lia

18teen 🪷

[sansafilms]

can’t stop thinking about being cassie mckay’s controversial young wife :P

warnings: MDNI, age gap relationship, slight smut at the end, perv!cassie lowkey, blurb

thinking about older wife!cassie, who is such a hypocrite.

she judges chad for dating chloe to her co-workers, always saying she was too young and immature, and he was weird for going to someone who’s brain isn’t fully developed.

dana giving her a side eye, peeking at the wedding ring on cassie’s finger, knowing damn well she’s now freshly married to you, who just so happens to be around chloe’s age.

she doesn’t care though, because you’re different. in her eyes, you’re everything chloe is not.

older wife!cassie, who shamelessly loves the differences between your physical appearances.

her face, slightly wrinkled from age. her hands, rough and calloused. compared to your face, skin still smooth from age, hands not as tough as hers.

she likes watching people try and figure out what you two are. wants to see the mental gymnastics it takes in their minds as they realize the wedding rings dawning on your hand and hers.

older wife!cassie, who loves a roleplay moment.

obviously she loves medical play, given shes a doctor. but she’s into so many other authoritarian roles. teacher x student. moms best friend. boss x intern. each one she makes sure to point out your age gap

older wife!cassie, who fucks you so hard, panting in your ear as she grunts out, “look at you. such a young thing letting yourself be fucked by me. wonder what people will think knowing im old enough to be your mom..” while her strap brutally hits your cervix over and over again.

(can yall tell im h*rny??)

[starmapz]

for your entertainment - r. sukuna

౨ৎ experienced!sukuna x virgin f!reader [adult boutique au] - ongoing series

❝ chasing your dreams isn't all it's cracked up to be. your apartment shakes when the train passes and eating a scoop of peanut butter and calling it girl dinner is getting depressing. when you finally manage to land a job at a store that sells sex toys, it's possibly the biggest relief of your life. there's just one issue: you're a virgin. you don't know the first thing about toys and you don't want your cute and flirty white-haired co-worker to know. against your better judgement, you find yourself turning to your other co-worker for lessons and learn the hard way he's just as much of an asshole in bed as he is at work. ❞

౨ৎ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. smut. fwb but you aren't friends. slow burn romance/fast burn smut. sukuna is 23ish, reader is 24/25ish. reader is sexually reserved but confident, nerdy, and a band geek. arrogant!sukuna. dom!sukuna. mild corruption. size difference. piv (protected & unprotected). sex toys. dildos. vibrators. sybians. shibari & bondage. restraint. gags. butt plugs. fingering. cock rings. clit stimulants. g-spot stimulants. nipple clamps. remote controlled vibrator. lubes. sex games. blindfolds. aphrodisiacs. biting. marking. possession. dick piercings & tattoos. established safe word. used safe word. loss of virginity. oral (f! and m!). handjob. dacryphilia. mating press. overstimulation. cum play. manhandling. edging. sensory deprivation. (mutual) masturbation (f! and m!). choking. mild love triangle with gojo.

i aim to spread sex positivity, explore the effects of the stigma around virginity, and educate on safety in exploring kinks :)

౨ৎ wc ; estimated 100k.

౨ৎ a/n ; art by ackshuallyvalerie <3 shoutout to @/yenayaps for sukuna dick piercing brain worms <33

ao3 || wattpad || main masterlist

1 ⊹ ࣪ untouched 2 ⊹ ࣪ let go 3 ⊹ ࣪ coming soon

౨ৎ taglist ; OPEN. age must be visible in bio. 18+ only. permatags will be tagged in chapters.

writing, format & dividers © starmapz. art © ackshuallyvalerie. do not repost, translate, or copy.

[oreobites]

!Ryomen Sukuna; who falls in love with the concubine he hated the most

Every woman brought to his estate understood the rules of survival before they even crossed the threshold.

You bowed until your forehead touched the tatami. You spoke only when spoken to. You anticipated his moods, read the terrifying language of his four eyes, and offered flattery or tears depending on what type of amusement he was seeking that day.

To center your entire existence around Ryomen Sukuna was the only way to ensure your head remained attached to your shoulders.

Except you didn't.

You hadn't knelt when he first entered your quarters three months ago. You had been lying on your side, propped up on an elbow, reading a translated scroll from the northern provinces, and you had merely shifted your gaze to look at him, entirely unimpressed by the sudden, heavy drop in atmospheric pressure that usually accompanied his presence.

"Stand when I enter," he had commanded, his upper eyes narrowing into dangerous, ruby slits.

You had turned a page. "Then leave and enter again. Perhaps I will feel like it next time."

You hadn't scrambled to fix your posture. You had just looked at him with an expression of profound boredom.

The attendants behind him had turned white as ghosts, bracing for the inevitable spray of blood. Sukuna’s jaw had set, a terrifying, low growl vibrating from his chest. But you hadn't trembled.

If he wanted to kill you, he would kill you. Fawning over him wasn't going to change his nature, so you simply refused to waste the energy.

He hadn't killed you. Instead, he had left, the doors slamming shut with enough force to rattle the shoji screens.

And that was the exact moment the nightmare began. Because from that night onward, Sukuna became an insufferable, permanent fixture in your life.

"You are eating that wrong."

You stopped your chopsticks halfway to your mouth, letting out a long, slow exhale through your nose. It was midnight.

You had been looking forward to a quiet, solitary meal of cold rice and pickled plums, but Sukuna had simply materialized in the corner of your room ten minutes ago, dripping wet from a thunderstorm, and had proceeded to sit directly on the edge of your bedding.

"I am eating it the way I have eaten it for more than twenty years," you said, not looking at him. "If my technique offends you, the door is exactly where you left it."

Sukuna scoffed, leaning back on his palms. His massive, tattooed frame took up half the space in your small room, his lower arms crossed over his chest while his upper right hand casually reached over and swiped a plum straight from your bowl.

"You have a wretched attitude," he remarked, popping the fruit into his mouth and chewing lazily. "The women in the east hall weep with gratitude if I so much as glance toward their courtyard. You look at me like I am a stray dog that ruined your garden."

"Stray dogs are quieter," you muttered, finally looking up to glare at him. "And they don't steal my food."

Sukuna’s lower mouth twitched into a sharp, jagged grin. He loved it. The realization turned your stomach, a strange, dizzying mixture of irritation and heat.

He didn't come to your room because he wanted a concubine; he came because he was a creature driven entirely by conflict, and you were the only person in the entire empire who refused to give him the satisfaction of a fight. You gave him nothing. You gave him a wall of pure, unbothered apathy, and it was driving him entirely insane.

He leaned forward suddenly, crowding your space. The smell of the storm, ozone and rain, rushed over you. Before you could pull back, his large, calloused hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your jaw.

It wasn't the brutal, bone-crushing grip he used on his enemies. It was controlled, a heavy, unyielding restraint that forced your face up toward his.

"You should fear me," he murmured, his upper eyes tracking the movement of your throat as you swallowed. His thumb thumbed the soft skin right beneath your lower lip, a deliberate, electric friction that made your toes curl inside your robes. "A single flick of my finger, and this pretty little throat splits wide open."

You met his gaze evenly, refusing to let the wild, frantic thudding of your heart show on your face. "Then do it. I'm tired of your bragging."

Sukuna froze. For a second, the silence in the room was deadly. Then, a loud, booming laugh tore from his throat, the sound rough and genuine as he released your jaw, shifting his weight until he was practically draped over your lap, his heavy head resting casually against your thigh.

"Insufferable," he muttered, closing all four of his eyes as if he owned the space. "Utterly insufferable."

You stared down at the King of Curses currently using your legs as a pillow, your hand hovering over his unruly pink hair, entirely tempted to shove him off. But you didn't. You just sighed, picking up your chopsticks again, ignoring the way his subconscious weight felt entirely too natural against you.

The shift happened. In Sukuna’s dictionary, words like love or devotion were meaningless concepts invented by the weak to justify their dependency. He would never admit to favoring you. If anyone asked, he would simply say you were a minor amusement, a dull distraction from his boredom.

But the rest of the estate wasn't blind.

The servants noticed that the rare silks brought from the western raids, the ones Sukuna usually threw into the treasury to rot—somehow kept finding their way into your wardrobe because he had casually grumbled that your current robes looked "like rags."

The guards noticed that if Sukuna left your courtyard irritated, he was significantly less likely to execute someone in the main hall.

And then there was the incident with the lord of the northern clans.

During a formal banquet, the lord had made a passing, disparaging remark about your status, calling you an "eccentric, useless mouth to feed" who didn't know her place.

You hadn't even heard the comment; you had been across the pavilion, systematically ignoring Sukuna’s attempts to make you try a cup of sake.

But Sukuna had heard it.

He hadn't made a scene. He had simply stood up, walked over to the lord’s table, and dismantled the man’s entire lineage within three seconds, leaving the pavilion drenched in red before sitting back down next to you, casually picking up his chopsticks as if nothing had happened.

"You're exhausting when you're angry," you had murmured, wiping a stray drop of blood from the sleeve of your robe with a click of your tongue.

Sukuna hadn't answered. He had just grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand toward him until you were forced to use your sleeve to wipe a smudge of gore from his cheek instead. He hadn't asked. He had just assumed your hands belonged on his skin.

Late one evening, weeks later, the heat of the summer had turned the air thick and oppressive. You were lying awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling, when the shoji screen slid open without a sound.

Sukuna stepped inside. He looked exhausted, the heavy marks of a curse battle still lingering in the tension of his shoulders. He didn't speak. He just shed his heavy outer robe, letting it hit the floor, before crawling directly onto your sleeping mat.

"Go away," you groaned, trying to roll over to the far edge. "It is too hot for this."

"Silence," he grunted, a large, heavy arm snaking around your waist from behind. He hauled you back against his chest with a single, effortless tug, his massive body completely enveloping yours.

His chest was blazing hot, a furnace of pure cursed energy, and his face buried itself directly into the crook of your neck.

"You cling too much," you muttered, though you didn't actually fight the hold. It was a useless endeavor anyway.

"What nonsense," Sukuna rumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his lower arms tightening around your hips, anchoring you so securely to him that you could feel the rhythmic, heavy thud of his heart against your spine. "You are small. You fit here. Stop complaining."

You lay there in the dark, his breath warm against your skin, his long, sharp fingernails absentmindedly tracing patterns into the fabric of your garment near your ribs.

He was completely unaware of how intimate the gesture was, how entirely possessive his body became the moment he was near you. He thought he was just resting. He thought he was just taking what was his.

You turned your head slightly, looking back at him. His eyes were closed, his expression unusually peaceful in the dim moonlight.

"You're an idiot, Ryomen Sukuna," you whispered softly.

A faint, arrogant smirk touched his lips, though he didn't open his eyes. His hand moved up, his fingers lacing through yours with a casual, unthinking pressure, locking your hands together against the bedding.

"And you are still breathing," he murmured into your skin, his grip tightening just a fraction more. "Be grateful I find your stupidity so entertaining."

You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his terrifying, inescapable warmth, finally accepting that while the King of Curses would never say the words, his actions had already rewritten the entire world around you.

............................................................................

thankyou for reading. follow me on tiktok @/oreobitees

[feverrootlips]

ㅤㅤ✶ you get hurt

❛ 　mature era michael & pregnant!reader

in which╵his spouse accidentally injuries herself, and he makes no light of the matter.

　 contents╵obviously female portrayal. exactly, age gap. slightly suggestive! but mostly just michael fussing over mama and perhaps a bit too fond of the feeling of sharing a baby with you. subtle breeding king undertones if you squint.

Though the mirror suggested otherwise, you couldn’t bring yourself to see anything dramatic in it. In your eyes, it was something that could easily pass for a cat scratch, except you didn't actually have a cat. Just a thin red horizontal line. Not even bleeding anymore. Barely enough to call a wound, most likely the kind to be gone in a week.

You sucked in sharply as your thumb grazed the bone of your slightly injured hip before quickly tugging down the satiny fabric of your gown. Your mouth curled slightly, the impact still throbbing beneath your skin. Silence dragged on as you confronted your reflection and the goddamn stool toppled over on the white tiles.

Contemplation always seemed to elude you before making decisions. Your attempt to fetch the record box by yourself proved to be yet another miserable case in point—you didn’t even register the moment you slipped backward, only to crash catastrophically onto your side and catch yourself on the vanity handle.

The distant scrape of the door latch chilled the life out of your legs in a matter of seconds. It only got worse as you heard Michael call your name tenderly.

Try as you might to answer, nothing came out in the next beat. Instead, you sent the stool hurtling under the sink with a solid kick.

The muted footsteps behind the slightly ajar bathroom door faltered momentarily, and you could practically picture Michael's face scrunching up from the spot. “Lovely?”

“Be right there, honey. Just a sec.”

Unfortunately, the hesitation in your reply was a terrible giveaway.

You stepped into the hallway just as your husband's pace had quickened right past the faux serenity of your words, a paradoxically sincere smile on your face as you traced his silhouette in the shadows of the apartment. Recently, you’d been using your—admittedly rare, given the small swell of your stomach—alone time to dim the lighting to as many candles or table lamps as possible, day or night it be. You claimed it kept you level-headed in the face of your emotional upheaval, and of course, there was absolutely no complaint that could be levelled at you.

Michael unwound at the sight of your cute, pink pajamas. Your belly was the first point of contact for his hands, skimming the curve of your waist while a pair of fingers at the small of your back sowly brought you closer. The heady scent of musk drunk your senses.

“How’s my lady keepin’?” He purred. The same words arose regularly, often standing in for any ordinary greeting. A symptom of how much of his mind was given over to caring for you.

You nodded from deep in your throat. “I missed you.”

While that was your equivalent to a ‘hello.’

“Missed you more, sweetheart,” He conferred, nuzzling your neck to kiss it.

A little titter on your part faded halfway through at the slight change in his hand placement. You forced out an awkward cough when his palms slid lower onto your hips—and, therefore, painfully fresh cut.

He did not miss your sudden stiffness. After a brief pause of recognition, his gaze dropped to your belly on instinct. A sudden, disquieted note as he lowly spoke, “What is it?”

You moved your hands up to his shoulders, trying to maintain closeness. “Nothing, Mike, he's fine."

"Are you?"

You nodded again, unconcerned. Michael breathed softly as he took your earlier move of proximity a step further, his lips gently caressing yours as though every inch of your body aside from the one bearing his baby were also made of glass.

But so soon his thumb dug down into your hipbone, you chomped down on his lip by accident.

Instead of flinching in the least, he leaned back and gave you a look that, the longer it lasted, the more your knees went weak.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart?”

You clicked your tongue dejectedly, your guileful demeanor shedding its pretense as thus far so effortlessly at the familiar edge of the question. Not overbearing nor stern, nor did it in any way rise above the bounds of that usual adoration normally fluttering around you. Yet you never failed to yield. It was the suddenly perceptive stillness with which he searched for any sign that might prove his hunch, too incorriginly prone to ring true. Like right now.

“It was the smallest, most pathetic of falls imaginable." You surrendered, your confidence flagging as you looked away, and then back at him. And then back at the farthest reaches of the walls. Then, inch by inch, finally back at him again.

Michael stared, the sternness so palpable you began to notice blood pooling in your fingertips.

“The smallest ever.”

The thumb he had pressed on the area initiated feather-like strokes, displeasingly confirming your confession in the way your face winced at the touch. Without further probing, he lifted your nightgown just enough to make skin-to-skin contact.

“Oww, careful, careful...“

“Alright, angel. Does it hurt?” You knew he wouldn’t see much in the poor light. He carefully mapped the subtle irregularity in the smoothness of your skin, your spine titillated by the cold, coarse tips of his fingers. “How'd you manage this, mh?”

Your face flushed with humiliation. “…I went looking through the tray records for the doctor's appointments. Up on the shelf."

Michael didn't seem any the happier with your explanation, a sigh through his nose stirring some sense of inadequacy in you.

Your throat vibrated with a grumble. “C'mon babe, that's just a scratch. I did not lose a limb.”

“And yet you couldn't give it twenty minutes and let me do it for you." A rebuttal that inevitably set you straight.

"Probably around fort—"

"Could've waited for me, couldn't you, lovely?"

Your lips pressed together, embarrassment welling up now that you'd noticed the amused look taking shape on your face, at odds with your husband's obvious solemnity.

“…’Kay. But honestly, it's only a scratch.” Right. Your temple nestled against his shoulder as you watched intently. Michael’s hands deftly manoeuvered through the domestic medical supplies and down to your hip, occasionally swapping out the iodine-stained gauze pads for clean ones.

You couldn’t quite understand the point of using more than a couple of them. Or using iodine at all.

A blotchy brownish smear now covered the spot you'd bumped, unevenly.

Michael dabbed at it with the cotton swab, surprisingly sure-handed for someone with virtually no first-aid knowledge or any overall medical expertise.

You’d already protested twice. He wouldn't listen, squeezing more firmly around your underarms instead. Your inner wrist brushed gently against his jaw, bristly with stubble. “Mike, hun... I think that’s enough. Dr. Jackson can stand down now.”

“Let me take care of it, baby.” His hot breath against your ear. “You've been so clumsy. What am I gonna do?"

You couldn't keep your lips from twisting shyly, already leaning in to press them affectionately to him—however, you hadn't quite closed the gap when he captured your chin, tilting it to the perfect angle to properly kiss you. A laugh escaped you when he stopped. "I think you're enjoying this a little too mu—"

The piece of cotton dangled neglected between two of his other fingers while he slowly kissed you shut, an alcohol-scented trail wafting into your nostrils.

His guarding touch dragged up your thigh to your hand, which kept a loose fist on the hem of your flannel to give him a clear view. Your chest vibrated annoyngly when his mouth suddenly left yours. “Here, baby, let me," replacing your hold with his own.

Before you could say anything, Michael diligently resumed the task at hand, now holding the fabric up himself as he lightly petted the soft material over the bruise.

You traced your tongue along your gums, breathing out a smile as your muscles melted back into his chest, both of you on your marital bed.

"Try not to scare me like that again, hm?"

“Fine. I’ll just strap myself to the couch.”

Michael's snarl resented the irony in your voice, which you found nothing but charming. But he met your gaze and you were struck by the same solemnity as before, so you quickly recomposed. “Hey,”

His hand hovered in midair, attending. It was a farcical discrepancy seeing its large proportions against the tiny gauze.

“We’ll be fine, dad. It was just a dumb little accident."

You could so plainly see the muddled and yet quiet fervor writing across his face at your choice of nickname, leaving you temporarily transfixed as you contemplated the endearing onslaught of emotion.

“Oh, boy." He reached for your jaw, your body tilting forward to his grasp. “I'd like t'hear that again.”

“Say what?”

He kissed you on the lips. As he broke not far off, your raised brow of mock innocence hid how much you had suddenly begun to enjoy this.

You tasted it in your mouth. “Dad?”

He hummed, a mellifluous tune to your ears. You started to entertain the idea of spending the whole day teasing him with the name, just to enjoy the novelty of his barely contained reactions.

Michael leaned in to take your lips again, his body warmth more tangible against you—the cotton bit finally cast aside onto some plush game-themed pillow that adorned the duvet. The hand once keeping your gown up now released to cradle your head before pushing you, still ever so gently, onto the wooden headboard, his knuckles cushioning the brunt of impact.

“Being my wife looks great on you, but—” you boldly interjected, bringing him back into the kiss. A tenor “hmh” in response. “God, I love you like this, baby. Lookin' so sweet... doing so good for our baby."

Your bottom half shuddered at the praise. “It has a nice look on you, too.” words mouthed to his parted lips.

A sense of accomplishment settled over you as his teeth lightly sank into your plump bottom flesh, his tongue inadvertently delving deep into the warmth of your mouth shortly after to hungrily lap up every inch. He briefly separated.

"You're makin' it pretty hard for me to stop at one, ain't you, pretty girl?” Your legs already enveloping him, calves pressing down on his bent shoulders. “Soo hard…”

The way your big, dewy eyes gazed up at him, drinking in every syllable he uttered—he pressed down on you a third time, both your bodies weighing down the centre of the mattress, one hand cupping your tummy as he wormed his way beneath the straps of your skimpy thong. “Such a clumsy head... you deserve a little looking after after all that. M' gonna need to keep a closer eye on you to ward off your risky ways.”

His head already trailed down your torso, steadying you against the wall with a palm beside the curve of your breast. He lingered just enough to plant a peck on your hip, sending the night’s very first shiver up your spine.

“You tell me if it's sore, baby."

But you'd pretty much already forgotten about your hip.

author's note╵a quick scribble that came to mind to my moon my man. i will be getting your requests! ik what you dirty hoes are thinking xoxo,

© feverrootlips 2026

[princessrosalia]

his sweetheart ──── michael jackson ♡

thriller!michael x 𝒇!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ✦ w.c. 7.2k

a glimpse into a day in the honeymoon phase with you and your beau. includes fluff & soft smut, with a lil bit of angsty undertones, where you show your baby just how perfect he is, even if he keeps refusing to listen. ❤︎ ╱ unprotected penetrative sex, oral sex f!receiving, fingering, breeding kink, creampie, cockwarming.

— tw: inclusion of michael’s eating disorder

"mikey, baby..." you giggled breathlessly as you felt the softness of your boyfriend's tongue playfully kissing over the most sensitive areas of your neck. it was a cosy rainy day, so you were cuddled up in your bed, surrounded by teddies and pillows, the decor a chaotic mess from your pillow fight just thirty minutes prior. you both lay on your sides, but almost on top of each other in the manner that your limbs were interwoven, and also in how your lips didn't dare to be apart for more than a few seconds. the only sounds were wet kisses, sighs, and the comforting patter of rain on the window.

your hands were threaded comfortably through his dark curls, and you couldn't stop giggling at the ticklish yet sensual sensation stemming from his head's position beneath your jaw, still pressing kisses to your skin. he couldn't get enough of you.

"hm?” michael murmured into your neck, running his hands up and down your torso. you hadn’t been together that long, but you were both obsessed with each other, craving each other’s touch all the time. and michael was oxymoronically both a shy and passionate lover—there was passion in everything he said and did to you, but outside of sex he was often hesitant to commit sensual actions, such as gripping your ass (even as much as he wanted to) or squeezing your breasts. he overthought a lot of things, and never wanted to cross a boundary.

now though, he’d become so lost in you that for him this moment was akin to the intimacy of sex itself, and so he squeezed and grabbed at your ass through the fabric of your tiny denim shorts. you laughed airily as he did.

one of the biggest elements of your adoration for michael was that very coalescence of shyness and heated passion. his songs and stage persona spoke of the latter, and generally he embodied the former, but when it was just the two of you, him so immersed in your body, the depth of his devotion would be enacted.

“stop it, michael,” you said through breathless sighs as he started to nip at you, “i wanna see your pretty face.”

reluctantly, michael paused his bestowing of affection, and pulled back to look at you. a wide smile was brought to your face, while michael’s was bashful. he shook his head.

“why are you shaking your head?”

“callin’ me pretty…” he muttered, embarrassed. his face was still lit up, but his eyes looked a little melancholy. you hated whenever he got like that, which for michael was way more often than one should experience. and in relation to that, michael often forgot that a romantic relationship wasn’t a one-way thing—you felt for him the way he did for you, and you would never hesitate to demonstrate that.

it really did upset you, though—how he despised his looks so much. a few years ago he’d had rhinoplasty to thin out his beautiful nose, and while of course he still looked as angelic as ever—he always would—you wished you could’ve been with him at the time to convince him not to go ahead with that surgery.

“baby, don’t start that with me,” you whispered, cupping his cheek. “what did i say? every time i tell you how pretty you are, you must take it with no arguments, okay?” you rubbed your thumb over his cheekbone, before gently squeezing.

he smiled, but there was a bone-deep tiredness in his eyes that entwined with the melancholy. he had been so busy lately, and you knew he wasn’t taking care of himself. that was further evident in how quiet he’d been today, and you felt a pang of worry that he might’ve been buried in your neck for reasons other than for your pleasure.

that was true, although he wouldn’t admit it. he’d rested on your chest before settling his exhausted face into your neck in order for you to neither see how bad he supposedly looked, and so that you didn’t worry too much about the visible depletion due to over-exerting himself in rehearsal and onstage while he deliberately starved.

but while you were only in the honeymoon phase, so early on in your relationship, you knew michael well enough already. and of course it wasn’t all of a sudden in this moment that his fatigue had expressed itself in his appearance—so hiding it from you now was useless.

the two of you looked at each other, you gazing into a pair of sad eyes, and michael gazing into a pair of softly concerned ones.

“sweet boy,” you said quietly, before cupping his chin now and kissing his angel lips, both of you relishing in the comfort of how your legs were weaved as if the limbs were one. and michael was again glad that you seemed to be initiating a makeout, because that meant less time for you to think about other things that he knew you would, regarding his health.

“honey…” he murmured in between kisses, slipping in his tongue as you sighed and played with his hair.

but after a couple of minutes, you pulled back. no, you weren’t going to spend the rest of your time together with only kisses while without words. you knew he wasn’t doing well, and you wouldn’t allow him to distract his way out of the gentle confrontation you had to approach him with.

as soon as you pulled away, he held you by your neck and resumed the kiss without question. but again, you ended it.

“wha’s wrong, baby?” he furrowed his brows.

“nothing, michael—you know i could kiss you all day,” you smiled softly, but your heart ached as you looked at him.

you busied yourself with twirling one of his curls while you braced yourself for the question you were about to ask, because you knew it would make him uncomfortable. you hated to see your baby upset or put in a difficult position, but you needed to broach the subject all the same.

“then why’d y’ stop?” he asked in that beautiful, angelic cadence of his, pressing a sweet kiss to the button of your nose.

“because i need to talk to you about something.” now you interlocked your fingers with his, and his face grew concerned.

you took a deep breath. “have you eaten today?”

michael instantly averted his eyes from you, looking instead at the comforter below.

you squeezed his hand and kissed him again, momentarily this time. “no. look at me.”

reluctantly, he did.

“now answer me, michael,” you sighed, with the soothing rhythm of running your thumb over the skin of his jaw and his cheek. you didn’t want to press him like this, but you were seriously concerned. you knew that since childhood he’d had very disordered habits around eating, but recently you noticed that days passed where you could’ve sworn he hadn’t eaten a thing. and what concerned you now was that yesterday was a sunday, and for michael sundays were for fasting.

“haven’t gotten round to it yet,” he murmured, still trying to look away but each time he attempted to, you gently repositioned his attention with your gentle hand.

and michael couldn’t lie to you like he could with most people, because since he couldn’t stand to be apart from you—so deeply in love that he was—you spent virtually all your time together. even while he was still so busy, he had you with him at all times. so now, he knew that you were aware he likely hadn’t eaten. you were asking him to answer for you, but you were pretty certain already. really, the most important thing to you was that he could confront the issue and hopefully nourish his body at least a little, and even if it was for no other reason than that his girl requested it of him.

“honey,” you whispered, moving as close as you could to his warm, thin body, despite how close you were already. you held him by the nape of his neck, your other hand still holding his. “it’s four in the afternoon.”

“yeah. i’ll eat a little somethin’ later.”

