#that top...really.....accentuates....stuff

Michael didn’t know when he first realized it, maybe it was the first time you flashed him that smile of yours, or when he saw a boy your age flirting with you at a record store in downtown L.A and got way more annoyed than he should’ve been. Or maybe the time he found you outside putting Band-Aids on little Janet’s knees before anyone else even noticed she had fallen and skinned them.

No matter when it started, the entire Jackson family knew that Michael had the hots for you, and bad.

“Uh-oh, Mike’s making heart eyes at Y/N again!” Marlon announced, loudly enough that you would’ve heard from across the room if Latoya hadn’t been barking out laughter at something you just said. Michael whipped his head around, scowling at Marlon, who sat on the couch opposite him.

“Mind your business, man.” he shot back quietly, prompting a fit of chuckles from Jackie and Marlon. 

But they had a point. it was hard for Michael to look away as he watched you laugh with Latoya. You were wearing a delicate lace-trim tank top, the straps thin enough to make anyone over forty clutch their pearls, and those damn flared jeans you always wore that hugged you perfectly and accentuated your figure in a way that made him have to remind himself to breathe. At this point, it felt like every outfit you wore was specifically designed to short-circuit his brain.

“What’s your deal with her anyway? She’s kinda… ditzy.” Randy chimed in unpromptedly from his seat on the floor.

“Shut up, Randy.” the three boys responded in unison.

“Sorry, it’s just— the stuff she says, man.” Randy began.

“I get you, man. I don’t understand half the shit that girl be sayin’, talking like she’s from a different planet.” Jermaine said as he walked into the room, sitting by Marlon on the couch.

“Just smile and nod.” Marlon added, which made the rest of the boys chuckle.

“Whatever…” Michael muttered as he stood, trudging his way up the stairs and into his bedroom, which went unnoticed by his brothers as they continued to poke fun at the stereotypical slang you used.

Hours later, the sun was beginning to set on Hayvenhurst, casting a faint orange glow across Michael's features as he sat on the floor of his bedroom, accompanied by the stereo that played one of his demo tracks. 

He sang along with the unfinished lyrics, nodding his head to a chorus that wasn't quite written. He rhythmically tapped his pencil on his knee as the track played, soft sounds of music drifting throughout the halls.

Michael finished singing the workshopped lyrics, the demo track beginning to replay as he wrote something down on the notepad in front of him.

“That was really good.” a voice interrupted.

Michael jumped, head whipping over to find the source of the mysterious voice, only to meet your eyes as you stood in the entryway of his bedroom, chewing bubblegum as you leaned on the doorframe.

“Thanks- ‘s not finished yet, though…” he mumbled, feeling heat crawl up his neck.

“You’re really talented, y’know.” you said sincerely, blowing a bubble with the pink candy, then popping it.

“Yeah, me and all my siblings are.”

“Nah,” you shook your head, then smiled. Not a condescending smirk like he’d seen you give his brothers on occasion, but something much softer.

“Not like you. No offense to them, but you’ve got something special. Hold onto it.” The boy nodded bashfully, his poor brain short-circuiting at the fact that you even addressed him directly. Michael could hear Latoya’s voice calling for you somewhere down the hall.

“See you later, Mikey.” you finished, your jewelry jingling as you casually walked off like you hadn’t just said something that would keep him up at night for the rest of time.

When Michael was sure you were gone, he lay down flat on the floor, dramatically sprawling his long limbs out with a fond sigh.

“Whew.” Tito let out a low whistle, peeking in the lovesick teen's door on his way down the hall. “He got it bad, huh?”

“Bad bad.” Jermaine agreed in a whisper as the two snuck past the doorway with a shared chuckle. 

It had been such a long time since Brahms had seen anyone enter his home, after Greta he didn't really want anyone to be there. Yet when he saw you standing in the doorway, your soft figure glancing around the house confused, he was immediately enamored.

