustion.
you tease him once. "clingy."
he clicks his tongue. "strategic positioning."
but his grips tightens slightly.
he loves when you sit on his lap. partly because he likes feeling you against him, but also because it puts you close enough that he can tilt your chin up and look at you properly
kaiser is obsessed with eye contact
when you kiss him, he pulls back just enough to watch your expression before leaning in again, slower this time
he kisses you like he's savouring something rare.
one evening, you're straddling him absentmindedly while talking about your day. your hands are playing with the chain around his neck, tracing over the cool metal.
his hands are on your thighs. firm and steady.
he's listening, he really is, but his eyes darken just slightly when you laugh and lean closer.
"you have no idea what you do to me," he mutters.
it's not lewd, but instead almost reverent.
he likes that you make him feel something that isn't competition.
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
and when he's feeling truly vulnerable, he goes hushed
there's one night after a frustrating match where he feels he didn't score enough.
he doesn't rant. nor does he brag.
he just sits at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees.
you walk over, standing between his legs like he does with you sometimes. your fingers comb through his damp hair.
he looks up at you, blue eyes sharp but tired.
".. if i stop being the best," he says slowly, "you won't look at me differently, right?"
and there it is. not ego but fear.
you cup his face. kiss the corner of his mouth first, and then kiss him properly.
he exhales against you, hands sliding to your waist and pulling you closer until you're nearly in his lap again.
and later that night, he's hovering over you, hair falling into his eyes, gaze intense but softer than the world ever sees.
he presses his forehead to yours.
"you're the only thing i refuse to compete for," he breathes.
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
after matches, when the stadium lights dim and the crowd fades, he looks untouchable. confident smirk, hands on hips, soaking in applause.
but the second he spots you?
that smirk softens. just a fraction. only for you.
he walks over like he owns the field because in his mind, he does. he presses his forehead to yours through the railing.
"did you see that goal?"
you nod.
"good," he says quietly. "it was for you."
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
arguments with kaiser are intense
he hates losing in anything, even disagreements, but he hates distance more
if you go silent, he notices immediately. the teasing drops, and the sharp edges dull
one night you try to sleep facing away from him after a fight. there is a pause then an arm snakes around your waist.
".. don't do that."
"do what?"
"turn away like i'm not worth facing."
it's not anger. it's insecurity buried under his pride.
he doesn't say "i need you." he says, "you're mine." and somehow, it means the same thing
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
he absolutely spoils you
jewellery. weekend trips. seats at exclusive matches. if it's expensive, he buys it without blinking.
when you protest, he scoffs.
"what's the point in being the best if i can't give you the best?"
he loves when you wear his jersey number
he loves when commentators mention you
he loves when people associate your name with his
late a night, when the world is silent and there's no audience, he traces idle patterns along your arm.
his blue rose tattoo peeking beneath his sleeve. his breathing steadies against your neck.
"you chose me," he whispers once, almost like he's testing the words.
you did.
and despite the ego, the theatrics, and the constant need to shine, kaiser would choose you also. you're irreplaceable to him.
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
to the public, michael kaiser doesn't get jealous
he's well himself. the adored striker. the walking headline. ego the size of a stadium. why would he be insecure? but he is possessive. there's a difference
you're at a sponsor event. soft lights, champagne glasses, expensive laughter.
someone lingers too long at your side. smiles too wide. stands a little too close.
kaiser notices instantly.
his strategist brain tracks movement the way he tracks defenders on the field.
he doesn't interrupt at first. he just watches.
and when the stranger's hand almost brushes your lower back? that's when he moves.
one smooth step and his arm slides around your waist. firm and claiming.
"is there a problem?" he asks, voice calm. pleasant even.
the other person laughs nervously and hovers back by the tiniest amount.
kaiser smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes.
when you're alone later, you raise a brow at him.
"jealous?"
he scoffs. "please, i don't like people touching what's mine."
and his hand stays on you the entire ride home.
when he's truly jealous though? it's not explosive, just controlled
one evening after practice, he sees a clip online. you laughing with another player in the background of an interview.
it's innocent. completely harmless. yet he comes home quieter than usual.
you notice.
you approach him while he's leaning against the kitchen counter. your hands slide up his chest, fingers hooking into the collar of his shirt.