“how about now?” you suggested gently. “you’re so exhausted, baby, i can see it in your face. and you have such a long day tomorrow at the studio.”

“’m not really hungry,” he muttered, but he hated being this way with you—all miserable and quiet. he was usually only ever whimsical and happy in your presence.

“that doesn’t matter when you haven’t eaten in almost two days, michael.”

your gaze never left him, and he felt anxious underneath it, but he understood that it stemmed from how much you cared.

except, he just didn’t want to eat. he deliberately used starvation as punishment and as a form of control over his chaotic existence—he had done so for years—but the restriction also tied into how he was so specific about what he ate and what it would do to his dancer’s physique. and there were also many days where he’d forget to eat simply due to obsessing over his craft. that had definitely contributed this time, but there were always a multitude of aspects.

“i know,” he smiled slightly.

“let me make you something. we can eat together, okay?”

he didn’t seem to like that suggestion, as you expected, but he nodded. “somethin’ vegetarian?”

“duh,” you grinned. “you’re my baby—i know you well enough.”

a sweet smile grew on your boyfriend’s face at that, and your heart felt that it melted. you pecked his lips several times, producing a warm laugh from his previously deflated voice.

“i love you,” you whispered. “i just wanna keep you safe and hold you here forever.”

“likewise, pretty mama.” his happy face had returned properly, and it only propelled your own further.

“mikey, don’t try to distract me now,” you laughed, squeezing his cheek. he knew how words like those, in that beautiful fucking voice of his, got you all worked up.

“that’s not what i’m doin’, honeypie,” he teased further. another thing you adored about your boyfriend was his frequent use of the cutest pet names, ones your past lovers had never used with you, and therefore forever associated with only michael.

you squinted at him playfully, nudging his bicep. “alright, i’m off to go play my ten-minute part as michael jackson’s personal chef.”

“nooo,” michael groaned, quickly pulling you snug against him so that you were flush to his chest, laid on top of his whole body. he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly so you couldn’t move. and you didn’t want to either, but your need to make him eat something overwhelmed your desire to stay cuddled up.

“mikey, it’s only ten minutes, baby,” you chuckled.

“ten minutes where i’ll be alone without you,” he frowned.

“i’m sure you’ll survive,” you grinned with a wink, before kissing his forehead, his nose and lips. then you laughed. “wink for me, baby.”

michael rolled his eyes lightheartedly. your boy never could wink, and the sight of him trying to do so always tickled you. it had stemmed from the first time you’d met, and to impress you he attempted it with the vision of looking sexy, but he ended up just blinking both eyelids. you found it hilarious, but of course it didn’t stop him from exuding the sex appeal that had drawn you to him even before you met. all his little quirks had really only amplified the way you felt about him.

now he tried to do it again at your request, but of course to no avail. all he did was blink both eyes, and together you laughed, while you still laid on top of him.

michael seized the moment to begin another passionate kiss, slipping in his tongue almost instantly, and at first, you fell for it, swirling yours with his, moaning softly into the peaceful embrace of your mouths meeting.

but then you remembered the task at hand. “nope!” you jumped off of him and stood up. “i’m going to the kitchen. you’ll see me in ten minutes.”

as you walked away, you heard michael groan again, and you chuckled to yourself.

in the kitchen you made him a tofu salad sandwich, and you sat cuddled up with him while he ate it. he did so as slow as ever, but at least he was eating. you played with his hair to distract him from his thoughts, and kissed his nose every so often to watch his bright energy light up in his eyes even if only briefly.

he didn’t finish the sandwich, but you hadn’t expected him to. you were just glad to have seen him consume most of it, because you couldn’t stand to see him so malnourished.

he was silent afterward, adding onto the comfortable silence you’d been in while he’d eaten, and you wondered if he was upset about something. he looked deep in thought.

“baby?” you asked from beside him, scratching at his scalp now in the way he always loved.

“yeah?” he replied softly, kissing your hand.

“something on your mind?”

“a few things.” michael started to smile.

“like what?” you furrowed your brows in amusement, because you knew that look on his face all too well.

“like,” he pressed several open-mouthed kisses up your arm from your wrist, “i wanna go down on you right now.”

you chuckled. “and that’s the first thing you thought of after eating that sandwich?”

“yeah. dessert,” he murmured against your skin, breathing you in happily. he was in a better mood now, and you smiled at him with just as much elation.

“well, if you’d like…”

michael grinned wider, pulling you into a kiss. you laughed into his mouth and pulled back to point something out. “but wait ten minutes, honey. you don’t want indigestion.”

michael rolled his eyes, sitting up against the headboard because he knew you were right.

“this first…” you hummed, moving over to straddle his lap. wrapping your arms around his neck, you cupped his jaw and initiated another sweet make out session.

as you kissed, sloppily and heavenly, you rocked over his clothed bulge, hardening the more you moved and the more you whined into his mouth.

then after some time had passed, while michael could’ve kissed you forever he also craved something that excited him much more. he squeezed your waist and broke the kiss, for the first time in his life.

“alright, honey, i think it’s been much more than ten minutes.”

you giggled, climbing off him to lay back against the sheets.

and while you got yourself comfortable, you watched in amusement as he began to busy himself with something. he took great care in how he maneuvered your stuffed animals to the floor, putting them down one by one.

“this isn’t appropriate for the teddy bears and the little kitties to see.”

you laughed, then squealed as he pulled your legs up, settling himself between your legs. slowly he pulled down your tiny shorts and threw them somewhere.

then, wordlessly he hooked his arms around your thighs, pressed a kiss to your centre through your panties, and wasted no time in tugging them down, although the way he did so was, as always, reverent and gentle.

upon witnessing the sight of your soaked folds, michael immediately licked one warm stripe up your slit, and you hissed, toes curling even at the first touch. then he spread your puffy folds with two fingers, and pressed a soft kiss to your waiting clit.

“i missed her,” he murmured against your bundle of nerves, and you ruffled his hair in turn, giggling.

“baby, it’s been like, four days since you last went down on me.”

his pretty brown eyes looked up into yours. “that’s a long time, angel.”

amused, you shook your head, and then he dove in properly, and your eyes clamped shut instinctively. “oh f—”

the vibration of his own moans and hums into your pussy only intensified the pleasure, and you tugged at his dark curls with no restraint.

“oh honey, y’taste incredible… like always…”

“mmghhh, just like that, baby—”

“just like this, huh, mama?” he sped up the movement of his tongue, lapping at you eagerly, up and down so that his face was rapidly becoming decorated with your juices.

“michael—”

“i love you so much…” he muttered against you, now rubbing his nose over your clit.

you almost yelled—he knew how much you loved that feeling—and your head fell back further onto the pillows, legs somehow falling even wider apart as you whined. “baby, fuck—feels so good, keep doing that—”

“could taste you forever, sweet girl…”

there was nobody who utilised pet names more than michael, and not one uttered from his lips has any falsity to it. he spoke each word with deliberate care, and the work of his mouth mirrored that same intention.

the situation in your nether region was pure filth. you were completely soaked now, sweet juices smearing all over your boyfriend’s gratified face, and dripping slick onto the sheets below.

at one point, you tugged at his curls a little too hard and he groaned into you. you opened your mouth to apologise, but only louder moans poured out.

“y’did that on purpose, baby?” michael smirked against your clit, before latching on to suck and in turn sending your eyes rolling into the back of your head again.

“no, i promise,” you chuckled through a high-pitched gasp. truly, you were tugging only absentmindedly, and the pleasure from the vibration of his sounds was a bonus.

michael laughed, then continued to ravish you, jaw working at an insane speed to pleasure each fraction of your pussy with immense dedication. too lost in the pleasure, your eyes were clamped shut, and when he brought up two fingers and pushed them in—still never letting up the work of his tongue—it was such a sudden intrusion that you were seeing stars.

michael’s fingers were so long, and so with one swift thrust inside, they without fail hit your spot instantly.

“aw, that’s it, mama… y’feel me right where y’need me most, yeah? tell me, pretty baby… need to make sure i’m pleasin’ y’ right…”

as his tongue continued to lap at you, in tandem with the quick while specific thrusts of his digits hitting your g-spot, he took even more pleasure in listening to you struggle to form a coherent response.

“michael—baby, i’m gonna cum, i’m so close—you’re perfect, fuck—”

“nonono,” he muttered just above your weeping entrance (stuffed full by those beautiful fingers) licking up the messy slick that didn’t cease to emerge. every last drop, he savoured.

but now, he took those two fingers out and began to gradually phase out the pace of his tongue—although that took quite a few moments to get him to actually stop, because of course the boy was equal parts munch and head over heels for his girl, so he found it very difficult to actually detach his mouth from your sex, no matter how hard he tried.

finally however, he pulled away. he looked up at you and wiped the space around his mouth with the back of his hand, and the sight of that casual action paired with his soft brown eyes had you feeling dizzy even though the treatment of pleasure had halted.

you were pouting at him in confusion, and he chuckled—another sound and sight that sent shivers through your spine. instinctively, you bucked your hips up a little and arched your back, grinding on the sheets without a thought.

“don’t edge me like that, mikey,” you frowned.

“’m not done, sweetheart,” michael smiled, before beginning to quickly shed his clothes. “wanna be inside you when i get you there—y’know that.”

“i do,” you grinned. “my gentleman.”

“how does that make me a gentleman?” he raised a brow, stepping out of his boxers.

you bit your lip insanely hard at what beheld—michael’s huge, thick cock leaking milky beads of precum.

but more accurately, your lip bite was a product of the feeling produced from that sight. your core ached, and again you unconsciously writhed your hips, needing to feel him so fucking bad.

then you realised you hadn’t answered his question. your boyfriend was fully naked now, and understandably that was a big distraction.

you shook your head to collect yourself. “sorry, what did you say, baby?”

“i said,” he began, while moving to settle himself over you, stroking his painfully hard cock in one hand with a wince. his other hand stroked your soft thigh. “how does wantin’ to be inside you when you cum make me a gentleman?”

“because…” you tugged his curls again but this time to pull him down for a slow kiss.

then you spoke so sincerely, surprising yourself at how the words managed to flow despite how you were insatiably horny.

“you’ve always seen sex as a sacred act. it’s so intimate and beautiful with you and i’ve never had that with anybody before. you make love, baby. so caring and passionate and… fuck, y’know, let’s stop talking—just get inside me.” you chuckled.

“honey…” he smiled wide, a beautiful expression lighting up his still-fatigued features. “i’m glad y’feel that way. always wanna make y’feel good and safe.”

“you always do, michael. without fail.”

you both looked deeply into each other’s eyes, getting lost in the so familiar orbs, and suddenly michael reached down to rub slow, perfect circles over your clit. you gasped, and immediately he interlocked his fingers with yours. he continued to pleasure your nerves as he talked.

“sex with you could never be anything less than sacred. my baby…” he started to pepper kisses over your face while you blushed and squirmed beneath him. “my beautiful girl… y’want it like this, mama?” he asked, gesturing to the position you were both in, and since you’d just spoken of intimacy, he assumed missionary was what you wanted.

he removed his thumb and now gently smacked the head of his cock over your clit, before gliding his length up and down, soaking it in a mixture of your wetness and his precum.

“mhm. need your body on mine…”

“of course, sweetheart. arms up f’me.”

you did as he asked, and gently he pulled your sweater up over your head, before silently unclasping your bra with ease. you let it fall from your shoulders.

“there, that’s better…” michael started to mouth over the most sensitive parts of your neck, making you writhe and sigh with ease. “a lot better. so fuckin’ pretty…”

now he brought his kisses down to your breasts, murmuring praise against the skin, breathing in the scent that he deemed magical.

and finally, his lips latched onto one of your nipples, with a suckle somehow both tender and rough.

“michael—need you, baby…” you whined, squeezing his hand.

“i’m right here, angel,” he muttered over your areola, kissing and licking around the nipple now.

“inside, mikey, please… need it so fucking bad.”

he pulled back and looked up for a moment, before turning to switch his affections to the other nipple. one of michael’s quirks was that he always had to balance everything out.

“no,” you countered, pushing his head back in protest. “baby, quit teasing. seriously, i’m so—”

“i know,” he chuckled, with another smack of his tip over your clit. you shuddered at the feeling.

“alright, shh. you want me like this, yeah?” michael whispered, as he leaned forward so that you both laid skin to skin, chests essentially pressed against each other.

your nipples brushed against his warm, smooth skin, and you hummed in the most thorough content.

then he leaned his forehead down to meet yours, and kissed you oh so softly, you thought you could melt in his arms.

“i love you,” you whispered against his lips—equally as gentle as everything else about him—then wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, hugging his shoulders.

“i’ll love you forever,” michael replied. “i’m so grateful for y’, honey…”

“my prince,” you grinned, cupping his cheek.

he smiled so wide, and the butterflies in your stomach were ever-prominent. with michael, they had never left since that first day.

now he kissed your cheek over and over, resting his head against yours comfortably, as he reached a hand down to slowly guide himself into your entrance.

your body seized instantly, always struggling to take him at the initial stretch, but he cooed at you through the light pain. “i know… you’ll be alright in just a moment, okay? y’take me so well, my baby girl…”

“mi—fuck—mmghhh,” you moaned and gasped as he pushed further inside. michael was only ever satisfied if he knew he was taking things at the most careful pace for you. he always searched for signs of real distress on your face, but today it was clear that you were definitely prepared, given the state of your soaking pussy.

and when he bottomed out, you sighed in sheer happiness, giggling at how beautifully full you felt. you brought a hand up to his curls, and he squeezed your other.

“what’s so funny?” he asked with a smirk.

“nothing, i’m just happy,” you smiled even brighter than before.

“’m so glad, angel,” michael whispered. “now ‘m gonna make love to you exactly how you deserve, yeah?”

you nodded and kissed his shoulder above you, but then you had a different idea.

“no, mikey, wait,” you looked up at him with sincerity, running your thumb over his knuckles. “it doesn’t always have to only be about me.”

he raised his brows in confusion, so you continued.

“i mean… sex is between the two of us—it isn’t just about my pleasure. i swear, you deserve everything that’s beautiful in this world, baby. let me show you how much i love you.”

you were beyond grateful for how michael always put your sexual needs first—every woman deserved a partner like that—but in all areas of life michael always looked down on himself, never believed he was worthy of true adoration and in turn would always shy away from anyone showing how much they appreciated him. particularly as of late, he hadn’t been taking care of himself in several ways—his food restriction being one of them, alongside his hyper-critical attitude toward his craft.

michael bit his lip and scrunched up his face in embarrassment. he loved to be intimate with you if he was the giver of such intimacy, but to be the receiver had him feeling incredibly shy, because he always believed himself unworthy.

“michael…” you smiled with an eye roll and a nudge to his bicep. “let me love on you, baby.”

now he squinted with a shy smile. “i’m the one makin’ love to you, sweetheart.”

you rolled your eyes again. “just let me show you what i mean.”

you had been stuffed full of michael’s cock for two minutes now, and you gasped at the feeling when he twitched inside your walls.

“move now, honey, please…” you sighed, tangling your fingers in his hair and digging your heels into his lower back where your legs were wrapped around him.

michael nodded with a sincere expression, and you felt that lingering butterfly sensation again, strengthened when he now thrusted for the first time.

you moaned in the utmost satisfaction as he again hit your sweet spot with ease. “oh baby…”

and before he could say something, before he could swallow your words in hot kisses, you started to worship him with both words and touch, endeavouring to make him feel so loved, despite his usual protests. he spent all his days doing that for you, so why couldn’t you replicate the same for him? you just had to get past his dismissive attitude when it came to things like this.

despite how in terms of position he was the one with the dominance, being above you and in control of the pace and depth, that didn’t affect the way you planned to take care of him that afternoon. while he took care of your pleasure, you did so with his nervous system, and his very soul. he had been so detached from self-love his entire life, and there was nothing you cherished more than possession of the ability to be the one girl who could make him understand his worth, even if that understanding only ever lasted for short moments.

you knew that michael would probably never treat himself right, that he would always believe himself to be unattractive and unworthy of everything you gave him and of what his fans gave him, but that depressing inevitability never deterred you from trying your best with him. you always tried your best to influence even the slightest self-love on his behalf, and even while it was a struggle, the result of seeing the shy brightness in his eyes and the flushed expression on his beautiful face always brought you so much relief.

“michael, baby,” you said through moans as he hit your spot with every devoted thrust, “promise you’ll listen to every word i’m about to say…”

“what d’y’ wanna say, sweet thing?” he whispered in your ear, before pressing two slow, wet kisses beneath it.

you pulled him down for a passionate kiss of your lips, the wet squelches of each smack filling the room with the sound of sex. then you moved your lips to his neck, sucking all over his most sensitive erogenous zone.

“gonna tell you how beautiful you are…” you murmured, leaving a deliberate hickey. michael continued to fuck you so perfectly, rhythm slow and deep. “how much i love you…”

he let out the most ethereal moan at the feeling of your sensuous treatment, and began playing with your fingers as he thrusted, for that was always what kept him grounded the most—especially when he felt shy. like right now, he was diffidently anticipating the words you’d choose next, in a moment that couldn’t be more intimate.

“c’mere, dollface.” he pulled back so you were made to detach your lips from his neck, and kissed your forehead, then your nose, with the sweetest smirk on his face, although you could see that telltale shyness seeping through the mask that tried to hide it.

“shh,” you whispered, heart so full and body so complete with a shuddering arousal that you felt this might be the most treasured moment in your life so far.

you noticed his hand had moved to cup your cheek, while the other was enveloped in your own hand, and you adored the way his thumb would rub circles that were half-absentminded, half with purpose.

although, it didn’t take long before he pulled back, and that hand reached down to the area that needed him most. there he circled your throbbing clit, rubbing in tight repetition. this was what he would’ve done anyway, but now you noticed he’d definitely taken the opportunity to do so as a sly method of making you so distracted that you’d stop with the intimate talk.

but if that was the case, you didn’t fall for it.

“no,” you protested, tugging him back down so your bodies were attached again. now you held the back of his neck, gripping your man so securely so that he was as close to your face as possible—but when he went in to kiss you, you squeezed his cheek and giggled.

he thrusted a little quicker all of a sudden, so the giggle was quickly cut short by a high moan from your throat, but still you remained focused. you’d been gasping and whining since he entered you, but you wouldn’t let him get away with assuming that you wouldn’t be able to talk coherently in the midst of all that. sure, he’d usually be correct, but this time you were so dedicated to talk him through it, rather than the other way round as it always had been.

still holding his hand and the nape of his neck, you noticed that even while you were pressed so close—in the most intimate form of missionary imaginable—he wasn’t looking into your eyes. he looked down at your breasts, then to the side, to your lips, but not directly into your eyes.

“my baby, listen to me, you’re so pretty…” you murmured against his lips, and he shook his head, trying to swallow your words with another kiss.

“nuh-uh,” you smiled, but admittedly bit your lip at the pleasure, and almost forgot what you were meaning to say. “angelface.” you held his chin and kissed him once, softly.

that nickname always got him so incredibly flushed, and the feeling was a million times more pronounced whenever you used it during lovemaking.

“baby…” he scrunched up his face, delving into your neck now to try to kiss you there, since you’d denied his access to your lips. but of course you refused and gently pushed his head back up again.

“michael, i’m not gonna stop ‘til you listen—oh god…”

“i get it honey, y’think i’m pretty,” he sighed, snapping his hips harder now as if a sort of physical way of changing the subject. his low grunts were somehow as soft as those of angels in your ear, and he thought the same of the sounds spilling from you too.

“it’s more than that, mich—fuck, right there…”

“right there, yeah?” he cocked his tongue to the inside of his cheek, pounding you at that same ideal rhythm.

“mhm, now—shit, oh—you’re the most beautiful man on this earth, baby… body and soul—stop talking down on yourself…”

those words you managed to declare coherently, despite the ever-building immense pleasure from his cock abusing your gummy walls with each snap of his hips.

michael still wouldn’t answer, smiling only slightly, and you playfully nudged his bicep.

“ugh, come here, i don’t care how much you try to fight it.” you dragged him into a tongue-filled kiss, running your nails up and down his back now. “you’re an angel, honey,” you sighed against his throat as you resumed your neck kisses. “my handsome angel…”

you loved to bury your head in his neck, not only for the intimacy, but because you adored his scent. it was intoxicating—a rich blend of dark florals with vanilla and masculine spice.

michael’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. the feeling of your words against his skin, with the content of them, and with how your tight, wet pussy gripped his cock so perfectly, had him wondering how you were even a real human being, let alone one he could call his own.

“you mean so much to me—mmhh—and to so many people,” you continued, kissing all over his jaw to his cheek, then over his eyelids, caressing his face with your smooth hand.

“pretty dove, i love y’ so much,” he moaned back, shutting his eyes at the beautiful sensations he was so blessed to indulge in.

“i’m with you forever, my baby…” still you sucked, nipped and kissed at his skin, and you could really feel your orgasm looming now. “you’re my fucking soulmate, baby—please—oh, baby—please look after yourself…”

you couldn’t tell his reaction to that line, because his face was already in a squint due to the force of his thrusts and due to how you made him feel, but you did notice the emotion in his eyes shift slightly.

“for me,” you whispered, pausing your affections to cup his cheek again and make direct eye contact with him.

finally, he looked at you properly. michael loved eye contact during sex—really it was usually you that ended up shy—but tonight was different, because you’d flipped the switch.

“even if you won’t do it for yourself. do it for me, please.” you suddenly felt teary-eyed—how ridiculous, you thought, to almost cry during sex, but this was probably the most passionate the two of you had ever made love, and that was a big statement to make considering passion was michael’s main endeavour.

the difference was that you had never before spoken those words to him during sex.

“c’mere, sweet girl,” he moaned, now cradling the back of your head. “i love you. i’m listenin’, i promise…”

“don’t just say that to please me, michael,” you sighed through more whines as you grew closer and closer to climax, but still never taking your mind off the topic at hand.

“i think ’m pleasin’ you enough here, angel,” he teased, and you softly nudged his arm again, but a smile escaped your lips.

“shut up,” you laughed. “stop for a sec.”

michael furrowed his brows, pausing as obligated. “everythin’ alright?”

“yes,” you kissed him deeply, “you’re making me breathless and i needed to tell you we’re one hundred percent continuing this conversation after this.”

“all i heard was ’m makin y’ breathless,” he grinned, and you rolled your eyes again.

“michael.”

he only chuckled with a shake of his head, and resumed his thrusts, now hard as ever. “i know, honey, we’ll talk,” he murmured through grunts, before crashing his lips onto yours again, still cradling your head protectively.

you whined out, gripping at his shoulder with one hand, noticing he still hadn’t let go of your other.

“oh, michael,” you nearly screamed, as his cockhead slammed into your sweet spot aggressively now. this was how you guys liked to make love—slow and soft initially, before building up to more aggressive thrusts as you each came closer to climax.

“this alright, mama?” he whispered, and your toes curled even more at the sound of his beautiful voice. “nice n’ deep, huh?”

“perfect, baby—mmhh, fuck,” you moaned as you writhed beneath him on the creaking bed. your breasts were squashed against his warm chest, heels of your feet still digging into his lower back. you were completely entwined, becoming one in the act michael cherished so much.

“you close, handsome?”

“yeah, real close—ohh—”

you started to suck and bite all over his neck again, murmuring sweet nothings into the crook as he pounded you into oblivion. you wondered how he had all this energy when he hadn’t been nourishing himself lately, but you couldn’t think too much about that now. you’d care for him in the inevitable exhaustion afterward.

“my pretty baby,” you whined into his ear, to make sure he definitely heard. “such a perfect angel… y’gonna cum for me, mikey?”

michael’s heart was racing like crazy. he was absolutely obsessed with you, enamoured of your existence, and he could never believe that this life with you was real.

as you’d assumed, nothing you ever said would make him change the outlook he had on himself. no matter how sincere your tone, he still thought he looked entirely unattractive, and he’d never for a second consider that his personality had anything resembling an angel.

and that was the only thing you could ever dislike about michael: the heart-wrenching understanding that he would never see himself the way you did.

“s’close, mama, where d’you want me to—?”

“inside, baby, please—i need your cum,” you almost groaned, needing to emphasise your point profusely. you pulled back from his neck to look into his warm brown eyes.

“but—” he tried to protest, but you shook your head and silenced him with a finger to his lips.

“i’ll take that new pill, y’know—mmhh—what’s it called? the one you can take after sex?”

michael only grinned, and set an impossibly fast pace that now sent the bed rocking with even more aggression. it was a good thing nobody was home, but the neighbours were certainly hearing your endeavours to break the bed.

each time he slid in and out of you, his cock was decorated with a milky ring of your slick, and if he wasn’t chest to chest with you, he would’ve been staring down intently at where the two of you merged. that was always one of michael’s most favourite sights.

“honey, y’sure y’ want me to cum inside?”

“yes, baby—maybe i need to start taking the pill because i—fuck—hate when you don’t… feels so good…”

“alright, let go f’me… at the same time, angel, i wanna feel it, right now…”

michael’s thrusts were becoming a little more erratic, struggling to contain his orgasm, but upon his request, your climax met his.

“oh, michael, baby—”

“i know, mama, i know…”

as usual, it was heavenly, an experience of the divine. toes curling so hard you thought you might cramp, back arching off the bed, eyes shut tight as your release flooded through you—this time made even more pleasurable by the feeling of michael’s hot seed decorating your womb. spurts of his liquid shot through you, and you tightened the lock of your ankles around his hips in an attempt to push his cum as deep as it could go.

michael’s eyes were shut, lip bitten between his teeth as he tried to calm down through the aftershocks, but once he’d semi-caught his breath, he pecked your nose and laughed.

“y’want your womb filled, angel?”

your mouth dropped open in an embarrassed shock—even though you had quite literally just begged for his cum and then physically attempted to lock in his seed deeper.

and michael was being playful with his words, but you knew how much he’d wanted kids of his own for a very long time now—the only reason he hadn’t brought up the possibility was because he was so busy with his career. and you hadn’t been a couple for all that long, but you very much enjoyed the prospect of him bringing that sort of language into the bedroom, while without the attachment of legitimate baby-making.

“i like the feeling…” you sighed, suddenly growing shy. you were filled to the brim with your man’s cum, as he looked into your eyes with a teasing smirk.

“y’want me to pull out now, or?”

“no,” you said quickly, and the desperation in your voice made him laugh again.

“okay,” he smiled, pressing one final kiss to your lips before settling his body comfortably to blanket yours—as it had already been doing, but now as though he was literally using your torso as a mattress.

his head rested between your cheek and your neck, while you ran your fingers through his soft hair. you wrapped the comforter protectively around his back.

“y’feelin’ okay?” he asked, words muffled against you.

“yes, baby, i’m perfect. how are you feeling?”

“amazin’. but tired,” he yawned. “real tired.”

“i know,” you whispered softly. “you’re so good to me honey, but don’t overexert yourself just to please me, okay?”

he made a soft sound of understanding, and snuggled further into you.

