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michaelsfavgirl · 2 months

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good luck charm

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: Michael is a meticulous performer, driven by the pursuit of perfection in every show. Thus, he has crafted the perfect routine to reach his goals and you're an integral part of it.

Tags: smut, masturbation, teasing, p in v, creampie, kinda switch!reader and switch!michael? idk.

Word Count: 4k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: This took an unnecessarily long time to write, I put my whole heart and coochie into it, hope y'all like it :)

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

Michael's stress level is through the roof. To say that he is frustrated is an understatement. From the moment he woke up today everything seems to be going wrong.

The day began with an unwelcome interruption, Frank, his ever-demanding manager, barging into his hotel room at the ungodly hour of 5 a.m. hastily telling him that he had to do an unplanned interview before rehearsals which made michael groan as he had to force himself to unwrap his arms around your warm body and miss the chance to kiss you good morning. The mere thought of leaving your side caused him to groan inwardly, a pang of longing tugging at his heartstrings.

As if that early morning disturbance wasn't enough, the interview itself proved to be a tedious ordeal, sucking away precious moments he could have spent with you. After the boring, repetitive interview just as he dared to hope for a swift return to you, hopefully still asleep with your head nuzzled into his side of the bed, fate had other plans. Dragged into an impromptu meeting, he received the delightful news that the equipment for the evening's show had yet to arrive from the previous state. A perfect storm of inconvenience, how lovely, exactly what he needed.

The meeting dragged on interminably, leaving Michael gasping for a breath he couldn't seem to catch. Before he knew it, it was time for soundcheck, his every moment accounted for, no respite in sight.

While he was warming up his voice and helping his dancers perfect the choreography, you stirred from your slumber with a pout etched upon your features, your hand reaching out instinctively for Michael, only to find no trace of your beloved. Confusion mingled with disappointment as you groaned and finally opened your eyes, peering at the clock, its hands indicating that noon had long since passed.

Unbothered, you reached for the remote and flicked on the television. The first thing you saw was a news reporter talking about Michael’s upcoming concert. You smiled as a picture of Michael flashed on the screen, of your beautiful man which elicited a smile from you, a fleeting moment of joy amidst the mundane. But before you could get lost in your daydreams your body finally woke up from its sleepy state and reminded you of Michael’s promise from the night before.

You don’t know what’s gotten into you lately but your hunger for him has gotten insatiable, a primal desire that refuses to be ignored. Maybe you’re ovulating, or maybe it's the absence of his undivided attention, but at that moment, the reason scarcely mattered.

Your hands drew under the smooth, silky sheets, your fingers traced invisible patterns against your skin as your gaze remained fixated on the photograph displayed on the screen before you. With dreamy eyes, you lost yourself in the image, allowed your imagination to weave intricate fantasies.

Impatience coursed through your veins, urging you to seek more tangible sensations. With a swift motion, you tugged up the hem of your nightgown, exposing the soft curves of your body to the cool air of the room. Your hands found their way to your tender breasts, cupping them with a delicate touch that sent shivers down your spine. you momentarily closed your eyes from the contact before opening them again and looking back at the image.

God, he’s so pretty, your pretty boy.

As you gently rolled your nipples between your soft fingers you let out a quiet sigh, feeling some form of pleasure as your nipples hardened beneath your touch, responding eagerly to the stimulation. With each gentle roll between your fingers, waves of sensation rippled through you, igniting a primal fire within. Despite the tenderness of your actions, there was an underlying urgency, a hunger that refused to be quenched.

Your thoughts drift to him, to the man who occupies your every waking moment. He's so undeniably beautiful, a vision that fills your heart with longing and desire. But as much as you loved him, frustration bubbled to the surface. He's a tease, a master of seduction who knows exactly how to leave you breathless.

He very well knew how much you needed him last night. you had been consumed by a relentless need, your body aching for his touch, your soul yearning for his embrace. Your desires were shamelessly pouring out of you. You had pawed at his chest, begged him to touch you. Yet, all you received were promises of tomorrow. Bastard. Where is he now hm?

Left you all alone with a slippery mess between your legs. You were so desperate you didn’t even register your legs spreading. Your fingers trailed lower, slipping past the curve of your stomach and venturing toward your needy center. With one hand still kneading your tits you let the other lightly dance over your soaked panties. You felt the heat of your poor neglected cunt with your fingertips. The undeniable wet patch on the fabric made your cheeks heat up.

You circled your sensitive clit over your underwear and instantly bucked your hips from the contact, each movement sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. As you continued to move your fingers it became increasingly difficult to keep your eyes glued to the TV. The news anchor's voice was distant in your mind, drowned out by your determination to solemnly focus on Michael.

In an attempt to replicate his touch, you hesitantly slid your trembling fingers beneath the elastic band of your panties. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you made contact with the slick between your legs. Gliding your finger between your puffy folds and succumbing to the overwhelming sensations, you allowed your eyes to flutter closed, surrendering yourself to the blissful ecstasy.

Feeling the heat building within you, your body started to emit too much warmth for your liking so you impatiently threw the sheets off of you and to the floor with a swift motion. Breathing out you readjusted yourself in a more comfortable position on the soft bedding. Breathing out you resumed your ministrations with renewed fervor, your fingers danced over your glistening pearl with increasing urgency, too frustrated to slowly build yourself to your climax.

As the intensity of pleasure mounted, you found solace in the plush pillows beneath you, your fingers dug into the fabric, trying to ease the gnawing emotions swirling inside you. Head thrown back, you whined as you felt your essence drip down your slit. Oh, how much you had wished that Michael would’ve been next to you. You yearned for his presence, craving the intimacy and connection only he could provide.