"what's wrong?"
he studies you then his hands move to your waist, pulling you against him in one smooth motion.
"i don't like imagining someone else making you laugh like that," he admits softly.
honest and rare.
you cup his face and reassure him.
he exhales against your lips.
"good," he mutters. "because i'd rather be the only one who gets to see that."
his kiss turns deeper, slower. his grip firmer at your hips, not to control but to feel.
to confirm you're here. with him. and nowhere else.
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
he’s subtle and calculated about his jealousy in public
in private? less so
if you mention someone complimented you, his jaw tightens just a fraction.
"what exactly did they say?"
you tease him. call him dramatic.
he steps closer until your back hits the wall, hands braced on either side of you. not trapping, just surrounding.
his eyes search yours, intense and bright.
"say it again," he murmurs. "tell me what they said."
you repeat the compliment.
he leans down slowly, lips brushing the corner of your mouth.
"cute," he whispers. "they have good taste."
then he kisses you. slow deliberate and possessive.
not to prove anything to you, but to remind you.
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
protective kaiser shows up in quieter moments too
one night you're overwhelmed. media comments, online noise, people dissecting your life because you're married to him.
you try to brush it off. he doesn't.
he takes your phone from your hand, locks it and sets it face down.
then he kneels in front of you ─ actually kneels ─ resting his hands on your thighs.
"look at me."
you do.
his expression is serious now. stripped of his usual tone.
"they talk because they can't reach us," he says evenly. "they don't matter. i chose you. that's the only headline that counts."
his thumb traces slow circles against your skin.
"if anyone makes you uncomfortable, you tell me. i don't care who they are."
and he means it.
kaiser loves being admired but he loves protecting what's his even more.
requests/asks are open! also feel free to chat or message me.
✧ you were meant to die gloriously in battle. Instead, you find yourself engaged to the proudest prince in the kingdom. He is a man too noble to be doubted, too brilliant to be refused, and too afraid of steel to hold a sword. ― michael kaiser x fem!reader ⋆ incl. fluff, crack, reader is the fallen nobility of a kingdom that was once rivals with kaiser's (although that was like 200 years ago), very slight angst ❃ ུ ۪ wc. 2.1k 𝜗ৎ i reached a flow state while writing this. . it took me less than 30 mins, biggest flex
Crown Prince Michael Kaiser is a man to be renowned for generations to come. He is the shining sun of the kingdom, a man so proud that he would make even the most orgulous and stiff-necked shrink in shame. And worst of all, he isn't bluffing. A man who is prideful yet has no talent is a man scoffed at, but a man prideful who is overflowing in charm, intellect, looks, and talent is one that draws admiration and jealousy. He is the most polarizing man within the nation, yet no one can deny that he is the most fit out of all 5 of his siblings to be ruler.
So why, why on earth is he marrying you? You, a fallen royal from a former rival kingdom that’s been so long gone that there’s probably only a singular drop of blue blood within you. Everyone in the kingdom expected him to marry a woman of similar status, not a traitor. The people whisper in the streets. You must be a seductress, a whore, someone that Kaiser won’t ever be happy with. His father must’ve forced him into this arrangement—he’s always been jealous of the prince, after all. Even foreign embassies pity the man, sweeping him aside when they’re too drunk to think straight, giving him their sympathies.
But there are two things that no one truly knows about him. Kaiser is not as righteous and noble as people make him out to be. In short, he is a manchild. Spoiled, bratty, demanding, yet somehow seen as a chivalrous man who would die for the innocent. The second is that he cannot wield a sword. For whatever reason, Michael Kaiser is terrible at swordsmanship. That’s why you, the best knight in the kingdom, are being forced to marry him. For protection, they say, and to repay your family's sins to the kingdom.
“Ugh! I said no white truffles on my food! I don’t care if they’re grated onto the food! No! White! Truffles!”
Currently, you are sitting across from him in his opulent dining room as he throws a fit over… white truffles. You and the butler share a look of shared understanding, the equivalent to modern-day corporate employees who have to cater to their boss’ every whim. You give him a nod in solidarity, he gives one back. Kaiser squints, “What’s this about?? What are you two keeping from me? I swear if—!”