“we’ll talk later, sweet boy. get some sleep.”

and so michael drifted off into a slumber while resting inside you, humming and sighing against your neck in the comfort you provided for him. he struggled with sleep as well as food, and it brought a tear to your eye as you laid with him, to see him so safe in your arms. you were the only one who understood him, and the only one who could influence the slightest bit of self-compassion, even when he was at his lowest mentally.

he slept there for two hours inside you, which you knew wasn’t ideal for a woman not intending to get pregnant, but you found yourself unable to care. you had your beautiful sweetheart resting peacefully on top of you, and true peace had been so hard for him to achieve.

─── ❤︎ thank you for reading!! i’ve been super busy the last week so this took me a while, but i’m happy to finally post again!! :3

tag list: @enzo6ekiiii @cinnamoncunt @kpheliaox @lov3lylxvender @honey-dip-24 @calicopetal @vheavxly @thrillhernight @iadoreyourdiioorr @lavendernightsky @imsoborediwannadie @honeygl0ws @daniiibananiii @mbafi @starliqhtsworld @uh444 @prinxessylvia @shessuchawerido @cndybliss @melaninjoys @mikeysbadgyal @blasianboiwwhitegurlswag @ebonymuse @eternalau6ust @k-offrecord @ainahaslottosay @sxrcqst1cc @pixieelixer-24 @hutaomaiin @amoravelee @whateverisnothing @weepingwillow12344 @kye1aaazene @aerangi @superlegend216 @sweeterners @jaafarscmslt @saintwrld @choc0ch1ps @naomii444 @ze02ke20 @graysislosingit @cherrybabesstuff @sunsetfreedom05 @rockurwurld @thuggahworkz @babygguk98 @plantsofdeath @ssamanthasaenz @crowdgoinapeshit

[chmpngekisses]

⋆˚࿔ co-parents 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

mature era!michael x younger ex wife!reader

author’s note; based off of the idea i posted about like two nights ago. the girls are nicknamed after minnie and daisy from mickey mouse so they would have some kind of name.. minnie is 5 going on 6 and daisy is 3 going on 4, age gap is implied but you can decide how many years. didn’t proofread!

michael waited patiently at the top of the driveway, standing with his hands behind his back, watching you pull up in your white 2003 lexus sc 430 convertible with the hardtop roof down. his two precious girls in the backseats, both wearing their private school uniform , both giving him a big wave and cheesy smile as you finally parked the car.

the two screamed in excitement to see their father, it was michael’s week to have the kids which was perfect time for you. schedule was full with meetings and meetings back to back due to your clothing line coming out with another launch.

“hello michael” you said as you moved your sunglasses to act as a headband for your hair, removing the car key from the ignition. transferring the backpacks from the passenger floor to the seat so it’s easier to grab.

“no need to be formal” michael responded, “i prefer hi daddy” he added while walking up to the passenger side of the car, you rolled your eyes and waved him off out of annoyance. the oldest, minnie pops her seatbelt buckle out before attempting to help her younger sister daisy out of hers. she successfully got the chest clip but due to little strength in her thumbs, minnie was having trouble to unbuckle the buckle part of the car seat.

“i got it” michael spoke, “thank you for helping” he praised minnie before placing his thumb on the red buckle and click, the metal prongs detached in a swift before picking up daisy from her five point harness car seat.

you snagged the backpacks off the passenger seats before exiting out of the vehicle, bending down to pull the lever for the driver’s seat to move forward, creating space for minnie to get out.

helping the oldest out of the car, you glanced up to see daisy already in michael’s arms. head resting on his shoulder, her small hand placed on michael’s chest with a little pout on her face.

“how was school?” michael asked, bouncing daisy in her arms as she shook her head refusing to answer. letting out a chuckle before he turned his attention to minnie.

“school was fun” minnie answered, “we watched beauty and the beast since its friday” she contiuned, you shut the car door. standing behind minnie with a smile on your face as she was going on and on about her school day.

now heading to the front door, it was you and minnie hand in hand walking in front of michael.

your ex husband eyed you up and down from behind in the meantime, you wearing a matching green velour tracksuit with your khaki 2004 coach hampton demi bag on your shoulder, the pink straps from your thong poking out. when it’s time to go up the few steps, your jacket rises up a bit and since your track pants were low rise, the small yet noticeable ‘𝓜’ tattoo on your lower back made its appearance.

michael smirked at the tattoo before he bit his bottom lip, thinking back on the time you got it.

“you look good”

“michael please shut up”

author’s note: this SUCKSSS for now, will definitely create some headcanons + maybe more blurbs. my homegirl is now harassing me to write more

[mustangb3byy]

˖ ⭑ disneyland | michael jackson ˖ ⭑

pairing: thriller m.jackson x fem!reader

synopsis: while on your honeymoon with michael to disneyland, things get took a little too far.

warnings: smut, breaking a bed, lowkey rough sex, oral (fem receiving.)

a/n: i know that this didn’t happen in michael’s thriller era, but for my mental health and ovulation, it did.

the sun had set over disneyland, casting a warm glow over the magical kingdom as you and michael—now husband and wife—had made your way back to your luxurious hotel room. the day had been filled with laughter, cotton candy, and endless rides.

michael had kicked his shoes off by the door, letting out a contented sigh as he loosened his tie. the suite was breathtaking—floor-to-floor ceiling windows overlooking the sparking lights of the city, a king sized bed draped in silk sheets, and rose petals scattered across the marble bathroom floor. he turned to you with that boyish grin, his dark eyes sparking with mischief.

michael approached you slowly, his hands reaching out to gently frame your face as he leaned in for a soft kiss, his lips were warm and tender. pulling back slightly, he whispered against your lips, “mrs. jackson…”

you couldn’t help but smile at the way his voice wrapped around your new title. it was surreal to be married to michael jackson, but in moments like this, he was just your husband—your loving, playful husband. you playfully bit his bottom lip softly, “mr. jackson,” you teased back.

he chucked softly at that, the sound sending familiar shivers down your spine. “come here,” he murmured, guiding you backward toward the bed. his fingers deftly worked at the zip of your dress as he backed you up, until you both landed on the plush mattress.

you giggled breathlessly, “michael, you’re so impatient.”

“i’ve been patient all day!” he protested with a laugh, nuzzling into your neck. “we’ve been surrounded by kids and mickey mouse all day. i just want to be alone with my wife.” his hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress higher.

you gasped as his fingers brushed against against the lace of your panties, your head falling back against the pillows. “well, you have me all to yourself now,” you breathed out, your fingers tangling in his curly hair. the room filled with the sound of your hushed whispers and gentle touches.

michael wasted no time in shedding his shirt, revealing his soft skin that you knew so well. he hovered over you, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down the valley between your breasts. the atmosphere shifted from playful to heavy with desire, the scent of roses and your mingled colognes filling the air.

you arched your back, pulling him closer to you. his breath was hot against your skin as he unclasped your bra, his lips immediately finding your nipple. you moaned softly, threading your fingers through his thick curls while he lavished attention on each breast, his tongue making lazy circles around your hardened peaks.

michael’s hands trailed down your sides, gripping your hips as he moved down your body, pulling your panties off with a swift tug. he spread your legs wide, settling his broad shoulders between them. his first languid lick had you gripping the sheets, your hips lifting off the bed.

“michael…” you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders as his tongue worked expertly between your thighs. he looked up at you through those dark lashes, a wicked glint in his eyes. “you taste so sweet, baby,” he murmured against your slick folds before diving back in, his tongue swirling around your clit. your breath hitched, your thighs trembling against his head.

unable to take the teasing any longer, you reached down and tugged at his waistband, freeing his length. he groaned appreciatively at your eager touch, stroking himself slowly as he watched you writhe beneath him. “i need you inside me, please,” you pleaded, your voice thick with desires michael smirked, positioning himself between your trembling thighs. “patience, mrs. jackson.”

he teased your entrance with the head of his cock, rubbing himself against you but not pushing in. he lovers how you squirmed and whimpered beneath him, your nails scratching his back. “say please again,” he whispered with a smirk, loving how desperate you sounded for him.

“please, baby,” you gasped out, your legs spreading wider to give him better access. “i need you so bad…please.” michael finally granted your wish, pushing into your tight heat with one slow, torturously delicious stroke. both of you cried out as you became one, the intimacy of the moment washing over you even more than the pleasure.

he began moving then, slow at first, deep thrusts made the bed springs squeak with each one. his forehead pressed against yours, eyes closed as he lost himself in the rhythm. “you feel so good,” he groaned against yours lips, his pace quickening as your walls clenched around him. “my wife…”

you clawed at his back, urging him on. michael obliged, his movements becoming more intense and passionate as he clung to you. the headboard of the bed began to hit the wall with a rhythmic thudding sound that matched their hurried breathing and muffled moans. he shifted his angle slightly, hitting that spot inside you that made your eyes roll back.

“right there, right fucking there,” you cried out, your voice getting louder with each thrust. michael covered your mouth with his to muffle the sounds, kissing you deeply as he drove into you harder, the bed breaking loudly beneath you both.

the sounds of your passionate lovemaking filled the room—skin slapping against skin, the wet sounds of his cock thrusting into your dripping pussy, the loud squeaks of the bed springs—michael reached down and grabbed your leg, throwing it over his shoulder to go even deeper.

you arched your back as he hit that spot inside you repeatedly, your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. the bed was now shaking violently against the wall with each powerful thrust. michael’s breath came in ragged gasps against your neck as he whispered dirty words only you could hear.

“i’m close,” you whimpered, your walls clenching around him tightly. michael groaned deeply, his pace becoming erratic as he felt your orgasm approaching. “come for me, baby,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. “let me feel you.” his thrusts became harder, faster, completely losing control as the bed grained under your combined weight.

you shattered beneath him, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed through you. your scream was muffled by his shoulder as you clenched around him uncontrollably. the climax triggered something in michael—he buried himself deep, his thrusts becoming brutal.

a sound then echoed through the suite like a gunshot. both of you froze mid-thrust as the wooden bed frame splintered beneath you, the middle collapsing inward. you both tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs, michael landing on top of you with a startled yelp.

silence stretched between you for a heartbeat before michael burst into surprised laughter against your neck.

“i can’t believe—“ he laughed between gasps, still inside you despite now being on the floor. “did we just break the bed?” his eyes were bright with amusement, dimples appearing as he grinned down at you. you were too breathless to scold him, still trembling from your orgasm as he lazily thrust just once more.

you burst into laughter despite still being in complete shock from what just happened, your chest heaving with spent breaths “that’s because you lost control completely, michael!” you managed to say, running your fingers along his jaw. michael kissed you softly, not moving from where he was buried inside you. “worth it,” he murmured against your lips, flexing his hips slowly as sparks ignited between you again.

you both looked over at the broken bed frame and started giggling like teenagers. michael slowly pulled out of me, both of you wincing slightly at the sensitivity. he lay on his back on the carpet, pulling you against his chest.

“you know,” he said thoughtfully, running his fingers through your hair as you curled up on his chest, “they say your honeymoon is supposed to be romantic and perfect. but i think i prefer our version—broken bed and great sex.”

you giggled against his skin, tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “most couples just break a glass of something. we took out the whole damn bed frame.” michael chuckled, the sound vibrating against your cheek. “that’s because you’re fully mine now. i can be as wild as i want.” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his arm tightening around you.

the laughter eventually died down, replaced by comfortable silence as you both lay tangled on the floor. michael traced lazy patterns on your hip, his breathing slowly returned to normal.

“so…” you murmured, looking up at him with a tired smile. “do you think we should call the front desk orrr?”

michael groaned dramatically, covering his face with one hand. “we’re definitely getting charged for that,” he muttered, though he couldn’t keep the laugh out of his voice. “though i’m not complaining.” he pressed a kiss to your temple, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass. “worth every penny.”

you snorted, poking his ribs. “you’re the one with the money, mr. jackson.” you joked.

[mvsticmoony]

Excuse Me, That’s My Wife

SUMMARY: based on this tweet. Michael spends months carefully protecting the biggest secret of his life. Then, he sees Prince compliment his wife’s dress and suddenly decides that secrecy is overrated.

CONTENT: michael jackson x reader. established relationship. prince cameo. jelous!michael. husband and wife. fluff. humor. little blurb for y’all

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・.・。.・゜✭

The event had started normally. Which meant Michael was smiling. Laughing. Charming every reporter in sight. Answering questions. Being Michael Jackson.

Y/N stood across the ballroom speaking with a group of people near the bar while pretending not to watch him every thirty seconds.

Their marriage had been secret for months. A very carefully protected secret. Only a handful of people knew and everyone else assumed they were friends. Very close friends. Suspiciously close friends. But yeah, friends.

Which was exactly how Michael preferred it.

That was, until Prince showed up.

The man Michael had spent half his career competing against and the other half pretending he wasn’t competing against. The man that made Michael jump out of bed in the middle of the night because if he slept just a minute longer, God would give him his idea. The artist that owned the music he once caught his Y/N singing in the shower to. Purple Rain, to be precise. Michael had been moody all day long afterwards.

Now, Michael respected Prince. Admired him. Thought he was ridiculously talented. A genius, even. But at that exact moment? Michael was contemplating violence.

Because Prince had wandered over to Y/N.

And stayed there.

One minute. Two minutes. Three.

The reporter interviewing Michael noticed the exact moment it happened.

Because Michael had been smiling. Sweet. Charming. What everyone would expect of Michael Jackson during an interview.

Then suddenly he wasn’t anymore.

The smile vanished. Jaw tightened slightly. Eyes narrowed across the room.

“…Michael?”

No response.

The reporter followed his gaze after exchanging a confused glance with the camera man, who just shrugged.

The interviewer immediately spotted Prince talking to a very beautiful woman.

“Oh.” Then looked back to the king of pop. Then back at Prince.

Michael kept staring.

The reporter started grinning.

“Oh, dear.”

Michael didn’t say anything it. Didn’t deny anything. Which, apparently, was denial enough.

“What’s happening?” the reporter asked, trying really hard not to laugh at Michael Jackson’s annoyed expression.

Michael folded his arms and shook his head slightly, eyes not leaving the scene.

“People don’t respect a married woman nowadays.” He declared softly.

The reporter blinked.

The cameraman’s mouth hung open.

Silence.

“…a WHAT?”

Michael sighed. Shook his head negatively again. The man looked genuinely disappointed in society.

“A married woman.” He repeated like he hadn’t just sent the journalist nearly into cardiac arrest with the revelation that would be considered the great scoop of their career. Poor guy didn’t even know he’d be interviewing Michael Jackson until a few minutes ago.

The reporter stood frozen, as well as the cameraman

Everyone who walked past nearby froze as the words ‘married woman’ left Michael’s lips.

Because that sentence implied one extremely important thing: Michael Jackson had a wife. And apparently nobody knew about it.

The reporter opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

“Mr. Jackson—”

But Michael was already walking away.

Directly across the ballroom.

People started noticing.

Because Michael Jackson walking somewhere with purpose was an event.

Prince noticed first.

Y/N noticed second.

And immediately thought:

‘Oh no.’

Because her secretly husband (not so secretly anymore, although she wasn’t aware yet) had a very determined look on his face. And that usually meant trouble.

Michael reached them.

Prince smiled politely. “Hey, man.”

Michael nodded.

Never breaking eye contact with Y/N.

“Hi.”

Prince looked between them, feeling suddenly confused.

Y/N looked like she wanted the floor to open and consume her.

Then Michael did something that would be replayed on television for the next decade.

He lifted both hands.

Placed them gently on either side of Y/N’s face.

“Zoom in, zoom in right now!” The reporter whisper-yelled to the cameraman.

The music suddenly felt quieter.

Y/N’s eyes widened.

“Michael—” Too late.

He kissed her.

Not a quick kiss. Not a friendly kiss. Not something that could be explained away later.

A real, passionate, deep kiss.

The kind that immediately answered every and any question anyone had ever had.

People gasped.

People dropped drinks.

“I KNEW IT.” Someone actually shouted.

Prince took one look at the situation.

Took a sip of his drink.

“Well,” he said finally. “This explains a lot.”

And immediately walked away.

Meanwhile Michael finally pulled back.

Still holding her face.

Still looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Y/N stared. Face completely blank. Completely speechless.

“…you are unbelievable.” She finally managed to blurt out.

Michael shrugged.

“People were being disrespectful.”

Y/N laughed despite herself.

“Prince complimented my dress.”

“Only I can complement your dress.”

“That’s not flirting.”

Michael looked very unconvinced.

Then leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“You’re my wife.”

The room collectively lost its mind for a second time as they watched the little moment that unfolded in front of their eyes.

Y/N stared at him as she fought back a smile.

“Michael.”

“What?” He kept his arms around her waist and his loving eyes on her face.

“What exactly was your plan there?” She asked, moving to place her arms around his waist and intertwining her her hands behind his back.

He blinked. “Plan?”

“Yes. Plan.”

“I walked over.”

“I noticed.”

“Then I kissed my wife.”

“In front of half of Los Angeles.” Michael glanced around as if only just now realizing there were other people present.

“Oh.”

“Mhm” She nodded, finding the whole situation entirely too funny.

“Well…” He looked back at her and shrugged. “I got tired of pretending.” Y/N felt her heart stutter. Michael’s expression softened immediately. “You are my wife.”

Like that explained everything. Maybe to him it did.

“Michael…”

He shook his head negatively. “No, really.” His voice dropped quieter. “I don’t like acting like you’re not.”

And suddenly Y/N understood. This wasn’t about Prince, not really. Prince had simply been the final straw.

Months of hiding.

Months of careful, media-trained answers.

Months of watching people speculate.

Months of introducing the woman he loved as ‘just a good friend’.

Michael sighed. “Maybe I wasn’t thinking.”

Y/N laughed.

“You definitely weren’t thinking.”

“Probably not.” The two laughed lightly. Then a small smile appeared on Michael’s lips. “But I saw him talking to you and…” He shrugged helplessly. “To hell with it.”

Y/N laughed harder at his out of character words. “To hell with it?”

Michael nodded, completely serious. “To hell with it.” Then he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Everybody should know.”

And somewhere behind them, the reporter who had asked Michael Jackson “what happened?” was trying to decide whether he should call his editor, his mother, or a cardiologist first.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・.・。.・゜✭

Taglist:

@skiicoreee @18lkpeters @ami-kay-01 @bouncylikebouncyball @hewassunshine @umafanficdoidaqualquer @darkgreengrl @boredpretty @thatonegirl412 @velOurnoir @watamotee33 @nodisdino @leipforggy @amoravelee @defmaybesam @niyahctrl @daniela75201 @d3adlyclassrat @bangtan7553 @romansbbg @chims-kookies @needjoekeery @cruelsummer01 @dreyar-palacez @maerawrrr @maxivstappen @iris-xoxo-juhu @cakewiththecreamer @lovern-9 @faercia @ladyjacksonsblog @quietlyscornfulfable @whoscamila @lovern-9 @bakugotypecrashout @heyitsm4di @ieesohees @bakugotypecrashout @this-is-biebers-world @rhodesreignsrollins @itsloveee @victoriarosaline @thrilleronvinyl @officialcaptain @wazabii @meowmeowbby @darlimoi @justboredroaming @asamantis @leillaa

[capytala]

A Forced Pair of Anomalies

Pairing: Toji Zenin x Reader

Summary: The head of the Kamo and Zenin clan both have failures they wish to be rid of. Killing two birds with one stone, the clan heads decide to betrothe you and Toji together. The two anomalies now forced together in an arranged marriage.

CW: fluff, angst, mention of infertility, arranged marriage, mention of painful menstruation. *The rest of the tags are bc of the toxic clans the character are under, trust they do NOT apply to Toji: verbal abuse, emotional neglect, panic attacks, dissociating, misogyny.

WC: 4.2k

A/N: This is the first chapter of a longer story I want to do. Definitely different from my previous one shots, so wanna try something new. There will be smut eventually FYI! But we gotta build the suspense ;)

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Chapter 1 - Betrothed

“It has been three months since you bled, explain yourself!” Your mothers fingers dig into the unsoiled linen, threatening to tear it open. 

“I told you, I don’t know! I’m not pregnant, I just haven’t gotten it yet.” Your heart is racing as you try your best to escape the accusation. “You remember how heavy my last cycle was. I couldn’t get out of bed and I bled so much you had to call a healer. Isn’t that proof I’m not pregnant?” 

“I’m not sure what to make of this. It is past time for you to debut, but your fertility has to be certain before doing that.” Your mothers words falter on that word - fertility. The implication in her voice awakens your nervous system and you’re immediately fueled with anxiety. 

“You have a scant amount of cursed energy and you failed to inherit the clan's technique. The only thing left for you to provide is heirs. If you have children who can inherit techniques, you can be redeemed. If you can’t even do that…” her words trail off and her hand covers her mouth as if choking down vomit. 

Your eyes grow heavy with rage as you examine your own mothers disgust in you. This is all you were to them, a mare to be bred. Nothing else. Not their child or their only daughter, but a means to gain more power. 

“I will let you know when my next cycle arrives.” Ice covers your tone as you meet your mother’s eyes. 

She drops the linens on the floor and turns on her heels to leave. She looks at you one last time and opens her mouth to speak, but catches her breath quickly. Instead, she drops her head and closes the door behind her. 

You are relieved for her to be gone. Falling back onto your bed and grabbing a pillow to redirect your anger to. You’re trying to not descend into the spiraling rage your mother always put you into. 

The woman who birthed you has no true love for you. Maybe it was because she wasn’t expected to be a mother, but just a means for your father to have children. Regardless, it made you despise them both. You honestly wished to be sorted into an arranged engagement already, just for the piece of mind that you won’t be here much longer. However, that doesn’t mean the next place will be any better. All the three families were horrible, but maybe you could get lucky with pairing with someone who’s not from a big family. 

Your mother had been hounding you for over a year now about your cycle and its inconsistency. Your cycle has never been agreeable since you started it. Either lasting for weeks or not arriving for months. And then when it would arrive, it would be some of the worst pain you’d ever endured. Giving you cramps that make you fall to your knees in tears. You even passed out once from the excruciating pain. You assumed you were just cursed with a painful cycle, but your mother was afraid of what else this could mean. 

A healer told her that your symptoms could point to infertility and ever since then, she had been tracking your cycle like a hawk. Because if the only daughter of the Kamo clan can’t produce heirs, then what is she good for? 

You toss and turn in bed, wanting to go back to sleep. However, your rage and the morning daylight is preventing your body from relaxing. You don’t want to leave your room and face interrogation or reminders. What if you just lock yourself in your room until they decide to get rid of you? 

You pull yourself out of bed and sit by your window. Resting both arms on the sill with your chin on top of your hands. You let the sunlight and breeze fall over you. Taking in deep breaths of the blossoming flowers and crisp morning air. The elements cool that fire that was steadily growing inside you. You take in a deep breath, calling all the remnants of that fire, and then blowing it out with a forceful exhale. 

There’s no point in being angered over the situation, there’s nothing you can do about; your life is not your own. You tell yourself that, but it doesn’t actually help. You only hope one day, you’ll believe those words and submit to them. If only to make your life easier. 

✦ ✦ ✦

“My nephew is a problem I can no longer ignore. My brother is out of tactics to break his spirit to get him to submit.” Naobito takes a sip of his tea before continuing, “I never wanted to pay him any mind, but he’s leaving us no choice.” 

Your father ponders Naobito’s words, “Banish him. Simple.” 

Naobito scoffs to himself as he sets his cup down, “Yeah, if I banish him then it’s only a matter of time until he comes back to kill us all. He’s been threatening to kill his father and I since he was a child!” 

“Like he would be able to fight off the Hei or the Kukuru units.” Your father says wearily, hoping he’s right. 

“Remember, friend. Toji still has a heavenly pact, while that’s useless for us, it still makes him a threat. I can’t have one of our own disobeying and defecting within the clan. It makes us look weak. If I can’t even control my own nephew, how does that make me look?” Naobito stretches his arms, relieving the tension building in his shoulders. 

“Marry him off. Let him take that anger out on a woman instead.” 

“And who would want to marry a Zenin with zero cursed energy?” 

“I could think of a possible match, but it would come with conditions.” Your father smirks to himself, formulating the plan in his head. “We match my daughter with Toji. But with that, you promise that your youngest daughter and my youngest son will be wed when they’re of age. We get rid of our problems while still strengthening our clans with two children with inherited techniques.” 

Naobito lips twitch upward, “You want me to declare my daughter for my ass of a nephew?” 

“I’m simply proposing a solution. My daughter is of age and I wish to have her wed.” Your father doesn’t explain that he is in a rush to marry you off before rumors of your infertility begin to circulate. 

“And why would the head of the Kamo clan want to rid his only daughter to my pathetic nephew? What are you not telling me?” Naobito’s eyebrows furrow with growing suspicion. 

“It’s known she has little cursed energy and no inherited technique. No one has yet to ask for her hand or show interest, solely because of that. I do not wish for her to turn into an old maid under my roof.” Your father plays off the half truth with cool features, holding Naobito’s eye contact. 

“I’ll consider it and get back to you. Let me make sure there are no other solutions for both of our problems.” Naobito dips his head slightly to show his sincerity. 

“Very well, Zenin.” Your father nods in return. He has to hold himself back from cracking the wicked smile that’s hiding beneath his dignified features. 

✦ ✦ ✦

The next week was torturous from your mothers incessant hounding. She made it her job to trigger your cycle: different concoctions in teas, long walks in the garden twice a day, followed by hot baths. 

You disconnected from yourself that week to survive the regimen. Your body was already not your own, so why stay in it while this happens. You were thankful for your vivid imagination that took you to different places. Your subconscious seeped into your fantasies quickly, always wishing to be far away from here and alone. You could imagine yourself in any place in the world, as long as it wasn’t here. You also liked to imagine the ideal partner, not one that was chosen for you. One that found you and that you chose on your own. 

You held onto a sliver of hope that an arranged marriage could afford you an ounce of that fantasy. You knew it would never be true love, but you had hoped for at least tolerable. Especially if you couldn’t have children, if it would just be you and him, let’s hope you can at least make good conversation. 

Your mothers knocking on the bathroom door pulled you from your current fantasy. You were lying in a hammock, under tree cover, with a trickle of sunlight coming through and a cool breeze. When all of a sudden, you were shook back to your reality: a dark room and a lukewarm bath. 

“Please hurry. Our guests are arriving soon.” You could hear the urgency behind her flat tone. 

You didn't reply and instead made obvious noise as you got out of the bath, to show her you were making progress. 

As you dried yourself off, you groaned at the reality of having to entertain guests. You weren’t in the mood to plaster a fake smile and make meaningless small talk. 

You had to wear a brave face because of your father though. When he told you Naobito Zenin was coming to share a meal, you knew it was expected you would be present. There was no getting out of this, so you begrudgingly dress yourself. You figure you can zone out for most of dinner and go elsewhere. Not like you’ll be adding to the conversation much anyways, it’ll be the men talking mostly. 

As you make your way to the dining hall, you see Naobito already greeting your father and mother. Your mother shoots you a harsh look that shows you’re late. You ignore her silent disapproval and make your way to Naobito. 

Before you can formally greet him, he turns to your father, “She looks presentable. This will do.” 