It was impossible for him to take his eyes off of you as you walked through the halls, occasionally calling out to see if anyone was occupying the house. He noticed the way your body shivered from your rain soaked clothes. Wishing that he could make you shiver with pleasure, but no, he needed to wait. The last thing Brahms wanted to do was scare you away.

The first night you stayed in the house, Brahms made sure his presence wasn't known. He watched you toss and turn in your sleep through the walls, the underwear you had on perfectly accentuating your round ass. The sight had him all worked up, he wanted nothing more than to take you in your sleep. But he didn't mind waiting, it just made him more excited for the moment to arrive.

The next few days you noticed strange things happening throughout the house. Doors being left open, loud footsteps creaking down the halls, and soon a porcelain doll appearing in random areas of the house. You really should have been scared for your life, a doll moving around the house as if it were alive? That's something no normal person wouldn't be afraid of.

It didn't bother you though, you found it quite endearing. Taking care of it as if it were your own child, and carrying it around with you while you did mundane things like chores. He had even caught you holding the doll on your hip, while preparing yourself some breakfast. Brahms could feel his heart growing soft for you, unlike something else, which was growing harder by the minute. While you were in your room, lounging around in sweats and a tank top, you heard what sounded like a child's voice.

'Mommy, please come help me.'

You froze in your spot. 'There's no way in hell a child could be in here right?' Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, it sounded like they were coming for you. Your brain goes into fight or flight mode, and there's only one thing you can think of doing. You jump off the bed and run out of the room, practically flying down the hallway. The steps only get closer and louder. You can hear your heart beating loudly in your ears as you run down the steps.

'Please the door is so close.' It's so close you can almost reach it, but before you do a strong pair of arms wraps themselves around your waist. You scream out for help, hoping anyone will hear and come save you. Then it hits you, you're in the countryside...no one will be able to help. Brahms' large hand wraps itself around your throat, silencing your desperate pleas for help.

"Mommy, you can't leave me like that. I need you so badly, I promise you I'll be a good boy."

The child's voice you heard earlier, it had come from a grown man. Specifically a grown man that was rutting his hardened cock up against your plump ass and choking you out. His tone had an innocence to it—but what he was doing to you was nothing of the sort.

His hands were all over your body, not allowing himself to miss a single inch. Once he got his fill he turned you around and lifted you up into his arms like it was nothing, his strength sent a chill down your spine. He had the ability to pick you up like nothing, the thought of what other things he could do to you scared you.

You try to escape from his hold, squirming and wriggling around in his arms. He doesn't budge though and instead he throws you onto the bed, staring at your body. Your chest heaving up and down from the previous attempt at escaping. He wastes no time in tearing your clothes off of your body, leaving you naked and vulnerable under him.

Brahms pulls his cock from out of his trousers, the tip a bright red and his balls dragging from being so full. His mushroom head slides against your clit, gathering your slick and lubing himself up. A small moan escapes you due to the friction. His hands grab your thick thighs and push them towards your shoulders, putting your pussy on full display for him.

"Brahms...please. You can't do this."

He ignores your cries and lines himself up at your entrance. His head prodding at your hole and slipping in. "Ahhh Brahms!—" It takes a moment for you to adjust to his size, your hole clenches around him and it takes everything for Brahms not to start pounding into you mercilessly.

His grip is rough and bruising, you're sure it'll leave marks later. The tighter he grabs and pinches at your thighs the wetter you get. You lay there, allowing him to have his way. There's no way you'll lie and say it doesn't feel good, you're practically dripping all over his cock.  The way his dick hits your cervix just right makes your vision blurry and star filled.

It only takes a few more thrusts before you're sent over the edge of your own orgasm. Babbling about how good his cock feels and how he's 'such a good boy'. The simple words of encouragement make Brahms fuck into your gushy pussy harder. His pace becomes animalistic, and knowing that he already made you cum, he begins chasing his own high.

The porcelain mask slipping up just enough for him to plant small but wet kisses on your neck. His balls slap against your ass, making you whine from slight pain. "Brahms baby, cum inside of mommy. I'm begging you, I need it."