“Prince Kaiser, the shining sun of the kingdom, I assure you, it’s nothing. We were simply agreeing—yes, agreeing, that white truffles on the Prince’s food are an atrocity that should have the head chef beheaded!” the butler stammers out.
Kaiser seems to think about it for a minute, then nods, “Indeed it is. Along with mushrooms. And broccoli.” The butler nods so furiously you think he’s a bobblehead. He then scurries out of the room and returns with the food. You think that’s the end of it. It is not.
While the people call him the “shining sun of the kingdom”, you have personally watched him shriek because a lizard fell out of a potted fern. It happened during your second week of marriage.
You were escorting him through the palace gardens when something small and green leapt from the ivy. Kaiser drew back with such speed that he collided with you, seized the back of your dress shirt, and attempted to climb you like a particularly offended cat.
“Kill it.”
“It is a lizard, Your Highness.”
“It has hostile intent.”
“It has a tail.”
“Which it is using to menace me.”
You sigh, pluck the creature from the stones, and toss it into the hedges where it goes scampering away. He stares after it, pale and rigid, “You… You are far too reckless. That’s not becoming of a k-knight.”
You stare at him, “You hid behind me.”
“I did not! I was strategically repositioning. I will have you know that I am the most important man in this empire right now! I have to be careful and protect myself from whatever may come to harm me. It’s not that I was scared, I was just thinking about the future of the nation. Now, you wouldn’t say that the nation would surely be better off without me, right, my dear future wife? Of course you wouldn’t say such silly drivel!” He walks off without a care in the world, like he didn’t just cling to you like one does to a stuffed animal when scared.
This is the man the nation believes to be invincible.
He does not accompany you to the training grounds. Officially, it is because a prince must not distract the soldiers. Additionally, the training grounds are risky and unsafe, where potential assassins may lurk to kill the prince.
But, in truth, Kaiser does not like the sound swords make when they strike armor. They sound too much like death, like things going wrong. Instead, he watches in shaded balconies and criticizes the knights under his breath knowing he could never get close. Yet, his knowledge of military tactics and sword-wielding is great. If he weren’t so scared, perhaps he could be the greatest swordsman the nation has ever known.
“You are swinging too wide,” he calls from the balcony.
“I am—urgh!—fighting three men.”
“Still sloppy,” he sighs dramatically, “it seems you’ll have to make me come down there to fix your form.”
You expect it to be an empty threat. After all, Michael Kaiser is known for never coming near the training grounds. Yet, you see him saunter in, holding his goblet. Yet the moment he hears the loud clang of swords striking, he freezes.
“You–You are far too loud! Where are the mages of the kingdom? We must make swords that are quiet. Yes–! Yes we must. It would be wise! Ambushes on enemy territory would be significantly easier,” he says proudly, yet you notice his hands trembling.
“You dropped your goblet again, Your Highness.”
“That is irrelevant.”
Another clang.
“Your Highness, you are standing behind the archery targets.”
“Ah.”
You drag him away by the sleeve. He mutters about how dangerous you are, how unreasonable steel is, how war is a barbaric hobby. And yet, his hands tremble. You do not comment, yet your grip loosens a bit. That is the best comfort you can give this walking contradiction of a man. That night, when bandits are reported near the eastern road, he does not sleep. He cannot, not when you are out there, fighting, sustaining injuries, possibly risking your life. When you return with blood on your hands, he pretends not to look at it. He pretends to be fearless. You both sleep without saying a word to protect his pride.
The incident occurs at a banquet. Foreign envoys crowd the hall, thick with perfume and wine and false smiles. They praise Kaiser while mocking you. One drunken lord laughs too loudly and says, “Does your knight-fiancee warm your bed with her sword as well?”
The court titters.
Kaiser, in all his sunlit glory, smiles. “My betrothed?” He asks, “she is excellent with weapons. Pity she lacks grace. One cannot teach a hound to dance.”
The laughter grows sharper. You feel it strike like a blade between your ribs. You bow, because that is what knights do. You leave quietly, hold it in, because that is what wounded women do. He does not follow. That night, you sleep facing the wall.