Did he really expect you to look a certain way just because of his presence? You bite the inside of your cheeks to not show your disgust as you initiate the greeting. 

Naobito looks unimpressed by you and moves closer to your father, whispering something to him. 

You disengage and take your seat at the table, fidgeting with your napkin that’s still folded neatly. 

You hear your mothers hurried footsteps approach from behind and then you feel a thump on the back of your head, “Stand up!” Her tone is hushed but assertive. 

Your palms plant on the table edge as you force yourself back up, trying to show as much defiance as possible while still obeying. 

As you approach your father and mother again, you see more guests filter in from behind Naobito: his younger brother and two nephews. 

Naobito glances over his shoulder to acknowledge their arrival before turning back to your father. “Tonight is actually a celebratory dinner. To announce an arranged courtship between our clans.” He motions for Toji to step forward and your heart drops. It feels like cement is solidifying around your feet, preventing you from moving. 

A black pit is growing in your stomach and time halts with the sharp inhale you hold in. Your father gestures to you as those dreaded words come from his mouth, “You and Toji are engaged to be married as of today.”

This is happening today?! You thought you had time, especially while your fertility was still questionable. Is that why your mother was so insufferable this past week? 

You are frozen in place as you stare at your father, mouth agape in shock. You let out a whispered, “What?” Your mouth is now behind you and forcing you forward, closer to your betrothed. 

Toji isn’t even making eye contact, he looks unbothered and uninterested as his eyes float around the room. 

Naobito starts speaking, but it sounds like nonsense. Nothing makes sense right now as your senses falter and you become a soul trapped inside a shell. “It is time for both of you to be wed, we came up with the idea at our last meeting and we’re both delighted by the prospect of uniting our families. With this engagement also comes the future betrothal of my youngest daughter and the Kamo's youngest son.” 

You find the strength to move your eyes toward your parents who are smiling ear to ear. Your mother’s head hangs low in gratitude and your father stands tall with pride. This is really happening… They are getting rid of you. You prayed for this day to come, but now that it’s here, you can’t stomach it - literally. 

You feel bile gurgling in your stomach and a spurt of foul liquid shoots up your throat. You have to choke it down and your eyes begin to water. That little gag now has your stomach doing flips. You swallow the accumulated saliva in your mouth and widen your eyes to dissipate the tears. 

You look at Toji again and your stomach is twisting. They think so lowly of you that they are wedding you to him? The shame of the Zenin clan? How many rumors have you heard about him over the years? You’ve never heard anything positive about him. Then it clicks - that’s why they’ve matched you two. A couple of clan failures now married off because who else would want them? Your head spins at the realization and your knees begin to buckle beneath you. 

You hurry out of the room without excusing yourself and run to the closet bathroom. You don’t even make it to the toilet before you vomit all over the floor. Your heart is racing and skipping beats intermittently and the room feels like it’s spinning. You wonder if you’ll just die right in this bathroom, that way none of this has to happen. 

By the time you make it over to hug the toilet, you hear a bang on the door. You know from the force alone it is your father. “Come out at once! We didn’t even make a proper introduction before you ran out. Is this the first impression you want to give to your future husband? He’s likely already disgusted with you. If you ruin this then-” Your mind switches a flip and you can no longer hear your father’s hateful words. It’s a distinct murmur in the background as you hang your head in the toilet.

You notice how labored your breathing is and how you’re not getting in enough air. It feels as if there’s not enough air in this room as you focus on your respirations. In through the nose and out through the mouth, over and over. Drool is falling out of your mouth as you hear your father’s final statement, “A servant will be back to help you freshen up. Answer when they knock!” His heavy footsteps fade down the hallway and now you feel like you can finally breathe. A true breath that doesn’t need to be forced in and out. You’re sure there is nothing left in your stomach as you force yourself to stand and look in the mirror. 

The woman looking back at you is not you. It’s a woman who’s void of life, dark circles lining her undereyes, flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, and shoulders that are rolled forward. This was the woman that would be meeting that man, not you. There’s no way your true self could come through on a day like this. 

✦ ✦ ✦

The servant appeared a few moments later and you were mute the entire time she tidied you up: wiping your mouth, smoothing out your hair, patting powder on your cheeks and under eyes. She didn’t engage in conversation either and you felt a mutual understanding amongst the silence. When you met her eyes once, all you could see was sorrow lining them. At least someone was showing some empathy for you. 

Once you exited the bathroom, she escorted you out to the gardens. You wondered why dinner was getting skipped, but you were happy to breathe in the fresh air. On second thought, staying inside was the worst place for you right now. 

As you entered the gardens, you saw a man with his back facing you, sitting on a bench in the center of the grassy knoll. You looked at the servant with questioning eyes. She averted your eyes as she said, “Your family and the Zenins are continuing with dinner. This is your time to meet Toji, I’ll be chaperoning. I’ll always be within eyesight, but I will give you your privacy.” 

Before you can object or demand she stay closer, she is disappearing behind a shrub. 

Your eyes go back to the man facing away from you and that dreadful pit is growing in your stomach again. You’re frozen in place while you decide what to do. Do you approach him? Do you wait for him to look for you? What if you just went back inside and locked yourself in your room? 

As your thoughts spiral, Toji turns his head over his shoulder. He rolls his eyes before turning back to look forward. Another moment passes before he loudly declares, “Come on. Let’s get this over with.” 

You recoil at his cold statement, but also agree that you just want this to be over with. You make timid steps toward him through the grass. When you approach the side of the bench, you hesitate to sit down. You stare at the spot you’re supposed to sit in, but you’re uncomfortable with the idea of how close you’ll be to him. There will only be a few inches of space between you and you would prefer a few feet of space. 

Annoyance covers his features as he speaks, “Sit down. I don’t bite.” 

You murmur to yourself, “That’s not what I’ve heard.” You take a seat and position yourself as far against the bar of the bench as you can, gaining any distance between you two. 

He lets out a forced exhale at your statement as you sit down. You join him in staring forward, looking out to the rest of the estate gardens. All that can be heard are trees rustling and the wind whispering. You turn to look for the servant, she is standing at your four o'clock and perched between some shrubbery. You relax knowing she is still nearby and you can feel some tension leave your body. 

He finally breaks the silence, “I take it you’re not happy about this arrangement.” He sounds unbothered as his eyes peer over to you. 

You clear your throat, “I don’t know how I feel yet. I didn’t even know until they announced it just now.” “I didn’t get much of a heads up either, my uncle told me as we were leaving to come over here.”

You’re not sure how to respond because you didn’t even get that much warning. They really just sprung it on you in the moment and expected you to be fine with it. 

“This isn’t the choice I’d make for myself, but I see it this way: my uncle will stop riding me and think I am now under control within a marriage. I know it’s not paradise for you here either, so hopefully you’ll be given that same relief from marriage. I want to think we can live on our terms after this is done.” He stretches his arms back along the bench and turns his head to look at your side profile. 

“So, you think our lives will be our own after the most important decision is decided for us?” You scoff at the ridiculous sentiment. You have to lose all control to gain control, is that really what he’s saying? 

“Pretty much. This is the last control they have over either of us. Once this is done,” he motions between the two of you, “we can do whatever we want.” 

You consider his theory for a moment. He’s not wrong, as long as you’re under your parents' household, they will try to control you. Once you’re married, they’ll recognize your husband as the authority in your life instead. But the question is: is this man going to be just as controlling and demanding as your father? You know how the Zenin’s treat their women, he is likely no exception. 

“You’re going to let your wife do whatever she wants?” You chuckle to yourself, “Yeah- right.” 

“I don’t plan on treating you like my actual wife. This is a marriage for convenience for both parties. So, no- I don’t care what you do. I just need you to show up and sign that piece of paper. After that, we don’t really need to see each other than to keep up appearances.” 

Maybe this isn’t going to be as bad as you thought… Being free of your parent’s control, having the protection of marriage, and your freedom. 

You crack a hesitant smile at him, “Deal.” 

He stretches his arms outward and yawns, “Okay, let’s go in there and tell them we’re okay with this.” He pushes himself off the bench and now that he’s standing, you’re really taking him in. 

He is towering over you with that wide framed body. The sunlight shining from behind you is illuminating him, literally letting you see him in a new light. That jet black hair absorbs the soft sunlight hitting it. A distinct scar that makes a path from above the corner of his lips to below them. And those dark eyes are that are peering down at you. He raises his eyebrows, awaiting your response. 

“You act like they’d care even if we weren’t okay with this.” 

“They wouldn’t, but it’s tradition for the couple to accept the match. We just need to play nice until the wedding, got it?” He stretches his hand out to you, beckoning you to stand up. 

You dodge his hand and stand on your own, “Got it.” 

“You’re not even going to take my hand? You know we need to act interested in each other when we go in there.” He says as you walk past him, starting your path back to the house. 

“Like they care if we’re interested in each other. I’ll sit next to you, how about that?” You saunter forward as he approaches from behind. 

You continue back to the estate in silence and are directed toward the dining hall where the meal has already finished. When you enter together, your father and Naobito look at you with wide, anticipatory eyes. Toji hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you in against his side. It’s instinct to want to pull away from him, but you force yourself to settle into his side. “We accept this match.” He states as his fingers drum against your rib cage. 

Your father and Naobito look to each other with shit eating grins, knowing that both of their problems will soon be resolved. 

Naobito speaks with a cheerful tune, “Come join us. We were just about to call for tea and dessert.” 

You wonder why dinner was not offered to you, are neither of you good enough to even share a meal with them? 

The rest of the Zenin's visit goes without any issues. It is mainly your father and Noabito talking and praising themselves. You’re not even fully paying attention for most of it. You’re off in a different reality, wondering if life will be better after you leave this place. Or if it’ll be more of the same shit you’ve already endured. 

Every time you’d glance over at Toji, he had this cool, yet arrogant look on his face that pissed you off. You were bothered by how unbothered he was. He’s acting like you two were assigned together on a class project, as if none of this meant anything. A life changing event is about to happen and he doesn’t seem to care. In comparison to your episode earlier when you heard of the news. 

You barely acknowledge Toji’s father or brother. His father had a permanent scowl on his face that made your skin crawl. And his brother was not pleasant to look at. A burly, unkempt man who looked more like a neanderthal than a modern day human. 

When you said your goodbyes, you forced a fake smile onto your face. As your father and Naobito discussed tentative wedding plans, Toji took your hand when you weren’t paying attention. You snap your head over and he has your hand at his lips. “Goodnight,” he murmured against your skin as he placed a delicate kiss on the back of your hand. 

Your breath hitched at the soft contact. That such a man as him was capable of such a thing… He held your hand at his lips for a heartbeat and stared at you through his eyebrows. You felt blood rushed to your cheeks and you didn’t know why. 

You simply replied, “Goodnight,” and quickly retreated your hand back to your side. 

As the Zenin men made their exit, your eyes lingered on Toji. Wanting to know what was going on behind that calm and collected face. Surely you would find out soon enough… You’ll be married sooner rather than later. And with that realization, your stomach doesn’t turn in disgust. You feel some relief actually. Just off the first impression, he seemed to be true about what he said. 

You wonder to yourself, “Is the shame of the Zenin clan really going to the escape I’ve been praying for?”

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Master List

[indiewritesxoxo]

GUILTY PLEASURE

Ⳋ᧙ starring mermaid!yuki x f!reader

꧁ mdni. angst. did someone say doomed yuri for pride month?? little mermaid inspired. set in the 19th century-ish. ꧂

"there's my pretty girl."

you shouldn't be so flattered.

not when the pretty blonde coaxing you over had ensnared you far more than any siren ever could.

"you should not speak so-"

"sincerely?" yuki interrupted, her pretty pink lips curling up in a soft smirk you were all too accustomed to. effortlessly charming, her tail splashing the water behind him as you sat down on the shore, readjusting the long dress around your legs.

you had to sneak away from your village, branches and thorns snagging at your ankles on the craggy path to the ocean. it was still far too freezing for most people these days, a rather bitter breeze in the air from a cool spring that felt more like a second winter.

"they will expect me back soon," you informed her with a sigh, drawing faint shapes with your finger in the sand beside you as you avoided her petulant pout. "i told them i was picking berries and collecting firewood."

if they knew you were fraternizing with the merfolk, you’d surely be called a witch. maybe worse.

you didn’t want to consider what they might do if they knew you were fucking one.

they might string her up, claim that there was nothing wrong with feasting on fish, send you to a sanitarium.

her lips were pinched together when you looked up, displeased that she had to share you in any capacity. “you told me that you'd stay longer today."

"i know," you whispered, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"at least swim with me," she whined, her tail splashing in the shore, the yellow scales glittering in the sun.

"is the water not freezing?" you exhaled, not that you weren't terribly tempted to join her.

"i'll keep you warm," she teased.

the shallow-minded villagers would never understand the spell she had on you - even if she had legs instead of a tail. could never comprehend how you were always going to end up stripping off your tattered dress and stepping into the water.

you would always choose her.

even if your teeth chattered as the water rose to your chest, nipples perking up as she immediately threw her arms around you and pulled you into her.

damp skin pressing against yours, the salty scent clinging to her hair as she buried her face into your neck with a greedy inhale. dragging you deeper into the waves, her tail cutting easily through the water as you let her take you where she wanted.

"i missed you," she murmured, her big brown eyes glittering as her gaze shifted down to your breasts.

and before you had the chance to tell her how much you missed her too, her mouth was wrapping around one of your peaked nipples, sucking softly as if the taste of saline didn't bother her one bit. the pressure was immediate, your stomach fluttering as you sifted your fingers through her silky hair, gasping her name as her sharp teeth skimmed over the sensitive bud. "y-yuki, we-"

the beach was still within view, the two of you visible for anyone passing by to see.

"mm?" she hummed, long lashes fluttering as she looked up at you with that familiar mischievous glint in her stare. her hand sliding up your hip along your waist as your resolve weakened.

"we should be more careful," you warned, doing your best to sound stern even if your body was softening for her all on its own. melting into her hands.

"why?" she whined, her mouth slowly moving up your sternum, daintily crossing higher, ghosting over your jaw to press a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"what if we get caught?" you whispered back, tentatively caressing her cheek when you pulled away. kicking your feet to stay afloat, her tail tickling your calves as she let out a twinkling giggle.

you had spent years in love with her laugh. bonded by mutual understanding, sharing your burdens in stolen moments like this, cursing all those fools who wouldn't understand your connection.

your family would expect you to marry eventually. settle down and start a family. hers wanted her to find a mate. urging her to migrate south if she didn't find anyone here suitable.

she had more freedom than you did though. they wouldn't force her to be with someone she didn't want. had oceans she could swim to and start over in.

"there's a sea witch," yuki conspiratorially suggested, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. nuzzling her nose against yours, leaning forward so her forehead was resting against yours. "she has a spell that could let us finally be together."

"yuki," you murmured, shaking your head, stomach twisting with suspicion, unease crawling beneath your skin at the chance the two of you could end up cursed even more than you already were.

"she'll give me legs, and-"

"i could never ask you to change," you shut it down as softly as you could. "and even if you did, my village, my family, they wouldn't approve of us."

"so what if they don't?" she huffed, brows pinching together in frustration. "we can go somewhere else."

with what money?

you were both women.

anything you earned went to your father rather than you.

and what terrified you even more was the idea that she'd be miserable as a human. resent you once she realized that being together didn't mean happily ever after.

"what is she asking you to do for her?" you asked, struggling to voice all the concerns that were taking shape in the back of your head. as much as you craved her presence, ached for her smile, her skin, the most you'd ever accepted you would have of her were these secret meetings.

"my voice for legs," she admitted, stubborn as ever, chest rising with the sharp breath she sucked in. water droplets racing down her beautiful breasts, beading up before returning to the ocean.

no.

you would rather waste your life as someone else's wife than never hear her voice again. to never hear her laugh, to know she gave it up for you, was a kind of torture you couldn't bear.

"it's my trade to make," she insisted, sensing your incoming refusal.

this wasn't her.

she was sturdy. strong. an enigma you'd spend your life enthralled by. ethereal being you were just lucky enough to hold for a little while. build a statue for, devote altars too, offer all your love for.

but love could never be enough.

it didn't magically make her a human, or make you a mermaid.

"you can't make it for me," you muttered, dragging a thumb over her eyebrow, chest straining to contain your heart while it threatened to crack and crumble under the weight of your adoration. you tried to kiss her again, lips barely grazing over hers before she pulled back to scoff.

tilting her nose up in the air, frustrated by you not automatically agreeing to her absurd plan. "you can't stop me."

you couldn't.

but you couldn't watch her do this to herself either.

"i don't have to stay either."

part of this event !!

div cr: @/tsumiinum

[toruii]

angst + Yuki???

[honeyoftheisle]

To Arms! To Arms!

Knight!Gojo x Lady Wife!Reader

King!Geto x Knight!Gojo x Lady Wife!Reader Angst

Medieval Au

Tw/Cw~ Some nsfw is hinted at. Religion mentioned.

Synopsis~ Alone in the castle, how can you not dowel on the rumours about your lord husband. For Sir Gojo does not belong to you, he is the vessel of his liege lord - the king.

Author's Note~ This was born of listening to Choosin' Texas bardcore version by Hildegard Von Blingin on repeat and reading Kristin Lavransdatter 1: The Wreath.

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

 It is the duty of a wife to serve her husband, to see naught but good in him. But how were you to serve him if he was never there? You sighed, setting the household accounts aside. You had done what you could with them tonight. Tomorrow you would see if you could haggle a lower ale and wine price and perhaps get the north tower’s roof repaired. But until tomorrow, you are done. You have no husband to please, so you are left to your own pleasures. 

  “Lady Gojo,” your husband’s steward greets you. 

“What brings you Rodrick?” You ask, pushing the parchment aside. He stands awkwardly, putting his weight on one foot and then the other. “Sir Gojo writes to say that he will not return until the harvest feast. The King needs him in an affair involving a castle being seized by the crown.” Ah, that was it. You hadn’t seen your husband since last autumn, he had ridden off before the winter rains came. Both the winter and spring rains had kept him from returning. And even now, at summer's peak, he had yet to return.  

“Very well, Rodrick.” You said.

Rodrick furrowed his brow. “Do you have anything I should write to tell my Lord?” 

You paused. “No, there is nothing I have for him.” You nodded to Rodrick and swept from the room. 

When noon turns into evening, you sit at your bedchamber’s window. Your hair hangs out the window, drying in the sunlight and evening breeze, just as your mother and mother before her had done before her. Light peaks in through the branches of the tree that stands just outside your window. You did not mind the dim light, you had candles lit, besides you did not like being seen while you sat at your window. You closed your eyes, remembering the day before you were wed. Your sisters had washed your hair with extra lye to make it shine, they had scented it, and oiled it, and braided it. Even Eline had come from her convent to tend to you before your vows. It had tasted  sweet to laugh and behave like silly maidens even though most of your sisters were wed and Eline was the bride of Christ. Even though you could not claim the title maiden after those stolen moments in the wood. 

The cold metal of the chain around your neck brings you back to the earthly realm. The key on it is to the box where you lock your jewels and all the other keys of the Castle.

Voices rise up to you from below your window. “Our Lord is not to return till the moon rises for the harvest feast.” The voice belongs to Ingrid, a serving maiden.

“Alfred says the king has called him to arms.” That is Stephanie, your handmaiden. 

“To arms or his arms,” that is Gunnar, another one of your handmaidens. The girls laugh as the move passed your window. You lean your head against the window frame. You should have known. You should have always known. What kind of man seduces the daughter of the man who has offered him a roof? Shared his cup and a place at his table? 

Had you been seduced? No, you had known what it meant when he hurried you to an abandoned gallery while the other men were away on a hunt. He had begged off, claiming an injury to his knee.  You had understood when his kisses grew fervent, when he looked at you like pagan goddess, instead of a virtuous maid. You had understood when he came upon you in the woods. You had understood when he took and claimed you. He would marry you, he had panted into your ear, before kissing it. He would take you back across the channel and to his keep. You would be his pretty bride and he would be your protector. 

   But that had been five springs ago. You had lingered in this castle for four years. Wed to a man who sits at the right and of the King, and more. A smile tightens your face. You would have never met Sir Gojo if King Suguru hadn’t exiled him. Sir Gojo, for you could never think of him as your husband, even alone, had told you almost laughingly that they had quarreled. “Suguru will forget about it in a few months and call me back,” he had said. You should have known. But you had been doe eyed at the champion, even a famed figure in your own land. Your heart had been tender as the first shoots of grass in early spring. 

 You stood. One by one you blew out the candles, except for the one on your nightstand. You carefully braid your hair and bind it with ribbons before sitting on the edge of your bed. Forgotten in a castle. You watch the flame flicker back and forth. Your father would welcome you back, he had Margot after her husband had risen in rebellion and tried to abduct King Kento. Your husband has done no such thing, you think. But technically your homeland was at war with Sir Gojo’s. Surely, your father would welcome you, your mother would and then he would have to. If he didn’t you could go to Eline’s convent. Perhaps being the bride of Christ would be a warmer lighter bed than the one you slept in now. The flame flickers as a breeze blows through your bedchamber. 

   The idea has already been formed in your mind; your fingers have run over it in the years since your marriage, smoothing over the rough edges. But even still, you know the price of leaving one’s lawfully wedded husband is a high cost. Your own aunt, your father’s sister, had left her lord husband for a knight without lands or title. He had coaxed her with promises and embraces. You had no doubt he promised her dimpled babes, sweet scented nights, and passion. Instead she had been exiled from kin and kith. You hoped that she had had a happy fate. That her knight had won fame and land and she had her sweet smelling dimpled babes. But perhaps you will find peace in your father’s halls, or with Eline, or perhaps one of your other sisters. You would not mind taking care of their children. Your husband’s absence had denied you the children that used to haunt your dreams. 

The flame is burning bright, despite most of the candle being melted away. You stare into it. Willing it to give you an answer. But you are alone. And only you can make this decision. 

You will go. You will return to your father’s house and entreat him for mercy for his foolish ill wed daughter.  The pit in your stomach gapes. You squeeze your eyes shut. You remember when your sister Matilda had taken the fancy of a lord your father disapproved of. The lord had abducted Matilda while she was out maying. Your father had been furious and weeks of bloodshed had followed. Now years later, your father treated the lord like a son, despite the blood that had marked your sister’s nuptials.  

You doubt blood would follow you to the shores of your homeland. The man you wed cares naught for you. But what of honour? What would happen to Sir Gojo’s pride after his wife fled to her father’s house?

   As you enter the haziness of half slumber, you remember when he asked for your hand. The day had been cool. Rain had been falling for two days now, and the entire castle was growing antsy from being trapped inside. But not you, you loved the cool stone hall and the warm fires lit. But your Knight did not. You could see by the way his fingers strained as he looked out the turrets, the way his eyes never fully looked at you, the way he read and read again the letter from the court of his king. 

It had scared you, if you were being truthful. That day, all he had done was pace back and forth. You had watched him in between stitches of your embroidery. He had spun to face you, his eyes bright. In seconds he crossed the room and seized your hands. 

“Sir!” You exclaimed as he tugged you. “Where are we going?” You asked, as he pulled you from the turret. 

“Your father, I’m going to ask for your hand.” He said laughing sharply, but you hadn’t noticed, and if you did you had tucked it away. 

He would be your husband! You knew knights kept their word, Eline said only holy men kept their word and regular men were not to be trusted. But your Knight was brave and true. They called him ‘The Honoured One’ in songs, and his feats were told in song and at table. You knew to believe him. 

He led you to your father’s study. He knocked. When your father called for him to come in, he turned to you. “Wait here, when I return we will have a date for our wedding.” He grins at you. Your heart tinges, he doesn’t look like a man in love. But he had a week ago, when he kissed and took again what he claimed was his right. 

You wait. The minutes pass by slowly. 

Finally, the door to your father’s study opens and closes. Sir Satoru Gojo stands in all his glory before you. 

He embraces you. His mouth finds your own, hot and craving, he kisses you. When you part, he pulls back, hands on your shoulders. He smiles at you like he won. 

You will not know what he won, until you put the pieces together. One of them being the letter, detailing King Geto’s favor of one his men-at-arms. You had been wed in spite.  He had never been your knight, and he never really had been your husband. 

[kkunai]

[𝝑𝑒] :: trueform!sukuna has never apologised to anyone, until you came along :: tags. concubine!reader. fluff, angst, suggestive. ‘brat, woman’ used :: wc. 1.8k

sukuna’s never felt the need to apologize. he’s never in the wrong if you ask him. apologising to someone he deems ‘lesser’ would be a sign of weakness.

yet the king of curses always has this secret need to make his favorite concubine feel better after (unintentionally) hurting her.

you’ve got this hold on him that he will never acknowledge. although there are moments where he will indirectly show you that he regrets upsetting you.

it’s a quiet saturday evening and you’re relaxing in your bedchambers after eating dinner. you didn’t go to the dining hall to eat with sukuna and the others. no, you made sure your head lady-in-waiting brought your food to your room.

sukuna and you got into a ‘little’ argument yesterday. you both spent the entire day and night alone instead of in each other’s presence, which is the norm. even the people around you have noticed the growing tension whenever sukuna and you would cross paths.

of course, the other concubines seized the opporunity to vie for sukuna’s attention now that his favored concubine was no longer by his side. yet, their efforts proved in vain.

sukuna had grown more irritable over the past twenty-four hours, his mind relentlessly preoccupied with thoughts of you—a fact that only frustrated him further.

you weren't in the mood to speak with him again, so why did that bother him so much?

it should have made him scoff, made him see you as weak and driven him to demand that you speak to him.

yet all sukuna can think about is how to get you to cling to him once more. as much as he says that it’s exhausting to have a needy 'brat' at his side all the time, your abscence makes him realise he secretly enjoys having you around.

snapping back into your own thoughts, you realise you’ve been staring at your cup of tea for the longest time. you sigh and get up from the table, your feet dragging over the tatami flooring. however a sudden knock on your doors causes you to stop in your tracks.

“come in,” you murmur, thinking it is one of your ladies-in-waiting with your dessert. but the silence that follows afterwards is nearly ominous.

you frown and sigh before going over to the shoji. you slide the screens aside, only to be met by a wall of muscles you know way too well. you tilt your head back and your eyes widen slightly at the sight of the one man you stubbornly refused to talk to.

sukuna looms over you, his massive frame dwarfing your smaller one. he invites himself inside, not waiting on a response from you. he steps into your room and turns around to face you. his dark red eyes narrow as he tries to decipher the emotions playing on your face.

you don’t say a thing. you don’t look at him. you don’t smile at him. you don’t move a muscle. no acknowledgment at all.

sukuna hates it—it’s unusual for you to be so cold. your eyes dart to the floor and your bottom lip subtly forms a defiant pout.

sukuna scoffs. he’s made the decision to break the silence between you two first, coming all the way to your bedchambers to talk. he would never have done such a thing for anyone else—would have waited for them to grovel before him and beg for his forgiveness.

and yet here he is, standing in front of his concubine, ready to confront the issues between them.

he feels pathetic and it angers him from within. he desires to command you to get on your knees and apologise to him, to obey him and forget what happened. however an annoying voice in the back of his head tells him to be patient with you.