With your words, his cum spurts deep inside of you, filling your pussy to the brim. His face nuzzles deeper into the crook of your neck.

"Mommy's so good, feels so good. Please don't ever leave me Y/N, I need you with me forever."

The high pitched voice he had before disappeared, now replaced with his real voice, gruff and deep. You tangle your hands through his curly dark brown locks, smiling to yourself at the man on top of you.

Apart from the more obvious things which anybody can notice – more irritable, easily agitated, shorter temper –, he’s noticed you become more fidgety. You pace more, tap your foot more, bite the inside of your lip, your nose and ears twitch, more lost in thought. And something which he always mentally harps on: you become hot. To the touch you become very warm. And as a result, of course you’re going to wear clothing to accommodate the change in your body temperature: t-shirts and shorts, tank top and shorts, no bra…

Not to mention the way you smell.

Oh, the way you smell.

It’s most obvious when you’re both at your guys’ shared apartment, more confined to a space where your natural scent can really fill up the place. And ohhhhh does he love it.

Suddenly it’s a lazy Thursday afternoon, you’re at the kitchen island seated, thighs plush against the plastic chair, curve of your hips accentuated, ears twitching when they touch the cold of the seat – and Sukuna is just… looking. Watching from the couch, facing your back.

Eventually you stand up and reach over the counter, bending forward, shorts ridding up your thighs, exposing some brief skin just before the crease of your ass, tail fluffier than usual…

He quite literally could not remove his eyes from your ass the second you walked out of your room and into the kitchen, subtly checking you out from the corner of his eyes while he pretended to focus on the show playing on the TV in front of him; though, the slight movement of his orange and black tail and sudden harsh twitch in his ear gave him away completely. Not to mention the soft flair of his nostrils as he continued to whiff your evident scent, licking his sharp canines and racking his eyes over your body. How could he not do something about this?

I mean, any good person would lend a helping hand to their roommate, right? So when he took the liberty to walk up behind your seat, lean over alongside you, and reach his hand to your phone which you had been trying to grab, using this proximity to get a generous inhale of that tantalizing musk of yours, “Need any help with that?” was the natural question, right?

“Help with what?”

He jutted his chin outward, eyes looking you over, canine peaking out, “Y’know…” his tail curled around your ankle, pupils finally meeting yours, followed by immediate dilation. “That…”

You let out a cry, white nails digging into the skin of his muscular back while he continued to thrust his hard dick in and out of you, despite you having just cum twice back to back with no break. “K-Kuna.”

His entire weight was on top of you, preventing you from having the possible chance of squirming out of his grip, but mainly to have better leverage and handle both of your bodies to continue delivering shattering after shattering thrust.

“What?” his deep voice husked onto the dip of your shoulder. “That dick too big? Hm?” he taunted.

His thrusts were ruthless. Rough, fast, hard. That was the Sukuna way. His motto really- slogan of sorts. If it were any slower, it would only be to switch positions or pull out and use his fingers instead, replacing his swollen cock to give himself time to recuperate. But there was no break for you. Oh, nonononono. No break.

He drilled his dick so far inside, plunging both his precum and the residue of your previous orgasms to what felt like as far as could possibly reach, caging his left arm on one side of your head with the other holding your ankle around his waist to steady himself. “This little bunny pussy can’t take my fat cock? Hm? Is that it?”

With the mindblowing pace he’s been maintaining alongside that constant taunting tone of his, making fun of the way you whine and continue to try and wiggle free of him, it… surprisingly only makes you needier…

After every loud and pathetic whiny moan, he responds, “Aww. Can the bunny not take it?” “Come on, you were being such a slut earlier. Begging for me to make you cum. What happened to that?” and things adjacent. Y’know- you get it.

After your third orgasm, Sukuna decided it was only fair that he got to share the same pleasure he was giving you. So, to step it up a notch, while you were limp and still catching your breath, he grabbed ahold of your legs and placed them over his shoulders, placing sloppy kisses on your throat in the process, feeling your sweaty palms weakly press onto his chest and attempt to push him away, though you both knew that your current state of sexual greed only wanted more.