Morning comes with a heavy feeling. At first, it feels as if the words of last night are still weighing on you. It’s only natural, isn’t it? Perhaps you’ve grown foolish, thinking that a man of his caliber would protect a woman who is deemed a traitor by the entire nation and its allies. For the first time in a while, you feel reluctant and unwilling to get up. But as you open your bleary eyes, you realize that the weight you feel is not of your imagination. Michael Kaiser is laying on top of you. His long limbs are draped over you, arms and legs tangled together, his head on your chest, eyes squeezed shut like a child pretending to sleep. He lets out a pathetic whine and nuzzles into your warmth.
“Do not go,” he says hoarsely.
“You humiliated me.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I misjudged. I got carried away. I let their expectations of me rule my answer. I—”
“You called me a hound.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, holding you closer, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—”
“Repeating it a million times will not make the hurt vanish.”
Another feeble whine leaves him, “I know. I’m sorry. I’m not prideful. That was the most disgraceful moment of my life, because I insulted you. You, who should not be tarnished even in thought. I’m sorry. Please let me make it up to you. I..”
You swear you can hear his voice waver, his head buried into your chest. Annoyingly, you find yourself feeling pity towards his miserable state. Your traitorous hand softly raises to comb through his hair, and he melts into your touch. You swallow, but you suppose it’s time to ask.
“You said you’d make it up to me, right?”
“Yes!” He exclaims, like an overzealous puppy.
You wince at his enthusiasm, “I won’t ask for much. Just a simple answer. Michael Kaiser, do you hate me?”
He stiffens, then looks up at you with red-rimmed eyes so wide they could be pools of beautiful blue, “Hate…you? How could…that’s not…why…no! Never. I could never hate you.”
“Even though I am the daught—”
“I do not care about your lineage, my dearest. Do not think for a moment that I was forced into this marriage. I.. asked for it. Because you shine brighter than I do when you are on the battlefield. If there were one person I were to trust in this entire kingdom, it would be you. Your bravery, your resilience, your commitment to serving the Crown even though the people of this kingdom mock you is so commendable that hearing even a word spoken against you makes my organs grate like stones and my head fill with all sorts of despicable thoughts that I couldn’t even tell you.”
“Yet you still—”
“I know. I’m sorry. My teaching, my education got the best of me. If you’d like, I will go send letters to those men right now, that they are to never insult my future wife—”
“No, that is ridiculous. I am not someone who is deserving of such—”
“Oh but you are. You deserve more than me, more than the shining sun of the kingdom. You deserve the universe and all the stars within it. You deserve the softest of loves, the warmest of days, and the gentlest of pains. You des—”
“Stop it,” you huff, face red, “you are embarrassing me.”
Kaiser just smiles cheekily and kisses your breastbone, to which your face flushes even more, “You should get used to this, then. After all, you are marrying the great Kaiser, the mover of mountains, the destroyer of armies, the shining sun of the kingdom…shall I go on? The woman I have picked is far more perfect than me, so she deserves nothing but the highest of praise, no? To insinuate otherwise would be to question the judgement of the Crown Prince, which is currently grounds for treason.”
“I get it, alright I get it,” you grumble.
After a moment of silence, you sigh, absolve him, and rise for training. He follows. He always follows.
From that day onward, every dawn begins the same. You rise, he clings.
“Five minutes more.”
“You are a prince. The Crown Prince.”
“And you are abandoning me.”
“The sun is rising.”
“Go fight it later.”
You miss drills, patrols, and sparring matches. The king notices. The king is displeased.
“You are neglecting your duty,” he says coldly, in front of his court. You kneel before his throne. He opens his mouth, but the doors slam. In walks Kaiser, angry like a storm, practically running to you. He pants, “She is guarding me. She misses practice for me. Tell me, Father, am I less important than some measly drills? She gets practice, you cannot argue that. There are assasination attempts on me daily. When she marries me, you cannot expect her—the princess of this country—to be going out like a common knight and risking her life, no?”
Even the king is silenced, sighing heavily.
“She is mine.”
The court murmurs. You stare at the floor and contemplate exile.
The kingdom thinks he married you for politics, but you know better. Michael Kaiser married you because you are the only person in this kingdom who he thinks is shining. And unfortunately, he has chosen the most irritating way possible to express it.
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