“tch, what’s with the face?” sukuna's deep and commanding voice fills the spacious room. he doesn't go about it the gentle way—he’s still him after all. “y’re still sulking about that little thing? i thought i told ya to stop thinkin’ about it.”

hearing sukuna say the latter makes your heart ache and your eyes water from frustration. everything seems like it’s not a big deal to him—even when you’re clearly upset.

“that was not just a little thing, my lord!” you raise your voice just a little, surprising yourself as the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

you swallow thickly and bite your lip. you've done it now, the thought echoes inside your head.

sukuna’s eyebrows raise in surprise at your outburst, not used to you raising your voice to him like that. although in an instant, his eyes flash with something dangerous. you may be his favorite and he may let you get away with a lot of things, yet there are boundaries. rules that even you must obey.

the king of curses would probably find it amusing to see you snap back at him, thinking you will achieve something with that, but today is not one of those days.

the shimmering tension between you two has agitated him more than ever.

sukuna closes the distance between you two and reaches out to grab you by our jaw. his fingers curl tightly beneath your chin and force your head to turn, making you face him.

“you dare raise your voice at me, woman?” sukuna growls, his face mere inches from yours.

his grip borders on painful and you wince at the ache in your jaw. he doesn’t let go and instead tightens his hold, “i don't have time for this fuckin' nonsense.”

sukuna releases you with a light shove. he takes a deep breath to try and calm down, to remind himself that he came her to clear things up. but it’s difficult because he’s never had to do this before. never had to listen to someone else, always expecting them to simply endure and move on whenever he caused harm.

you stumble a bit, rubbing at the your chin. you don’t get it; is sukuna here to make it worse for you? to rub it in? to remind you again of what he said to upset you? to make fun of you for being upset about it?

it certainly does hurt.

you replay that moment again in your head. the moment when sukuna told you he could replace you with someone else whenever he desires. it is a fact; sukuna can do that whenever he pleases. but it stung to hear him say it so explicitly. to hear him say it to your face, as if that doesn't already keep you awake at night.

little did you know, sukuna didn’t mean to hurt you too much with that comment. he didn’t expect you to ignore him, to avoid him, all because of what he said. he simply said it because he was struggling with his own emotions—denying that he feels anything for you. he said it to remind himself that he isn’t getting attached to a human.

but that failed terribly. seeing you like this—your teary eyes glaring up at him with fear, hurt and betrayal made him feel an uncomfortable pang in his chest. something that resembled guilt.

“have a good night then, my lord,” you dismiss sukuna and turn away, your voice strained with emotion. you don’t want to start another argument with him.

the king of curses grits his teeth. there it goes again. ‘my lord’ — yes, it’s what most others call him, but not you. you always called him by nicknames he deemed foolish. ‘kuna, ry’ or even ‘dear’. he strangely longs to hear your voice call him as such again.

sukuna stands there, trying to reign in his anger and other overwhelming emotions. he grabs your wrist and tugs you back to him, making you stumble and catch yourself against his chiseled chest.

he doesn’t know what to say—doesn’t trust himself to speak. he knows he’ll make it worse by speaking, knows he’ll rile you up even more. thus he chooses not to utter a word for a moment.

your eyes meet and you’re surprised when sukuna leans down to catch your lips in a kiss. your hands fist into the collar of his kimono, your mind telling you to back off. this man is dangerous—playing with your emotions like this.

telling you one thing, but contradicting himself with his actions. it’s extremely confusing yet also exhilarating.

you close your eyes and respond to his kiss with equal fervor. the pink-haired man groans against your lips, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip before biting on it. a habit of his.

sukuna’s large hands roam over your body as he presses you as close to him as possible. it’s like he’s reassuring you with his touch—melting away all your worries. it’s a manipulative tactic that somehow always gets you. or perhaps it’s just his way of apologising.

which of the two it is, will always be vague and unknown.

eventually, he pulls away, leaving you both breathless. you stare up at him with a huff before glancing the other way. you’re still sulking, still pouting.

sukuna rolls his eyes and easily lifts your body up into his arms. two of his hands settle on the back of your thighs, the other two grazing the side of your breast and waist. he carries you over to your bed and sits on the edge with you on his lap.

“y’re a fool,” sukuna clicks his tongue. his fingers slither up the exposed skin of your arm and against your cheek to flick your forehead. he gains a whimper from you which urges him to do it again.

you frown and rub at the tingly skin on your head. your eyes are still watery, lashes clumped together due to your tears. it’s almost cute. almost.

“and you look pathetic,” the man in front of you adds with a condescending smirk.

you weakly smack sukuna’s chest, making his grin widen. there you go—there is the woman he knows, slowly making a comeback. slowly warming up to him again. slowly being playful with him once more.

sukuna sighs. to you, it may seem like a tired sigh, but in reality it’s a sigh of relief. he may not have solved this issue between you two in a normal, healthy way, but it worked out anyway.

“you’re mean,” your comment breaks the moment of silence.

your bottom lip trembles and you look like you might just cry it all out. the frustration, the fear, the hurt, the relief—it’s overwhelming.

sukuna inhales briefly. he doesn’t respond to your little remark, instead, he holds the back of your head and presses your face into his chest. he holds your body against him, nestled warmly between his muscular arms.

you don’t protest at all. you close your eyes and breathe in his familiar scent, nuzzling your nose into his pecs. you know this is his way of making you feel betted so you will not complain.

an apology will never leave the prideful man's lips and you’ve come to accept it. this way of reassuring you counts as something at the very least.

it doesn’t matter who or what gets between you two, at the end of the day, you’ll find each other again. one way or another.

and that's all you need.

[bambismoon]

apocalypse - masterlist

undergroundboxer!kuna x reader [soulmate au]

series synopsis - in a world where soulmates were real, fate ties you to ryomen sukuna like some cruel and twisted joke. where people felt their soulmates in soft touches and quiet comfort, all you’ve ever known was phantom pain, sleepless nights, and a violent rage that didn’t belong to you. by the time you finally meet the man ruining your nervous system, the city already knew him as its most feared underground boxer. how would you survive? [mdni 18+]

chapters

⚡︎ ⋆.˚ prologue

⚡︎ ⋆.˚ one - no surprises

⚡︎ ⋆.˚ two - coming soon

⚡︎ ⋆.˚ three - tbd

⚡︎ ⋆.˚ four - tbd

⚡︎ ⋆.˚ five - tbd

⚡︎ ⋆.˚ six - tbd

no taglist!

credits: art by @/cinaillus | divider by @/uzmacchiato

[sukunaglazerrr]

HusbandKuna x Reader who lost her memory

After a tragic accident erased your memories, you no longer remember the man you married. Unfortunately for you, Ryomen Sukuna remembers everything. And he'll do whatever it takes to make you remember him too.

Everything was so much weird.

When you first opened your eyes, the world was a blur of harsh lights and a rhythmic, annoying beep that made your head throb. A crowd of people were hovering over your bed, their faces twisted into expressions of pure horror and desperation. It felt like they were looking at a ghost or maybe a god that had suddenly fallen from the sky. The moment you blinked and stared back at them with blank, unrecognizing eyes, the room dissolved into quiet, breathless weeping.

You were completely utterly lost. Who was the woman with the dark circles under her eyes calling herself Shoko? Why was she gripping your hand like her entire world was ending? You knew your own name y/n echoed clearly in the empty caverns of your mind, but beyond that single fact, there was only a vast, terrifying void. You understood the modern world. you knew what a smartphone was, you recognized the concept of Wi-Fi, and when you mumbled those details, the doctors in the room let out collective, gasping sighs of relief.

But the real shock came twenty minutes later.

The heavy door to the hospital room burst open with a violent slam. A man lunged inside like a madman, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. You had never seen anyone look like him. His hair was a soft, striking shade of pastel pink so pretty and unexpected that you wondered for a fleeting second if he had dyed it just to stand out. Dark, intricate tattoos mapped across his skin, curling around his sharp cheekbones and framing his eyes. And those eyes... they were a piercing, burning red, swirling with a volatile mixture of terrifying rage and profound, shattering sadness.

You just sat there in your oversized, faded blue hospital gown, looking small and fragile as your confused gaze met his. The man froze, roughly brushing a strand of pink hair out of his face. His clothes were covered in a layer of grey dust and dried grit, looking as though he had sprinted straight off a construction site the second he got the news.

"Fucking... God. Hey, princess... fuck, don't you ever scare me like that again" he breathed, his deep, gravelly voice cracking as he took two massive strides toward your bedside, staring down at you with a desperation that made the air feel heavy.

You shrank back into the pillows, your brow furrowing. Princess? Were you in some bizarre historical simulation? Did kings and horses still exist? No, the blinking medical monitors around you disproved that immediately.

"Mr. Sukuna, please. I need to speak with you in private for a moment" a woman in her mid forties interrupted, her expression incredibly grave as she stepped between you and the huge man. She glanced at the other people lingering by the door. There was a teenage boy, maybe sixteen, who had the exact same pink hair as the tattooed man, his face streaked with tears. Beside him stood another boy with unruly, spiky black hair and a dull, stoic expression that couldn't quite hide the anxiety in his eyes. At the doctor's quiet command, they all slowly filed out into the hallway.

Left alone for a moment, you stared at the stark white walls, the untouched glass of water on the bedside table, and the crushing, dull monotony of the room.

When the door clicked open again, the female physician returned, holding a thick medical chart. The tattooed man followed closely behind her. He tried to offer you a small, reassuring smile, but it looked incredibly strained on his rugged face. His crimson eyes locked onto you, tracking every breath you took as if you might literally vanish into thin air if he dared to look away for a single second.

"Hello, y/n. I am Dr. Jennifer" the woman said kindly, stepping up to the mattress. "Do you know why you were brought here today?"

You frowned, looking between her and the towering man. "No."

The syllable was short and hollow. Beside the doctor, Sukuna’s entire frame stiffened. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered violently beneath his tattoos, his knuckles turning white as he balled his hands into fists.

"Right. But you do remember your name?" she pressed gently.

"Yes... y/n I am Y/N." you answered firmly. You knew the name belonged to you, even if the history attached to it was completely gone.

"And do you know where you are right now?"

"A hospital?"

"Correct" Dr. Jennifer nodded, opening the document in her hands. "Look, I am going to explain exactly what happened, and I need you to listen very carefully, alright?" You gave a small, hesitant nod. "You were in a severe accident yesterday evening. You were walking home from the local market when a car veered off the road and hit you. It is a miracle you walked away with minor physical injuries, but the trauma to your head has caused a severe case of retrograde amnesia. Honestly, it's a surprise you even remember your name right now."

You let out a quiet hum, your eyes drifting down to your own hands resting on the thin blanket. That was when you noticed it a slender, platinum band set with a brilliant, flawlessly cut diamond resting securely on your left ring finger. It looked incredibly expensive, classy, and entirely foreign

So you were married.

"Y/n" Dr. Jennifer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You snapped your head up to look at her. "This man standing beside me... he is your husband."

The doctor tilted her head toward the giant. He was massive easily over six feet of raw, intimidating muscle, his tattooed face giving him a terrifying, dangerous aura. Your very first instinctual thought was that this man looked incredibly scary.

Sukuna didn't say a word. He just stood there, letting you analyze him, before he offered you a tiny, incredibly vulnerable nod. You tilted your head, staring into his intense red eyes, desperately searching for a single spark of familiarity. Did I really marry this giant?

"His name is Ryomen Sukuna, and he is going to take care of you" the doctor continued, closing her chart. "For the next few weeks, you need to let your brain rest, but you also need to gently stimulate it to try and regain those lost memories. Spending time in a familiar environment, in your own home with your husband, is going to be the best medicine for you."

You nodded mutely. You didn't exactly have a choice. You were being handed over to a complete stranger who happened to hold a legal claim to your entire life.

"Alright then. I wish you a safe and speedy recovery" Dr. Jennifer said with a final, empathetic smile before slipping out of the room.

The heavy silence that followed was suffocating. Sukuna cleared his throat roughly, taking a few slow, tentative steps toward the edge of your bed. He moved with an immense amount of caution, as if he genuinely believed a sudden movement might break you into pieces. He pulled up the small plastic chair, sinking into it.

"Hey" he said softly. Even in a whisper, his voice was incredibly manly, deep, and rough.

"Hello" you replied shortly, your eyes tracking his hands.

To your surprise, his large, scarred fingers were trembling slightly as he fidgeted with them, refusing to meet your eyes. When he finally looked up, you realized the piercing red of his irises was completely glossy, swimming with unshed tears.

"Yo... you're getting discharged today" he choked out, taking a deep, ragged breath as if the mere act of speaking was causing him physical pain. "I'm going to go sign the paperwork, and then I'm taking you to... our house. I'm going to do whatever the fuck it takes to help you remember, princess."

You stared at his rugged, tattooed face for a long moment before letting out a soft, distant hum.

An hour later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of a sleek, black Jeep, The man Sukuna kept his left hand firmly on the steering wheel while his eyes flicked toward you every sixty seconds, his intense gaze making a nervous flutter erupt in your stomach.

You stared out the window, watching the city buildings, sprawling neighborhoods, and vibrant green trees blur past. Intrigued by the warm breeze, you raised your hand, pressing your palm gently against the glass as if you wanted to touch the passing leaves. Instantly, the window smoothly rolled down. Startled, you turned your head to find Sukuna adjusting the master controls, his eyes locked onto you with an unreadable warmth.

"Can I ask you something-" you murmured softly.

"Yes." The answer came incredibly fast, almost desperate. He was hanging on your every word, practically begging for you to speak to him.

"How... how did we meet?" you asked, leaning your elbow on the door frame as the wind whipped through your hair.

"We met in high school" he answered quickly, navigating a sharp turn onto a quiet, "We've been married for seven years."

"High school?" You tilted your head, a faint smile touching your lips as you extended your hand just slightly out into the rushing air. "Were we friends back then?"

"Careful" he commanded firmly, though there was no real heat in his voice. You obediently pulled your hand back inside. A faint, nostalgic softness crept into his red eyes as he looked ahead. "Friends? no. You could say we didn't liked eachother each other when we first met. You thought I was a loud, arrogant mannerless jerk and I thought you were a stubborn, bossy brat."

He smoothly pulled the Jeep into a long brick driveway, coming to a stop in front of a breathtaking, modern two story house. It was painted a crisp, elegant white with sleek charcoal-grey accents, boasting massive, floor to ceiling windows that caught the afternoon sun.

"This is...our house" Sukuna murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "We've been living here for about four years."

He killed the engine, threw his door open, and practically sprinted around the hood of the car to open your door before you could even reach for the handle. He extended a massive, tattooed hand toward you, his palm open and waiting. You stared at his hand, your eyes traveling up the thick muscles of his forearm, before you deliberately stepped down onto the driveway without taking it.

Sukuna’s hand froze in mid-air. You watched his fingers slowly curl back into a fist before he pulled his arm away, a flash of pure, agonizing heartbreak crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a stoic expression.

As your feet hit the pavement, you looked up at the towering structure, desperately begging your brain to spark even a single ounce of familiarity. Nothing came. But as you turned around, you caught a glimpse of the man standing beside you. He was on the absolute verge of tears. His chest was tight, his jaw locked as he stared at you. You were his entire world, his beautiful wife, and yet you were looking at him like he was a total stranger. He suddenly felt a wave of profound hatred for every single time he had ever been mean or stubborn with you in the past, even in jest. He just wanted his girl back. His sweet innocent girl.

"The house is beautiful" you murmured gently, walking toward the porch.

'The house.' Not our house. The detached wording made Sukuna’s jaw clench painfully.

"Of course it is. I built the damn thing" he muttered, following closely behind you.

It was your exact dream house. Years ago, back when you were just broke college students dating in a cramped apartment, you had traced a clumsy design on a napkin, telling him you wanted a modern white house with endless windows, three bedrooms, and a kitchen large enough for the two of you to bake and slow-dance together while listening to old jazz records. Sukuna had kept that napkin. The moment he made his fortune, he hired a crew but did the vast majority of the heavy structural work with his own two hands. He had gifted you the keys on your third wedding anniversary, and he could still vividly remember the way you had wept tears of joy, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him until you were both breathless. He wanted that smile back. He would give anything just to have you look at him the way you used to.

You stepped inside, ignoring the heavy emotion rolling off him. Sukuna quickly gathered your small hospital bags and followed you into the foyer, shutting the door behind him.

Your eyes immediately gravitated toward the kitchen. It was vast, open, and undeniably stunning, featuring a massive quartz island and a huge sliding glass door that opened directly into a manicured backyard garden. The entire layout felt strangely perfect.

"Let me show you... around" Sukuna offered quietly.

He spent the next half hour guiding you through the corridors of what was supposed to be your life. But as he showed you the grand master bedroompointing out the side of the bed where you used to curl into his chest every single night your face remained entirely blank. You felt a twinge of heavy guilt pooling in your stomach. He showed you the living room, drawing your attention to a collection of large, breathtaking canvas paintings hanging on the walls.

"You painted those" Sukuna noted, a faint trace of pride in his rough voice. "You're a brilliant artist, princess."

You blinked in genuine surprise, looking down at your hands. "I drew these?" You were suprised, you don't even remember touching a brush in your life. But this is your new life. New start.

"Yeah." Sukuna stopped at the edge of the hallway, looking down at you with completely bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept a single second since the hospital called him about your accident. All he wanted to do was wrap his massive arms around your waist, pull you flush against his chest, and bury his face in your hair until the nightmare ended. But he couldn't. "Look... you can sleep in the guest bedroom down the hall, or you can take our bedroom and I'll stay in the guest room. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable you."

"Okay" you hummed softly.

His heart broke a little more at the compliant, distant tone. "I'll go start on some dinner, and then I'll get your medication ready. If you need a single damn thing, you just call out for me, alright? Your clothes are all in the dresser, undergarments in the top drawer, pajamas in the second..."

You nodded, offering him a polite murmur of thanks before retreating into the guest room. You changed into a simple, comfortable t-shirt and sweats. A little while later, his deep voice echoed up the stairs, announcing that dinner was ready. You walked down to the dining room, sitting at the large table like a polite houseguest waiting to be served.

"Do you need help?" Sukuna asked, carefully sliding a steaming bowl of homemade chicken soup and a large spoon toward you. You shook your head, grasping the utensil and taking a quiet sip. He sat across from you, his own bowl entirely untouched as he just stared at your face. "Y/n... you really don't remember a single damn thing about me?"

His voice cracked completely on the last word, the raw vulnerability of a ruthless man exposed right in front of you. You looked up, meeting his glossy red eyes.

"No... I don't. I'm really sorry" you whispered genuinely.

He let out a slow nod, swallowing the lump in his throat as he forced himself to look away. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"Do I... do I have parents? Or friends?" you asked, a sudden curiosity about your own forgotten life bubbling up.

"Yeah. You have parents. Your father—"

"Where are they?" you interrupted quickly, leaning forward. "Do they know I was in an accident? Why aren't they here?"

"They haven't spoken to you in over seven years. Not since the day you married me" Sukuna said, his tone dropping into something cold and bitter.

"Why?"

"Your family is rich as fuck. Extremely strict, arrogant aristocrats" Sukuna explained, his red eyes locking back onto yours. "They completely forbade you from seeing me because I was just a rough, tattooed bastard from the wrong side of the tracks with a criminal record and a unstable future. They told you that if you walked out that door with me, you’d be cut off permanently."

You stared at him, a sudden spark of heat flaring in your chest. "Well, that's so stupid of them. It sounds like a good thing we don't talk to them then."

The sheer, unyielding loyalty in your voice made Sukuna’s lips twitch, a genuine, heartbreaking smile threatening to break through his stoic mask. Even with a wiped memory, his sweet wife still possessed that exact same fiery, protective spirit.

"Yeah" he chuckled hoarsely, letting out a long sigh. "You have an incredible best friend named Shoko. You two are both doctors. you work in the exact same surgical unit at the city hospital. We have a ton of mutual friends we met back in our high school days. And those kids at the hospital? The pink-haired teenager is my nephew, Yuji, and the dark-haired one is Megumi, our friend's kid. They practically worship the ground you walk on, princess. You love those brats to death."

"Can I see them?" you asked, a genuine smile finally breaking across your face.

"Of course. Whenever you want." he promised, his eyes tracking the way your lips curved.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm thirty two. You're thirty" Sukuna answered smoothly.

"Wow. So we're getting old," you teased gently.

Sukuna let out a sudden, rough snort, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes. "Old or not, woman... you're still completely breathtaking."

A deep, violent blush instantly stained your cheeks. You hadn't been around an attractive man or any man, for that matter in your conscious memory, and having this giant, dangerously handsome individual throw such a raw compliment at you made your heart do a chaotic somersault. You quickly looked down at your soup, missing the way his eyes softened at your reaction.

Over the next three weeks, the fragments of a life began to surround you, even if the puzzle pieces wouldn't quite lock into place.

Yuji and Megumi came over to the house constantly. Yuji spent hours enthusiastically teaching you how to make his signature protein shakes and weird jello molds, his loud laughter filling the quiet house, while Megumi sat nearby with his usual serious expression. But the moment you offered Megumi a soft, encouraging smile, his sharp features would instantly melt into something deeply tender. Yet, beneath their smiles, you could see the underlying sadness in their eyes every time you failed to remember a shared inside joke.

When Shoko finally visited, she broke down completely, throwing her arms around your neck and sobbing into your shoulder. It was a bizarre maybe stupid too, overwhelming feeling being fiercely loved by people you couldn't even remember and a heavy weight of guilt began to settle deep in your chest. You even met Toji, Megumi's father, a tall, stoic man who didn't say much but looked at you with a quiet, profound pity that made you realize just how broken your situation truly was.

And then, there was Sukuna.

Your husband spent every single day patiently guiding you through your routines, driving you past your old university, cooking your favorite meals, and trying every gentle trigger possible. But your mind remained a stubborn, locked vault. Sukuna was growing desperate furious and completely fucked up by the stagnation.

To make matters worse, just one week before the accident, you had playfully taken down every single one of your framed marriage photographs to rearrange the living room gallery wall, hiding them away in a "genius spot" that Sukuna had completely forgotten more like you didn't even told him. He had spent hours frantically tearing the house apart while you were out, searching for a single modern photo of the two of you together.

He was completely unraveling. He couldn't sleep. The woman he loved was sleeping in the room next to him, yet she looked at him with the polite, distant eyes of a stranger. He felt like a ghost haunting his own home. One evening, he sat alone in the dark kitchen and wept the third time he had ever cried in his entire life. The first had been tears of pure joy on your wedding day when he saw you walking the aisle. the second had been out of terror when the ER doctor told him a car had struck you. and now, he was crying simply because he missed his wife so damn much

His phone offered no help either. his gallery was filled entirely with candid photos he had taken of you you stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your head, you laughing in a department store dressing room, or a hilarious picture of you biting into a raw lemon and making a completely disgusted face. He had no photos of the two of you together on his device, you had always been the one insisted on keeping the physical, printed albums. The only joint photos he could find were a few faded, wrinkled prints from your high school days, showing a younger, wilder version of himself wrapping his arms around you from behind while you laughed into the camera. When he showed them to you, you just stared at them blankly. It was killing him.

At the end of the third week, Sukuna was sitting heavily on the living room sofa, completely exhausted after another failed search through the house. He was mindlessly scrolling through the candid photos of you on his phone, a faint, melancholy smile touching his lips. His fingers traced your face on the photo, your bright smile. your bubbly laughter at his most unfunniset jokes, now all of that are vanished.

The heavy front door clicked open. Shoko had taken you out for an afternoon of shopping to get you out of the house, and she had just dropped you off at the curb. You stepped into the foyer, balancing several shopping bags in your arms.

Sukuna instantly locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket as he stood up, his red eyes drinking in the sight of you. "Had fun, princess?"

"Yes, I did. And thank you... for letting me use your credit card" you said softly, walking over to the coffee table and gently sliding the black card back toward him.

"You bought dresses?" he asked, pointing toward the bags. Honestly, he didn't give a single fuck about the money. you could have emptied his entire bank account and he would have gladly signed it away just to see you happy.

"I bought a few things..." You cleared your throat nervously, your fingers twisting together. "But... I actually bought something for you, too."

The words hit his chest like a physical blow. Even with her mind completely wiped, your beautiful, kind soul was still looking out for him. "Really?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Can I see it?"

You gave a small nod, walking over to the couch and tentatively sitting down right next to him. The close proximity made his heart start to hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird.

"I don't know if it's really your style, or if you'll even like it..." you mumbled bashfully, reaching into a small velvet pouch and pulling out a heavy, intricately braided silver bracelet studded with raw, brilliant red stones. "The color... it just immediately reminded me of you. Of your eyes."

You gently reached out, grasping his massive, calloused wrist to drape the metal over his skin. Oh God, if you only knew how fast his heart was racing beneath his chest. Your soft, warm fingers lingering against his pulse point was pure, exquisite torture.

"It looks incredible, Y/n. Thank you." he whispered, a genuine, breathtakingly soft smile spreading across his tattooed face as he looked down at the crimson stones.

"Thank you... for being so incredibly patient with me" you said quietly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Sukuna let out a long, ragged sigh, his hand hovering over yours for a fraction of a second before he pulled back. "I will always be patient with you, princess. Always."

You looked directly into his burning red eyes, and for the first time in three weeks, a warm, genuine smile broke across your face. Sukuna felt his breath hitch. he was entirely certain he was about to pass out from the sheer weight of his love for you.

"Can you stay right here for a bit? I need to go jump in the shower real quick. I'll be fast" he muttered hoarsely, his hand instinctively reaching out to gently ruffle your hair a comforting, domestic habit he had carefully maintained. You let out a soft chuckle at the gesture.

The moment his heavy footsteps disappeared up the stairs and the sound of running water echoed through the pipes, you stood up, wandering aimlessly around the quiet main floor. Your feet pulled you toward the small, cozy library nestled just off the living room. The walls were lined with hundreds of books some ancient leather volumes, others modern art textbooks. You pulled one off the shelf, flipping through the pages before sliding it back into place.

As you stepped back, your eyes caught a glimpse of something hidden on the absolute highest shelf, shoved far back into the shadows near the ceiling. It looked like a massive, heavy frame leaning flat against the back wall, obscured by a decorative ceramic vase. Intrigued, you stood on your tiptoes, stretching your arms up as high as they could go, blindly reaching for the top edge of the wooden frame.

Your fingers caught the molding, but as you pulled, the heavy ceramic vase shifted, losing its balance.

Crash!

The vase shattered against the hardwood floor with a deafening, echoing smash. Startled, you let out a sharp cry, stumbling backward as the massive hidden frame came tumbling down from the top shelf, striking the edge of the desk before landing flat on the rug. The backing of the frame split completely open upon impact, and a massive cascade of loose, glossy photographs erupted across the floor hundreds of them, scattering like playing cards across the room.

You gasped, placing a hand over your racing heart as you looked away from the broken pottery, your eyes drifting down to the sea of images covering the floor.

You froze.