Sukuna placed both of his hands onto your bed, aligned his dick with your dripping wet pussy, and moved his lips to one of your sensitive ears and whispered, “Does the pretty bunny wanna stop, or does she just like to pretend to not be a needy slut?”

Out of breath, mind all hazy – of course you didn’t respond.

He moved his face back down to be level with yours. “Hm? Don’t tell me she’s fucked stupid already. We were just getting to the good part.” He peppered light and sloppy kisses along your face, licking down your jaw and inhaling as much of your scent as he could in one breath.

Mockingly, though just as seriously, he nuzzled his head beside your ears and smoothed his tail over your skin, then wrapped it under and around your waist.

“Don’t you want to get to the good part, bunny?”

Your body is on fire. Rightfully so. You’re drenched in sweat and were already hot before he had flashed you his piercing eyes and pounced on you. And duh your mind’s all hazy, vision all blurry, words stuck at the back of your throat from screaming and whining for the past who knows how long – though… you’re not complaining.

“I jus’ wanna stuff this pretty pussy full of my cum,” he practically confessed as though you were a vice by way of his breathy and soft, yet raspy and hoarse, voice onto your shoulder. “Please, will you let me? Let me stuff my pretty bunny’s pussy full of me ‘till she overflows...”

The thick head of his already thick cock slowly pumps in and out of you, earning him breathy moans into the crease of his soft and fluffy, overly sensitive, ears. At this point, you were far too gone and fucked senseless to form coherent senteces, let alone thoughts, but since the both of you were much too eager to wait for you to try, there was no need to wait for him to continue.

“Tell me, baby.” Oh, but, of course, who is Sukuna if not stubborn? He picked his face up and met it with yours, eyelids heavy while his blown pupils looked down into your own. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me to cum deep inside this pussy.”

The wet squelches of your previous orgasms were heard with every slap of his pelvis down onto yours, though his ruthless thrusts and cock never made his voice or face waiver as he not-so-subtly anticipated your response; tail tightening around your abdomen, applying pressure down onto your stomach, feeling every ridge and vein of his dick slide deep inside of you.

It took a lot for you to say, “Please…” though it was quite soft, but good enough. Pathetic, but he liked that. “Please…S’kuna, p-please,” you practically sobbed, feeling the warm pulse that came from the base of his cock, your pussy throbbing to feel stretched.

“You think you can take this knot? Can my bunny take this knot, hm? Mmmm, I dunno–”

“P-please, Kuna- please, pleasepleaseplease, g-give it t’me.”

The second he heard that disgustingly pitiful plea he smirked, and with a twitch of his ear, he sped up in pace, growling and grinding his teeth when you bit down on his shoulder, slamming his pelvis down as hard and fast as he could given his own already fucked-out state. 

“I’m gonna fill you up so fuckin’ good… Make you feel so nice and f-full- fuck-” And with a few final thrusts accompanied by your gasps and sharp nails scrapping his back harder than before, he shoved his swollen knot past your entrance and into your dripping wet pussy, releasing his cum all over your bruised walls and cervix.

As his hot cum flowed inside of your sopping pussy, you squirmed and convulsed with each wave of your own orgasm, plastered beneath his sweaty chest, dominated by his strength no matter how much you tried to flail.

Trying your very best, though your weakened strength is no match for him, you pushed his chest, scraped his biceps, bit his shoulder. Once the pleasure had begun to override the brief moment of pain, your arms clamped down on his back, pulling him closer with your legs locked around his waist, groaning and whimpering into his ear, arching your back off of the bed as he continued to fuck himself through both your orgasm and his own high, burying his nose into the crook of your neck and savoring how potent yout scent had become.

His groans were primal, sounding absolutely destroyed by the pleasure but just as exhilarated and excited by you; enjoying how his strength overpowers you with little effort, how much larger he seems with you beneath him, how easily you submitted to your desire for release and how he just as excitedly became your tool to chase it. 