Right at your feet lay a massive, professionally printed portrait. In the photograph, you were sitting securely on Sukuna's lap. You were wearing a breathtaking, flowing white lace wedding dress, holding a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers, and laughing so brightly your eyes were crinkled shut. Sukuna was clad in a sharp, tailored black tuxedo, his massive arms wrapped fiercely around your waist from behind, an absolutely massive, unbothered, triumphant grin plastered across his face.

Your breath hitched violently. You stumbled forward, falling to your knees as your hands frantically snatched up another photo from the pile. In this one, you were hoisted high up on Sukuna's broad shoulders at a crowded, flashing outdoor music festival; your mouth was wide open in a breathless scream of laughter, while his large hands were clamped firmly around your thighs to keep you safe, both of your faces painted with pure, unadulterated euphoria.

You grabbed a third photo, and the entire world stopped spinning. It was a quiet, intimate shot taken right in the backyard garden outside. You were sitting cross-legged on the green grass, wearing a simple summer dress with a soft, shy smile, while Sukuna’s heavy head was resting completely in your lap. He was looking up at you with an expression of such pure, unconditional adoration it made your soul ache, while your fingers were woven gently through his soft pink hair.

Pink hair.

The backyard.

The jazz music.

The napkin.

A sudden, violent explosion of memories ripped through the barriers of your mind. It wasn't a trickle; it was a catastrophic, roaring tidal wave. Seven years of laughter, fierce arguments, passionate late-night apologies, the smell of his skin, the exact weight of his body pressing you into the master mattress, the sound of his deep voice whispering "I've got you, princess" into the dark. It all hit your brain at once with the force of a freight train.

The sheer, overwhelming velocity of the memories made the room spin violently. Your vision blurred into a vortex of white light and crimson eyes. You let out a choked gasp, your strength entirely giving out as your body collapsed sideways onto the hardwood floor with a loud, heavy thud, the scattered photographs of your life pooling around your unconscious form.

When you finally opened your eyes again, the harsh glare of the ceiling lights was gone, replaced by the warm, dim ambiance of the living room. You were laying flat on the soft fabric of the sofa.

"She's waking up! Sukuna, look, her eyes are moving!" Yuji’s panicked, loud voice cut through the quiet room.

You blinked heavily, your vision slowly focusing. Megumi was standing right beside his cousin, his dark eyes wide and completely swimming with anxiety. Shoko was hovering over you, a small medical flashlight in her hand, her face pale as she checked your vitals.

But your heart didn't care about any of them. Your eyes frantically scanned the tight circle of people, instantly landing on the massive, tattooed man standing frozen at the foot of the couch. His pastel pink hair was damp from the shower, his chest heaving under a plain black t-shirt, and his face was a mask of pure, absolute terror.

As your eyes met his, a single, heavy tear spilled over your eyelid, tracing a hot path down your cheek. The vast, terrifying void in your mind was completely gone, replaced by the roaring, beautiful fire of your reality.

"Ryo..." you choked out, your voice a broken, breathless sob.

Sukuna froze, his entire frame visibly violently shuddering at the sound of the nickname the private, intimate name only you were ever allowed to call him.

Before anyone else could even blink, you threw yourself forward off the sofa cushions, completely ignoring the dull ache in your muscles. You lunged straight into his space, your arms wrapping fiercely around his massive neck. You buried your face in the crook of his collarbone, gripping the fabric of his shirt with a desperate, white-knuckled intensity as you pressed a hard, crying kiss directly against his tattooed jaw.

"I remember... us" you sobbed violently into his skin, your entire body trembling as the tears flowed freely. "I remember everything, Ryo... I remember you."

Sukuna’s mind completely blanked. For a single, breathless second, he couldn't even process the words. And then, a raw, ragged sound escaped his throat a mixture of a sob and a laugh. His massive, powerful arms came crashing down around your frame, pulling you so close against his chest you could barely breathe, lifting your knees entirely off the floor as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

And there, in the middle of his living room, surrounded by his family and the scattered photographs of your love, Ryomen Sukuna closed his eyes and wept for the fourth time in his life.

"I fucking love you" he whispers

(not me me writing all night just for 36 like and one reblog😣🙏🏾)

[imnotabot28]

crying and sweating cus its hot af rn!!!!!!!!!

im glad its a happy ending cus i thought it wasnt lol

[bambismoon]

apocalypse - one undergroundboxer!kuna x reader [soulmate au]

warnings [mdni] - angst | implied trauma | mean sukuna

wc - 7.3k

series masterlist

∞

ryomen sukuna knew three things about his soulmate. 

she drank too much caffeine, she slept curled on her side whenever anxiety crawled beneath her skin and whenever she read for hours on end or colored, the noise in his head quieted enough to let him breathe. 

it was fucking irritating. 

the first time she got under his skin, it was in the middle of his first match. 

he’d nearly put his fist through the guy, rage sitting ugly beneath his ribs as blood pooled in his mouth and sweat dripped down his spine. 

then suddenly, he was overcome with serenity he’d never experienced before. 

a calmness that wasn’t his own, never his own. 

something soft slipped beneath his skin then, warm and quiet in a way he wasn’t used to. like somebody had pressed cold hands against the back of his neck after years of burning where he stood. 

he’d won that match. 

“again?” toji muttered from across the gym, cigarette balanced lazily between scarred fingers. 

sukuna rolled his jaw once before slamming another punch into the heavy bag hard enough for the chains overhead to rattle violently. 

“fuck off.” 

toji smirked, tongue peaking out to lick at the scar against his lip. 

the gym smelled like rust, sweat and the metallic ting of blood that both men were used to. it was a shitty set up buried beneath the city in the lower levels of an abandoned parking structure. it barely looked legal from the outside and the inside wasn't much better. 

the concrete floors, flickering lights and men all too violent to exist comfortably above ground. 

and it was the place ryomen sukuna felt alive. 

sukuna had been fighting since he was fifteen and filled with a rage even he couldn’t understand. 

toji found him bloody outside a convenience store after some older guys tried jumping him for gambling money. 

it was clear they didn’t get the money but sukuna took that fire in his gaze out on them. 

sukuna still recalled the way toji looked down at him, droplets cascading down his sharp features and dark hair, damp cigarette hanging from his mouth while blood dripped steadily from sukuna’s split brow. 

“you fight like an animal,” toji began, taking a drag of his fading cig before tilting his head at the salmon haired boy, “what if i told you that you could beat the shit out of guys every day and get paid for it?” 

a fucking dream is what that was. he gets to utilize his anger and he could finally get out of his father’s house. 

how could sukuna even say no? 

somehow, it turned into this. 

years later, ryomen sukuna had become the name whispered through underground rings across the city. not because he was the biggest or the strongest, but because he was cruel. 

there was something deeply unsettling about the way sukuna fought. 

controlled, almost lazy sometimes. like violence came so naturally to him that he didn’t even need to think about it. 

people feared men who fought emotionally. 

they feared ryomen sukuna more because he never did. 

most nights, he fought beneath screaming neon lights while crowds chanted his name loud enough to shake the walls. 

they bet on him like he was a sure thing and fuck, did he get a shitload of money from it. 

he’d leave each night, beaten and bruised with a duffel of cash hanging off his shoulder.

he was living the dream.

that was until he arrived home, in his apartment downtown, and sat in silence while somebody else’s emotions bled quietly into his chest. 

a girl he’d never met yet somehow knew like the back of his hand, all too intimately. 

he knew she liked coffee because of the bursts of energy he’d feel during mornings where he usually slept in because his fights usually carried into the night. 

he knew she did yoga often because his muscles weren’t as sore as they would get when he was younger and god knows it wasn’t his doing. he didn’t stretch nearly as much as toji nagged at him to. 

he also knew that she despised him. 

that one was obvious. 

their bond always sharpened after his fights. her irritation sat bright and hot beneath his ribs every time he came home bruised and bloody. 

sometimes he couldn’t differentiate between his own rage and hers. 

maybe they were more alike than he thought. 

truthfully, sukuna didn’t know how to do things any differently and frankly, he didn’t care enough to. 

he hated this whole soulmates shit. why would the universe ever pair two people together with the utmost certainty that they were perfect for each other?

and what fucking masacre did this girl commit to be bonded with him of all people? 

violence was the only thing sukuna had ever been good at and he wouldn’t change that for anyone, especially some girl who was almost a mere figment of his imagination. 

he did that sometimes. pretended that he was a non-existent and that he was merely hallucinating her. 

non-existents made up a very small part of the population and they were essentially humans who didn’t have soulmates. like toji was. 

lucky bastard. 

sometimes sukuna believed toji was lying because he’d get this distant look on his face some days, kind of like himself when he felt his own soulmate torment him. 

so maybe he was a late bloomer? 

either way, he was in a better situation than sukuna was. 

“your girl’s pissed again?” toji commented dryly from where he leaned against the boxing ring ropes, head tilted with a knowingness sukuna hated. 

toji was the one sukuna had to confide in because who else did he have? 

when he was overwhelmed as a young teenager about his soulmate, toji would be the one he would reluctantly go to. the older man had taken him under his wing, so yes, he did trust him more than anyone. 

he also knew that toji cared about him in his own fucked up way. 

sukuna’s knuckles ached tonight, phantom annoyance curling beneath his skin that didn’t belong to him. it was her. 

probably studying somewhere in the city while silently wishing death upon him. 

the thought almost made him grin. 

throughout the years, pissing her off became a hobby of some sort, though he knew she didn’t find it nearly as amusing as he did. 

“at least you know she’s got personality.” toji stated once more as sukuna finally stopped punching and turned to shoot the man a glare. 

“shut the fuck up.”

toji huffed out a laugh, “god help you both when you finally meet.”

the thought made sukuna freeze momentarily. 

it was almost sad. 

usually, at least from what sukuna knew, people usually couldn’t wait to meet their soulmates. 

then there was sukuna, filled with dread at the mere idea. 

sukuna hated even talking about the bond. 

he hated how aware he was of her. 

because despite everything, the distance and never seeing her to begin with, she felt woven into him already, like a haunting. 

some nights, when his insomnia clawed violently at his nerves after fights, he’d feel her wrap her arms around herself beneath warm blankets god knows where. 

and sleep came easier those nights. 

he couldn’t explain it and truthfully, he didn’t like to think about it. 

he hated talking about her because the truth was ugly. 

that he didn’t particularly hate her. which is exactly why he knew meeting her would ruin everything. 

naturally, his solution was to sabotage everything which is why he started to sleep around with non-existents whenever he got the chance. 

and he knew what it did to her. 

good. he hoped it made her despise him enough to never want anything to do with him, whether they meet now or twenty years down the line. 

sukuna didn’t want anything to do with her. 

∞

you hated downtown on friday nights. 

it was always too loud and all too crowded. 

neon signs bled into rain-slick streets while bass-heavy music spilled from every open doorway along the block. 

girls stumbled across sidewalks in tiny dresses and tall heels, drunken laughter cutting through the humid summer night air while taxis lined the streets endlessly. 

the city looked beautiful after dark, but you still wanted to be everywhere but here. 

“stop looking at people with that judgy look of yours.” shoko muttered beside you, nudging your shoulder lightly as the three of you crossed the street.

“i’m not judging, i’m just looking around…” you defended with a huff as you hugged yourself protectively, little kitten heels clicking against the pavement. 

“you are judging,” utahime confirmed, “it’s your classic disgusted and glare-ey look.” 

“well excuse me, you’re the ones who brought me to crackhead-ville.” you glared at the two girls as shoko rolled her eeys before hooking her arm through yours anyway. 

she pulled you towards the entrance of yet another overcrowded building downtown.

apparently, tonight’s party was being held somewhere above an abandoned old bar. or beneath it. 

either way, something you found entirely too ominous but you were too distracted when shoko was explaining to actually disagree. 

your soulmate had spent the entire evening restless beneath your skin. not angry but worse. 

aware. 

you felt him constantly tonight. 

a steady pulse of adrenaline humming through your bloodstream that didn’t belong to you. 

your chest had felt tight since leaving the penthouse, some strange tension settling low in your stomach like your body was anticipating something before your mind could catch up.

it was unsettling. 

you blamed the lack of sleep, or rather, you blamed him. you blamed him for it all. 

“ew, ew…” you muttered as shoko pulled you through the door into what you could only describe as chaos. 

warmth and noise hit you instantly. 

bodies crowded wall to wall beneath flashing lights while music shook violently through the floorboards. 

cigarette smoke lingered in the air despite the open windows somewhere deeper inside the space. 

you physically recoiled. 

“oh my god,” utahime muttered beside you, laughing softly at the expression painting your features, “you look horrified.” 

“i am horrified!” 

shoko snorted, “rich kids.” 

you threw her a glare before the three of you squeezed through the crowd until you reached a quieter section tucked near the back of the room. 

a curved leather couch sat half-empty beneath dim red lights, thankfully far enough from the speakers that your skull stopped vibrating the second you sat down. 

you exhaled deeply, chest deflating as you blinked up at your friends who were looking at you with amusement. 

“drinks?” utahime questioned as shoko nodded eagerly while you merely hummed, shoulders tense as you gazed around the sea of bodies. 

utahime disappeared toward the bar while shoko took a seat beside you, the leather beneath you sticky in a way that had you shuddering, sitting at the very edge of the couch. 

fuck, you hated this and you couldn’t explain why. 

yes, you hated parties in general but you just felt wrong. 

“you’re being weird tonight.” shoko observed, eyes narrowed on your tense figure. 

you frowned faintly, “i know…i feel weird.”

your skin felt like it was buzzing, chest vibrating in a way it usually wasn’t. 

it wasn’t necessarily bad, but simply off. 

you felt your soulmate more than ever tonight, you were almost hyperaware. 

he felt electric. 

every emotion coming from him felt sharper somehow, close enough that you could almost mistake them for your own. 

your pulse kept jumping for no reason. 

fuck, you hated this. 

“is it devils dick?” shoko casually asked as your eyes closed momentarily. 

how would you explain that it was both yes and no. 

yes, the bond felt different tonight. 

but no, it wasn’t muscle aches or phantom pain you were feeling on his end, though you didn't want to speak too soon. 

it was a friday after all. friday nights usually meant bruised ribs by saturday morning. 

“oh my god, guys!” hime stood before you, handing shoko her drink before placing a water bottle in your hand, “everyone’s saying gojo and his crew are gonna be here!” 

your eyes rolled gently, very much aware of utahime’s obsession with those random illegitimate fighters. 

underground fights happened constantly throughout the city. 

illegal betting rings buried beneath clubs and abandoned buildings, violent enough that respectable people pretended they didn’t exist despite everyone secretly knowing otherwise. 

your father even told you how known politicians and well known figures even placed bets they hid from the public.  

and lately, there was one name that everyone kept talking about-

“do you think sukuna would show up?” shoko questioned, eyes wide with excitement, taking a sip of her cherry vodka as you looked between the two girls. 

ryomen sukuna. 

you’d heard it constantly from utahime the past few months. 

uathime, shoko, sora and percy often went on double dates to these underground fights you had zero interest in. 

you were very much used to fifth wheeling alongside your friends, that wasn’t the issue. the issue was rooted in the prospect of spending the night in a filthy underground boxing ring riddled with people and violence alike. yuck. 

still, amongst all the fighters utahime gushed about, ryomen sukuna seemed to be the most known. 

the undefeated underground fighter with pink hair and a snake tattoo across his shoulders and collarbones. 

people were terrified of him just as equally as they were obsessed with him. 

“percy says sukuna knocked his opponent unconscious in under thirty seconds last week!” shoko stated, taking another sip as utahime nodded frantically. 

“he’s insane!” utahime gushed, “like, gojo is obviously a show off and just cares about the clout he gets but sukuna? he’s terrifying…”

utahime continued, you were sure. you could see her mouth moving but you didn’t-couldn’t register the words she'd uttered. 

the world around you turned hazy, just enough to feel like everything slowed in a way that definitely wasn’t normal. 

your heartbeat stopped, not metaphorically, but physically. 

a sharp wave of adrenaline crashed violently into your chest hard enough to steal the breath straight from your lungs. 

you went still, every muscle in your body tightening instinctively. 

you could see both of the girls leaning towards you, brows furrowed in concern, mouths moving and uttering words you knew were dipped in concern. you couldn’t hear any of it. 

you swallowed hard, eyes darting up and around you, as if a siren was luring you towards the crowd, come to me, come, come. 

fuck, were you drugged or something?

your heartbeat stuttered painfully beneath your ribs, once, twice then again. 

you felt like you’d been dropped underwater while everyone else remained above the surface. 

the bond felt raw and entirely too overwhelming.

it felt like standing at the edge of something life-altering, like your soul had recognized something before your mind could catch up to it. 

for the first time since you’d first felt your soulmate, he didn’t feel far away. 

you had grown used to the idea of him, something intangible and not truly real. 

merely a ghost haunting the edges of your nervous system, phantom bruises in the middle of lectures and an adrenaline rush at three in the morning. 

he was the deep-seated exhaustion that riddled your body but didn’t belong to you. 

but this felt real. close enough to touch. 

the sensation crawled slowly beneath your skin, winding around your ribs like invisible string being pulled tighter and tighter and tighter until you thought you might choke on it. 

the realization hit your bloodstream like a drug. 

he was here, you knew it. you could feel it in your bones. 

your eyes darted towards the door that had swung open, summer air rushing inside alongside four figures dressed almost entirely in black. 

the first thing you noticed was height. 

they all carried themselves with the same dangerous sort of confidence, the kind that came from men who had never truly feared consequences before. 

one of them had snowy white locks, the tallest of the bunch, bright enough to catch beneath the flashing lights, sunglasses balanced lazily across his nose despite the fact that it was nearly midnight. 

another stood beside him, quieter with shoulder length black locks with stretched gauges in his ears and sharp eyes that swept across the room once before settling into bored indifference.

the third one was shorter than the rest but still tall, black locks in two spiked buns with a joint resting between plump pink lips, eyes hooded in a way that exposed that joint not being his first of the night.

they were all attractive in a way that felt almost unfair and dangerous. 

people moved out of their path without being asked. 

your eyes turned to the one trailing just a step behind them and your breath caught so violently, it hurt. 

the salmon colored locks gave him away. 

ryomen sukuna. 

tattoos curled dark against tan skin disappearing beneath the collar of a black shirt that stretched across broad shoulders. 

even from where you stood, you could see the dried blood and bruises across his knuckles. 

he looked nothing like what you’d imagined from shoko’s descriptions. 

and simultaneously, exactly like it too. 

something deep inside you snapped taut, your stomach dropping. 

you could tell he was dazed too, jaw locked and eyes blinking at a slow pace, eyes looking around the sea of bodies. 

the soulmate bond surged so hard beneath your ribs, you physically recoiled, fingers gripping the edge of the leather couch. 

oh god. no, no, no.

oh my god…

“oh my god,” utahime whispered beside you, though unlike you, she sounded impressed rather than horrified. 

shoko looked moments away from passing out entirely. 

“that’s him!” she breathed out quietly. 

you couldn’t answer, breath stilling and hands trembling. 

because sukuna had stopped walking.

fuck, the realization came slowly enough to feel cruel. 

maroon eyes met your own and the room around you dissolved entirely. the music became muffled noise, lights blurring and the crowd disappeared.

all you could see was him. him. him. him. 

he was all you could see, feel and you knew all he could see was you. 

sukuna felt it the second he stepped through the doorway. 

you. 

the bond snapped violently alive beneath his skin hard enough that his entire body locked for half a second mid-step. 

he almost thought someone had drugged him until he remembered he hadn’t even drank anything yet. 

then what was this feeling? 

his eyes locked on yours and he felt the most alive he’d felt in his life.

something even the ring and the violence couldn't offer. 

there you were, all too pretty and wide eyed. 

he barely heard gojo speak beside him anymore, the lanky man rambling on about some idiot from last week’s fight who apparently called him out on twitter after. 

sukuna ignored him completely because across the room sat a girl staring at him like she’d seen a ghost. 

and in some ways, he was your ghost. 

he haunted you and lived under your skin in ways he was sure you didn’t appreciate in the slightest. 

his soulmate. 

years of phantom feelings crashed together all at once so violently, it almost made him sick. 

because the realization hit him harder than he’d anticipated and yes, he had anticipated this. 

the moment he’d meet his soulmate. 

well, he dreaded more than anticipated it. 

it hit him hard because he realized that he knew this girl. 

sukuna had never met you, yet, he bet he knew you more than the two girls hovering over you. more than fucking anyone. 

you were the girl whose stress bled into his bones during finals week, the girl who wrapped her arms around herself at night and somehow lulled him to sleep from miles away. 

you were real. 

and you looked soft. 

that was the first thing he took note of. 

soft skin, soft wide eyes, soft pink shimmery gloss coating your plush lips he recognized only through phantom warmth he’d felt against his own skin before. 

his soulmate was a pretty little thing, so pretty it almost made his chest ache. in your tiny skirt and halter top.

far too fucking pretty to belong anywhere near him. 

“sukuna?” 

choso’s voice cut through the haze faintly and sukuna snapped out of it, gaze finally leaving hers to glance at his friend who tilted his head towards the other side of the room. 

sukuna resisted the urge to glance at you as he made his way across the room.

fuck, fuck, fuck! 

this couldn’t be happening, this was a fucking nightmare. 

just as he made it across the room, he felt it. 

warm fingertips brushing his own skin despite his hands at his sides. 

his pulse stuttered once. 

his gaze snapped to yours once more and your eyes widened instantly when you noticed his hand drift to his neck where your own hand was resting. 

slowly and carefully, sukuna lifted his own hand. 

his fingers brushed lightly against the side of his jaw, a barely there touch. 

yet, across the room, your breath hitched sharply as warmth bloomed against your own jawline seconds later. 

not imagined or coincidence. it was all real, so so real. 

your stomach twisted violently. 

oh no. no no no no. 

shoko was gazing at you, “what’s wrong?!” 

you couldn’t answer, eyes stuck on a pair of crimson that held you hostage.

her eyes narrowed as both her and utahime followed your gaze before catching sukuna’s eyes on you. 

then they both looked between you both a total of five times before realization hit. 

“wait,” shoko whispered harshly, hand shooting out to grip your arm, “WAIT.”

utahime’s jaw physically fell open, “holy shit…”

your heartbeat pounded so violently, you thought you might faint right then and there beneath the flashing red lights.

what you despised most is that it made sense. 

of course it was him. a violent and dangerous underground fighter, fuck, that explained everything so perfectly.

if fate was a person, you’d have her by the neck right now. 

because sukuna was still staring at you, as if he knew you already and perhaps, he did. 

then horrifyingly, he smirked. 

and suddenly, you understood exactly why the entire city feared ryomen sukuna. 

sukuna moved before he could really think about it, jaw clenched but determined.

one second he stood on the other side of the room and the next, his body was already weaving through the crowd toward you like the bond itself had wrapped invisible fingers around his spine and dragged him to you. you. his soulmate. 

people moved instantly to let him pass. 

you took note of that immediately. 

you noticed the way conversations died around him, the way bodies shifted out of his path and nobody dared touch him, even accidentally. 

it was fear, you realized. people feared him. 

the recognition made your stomach twist. 

“oh my god,” shoko whispered harshly beside you, nails digging into your arm, “he’s coming over here!” 

“i can see that.” you hissed back faintly, though your voice barely sounded like your own. 

fuck, you should leave. you should absolutely leave. 

except, you couldn’t move, body drilled to where you sat, frozen in place while ryomen fucking sukuna rossed the room toward you like some predator chasing prey. 

closer and closer and closer. 

until suddenly, all his 6’4 glory was towering above you. 

your breath caught embarrassingly hard. 

up close, he was worse. 

taller than you’d imagined and broader too. 

there were faint bruises scattered along his jawline beneath the dim lights, on the very spot that you woke up feeling sore. fresh cuts healed across his knuckles. 

and his eyes, god, they looked at you with the same recognition burning through your own chest. 

sukuna looked down at you for a moment too long. 

fuck, you were even more ethereal up close. 

that thought hit him first and annoyingly hardest. 

his pretty little soulmate sitting curled into the edge of a leather couch looking at him with wide doe eyes, almost expectantly with a mix of fear and restraint. 

“hey.” 

his voice slid down your spine like smoke. 

low, dangerous and rough in a way even your mind couldn’t conjure up.

fuck, was this really happening?

your throat tightened instantly, “hi.”

the word left you horrifyingly softer than you’d intended and sukuna’s lips twitched at the sound. 

your voice was his favorite sound, instantly. 

“um,” shoko hummed, eyes wide as she shared a glance with utahime, “we’ll give you two a second.”

you almost wanted to yell in protest, but the two girls were already shuffling away, shooting you encouraging looks. 

as you glanced up at the dangerous man once more, you felt your heart still in a way you hadn’t ever felt before. 

not in fear or apprehension but calm. 

he made you feel calm, your body stilling and quieting in a way you hadn’t expected. 

regretfully, fuck, you despised it, but when that gentleness overcame you and you looked up at him…

his disheveled pink locks, his handsome rugged features and his dark eyes, all of it was him. 

and you felt stupid for trying to deny that this man was your soulmate. 

who else would it be? 

“i’m sukuna,” he stated lowly, moving to take a seat beside you, leaving an appreciative distance between you, “ryomen sukuna.” 

your name left you softly with a nod. 

as you gazed at each other, the same realization overcame you both. 

even with barely an introduction, you knew each other. 

while sukuna had only fond memories of what you’d done for him, your mind was riddled with poisonous ones. 

this was the man who often trained in the middle of the night, filling you with soreness and a rush of adrenaline that left you sleepless most nights. 

he was the one who fucked other girls knowing what that put you through. 

your heart clenched. 

beyond all those things, he was the one who hugged himself to sleep after that one night of utter hell. 

he was the one who held a hot water bottle to his stomach when your cramps left you nauseated and pained in bed. 

as much as you wanted to forget those things, to snap yourself out of the sad patheticness that riddled you, how could you?

how could you when those were the only memories that kept your hope that he wasn’t a total monster alive?

your eyes travelled along his bloodied knuckles, “you get those a lot.” 

sukuna’s fists instinctively clenched at the attention.

“and you burn yourself with whatever you do your hair with at least twice a week.”

your eyes widened instantly. 

“and you get punched like every other day!” 

sukuna’s mouth twitched and you hated how your eyes drifted towards the movement and your heart stuttered. 

“barely.” sukuna stated cooly, a small smirk painting his features. 

your eyes drifted toward him again before you could stop yourself. 

and then you remembered. 

every phantom feeling, every sleepless night and every ache.

all attached to him. 

the violence, the pain, the girls. 

your jaw tightened, "you’re not exactly the best person to be connected to, you know.” 

sukuna’s expression didn’t shift much, still cool, but you felt it. the hollow drop in your stomach that wasn’t yours. guilt. 

real and immediate, it almost made you laugh in disbelief. 

of course he felt guilty, he had to know he was a fucking nightmare. 

sukuna leaned back slightly, jaw working once as his gaze flickered away from yours for half a second, “yeah, i bet.” 

your brows lifted, “that’s it?” 

his eyes returned to yours, low and indifferent. 

you scoffed, anger bubbling up so quickly, it nearly startled you, “that’s all you have to say?” 

sukuna let out a breath through his nose, “what do you want me to say?”

“oh, i don’t know,” you let out a sharp little laugh that held not an ounce of humor, “maybe sorry would be a good place to start?!” 

sukuna’s head tilted, “sorry.” 

you stared at him in utter disbelief before a laugh left you once more, this time softer and dripped in something worse than anger, “wow…” 

sukuna’s eyes borrowed, “what?” 

“you’re unbelievable is what!” 

“you asked for sorry.” 

“not like that!” you nsapped, voice rising just enough to have your cheeks flushing, “not like you’re apologizing for stepping on my shoe!”

his expression hardened slightly and you felt it immediately, the irritation beginning to curl beneath his skin. 

ugh, you hated how the closeness made both your emotions so heightened. 

though, you hoped he could feel your rage. 

"an apology isn't gonna change shit. won't make y'feel better either."

his words enraged you even more.

“you have no idea what you put me through,” you continued, voice trembling despite you rbest efforts, “none.” 

sukuna’s gaze darkened, “don’t do that.”

“do what?” 

“act like i wasn’t there too.” 

you blinked at him, something hot and ugly twisting in your chest. 

was he for real? 

“you were there?” you repeated quietly, “you were there?” 

his jaw clenched, “don’t-”

“no, please,” you leaned forward slightly, anger sharpening every word, “explain it to me. because to my knowledge, you were the one making my life miserable while i was the one trying to keep us both sane!”

sukuna looked at you for a long moment, jaw clenching and unclenching. the lights washed over his face in flashes of red, making him look even more unreal than he already did. 

“you think i wanted this?” he stated more than asked and your heart clenched. 

hurt shot through you, your eyes growing glassy against your will because you knew he wasn’t referring to the pain he’d put you through. 

he meant the soulmate thing in general, fate as a whole. 

he didn’t want you.

you bit the inside of your cheek, willing your tears to stay in your eyes before breathing out, “no. but neither did i.” 

silence settled between you then, not peaceful but loaded. 

sukuna could physically feel your hurt and his eyes dropped briefly to your hands where they trembled in your lap. 

your fingers curled instantly, too proud as you hid the movement. 

it was too late. he’d seen it. 

even worse, he’d felt it.

“i didn’t know.” he stated lowly and you froze. 

your eyes flickered up, “what?” 

his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, expression unreadable. 

“at first,” he clarified, “i didn’t know what it did to you.” 

your chest tightening, knowing what he was referring to and his words didn’t soothe you in the slightest. 

“and after?” 

in fact, it made it all worse. 

especially as he said nothing. 

your face fell slightly, all the anger in you cooling into something quieter and melancholic. 

“after, you knew.” 

his gaze remained on you as his fingers flexed once against his thigh, “yeah, i knew.” 

your eyes burned and you hated yourself for it. you hated that it still hurt despite knowing already, you hated that hearing him say it aloud made it real in a way the bond never had. 

“why?” you asked, the one word absolutely humiliating as much as it was devastating. 

sukuna looked away first and somehow, that hurt too, “because it was easier.” 

your lips parted faintly, “easier?” 

he lout out a grunt, “if you hated me, you wouldn’t look for me.” 

the words settled between you like something deadly. 

for a second, you genuinely couldn’t speak. 

then you did, “that is the stupidest, shittiest thing i’ve ever heard.” 

hsi eyes snapped back to yours, scowling, “careful.” 

“oh, fuck you!” you hissed lowly, “you don’t get to do that! you don’t get to hurt me on purpose and then act like it was some noble sacrifice.” 

his jaw tightened, “it wasn’t noble.” 

“yeah, no shit.” 

“it was necessary.” 

you laughed once, incredulous, “necessary? well, congrats, you got what you wanted, i absolutely fucking despise you.” 

sukuna’s jaw clenched, eyes glaring at you, “good. because you don’t know shit about me, this saves us both the hassle.”

“i don’t know you?” you shot back, “i know you more than anyone, probably. i know your body hurts more often than they don’t. i know you clench your jaw when you’re mad. i know you can’t sleep because of your nightmares and unless somebody practcially forces your nervous system to shut down, you could go days without it. i know you’re so angry at the fucking world, it makes you so hateful.”

sukuna went still, too still. 

you swallowed hard, eyes burning once more, “and i know that for years, i was the one cleaning up the damage you left behind.” 

his eyes darkened, “cleaning up?” 

“yes,” your voice cracked despite yourself, “me. i was the one hugging myself to sleep because you wouldn’t. i was the one stretching every morning because your body always felt like fucking concrete. i was the one coloring like a goddamn toddler at three in the morning because it was the only thing that made your anger stop choking me!” 

sukuna said nothing and you hated that even more. 

you wanted him to argue back, to answer, to fucking care. 

“do you know how pathetic that feels?” you whispered, “taking care of someone who kept hurting me?” 

his expression shifted, barely, but you felt it again. 

the guilt, even deeper this time. 

sukuna looked at you like he wanted to say something cruel and couldn’t quite manage it, settling with, “you didn’t have to do all that.” 

your laugh came out watery, tears now trickling down your heated cheeks. 

fuck, you felt nauseous, you felt so fucking sick. 

“yeah, i know that now.” 

something passed across his face then, a flicker of pain so quick, you almost missed it. 

but the bond didn’t allow you to miss anything. you felt it bloom in your own chest, sharp and unwanted. his. 

for one terrible second, you almost let it soften you. 

almost. 

because there it was again. 

that tiny, stupid sliver of hope you’d spend years nurturing because it was the only thing that kept you mildly sane. 

the one that whispered that maybe he wasn't all cruelty. maybe there was something beneath all that violence and pain. 

maybe the boy who held a hot water bottle to his stomach when your cramps got bad had to exist somewhere inside the man sitting in front of you. 

you looked at him then, through your blurry vision, really and truly looked. 

the hard line of his jaw, the coldness in his eyes and the casual arrogance sitting across his shoulders like armor. 

and that hope crumbled quietly inside your chest. 

not dramatically or all at once, but piece by piece, like something old finally accepting it had been dead for a long time. 

utter disappointment filled you then. you should have known better. 

this shouldn't be surprising. 

sukuna had spent years telling you exactly who he was, painting you the worst image of himself and you had hoped it was just that. 

the worst of himself. 

except the worst was all of him. 

sukuna was cruel. not because he didn’t know better but because he did. 

because he’d known what hurt you and decided hurting you was easier than wanting you. 

you swallowed around the ache in your throat, suddenly exhausted in a way a thousand years of sleep couldn’t fix. 

all you wanted was to be home now, cuddled up with ani in your room alone. 

“right,” you whispered, nodding once to yourself. 

sukuna’s brows pulled together slightly, “right what?” 

you pushed yourself to your feet, smoothing trembling hands over the front of your skirt because you needed something to do. anything that didn’t involve looking at him. 

“this was enlightening.” 

his eyes narrowed, “sit down.” 

the command sparked something sharp beneath your ribs, the thorn twisting in your heart. 

you let out a hollow laugh, “fuck you.” 

his jaw flexed, “don’t make a scene.” 

your name left him then and you hated the way your stomach fluttered at the melody of it in his voice. 

fuck, your heart hurt. 

because he was your soulmate. yours.

because some sick, twisted part of you had expected the universe to redeem itself when you finally found him. 

you expected the first moment to feel like every story you’d grown up hearing, witnessed amongst your friends. 

warmth, recognition and relief. 

instead, you were standing in front of the man who had turned your body into a battlefield and your heart into collateral damage. 

“i hope i never see you again.” 

something flickered across his face then and you didn’t stay long enough to decipher it. 

you turned around, the crowd swallowing you almost immediately as you walked away. 

music slammed back into your skull, bodies pressing close as you pushed through them with shaking hands and blurred vision. 

your chest felt too tight, lungs too small for the oxygen your body ached for. 

behind you, you felt sukuna rise before you saw it. the immediate pull.

his presence growing closer and your heart stuttered stupidly. 

some miserable, pathetic part of you sparked alive at the thought before you could kill it. 

maybe he did care. 

maybe he was going to take back all the words he regretted, that he would stop you and apologize properly this time. 

he would say what you’ve been waiting years to feel. 

the thought was so humiliating, it almost made you sick. 

“fuck are you lookin’ at?!” 

you heard his voice aimed at the crowd of people that were watching you both, probably since your conversation on the couch. 

you shoved through the door and stepped into the narrow hallway outside the main room, the music muffling instantly behind you. 

the air was cooler here, damp with rain and cigarette smoke, blue neon bleeding through the cracked windows at the end of the corridor.

you took in a breath like you hadn’t breathed in days, eyes shutting as your heart hammered against your chest, trying to simply process everything that had taken place. 

“hey.” his voice followed you out and you froze, heart stilling. 

stupid, traitorous thing. 

you turned slowly, eyes fluttering open. 

sukuna stood a few feet away, tall and shadowed beneath the hallway light. 

away from the party, he seemed even more dangerous. less like a person and more like a warning your body had spent seven years failing to understand. 

he was an enigma. 

for one breath, neither of you spoke. 

your hope stood there too, fragile and shaking, fucking pitiful. 

waiting. 

sukuna’s gaze dragged over your face once, catching on the wetness beneath your eyes and his expression tightened faintly. 

say it, you thought bitterly. 

say sorry! say you didn’t mean it! 

say something!

his jaw worked once, “no one can know.” 

your brows furrowed, the hope dying cleanly. 

“excuse me?” 

sukuna stepped closer, voice lower now. 

his mouth opened to clarify when his gaze met your own once more. 

your wide glassy eyes. your pretty face that was streaked with tears, your plump bitten lips. 

the little sniffles that left you, making his ribs ache. 

and suddenly, he froze, the words stuck in his throat. 

fuck, he had to get it together. 

“about this.” 

your lips parted faintly, “about us?”

the word us felt absolutely pathetic in your mouth. 

all too soft and hopeful. undeserved, even. 

something in his eyes shifted at the sound of it but it was gone before you could hold onto it. 

“there is no us.” 

oh. you actually felt that one. 

not through the bond, nor as some phantom ache borrowed from him. 

the pain was yours, all yours. 

you laughed once, quiet and disbelieving as you took a small step back, “wow…”

sukuna followed you, taking one step forward as his jaw clenched, “listen to me-” 

“no,” you shook your head slowly, voice trembling, “no, i think i understand perfectly.” 

sukuna’s eyes darkened, “you really don’t.” 

“oh my god,” you shook your head, “i can’t believe i thought-” 

you stopped, humiliation burning up your throat. 

sukuna stared, taking a step closer, his chest now brushing your chin, “thought what?” 

his voice was almost desperate and you swallowed, blinking hard, “nothing.” 

his face tightened and he felt it anyway, of course he did. 

the hope and hurt. 

the fact that some tiny, unbearable part of you had wanted him to come after you because he simply couldn’t let you leave. 

sukuna looked away first as you took a step back. fucking coward. 

“it’s dangerous.” he stated as you stared at the side of his face.

“dangerous?” 

“yes.” 

“for who?” 

his gaze cut back to yours, “for you.” 

you almost laugh but he continued before you could. 

“people know me and if they know about you, they’ll use you. you make me weak.” 

the words landed colder than you'd expected. 

sukuna watched you closely, as if waiting for the fear to register and maybe it did. 

somewhere deep, deep down, but anger got there first. 

“so that’s what this is?” you whispered, tears leaving you without you noticing, “damage control?” 

his silence was answer enough and you nodded faintly, tears burning hot once more. 

“right.” 

“you need to keep your mouth shut about it.” 

you flinched before you could stop yourself and sukuna paused, regret flashing through instantly. 

“don’t talk to me like that.” you stated lowly and his jaw clenched. 

“i’m trying to keep you safe.” 

“oh, how big of you.” 

the hallway seemed to shrink around you both. 

outside, rain tapped gently against the glass. 

inside, bass thudded like a second heartbeat through the walls. 

you looked at him then, this man that fate had tied to you with an invisible string and cruelty dressed up as destiny. and for the first time since you’d felt him at sixteen, you stopped wondering what it would be like to find him. 

because now you knew and god, you wish you didn’t. 

it felt like losing something you’d never even had. 

“is that all?” you questioned lowly, clearing your throat once.

sukuna stared at you, nose flaring and throat bobbing once, “yeah.” 

another piece of you gave out as you nodded, “okay.” 

the word was so calm, it made his eyes sharpen. 

you turned away, walking past him but his hand caught your wirst before you could take  full step. 

skin met skin and the bond went silent, completely and utterly silent. 

no buzzing or aching or distance. 

just him, all warm and real. terribly real. 

your breath hitched at his touch. it was the first time he’d ever touched you. 

sukuna froze too, fingers wrapped around your wrist like he’d touched fire and couldn’t make himself pull away. 

for one second, just one, all the cruelty fell quiet. 

and you felt him beneath it, scared and lonely, wanting and waiting. 

you felt it and you hated him for letting you feel it now. 

slowly, you looked down at his hand then back up at him, “let go.” 

his grip tightened by a fraction, “this is the best thing for the both of us.” 

your face crumpled before you could stop it. 

you pulled your wrist free and this time, he let you. 

“oh, trust me, not having to be stuck with you? i couldn’t agree more.” venom laced your words as sukuna’s expression changed, tightened and you felt the hurt then. 

sharp and immediate and you were glad for it. 

you turned and walked away then, tears streaming down your cheeks and a sob left you as soon as you were out of his vicinity. 

for the first time, the bond didn't feel like a thread pulling you closer…

it felt like noose.

∞

an | was so late with this but had the worst past few days so SORRY! anyways PLSSS lmk what u think cuz i'm iffy abt the direction of this BUT this is lowk my fav thing i've written omg! this is kinda like a prologue pt2, next chapters will deffo be longer! i cannot wait to write more of these two and sukuna's a dick but bear w him ! also each chapter in the masterlist will be titled a song and i recommend listening to it while reading for the vibes 🫡

also lowk need toji BAD i wanna give him some lore so lmk if u want a one-shot of him in this au!

[ebonymuse]

TOUCH | M.JACKSON

synopsis: michael’s shaking with arousal at the mere small of your touch, bringing him close to tears at how much he needs you. he wanted your first time together to be special — but by god, he’s so horny he can’t wait to fuck you. all just from your touch.

warnings: sexual themes, smut, 18+, sub!mike

multiple anon requests! & inspo from this fic by @moonlitjane

A touch — that’s all it took.

A touch to have Michael suppressing a tremble that threatened to break from deep in his soul to travel through his tense body.

A touch that the receiver didn’t even notice they were giving.

Michael swallowed thickly — saliva trickling down his throat so slowly he worried he’d choke. But, anything to save him from the tantalising restraint he was forcing himself upon in this moment.

His eyes flickered over to your relaxed frame — a soft smile evident on your lips as your gaze remained on the TV in front of the pair of you, popcorn being nestled into your mouth.

To a passer-by, the scene was innocent — a young couple, going steady, spending the evening together with a warm, salty snack and their favourite late-night Television show.

What they wouldn’t notice is your leg — your oh so taunting leg that suddenly came up to rest against his own, pressing together so tightly there was no space left between.

Again, to a passer-by, this would be seen as fairly straightforward act from girlfriend to boyfriend — a leg pushed up against one another’s as they practiced close proximity.

But, to Michael, it was an enticing gesture that threatened to break any vices he had.

All because of one touch.

Your warm laughter at a particular humorous scene made Michael jump — something you still failed to notice. His mind, running away with itself at the simple push of one’s leg against his had him spiralling.

You and Michael had been seeing where things go, as they say, with your newly established relationship. You knew as he, being a global superstar and all, had slight experience with female companions in the past, but he’d assured you it was nothing too serious — nothing quite like what he felt for you.

Michael was a darling — something beyond a gentlemen, a gift sent from God himself. Generous, kind, gentle, tender and affectionate — Michael was your man. He treated you with the utmost respect, bowing down to his lady like his life depended on it, tending to any need you wanted, just because he wanted to see you smile.

You were desperately in love.

But, something.

Something was missing.

Something as little as a touch could fix.

You knew Michael was shy, especially so when it came to the topic of sexual activity.

You’d overheard conversations he’d had with his older brothers — Michael being teased for still not making love to his girl, and Michael’s shy, embarrassed response gave you every answer you needed as to why those acts had not occurred yet.

He was nervous.

Nervous beyond words.

Exactly how he felt right now.

You moved again, a subconscious shuffle, readjusting your self in your seat — harmless, right?

Not for Michael.

The way your jeans rubbed against his own, thigh on thigh, had his brain reeling with desire — his heart thumping so loud in his chest he was sure you could hear it. He felt utterly helpless as his body threatened to betray him right next to you.

"Popcorn?"

This time, when Michael physically jumped at your soft voice, you noticed — a playful giggle leaving your lips.

"Someone’s jumpy." You teased, "Everything okay?"

Michael swallowed again — forcing a smile onto his face to maintain his calm and collected persona as he met your sparkling eyes, a wave of infatuation cascading through him.

"A-All good." He forced out through pursed lips, feeling bashful under your gaze.

You hummed in response — clearly suspicious of his response, but choosing to brush past it, as you turned your attention back to the TV.

Michael let out a silent, shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding — his eyes fluttering shut momentarily as he composed himself. He was 20 years-old for Christ sake and was stuttering and blushing in front of his girl like he was a frigid adolescent.

"Knew something was up."

Michael jolted in his seat, eyes shooting open as they met your own, a knowing smirk on your face. But, what didn’t you didn’t realise and what he knew would make matters worse — was your manicured hand resting innocently on his clothed thigh.

Oh, Lord.

The one thing Michael was dreading in his passionate state of pining was the intimate feeling of your beautified nails on his strained leg. Your soft, perfect skin against him properly, no more denim on denim, his girl’s real-life hand, metaphorically burning a hole into his jeans.

Dreading it purely as he knew his traitorous cock would stiffen at the mere touch of your loving hands on his tensed leg.

And that it did.

"Hm?" He croaked out, voice breaking in his throat. Jesus, Michael, he thought.

"You’re tired, aren’t you?" You observed, incorrectly, "Shall we head up to bed?"

In your head, that translated to getting ready to fall into a slumber you assumed Michael needed. In Michael’s corrupted brain, he instantly went to the other activities couples get up to in bed.

With a bite of his bottom lip, his timid gaze flickered down to your hand, now rubbing comforting circles on his stiff leg. If there wasn’t a tent in his trousers before, there definitely was now.

You giggled softly at his shy demeanour, taking his warm hand in your own, missing the way his breath hitched, "Come on, I wanna get cosy."

Michael obeyed as you stood up, dragging him with you — your hand still encased in his, leading him towards the stairs. Humming as you flicked off the lights in each hallway, Michael gnawed his bottom lip continuously, anticipation radiating off him like heat.

Michael’s bedroom was relaxation encapsulated — dim, warm lighting, a record player waiting for his own beautiful voice to fill the room and a beautiful, large four-poster bed adorned with clean, cream linen sheets, almost begging to be used.

You sighed softly as Michael pressed the door closed, your hands disconnecting, a whine threatening to leave his lips at the sudden loss of connection, before you reached for the hem of your t-shirt. With your front turned to him, your nimble fingers began lifting your shirt over your head.

Michael gasped, turning his head the other way before his eager eyes came in contact with your bare skin. His heart drummed in his chest at the near vision of your breasts, the tent in his trousers throbbing at the thought.

You laughed lightly, "Michael?”

He huffed softly, words suddenly failing him as he still refused to look your way, "Y-You can’t just do that." He admitted, his voice laced with defeat.

You let your shirt fall from your fingers, back to its original placement around your middle, "What? Get changed?"

"Yes." Michael’s voice was one octave away from a whine.

"Why not? I’m your girlfriend, aren’t I?"

"Well, yes."

"And you’ve seen them before, haven’t you?"

Michael’s ears burnt at the thought, "Clothed but I suppose yes."

You chuckled at his frame — facing the window as still as statue, like he had committed a crime and was damned to never move again unless he wanted instant death. He looked utterly hopeless — his eyebrows furrowed nervously and his hands shaking at his hands at the mere idea you were threatening to get bare in front of him.

"Michael." You muttered, approaching him slowly, raising a hand to cup his red-hot cheek, burning with need, "I don’t mind you lookin’"

He shook his head rapidly, "I can’t."

You gently manoeuvred his face to look you in the eye, the visible bob of his throat highlighted his anxiousness, "Baby." You chuckled breathily, "Why not?"

"Because if I do, then I’ll wanna do things to you I shouldn’t."

Now you were the one whose breath was hitching in their throat. Your eyes widening slightly in shock at your ever so timid boyfriend’s words — you had been taking this slow as you knew he was new to sensual acts, as were you, but the way he was speaking had your clit twitching at the possibility of him being ready to go all the way.

"Michael." Your voice was quiet, tender — anticipating his next words as the unpredictability of him increased.

Your hand slid down his cheek, to the back of his neck, your fingers lacing through his curls that tapered the nape — a whine of need slipped past his lips that sent shivers down your spine.

His forehead dropped to yours — his body twitching at the feeling of your slender fingers twirling his tiny ringlet curls around each digit, the relentless feeling of undeniable arousal spreading through him like a rash.

Now flush against his body, heat exuding from him like a scolding furnace perforating your own skin, your clothed cunt was deliciously pressed against the reason Michael was so tetchy. You leaned up — pressing your needy lips against his own, a whine of pure joy emitting from Michael’s throat as you connected. His hands pressed against the small of your back tentatively, pushing you closer to him, if that was at all possible, as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. You gasped into him at his boldness, the desperate side of him blossoming at the mere touch of your lips.

His ever-growing, throbbing cock pushed against your crotch so perfectly, if your clothes weren’t on, he’d have slotted between your slick folds like a puzzle piece. A quiet whimper ripped from your throat at the feeling of him — hard and thick, a statement of his lust.

You peered up at him once more, disconnecting your lips, as your heart skipped a beat at the sight — Michael’s bottom lip pulling down in a pout, cheeks flushed pink, paired with his beautiful eyes brimming with tears at the overwhelming desire his body was yearning for.

"Oh, baby." You whispered, your fingers instinctively curling against his skin, the longing to protect and please him growing in your chest at his teary-eyed expression.

"I’m sorry." Michael whimpered, pressing his clothed boner into your body, "Can’t help it. Just wanna feel you."

Your knees nearly buckled at the submission he was providing you — his whiny, needy persona had you buzzing, your mind running away with itself.

"Honey, it’s okay." You reassured, his puppy-dog eyes meeting your reassuring ones, "Let me make it better."

Michael nodded quickly, his furrowed eyebrows deepening as you fell to your knees in front of him — his mouth falling agape at the sight of you below him. The most you’d ever done was desperately hump one another, clothed, before mutual orgasming in your underwear — you’d never seen one another fully bare before, let alone have him in your mouth. Just as your eager reached for the buckle on his slacks, his hands grasped yours, swiftly but gently.

"Wait — I-I can’t make you strain yourself for me." He revealed, worriedly.

You smiled lovingly up at him, the reminder that no matter how aroused he was — he was still that perfect gentlemen underneath.

"Just for tonight — since it’s so uncomfortably hard for my baby."

Michael thought for a second — his brain fighting his gentlemanly instincts against his pleasure-hungry opponent, before nodding once more, giving you all the consent needed. Your hands worked quickly — the buckle of his smart trousers coming undone and being pushed down his legs, along with his boxers, before he could even register.

You gawked at the sight before you — Michael’s thick, heavy cock bobbing in your face, pre-cum drooling from the flushed tip keenly. Your lips fell open, subconsciously begging to have him slip inside your mouth, as you admired his manhood. Michael groaned above you in embarrassment — his hands coming up to cover his blushing face, the sight of you marvelling at his hard-on had him bashful.

With a shaky wrist and a glob of saliva, your hand wrapped delicately around his shaft — the noise that left Michael’s covered lips had you rubbing your thighs together. Your slick palm instrumentally pumping him, up and down, up and down, up and down, dangerously slow. He was a mess above you — arms around his head, buried into his inner elbow as he whined, pushing his lips into your enclosed fist, the sensation of his throbbing cock fucking your lubricated hand had his knees threatening to buckle.

Your lips encased around Michael’s tip without warning — sending the poor boy into shock. His hand flew to your head, entangling his long fingers in your hair as you slid him deeper into your warm, wet mouth.

The feeling that did send Michael’s knees buckling was when your eager tongue, cock still 5 inches deep in your throat, traced the pulsing vein underneath his shaft.

Michael crumbled to the bed, his bare backside hitting the mattress in a tumble — his mewls of burning desire failing to mimic his fall, but only increasing as you hummed in surprise around him, your hands grasping at his meaty thighs at the sudden flail.

In the chaos of his collapse, Michael’s pulsating dick forced itself perfectly at the back of your throat — all of his inches slithering into your willing mouth. You cried around him — tears now brimming the corners of your eyes as Michael yelped beneath you, succumbing to the feeling of his tip abusing your uvula. The rumble of your wail around him had Michael purring out whimpers of pure ecstasy, revelling at the feeling of you gagging around his cock.

Michael could sense the climb of his climax becoming increasingly clearer — his shaking hands coming up to slide your mouth off of him. With a huff of desperation, his antsy voice sounded in your ears.

"Please — wanna do it inside you."

Nodding restlessly, climbing up his seated frame — pushing his chest back against the bed to lay him down fully. Standing, you slithered out of your clothes — your bare body rendering Michael speechless as your glorious hips, tits and waist hit his vision. Finally, you climbed out of your undergarments — pulling your damp panties off your quivering legs, holding them in your hand as you crawled to slide either side of his hips.

"Open." Your commanding voice had Michael throbbing against his stomach — his cock achingly hard as he obeyed you willingly, sliding his mouth open.

As your enthused hand wrapped around his base, sliding his drooling tip between your folds — your hands crawled to his face, obsessing over the needy expression on his face.

"Be a good boy for me and stay quiet, okay? Gonna make my baby feel so much better."

Cramming your damp panties into his keen mouth, you stuffed your wavering cunt full of his cock — a predictable groan of his relief filling the material. Michael revelled at the taste of your arousal his tongue as he stretched your cunt to the sheer size of him — the sweet, tangy essence of you clouding his taste buds. His hands shook against your hips where he gripped you so tight you were certain bruises would be remain. You too let the tremor of pleasure possess your body as Michael stuffed you full to the brim, his tip dripping against your fertile cervix.

Your name fell from his lips like a prayer as you began to move, lifting yourself from his pelvis in a slow, teasing movement that had him whining beneath you in despair.

"Please, please — God, oh, baby, please." He cooed, spitting your panties from his mouth, saliva coating his lips and chin, chest heaving, "God—I love you, I love you so much—So good to me, sweet girl, fuck, oh—“

He was blabbering — like his mind had turned to mush at the pure stimulus of his dick, relishing as you bounced on him. Your tits jerking with every leap, a fucked-out expression on your face and the way your cunt clenched around him had his head pounding. You were literally fucking him dumb.

"God, Michael — cock’s so perfect." You cried, leaning down to press a kiss to his swollen lips, "Feels so good."