And despite it all – Sukuna’s taunting and acts of degradation, rough and ruthless pounding of his cock –, his low purring of comfort and satisfaction didn’t go unnoticed once you had both calmed down from your highs, and he slumped down on top of you, his entire relaxed weight rested.

All tough and intimidating, but once being exhausted beyond what he had in mind, he was surprisingly-unsurprisingly gentle and tame.

You placed a kiss onto the base of his ear, slipping your palms up his back and around his neck, also letting him adjust his body in a way which was more comfortable for him, to which he then slumped back down, wrapped his arms under you, and rested his cheek on your chest. “Needy kitty…”

his hand is in his pocket toying with the material, feeling the damp patch in the middle causing him to bite his lip, hard.

after jack had all but dumped them in his lap he’s been unable to focus. not when the food he ordered came out smelling and looking delicious, not when he drank down his cocktail in one swig uncaring for the bitter burn as it slid down his throat. and certainly not when his cock began to strain painfully against the line of his pants.

he felt bad he really did, this whole outfit being bought by the man to his left so the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it. but to an extent was it his fault? jack knew what he was doing—what he did. so should the older man be upset when he saw the splotch of precum thats soaked into the crotch of the excellently tailored dress pants—

“denny, are you doing okay?” your voice soft, shy just this edge of teasing. knowing that he was going through something similar you were.

following the exchange your elder boyfriend had so kindly bestowed upon the younger man. your eyes had widened at jack who only gave you a charming smile. you were shocked due to the very well known fact that dennis had a bit of a self control issue.

you knew he was struggling you could see it in the flush of his ears. his refusal to make eye contact and the way he was constantly readjusting in his seat.

truth be told so were you, thighs sticky with the seemingly endless flow of slick dripping from you. each time you shifted you could feel the wet slide of your cunt against your dress and chair. it was embarrassing, humiliating even. the color of your dress would no doubt show the stain if you were to stand and that alone made you dizzy.

his gaze found yours soft as ever but tinged with desperation and glazed with want. his eyes danced across your face. taking in the makeup you adorned that accentuated your natural features. and the smile you thew his way.

god all he wanted to do was drop below the table, hike that pretty dress up your thighs and kiss the petals of your cunt until you were soaking his face. licking his lips like he could almost taste it his stare was intense, hungry, needy.

“she asked you a question dennis.”

his voice was casual but firm breaking the delicate balance of the table. his hand holding his wine glass up to his lips before he takes a swig.

that got the man’s attention blinking at you before looking over at him then back to you. clearing his throat as the flush on his ears spread to his cheeks.

“s-sorry, yeah m’okay..just, yknow.” he lets out a humorless laugh.

before you can respond, jack cuts in.

“no. we don’t know, not with how you’re mumbling over there. enlighten us? you’ve been rather quiet.”

dennis’s eyes widen, mouth opening and closing. brain skimming to find the words to express how he was feeling. words that weren’t entirely inappropriate for the setting the three of you were sat in. the calm atmosphere of the restaurant a stark contrast to the building tension around the table.

“I-I..I’m having a bit of a hard time over here, th-the..”

he swallows. “..what you gave me has been making it difficult to focus..sorry if I’ve b-been uh..non-present.” he waves his hand in emphasis.

jack simply hums.

“I understand but..I can’t help getting the feeling that you aren’t enjoying this. I spent a lot of money on these reservations..”.

he leans in, nose brushing the shell of the younger mans ear. the barely there touch making him shiver sending a jolt straight to his already hard cock. voice low but loud enough for you to hear as well.

“..and all it takes is a pair of panties in your lap for you to forget your fucking manners?”

dennis’s face pales blinking rapidly trying to formulate a response— apology, anything to make up for his obvious mistake. but before he can the eldest clicks his tongue. effectively shutting down any protest he could have made.