Michael whimpered on your mouth, "Thank you, God, baby, thank you, thank you." He chanted, his hand sliding around to grasp a handful of your ass, "N-Never felt anything like this in my life — you’re angelic."

His praise sent floods of adoration through your veins, your cheeks flushing as you admired the beautiful man beneath you — his own cheeks reddened, lips swollen and slick with his spit and your juices, and his eyes a needy, silent plea of arousal.

Michael grew curious — temptation taking over he slid a careful hand around your body, his agile fingers latching to the agonised nub that was begging for touch the most. You exclaimed in delight as Michael’s eager fingers rubbed tight, practised circles on your clit.

"Oh, Michael." You murmured, your hands sliding down his heaving chest, "Doing such a good job, baby."

"Yeah? Am I doing good, mama?"

"So good, darling — gonna make me fucking cum around your cock."

"Oh, Lord." Michael squeaked, his lips slipping under his teeth as a way to suppress his submissive noises.

You could tell he was close by the glint in his eyes — so eager, desperate, longing to fill your tight cunt up to the brim with his hot seed. But, you, unbeknownst to your betraying body, came in surprise. The orgasm hit you like a train at a thousand miles per hour — your legs shaking at his hips, your mouth wide open as noises of theatrical ecstasy slipped from deep within your chest. Michael whimpered at the mere sight of you cumming around him — the feeling of your clenching cunt, now forming a white, frothy ring of sweet nectar around the base of his cock, had him peaking, too.

Though, Michael came a lot more desperately than you.

"Oh, Lord, god, please forgive me for I have sinned." He cried, tears streaming down his cheeks, head thrown back against the sheets as he held you tighter, pulling your body down against his chest as he squeezed his eyes shut, "Lord, please, God — forgiv—"

His orgasm rendered him mute — his voice shutting off as he moaned louder than you ever had, bewitched by the sensation of your cunt milking him for all he’s worth. He stuffed your quivering pussy to the brim — his never-before sexually released seed squelching out the side of where you connected, cum drooling from both of you, pooling on his abdomen.

Michael’s tears soon subsided, sniffling as he nuzzled deep into your neck, rubbing his face into your sticky skin — wanting nothing more than to be as close to you as possible, doing so by keeping his softening cock inside your stretched cunt. Your gentle hands, shaking with the aftermath of your climax, came up to stroke his sweat-stricken curls, cooing him to calmness.

"You okay, sweet boy?" You spoke quietly, your voice hoarse from all the screaming — cupping his face to lock your eyes.

Michael knew he could’ve said a thousand words to show his adoration and pure appreciation of how you just blew his mind and rocked his world all in the space of an hour, but instead he met your gaze with a hazy, fucked-out expression on his gorgeous face, and spoke two words he’d been meaning to say all night that he felt were more fitting.

"Thank you."

i got this idea from another creators fic, but can’t for the life of me find the user. if anyone knows who it is pls lmk!!! reqs are open! edit: found it!!

taglist: @tirallymissu @undergroundtwink @castielsb1tch @grey342 @simply-lovley44 @darkgreengrl @ang9lic @lovecherishly @ssamanthasaenz @peacemakersbeloved @ghettofabu05 @posiebb @lov3lylxvender @bawdylanguageee @lavnderluv @im-so-julia-1155 @nuhteyam @steadytacogardener @amoravelee @carterstales @dolliestmelody @ambmxj @jjulieta @msapplehead @neytiristhings @realhaven @thelittlestloaf @cafe-lectura @westcoastsayian @anabanana000 @bernardsbaby @whoiseanna @winterswifee @crystal-love46 @inana177 @fawnstqrn @weepingwillow12344 @kiz1x

[mustangb3byy]

˖ ⭑ all his | michael jackson ˖ ⭑

pairing: bad m.jackson x fem!reader

synopsis: michael notices that his brothers find his girlfriend hot and he gets jealous, proving to them that you’re all his.

warnings: marlon attempting to flirt with you, jealous michael, angry sex, fingers in mouth (bring it back), overhearing, smut, dom michael, that’s genuinely just dada.

a/n: guys i’m sorry i’m ovulating i don’t know what came over me with this one. i got a little carried away.

you, michael and his brothers—tito, jackie, jermaine, marlon, and randy—were all having a pool day at hayvenhurst as it was a hot summer day. all six boys were dressed in their swim trunks, you were dressed in a skimpy red bikini that sat on your body perfectly.

michael’s eyes were fixed on you as you emerged from the house in your red bikini. the colour complimented your sun-kissed skin, and the string ties on the sides accentuated your curves.

his brothers all looked your way as you walked out the door, walking towards them—tito let out a low whistle, jackie raised his eyebrows, jermaine smirked, and marlon sat up straight in his lounge chair—michael felt a surge of possessiveness he hadn’t experienced before.

as you walked towards michael, his eyes darkened with desire and jealously. he knew his brothers were checking you out—your long legs, your toned stomach, and your tits that sat perfectly—he wanted to throw a towel over you and carry you inside. “baby,” he called out softly.

you heard michael’s soft call and looked over at him, a warm smiling spreading across your face. his eyes were dark, intense—focused on you with that hungry look he only ever showed when they were alone—you walked over to him, sitting on a lounge chair.

“what’s up?” you asked, tilting your head slightly at him.

before michael could answer, his brothers were making their presence known, clearly appreciating the view. marlon was the boldest, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to get a better look, his eyes shamelessly sweeping over your body.

“damn, mike,” marlon called out with a teasing grin, leaning back on his elbows. “where have you been hiding her?”

michael’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. he stepped closer to you, his hand finding the small of your back possessively as he pulled you against his chest. “she’s not hidden anywhere, marlon,” michael said, his voice tight with restrained irritation. “she’s mine. has been for two years.”

marlon just laughed, clearly not taking michael’s warning seriously. “relax, mike. we’re just admiring the view.” he grinned, pushing michael’s buttons on purpose.

tito chuckled from his lounge chair, flipping through a magazine but clearly paying attention. “marlon, you’re gonna get your ass kicked today.”

jermaine smirked, swirling the drink in his hand. “can you blame him though? that bikini is doing something to me.” he said, joining in on the teasing.

jackie joined inc leaning forward on his knees. “mike, you better put a collar on her man. we’re all thinking the same thing.” the competitive teasing among the brothers was escalating and michael’s body was rigid against yours, his hand tightening on your waist as he pulled you flush against his wet chest.

his lips brushed against your ear, voice dropping to that whisper that you knew meant he was dangerously jealous. “ignore them, baby. they’re just being stupid.” but his hands were already sliding lower, his fingers playing with the strings of your bikini bottoms possessively.

marlon wasn’t done with his teasing, standing up and stretching deliberately. “two years, huh?”

you rolled your eyes at the brothers’ antics, used to their teasing by now. you wrapped your arms around michael’s neck, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw to calm him down. “pay them no mind,” you murmured, nipping lightly at his earlobe.

michael’s breath hitched at your touch, his eyes fluttering briefly closed before he opened them again, dark with desire and frustration. he cupped your face with one hand, thing brushing over your lip. “i wish they’d shut the fuck up,” he whispered.

marlon laughed like he knew exactly what he was doing. “two years and she’s still not as when you first snatched her. you fucking that every night?” everyone went silent. michael’s body stiffened dangerously. “marlon…” tito warned.

michael’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, his fingers stilling on your waist. he didn’t answer marlon’s crude question. instead, he grabbed your wrist and turned toward the door. “mike, we were just playing!” jackie called out, but michael didn’t turn back.

without a word, michael dragged you into the house, his strides long and purposeful. he didn’t stop until he reached his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind you. once inside, he stood in front of you, chest heaving with angry breaths.

“i swear to god, ive never wanted to punch marlon more in my life,” michael muttered, pacing away from you. he was jealous and clearly trying not to explode. “that was so disrespectful.” he ran a hand through his curls.

you watched him pace, knowing he needed to cool off. when he finally paused, you stepped up behind him, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. michael’s shoulders sagged slightly, his voice strained. “don’t touch me right now, okay?”

he sounded mean, but you knew it wasn’t directed at you. you kept kissing his back softly, his shoulders, his neck. michael didn’t push you away. he groaned instead, his body relaxing gradually. “baby, stop,” he muttered softly, but his voice lacked real irritation.

“i’m not stopping until you stop being so mad at your brothers,” you murmured against his damp skin, your lips trailing down his spine.

michael exhaled sharply, his hands bracing against the dresser. “they were looking at you like they wanted to fuck you,” he admitted in a low, wounded tone. “and marlon…”

“and marlon was being an asshole,” you finished for him, your fingers working to massage his tense shoulders. “but you’re the one i’m with, mikey. not them. i’m wearing your ring on my finger, not theirs. i’ve been sleeping in your bed for two years.” you pressed closer.

michael turned around slowly, his dark eyes searching your face. the jealousy was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but your words had softened him. he reached out, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. “two years,” he repeated softly, leaning his forehead against yours. “and you still look at me like that.”

his lips found yours gently, a soft, apologetic kiss meant to reassure rather than arouse. his hands stayed on your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he kissed you slowly, deeply.

you pulled back just enough to breathe, your forehead still resting against his. “you know i only have eyes for you, michael.” you smiled softly, pecking the tip of his nose. “always have. always will. those brothers of yours can look all they want, they’ll never have me.”

michael chuckled softly, the tension finally leaving his body. “yeah, well, i don’t like them looking.” michael admitted, his voice dropping low. “especially marlon, he’s got a dirty mouth.”

you laughed softly, cupping his jaw. “marlon’s a shit-talker, everyone knows that. you’re the only one i want, mikey.”

michael nodded, the last of his jealousy fading away as he looked into your eyes. he took a deep breath, then sighted contentedly, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer. “let’s go back downstairs,” he said, resting his chin on top of your head. “i’m sure they’re wondering where we disappeared to.”

you both returned downstairs after a few more calming minutes. the brothers were still by the pool, now joined by randy who’d just arrived. when they saw you both walk out together, the teasing immediately resumed.

“look who finally decided to come back!” marlon called out with a grin. “did you finally get some, mike? you seem less tense.”

michael shot him a death glare but kept his arm wrapped firmly around your waist. “funny. real funny.” he guided you to sit with him on one of the lounge chairs, your back against his chest.

you smiled at marlon sweetly, “actually, yes. your brother is amazing. you should find yourself a good woman instead of staring at other people’s girlfriends.”

marlon laughed, looking away exaggeratedly. “damn, she’s got a sharp tongue.” the other brothers chuckled, knowing marlon deserved it. michael smirked, “that’s my girl” he murmured possessively.

the teasing and joking continued, but michael kept you close, his arm around you all the time. you could tell he was still a bit territorial, but the real anger was gone. when jackie started playing around in the pool, splashing everyone, michael actually laughed.

marlon suddenly dove into the pool, surfacing near you with a mischievous grin. “come on, get in.” he splashed water playfully in your direction. you laughed, standing up from the lounge chair. “oh, you’re on.” you walked up to the edge of the pool and jumped in.

michael watched you with a smile, leaning back on the chair as you and marlon started messing around in the pool. they were just playing, but michael couldn’t help noticing how comfortable you looked with his brothers. you fit in so well with their crazy dynamic.

marlon splashed you playfully, ducking when you tried to retaliate. “come on, princess, let’s see what you got!” he teased, grinning widely. you wiped water from your eyes, laughing. “princess? ill show you princess!” you lunged at him, splashing water everywhere as you both splashed around.

marlon caught your wrist as you splashed at him, pulling you closer with a smirk. “you know, you’re even prettier when you’re mad.” he lowered his voice, leaning in slightly. “ever thought about dating a jackson properly? i could treat you real nice.”

you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder. “in your dreams, marlon.”

marlon chuckled, refusing to be deterred. “hey, just saying. michael’s got the temper, but i’ve got the charm.” he winked, making a show of flexing his arms. from the lounge chair, michael leaned forward, his voice carrying across the pool deck. “marlon, keep your charm to yourself before i drown you.”

marlon raised his hands in surrender, laughing as he floated backward. “i’m just playing, mike! damn, can’t a man compliment his brothers girl?” he shot you a wink. “you look better wet anyway, sweetheart.”

you laughed, splashing water directly into marlon’s face. “keep dreaming, marlon.”

marlon wiped water from his face dramatically, then swam closer to whisper in your ear. “but seriously, princess. when this inevitable blow-up happens, you know where to find me.” his hand brushed your waist under the water.

before you could respond, michael was already in the pool, coming towards you and marlon. michael grabbed marlon’s shoulder, his grip tight. “i swear, marlon, if you’re hitting on my girl…” his voice was deadly calm. “i’ll break every bone in your body.” he then looked at you, “baby, come here.”

you didn’t hesitate, swimming away from marlon and straight into michael’s waiting arms. he wrapped them around you securely, glaring daggers at his brother. “keep your hands to yourself,” michael warned him, kissing your temple. marlon held his hands up, splashing water innocently, “i was just playing!”

michael scoffed, pulling you closer. “yeah, right. you’ve been flirting with her since she got here.” he buried his face in your neck, his possessiveness on full display. “i’m not stupid. i can see what you’re doing.”

marlon grinned unapologetically, swimming backward. “and what if i am? she’s gorgeous. any man would try his luck.” he looked at you appreciatively. “those legs, that smile…damn, mikey. you got yourself a keeper.”

michael’s arms tightened around you possessively, but you could tell he was trying not to explode. he took a deep breath, “marlon, shut up and go flirt with someone else. like jackie’s girlfriend. she seems into your smooth talk.”

after a few more minutes of acting like kids in the pool, everyone finally climbed out of the pool. you wrapped yourself in a towel, sitting on one of the lounge chairs next to michael. everyone sat close, drying off and chatting casually. marlon sat closest to you and on your other side.

marlon stretched out on the lounge chair next to you, propping himself up on his elbow. “you know, i bet you look even better without this towel.” he smirked at you, eyes trailing down your body lazily. michael’s jaw clenched so hard you heard it.

marlon reached over and tugged lightly at the corner of your towel. “just a peek, princess? come on”

that’s when michael snapped. he was off the lounge chair in an instant, grabbing marlon by the collar and yanking him up. “touch her one more time with that tiny dick energy and i’ll leave you floating in the pool with a broken jaw.”

marlon laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. he was used to pushing michael’s buttons, but he knew when to back off. “whoa, okay! jeez, you’re touchy about your girl. i was just messing with you.” he grinned mischievously.

michael slowly released marlon’s collar but didn’t look away. “if you ever pull that shit again, i don’t care if we’re brothers. got it?” his voice was low and dangerous. marlon raised his hands, still smirking. “got it, mike. god, possessive much.” he flopped back onto his chair dramatically.

you laughed softly, shaking your head at the two of them. michael kissed your forehead then sat back down, pulling you onto his lap. “ignore him. he’s got no self-control.”

marlon shot back, “me? days the guy who nearly murdered me for complimenting his girl.” michael rested his chin on your shoulder, “you were doing more than complimenting.”

marlon rolled his eyes, grabbing his sunglasses form the side table. “i’m going in to get the rest of them. at least they appreciate my presence.” he sauntered off towards the house, calling over his shoulder, “call me if you get tired of mr. grumpy!”

once the house quieted down and the brothers filtered inside, michael was still angry. he stood up, taking your hand firmly. “come on. upstairs. now.” his tone left no room for argument.

you followed him up the stairs, noticing how tightly he gripped your hand. you reached his bedroom, he kicked the door shut behind you.

michael paced the room, running his hands through his damp hair. he looked frustrated, jaw tight. “i swear, if he touches you again—“ he stopped, turning to face you. “why did you let him get away with it? you laughed it off like it was nothing, as if you liked it.”

you smirked, knowing what game you could play with this. you crossed your arms over your chest, grinning. “maybe i did like it. maybe i liked how he touched me in the pool.” you watched michael’s face darken with anger, exactly the reaction you wanted. “what if i want him to do it again?”

michael stood in front of you, his face inches from yours. he was breathing heavily, his jaw clenched. “don’t test me. you know exactly what will happen if you let him touch you again.” his voice was low and dangerous.

you tilted your head, looking up at him through your lashes. “or what, michael? you’ll hit your own brother? break his jaw like you threatened?” you stepped closer, poking his chest. “maybe i like making you jealous.” michael grabbed your hand, pinning it against his chest. “you think this is funny?”

his grip tightened slightly around your wrist. “you think my possessiveness is a joke?” he backed you up until your legs hit the edge of the bed, forcing you down. “i don’t share. period. and i sure as hell won’t share you with my brother.” he leaned over you, caging you in with his arms.

michael’s breathing was heavy, his eyes dark with jealousy as he hovered over you. “you’re mine. do you understand me?” his voice was rough, desperate. “i can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you.”

you could feel his anger and jealousy radiating off him in waves. you looked up at him calmly—even though you were anything but calm, you were extremely turned on by the jealous side of him that you had never seen before—a small smile playing on your lips. “prove it then,” you whispered, leaning back on your hands, spreading your legs slightly in a silent challenge. “if you’re so jealous, prove it.”

michael’s eyes darkened further at your challenge. he didn’t hesitate. one moment he was hovering over you, the next his hands were on your thighs, pushing your legs wider apart as he settled between them. his mouth crashing against yours with a fierce, almost punishing intensity.

his kiss was rough, possessive, and demanding—everything you’d teased him about. he bit your bottom lip hard enough to sting, then soothed it with his tongue. his hands roamed your body possessively, gripping your hips like he was staking a claim.

his hands traced over your bikini clad body, rough and urgent. “i’ll remind you who you belong to all night long.” he marked your neck, marking you where everyone would see. “let him flirt with his heart out when you’re walking around with my markings on you.”

michael’s hand slid under your bikini top, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. “these are mine. not his. never his.” he leaned down, capturing one in his mouth through the fabric, the feeling of his tongue running over you made you gasp.

he wasn’t playing games anymore—he was staking his claim loud and clear.

with a sharp tug, he removed your bikini top altogether, exposing your chest to the cool air and his hungry gaze. his hand immediately replaced his mouth, squeezing and massaging your breast possessively. “if he looks at you again, i’ll rip his eyes out.”

he kissed down your body, tugging at the strings of your bikini bottoms with his teeth. “and if you ever say anything like that to test me again, i’ll make you scream my name so loud the whole house hears you.” his lips found your inner thigh, trialing slow, torturous kisses.

you gasped as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, your hands tangling instantly in his curls. “is that a threat or a promise?” you managed to breathe out, arching your hips up towards him. “because i think i like making you jealous.” you looked down at him, biting your lip. “fuck me.”

michael growled low in his throat, his eyes flashing with dark possessiveness. “oh, i’m going to fuck you alright. until you can’t remember your own name, let alone marlon’s.” he ripped the fabric of your bikini bottoms aside, not bothering to untie them properly, his fingers sliding through your wet folds. “wet for me already, baby.”

he slid two fingers inside you, you gasped as his fingers pushed inside you, “god yes—“ michael’s eyes darkened as he leaned in, his mouth replacing his fingers. he ate you out with a desperate, possessive hunger, tongue deep, his hands gripping your thighs like you might try to escape. he wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t rough—he was obsessed.

his mouth was relentless, sucking and licking like he wanted to devour you. his fingers joined back in, curling inside you as his tongue circled your clit. “michael…michael…” you moaned his name repeatedly, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

hearing his name fall from your lips like a prayer only made him more possessive. he doubled his efforts, adding another finger and sucking harder on your clit. one hand snaked up to cover your mouth as he muffled your loud moans against his palm since his brothers were still downstairs. “shh…quiet, baby.”

you whimpered against his palm, squirming beneath him as he worked you over mercilessly. his fingers pumped faster, hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. “that’s it…take it all.” he murmured against your thigh, feeling you clench around his fingers. your hips buckled upwards, chasing his mouth.

“i can’t—“ michael pressed his hand harder against your mouth to silence your broken moans. “yes you can. come for me.” he curled his fingers just right, sucking harshly on your clit, sending you tumbling over the edge instantly. your body shook violently, your back arching off the bed as you came hard against his mouth. “that’s it…” he praised softly.

michael didn’t stop until your tremors subsided, lapping up every drop of your release before pulling away, his mouth glistening. he kissed his way back up your body, hovering over you as he removed his hand from your mouth. you were breathless, chest heaving, “still think jealously is a joke?”

you were panting hard, eyes dazed and lips parted, still catching your breath. your chest rose and fell rapidly as you looked up at him, a lazy, satisfied smile spreading across your face despite the lingering haze of your orgasm.

“mmm…proving a point, baby.” you whispered, reaching up to trace his jaw.

michael caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before moving lower, trailing his lips down your stomach. “point proven.” he looked up at you, eyes dark with hunger again. “now it’s my turn.”

he stood just long enough to strip off his clothes, revealing his body before lowering himself between your legs.

you watched him, biting your lip as he settled between your thighs. he was hard and thick, the head of his dick pressing against your sensitive entrance. he leaned down to kiss you deeply, swallowing any sounds you might make as he slowly pushed inside. “shhh…quiet baby.”

you gasped into his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you completely. he paused, letting you adjust to his size, his forehead pressed against yours. “you feel so good…” he groaned, his hips twitching forward. “so tight.” he started moving slowly, pulling out until only the tip remained before plunging back in deep.

you threw your head back against the pillow, a choked moan escaping your throat as he set a slow, deep rhythm. your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. “michael…god…” you whimpered, your fingernails scraping down his back. “please…faster.” you arched your hips up to meet his thrust.

hearing you beg and whimper his name snapped something in him. he grabbed your legs, pushing them back to expose your chest and stomach completely, changing the angle to hit that spot inside you that made you cry out loud.

you bit your lip hard, trying to stay quiet as he pounded into you relentlessly. your thighs trembled around him, your eyes rolling back. “can’t—can’t be quiet—“ you gasped, your back arching off the bed. “feels too good—you’re too deep—“ his grip on your thighs tightened. “i know, baby…”

michael leaned down, his moth hovering over yours as he picked up the pace, each thrust making the headboard bang against the wall. he didn’t seem to care if his brothers heard anymore. “you like this, huh?” he slammed into you hard, hitting that spot inside you over and over. “yes—fuck yes—“

michael swallowed hard, watching you writhe beneath him. your tits bounced with ever thrust, your face contorted with pleasure. he realised something—you were loud as hell when you had sex. like, really loud—he covered your mouth with his hand experimentally, muffling your moans.

you moaned against his palm, the vibrations sending shivers through you. your walls tightened around him involuntarily. “mmph—“ your eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the depth and angle. he removed his hand, replacing it with his mouth, kissing you deeply, swallowing every guttural sound you made.

he broke the kiss, his breathing ragged against your lips as his hips snapped harder into yours. “you gotta be quieter, mama…” he groaned out, though his rhythm didn’t slow down. instead, he went deeper, “they’re downstairs…” he groaned out. “i know—im trying—“

michael suddenly pulled back, his eyes blazing with intense possession. he slipped two fingers into your mouth, pushing them deep as he continued to fuck you. “suck…” he commanded hoarsely, watching your cheeks hollow around his fingers. “keep quiet for me.”

you sucked on his fingers obediently, muffling your moans a little ad he thrusted deeper and faster. tears pricked at your eyes from the intensity, your walls clenching around him relentlessly. “mmph—“ you mumbled around his fingers, your hips meeting his in desperate, hungry thrusts. your orgasm crept upon you unexpectedly, your thighs trembling dangerously.

michael watched you closely, noticing the way your eyes squeezed shut and your jaw clenched around his fingers. he knew exactly what was happening. he spread your legs wider, going even deeper inside you, hitting that spot over and over again as he silently commanded you to come apart around him.

the coil in your stomach snapped violently, your back arching off the bed as you came silently. your walls fluttered and clenched tight around him, your scream muffled perfectly by his fingers buried deep in your mouth. your entire body shook violently, your toes curling tight. “that’s it…” he whispered, fucking you through your release.

michael groaned deeply, feeling your orgasm crash around him. he didnt slow down, determined to chase his own release. his hips snapped harder, faster, his fingers still deep in your mouth as he chased your climax. “come again…for me…” he hissed through clenched teeth, his own pleasure building rapidly.

you gasped for air, your mouth sore from sucking hid fingers as he came down hard inside you. his whole body shuddered, groaning your name against your neck as he spilled deep within you. he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily, his heart pounding against your chest..

“fuck…” he muttered against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder.

you lay there stunned, your body over sensitive and shaking from the intensity of it all. michael’s fingers were still curled inside your mouth as he recovered on top of you. the only sound throughout the whole house was the muffled conversation from downstairs and their laboured breathing.

michael slowly pulled his fingers out of your mouth, watching as you licked your lips, still feeling the ghost of his fingers on your tongue. he pressed a gentle kiss to your mouth as he felt you squirm underneath him, feeling his come leaking out of you.

he rolled off you gently, pulling you into his arms. your body was a mess—hair disheveled, lips swollen, thighs shaking and sticky with sweat and come. he kissed your temple softly. “i’m sorry…i got carried away.”

from downstairs, you could hear the faint voices of his brothers. “mike, you coming down?!”

“two minutes!” he yelled back before getting up and putting on fresh clothes for himself and grabbing you fresh underwear and his oversized tee for you, then getting you a towel. he leans down, softly wiping between your legs, as he comes back up he presses a soft kiss to your lips. “you okay?” he asks softly as he begins dressing you.

you nod your head as you stand up on wobbly legs, attempting to fix your messed up hair.

he watched you closely, making sure you were okay before opening the bedroom door. he stepped out the door, then turned back to offer you his hand.

as you both entered the living room, the chatter died down instantly. all five brothers turned to look at the two of you—michael looking slightly disheveled, your hair messy, lips swollen, and wearing his oversized shirt—their eyes flicked between the two of you, eyebrows raising.

jackie leaned back on the couch, a knowing smirk spreading across his face.

michael tightened his grip on your hand, pulling you closer to his side. he looked at his brothers calmly, his expression neutral. “what?” he asked simply, challenging their stares. he didn’t look guilty or ashamed.

you and michael sat down on the loveseat, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. the silence stretched for a few seconds before jermaine suddenly cleared his throat, his face breaking into a grin.

“oh—oh god, yes” jermaine mimicked, his pitch high and mocking. tito and marlon burst into laughter, echoing the sounds.

jackie joined in, throwing his head back dramatically. “michael…michael…can’t—can’t be quiet—“ he pitched his voice impossibly high, clutching his chest dramatically. “oh, the humanity!”

marlon was practically wheezing, slapping his knee. “i thought the ceiling was gonna come down!”

michael just sat there, letting them mock you both. he didn’t look embarrassed or angry—just amused, trying not to laugh. “you guys are ridiculous.” he laughed out.

you blushed deeply, burying your face in michael’s chest as they continued to laugh and tease you. “i do not sound like that!” you protested weakly, your voice muffled against his shirt. michael just chuckled and kissed your head, enjoying your embarrassment way too much.

marlon wiped tears from his eyes, still giggling. “i was just trying to get him riled up to annoy him…” he grinned sheepishly. “i did not bargain for hearing him put his girlfriend through a mattress!” everyone burst out laughing again, even you and michael.