“here’s our girl looking absolutely gorgeous and you’ve barely looked at her, I’m sure that doesn’t feel good. now does it angel?”

his gaze is now set on you. who sits eerily still, eyes wide like a deer in headlights and its incredibly cute.

“well..n-no it doesn’t..” you admit.

“mhm, I thought so..”

he sighs, casually reaching a hand over to grip the tent in dennis’s pants. making the younger man hiccup out a surprised yelp. hands darting out to steady himself on the table.

jack smiles at you soft and sweet. eyes crinkling at the edges and crows feet endearingly on display.

“looks like we’ll have to teach him some manners huh?”

"Are you kidding me?" A voice crackles through the phone. "You look so hot." 

He hears you hum, unconvinced by the answer. 

"I'm just afraid of looking stupid, I never wear this kind of stuff."

Clark's confusion only deepens. His hand freezes on the doorknob, ready to enter and assure you that you would look gorgeous in a rut sack, but also trying to respect your privacy. You obviously decided to try on whatever it is while he wasn't home for a reason.

"Babe you look anything but stupid. I'm sure Clark will-" 

At the mention of him name Clark decides he can only take so much mystery.

"Sweetheart you look-" the compliment, already half baked falls shorts when he actually see you.

You're standing in front of the full length mirror, neck craned to get a better angle of your backside as you admire the outfit in question.

Although now, Clark is quite sure what you're wearing doesn't even qualify as clothes. 

Soft white lace curves to your skin, hugging it perfectly as if it was painted on. It climbs over your hips. Just a little higher is the bra, soft muslin cradling your breasts with tiny bows at the tops of the cups. 

The entire piece only accentuates what's already there, what's already perfect. 

What takes his breath, his words, his sanity away is what sits on your upper thigh.

The matching garter.

You're just as shocked as Clark, fumbling for your phone and stammering something about calling them back. 

Then you're grabbing a robe, it must be part of the set, white silk half-hazardly held against your chest in a vain attempt to cover yourself. Your lips are moving, panicked and flustered as you tell Clark something.

It's like all the blood has left Clark's body, or more accurately, been redirected.

"Clark." You're in front of him, perfect and angelic and just a foot away and even though Clark really does love your face he can't stop looking at the silk separating him from what he can only describe as a masterpiece. 

"Clark." 

You break through this time, somehow, voice finally penetrating past his stupor.

"Are you hurt? Clark you're freaking me out."

You're worried, oh God he's worried you. He should say something, something good about how beautiful you look, how sexy you are, how he can't believe you're his. 

"Wow." Is what he breathes out instead.

You relax, shoulders dropping in relief. 

For a moment you remove the robe, pulling it away and giving Clark another peek at what lies beneath. 

Then it's gone again, your arms pulled through the sleeves and before you tie it around your waist.

"Good wow or bad wow?" You ask, looking as though eye contact is suddenly very hard. 

Clark lefts out a sigh, dreamy and lost in the magic that is you.

"Really, really-" his hand reaches out, grasping the tie on your robe and pulling it loose, causing it to fall open, "-really good wow.

You beam, insecurity gone as if you had chucked it out of the room yourself. "Yeah?" You ask, too busy looking up at him to bother tying the robe again. "It's for after the wedding, or maybe the first night of the honey moon I haven't decided yet-" 

"Now?" Clark tries. His hands flinch at his sides, itching to touch. "Could it be for now?"

You giggle, leaning up and giving him a soft peck on the cheek. "No." 

Clark sighs again, this time sounding just a little tortured. 

You pull away, already half way through a joke about patience and newlyweds when Clark grabs your hand and spins you back to him.

Your punchline is lost, caught in the surprised yelp as he brings you chest to chest. 

Pupils blown, Clark lifts your left hand to his lips and places a wet kiss to your ring finger.

"God," he whispers, reverent and wanting. "I can hardly wait to put a ring on that finger."

You melt, sagging into him with a smile like melted sugar. 

Clark's other hand drifts, fingers tips dancing along your upper thigh until they find the lace band decorating it.

"Can I least get some garter practice in?" 

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