Your drooling walls kept squeezing around nothing, aching for the sensation of being filled and stretched by his cock, which made your eyes glossy, the previous pout returning to your face. Muffled sighs left your lips as you pressed the back of your hand against your mouth. Whispering his name, your voice trembling with need.

All you wanted was for him to stuff your little hole with his cock, that’s not too much to ask for right? Frustration bubbled inside you as You stroked your nub faster.

Your panties were drenched at that point, With each passing moment your arousal peaked, pulsing clit weeping for that sweet release. But just as you teetered on the brink of ecstasy, your hand spasming from the quick motions, the shrill ring of the phone shattered the erotic reverie, jolting you back to reality. Gasping at the unexpected sound you cursed the damn thing in your mind for taking you out of the arousing trance you had created.

You tried to ignore it as much as you could but the persistent ringing hindered your concentration. Groaning you reluctantly reached over to the nightstand and begrudgingly answered the call.

"Hey, sweet girl," his voice flowed through the phone, instantly melting away your frustrations and causing you to sink deeper into the soft embrace of the sheets.

"Sorry I left, Frank dragged me out to do a few things before the show and then something else came up and I couldn't get back to you and…” His words trailed off momentarily as he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, baby, truly."

“It’s- it’s fine…you just promised me something yesterday,” you replied, your fingers idly twisting the cord of the phone as you spoke.

“Oh, did I?” You could practically hear the mischievous grin in his voice.

“Don’t do this to me right now, please just tell Bill to pick me up, I miss you,” you pleaded, not caring about the desperation and neediness evident in your tone.

And now, here you were, scrambling to make yourself presentable. You discarded your underwear and straightened out your skirt, hopping on one leg as you slipped into the other shoe. Hastily fixing your hair and grabbing your handbag, you rushed out of the luxurious hotel room.

Your skin still tingling with anticipation, you hurried to the waiting car, exchanging polite greetings with Bill before settling into the seat. Pulling up the partition, you finally exhale. You feel the slickness between your folds and squeezing your legs together as your sensitive cunt throbs with desire. Sealing your lips you try not to make too much noise.

The car ride feels never-ending as you have to restrain yourself from flipping up your skirt and circling your wet center. You clasp your hands tightly together and gaze out the window, hoping the passing scenery would distract your mind from the relentless ache pulsing through your body.

As the stadium loomed into view, you eagerly opened the car door, thanking Bill breathlessly before darting towards the entrance, eliciting a chuckle from him.

The familiar faces of the bodyguards greeted you as you hurried through the halls, your sole focus fixed on locating his dressing room. Lost in your determination, you collided with Karen, his makeup artist, the collision jolting you out of your single-minded pursuit and back to the present moment.

"Jesus Christ, I'm so sorry, Karen," you blurt out, suddenly realizing how frantic you must have appeared moments ago, rushing about in pursuit of your man.

"Oh, it's alright," Karen replies, adjusting her top with a casual shrug.

"Anyway, I-" Before you can utter another word, she interrupts you.

"Actually, I've been wanting to talk to you about something..." And off she goes, launching into a monologue about something that feels entirely inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

You nod awkwardly and force a smile, though her words seem to flow in one ear and out the other. Desperately, you glance around, silently pleading for an escape from this conversation, but she appears entirely engrossed in her own narrative. Goodness gracious, can't she see that you're utterly disinterested? You've always had the lingering suspicion that she doesn't quite like you, but that's beside the point right now.

"Sorry, K, but I really gotta go," you interject hastily, sidestepping her as you make your way towards the dressing rooms, leaving her momentarily taken aback.

You are not going to let her cock block you today, no ma’am.

You navigate the corridor, scanning each door in search of the one bearing your beloved's name until, at last, you stumble upon it. Standing before the pristine white door, you take a moment to steady your breath, waiting for the frantic pounding of your heart to ease before you dare to step inside. With gentle knuckles, you tap on the door, the mere seconds that follow feeling like an eternity as you await Michael's response.

When the door swings open, revealing his soft smile on his gorgeous face, you can't help but practically fall into his embrace. Your arms wrap tightly around his torso, your face finding solace against his chest. He chuckles, not in the least startled by your sudden affection, and returns your hug, his arms enveloping you in warmth.

"Everything okay, angel?" he asks.

"...I need you. Want you so bad," you confess, your words muffled by the embrace as you bury your face further into his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent.

Your eyes drift around the room until they settle on the plush couch. Without waiting for his response, you push him towards the sofa, urging him to take a seat. As his knees buckle from hitting the couch he settles onto the cushions, you make yourself comfortable on his lap and connect your lips hungrily.

With trembling hands, you hold his face, refusing to let him pull away as you press your body against his. Momentarily taken aback, he quickly regains his composure, his hands finding their way to your waist, where they caress your heated body with a tenderness that only fuels your desire.

As his hands trail lower, teasingly squeezing your hips, you break the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips. You lean lower and press your lips right below his jawline, where he’s the most sensitive. “Woah there, baby,” he murmurs, not entirely surprised by your eagerness but still taken aback by the transformation of his usually shy, innocent girl into an unabashedly greedy minx.

Uninterested in banter, you forgo any conversation, you leave a trail of sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all over his neck, wet tongue swirling over the freshly made hickeys.

Michael starts to feel the craving that has clouded your mind for hours and bucks his hips forward, making contact with your bare, soaked pussy. “Shit,” he moans, feeling your wetness dampening his trousers.

“No panties, hm? So naughty,” he teases.

If this was happening in any other circumstance you would’ve burned with embarrassment and hid your face behind your hands, but not now. Now, all you care about is sinking down on his lengthy cock and finally satiating your burning desire.

He massages your thighs as he inches his palms under your skirt causing your breath to catch in your throat. Taking advantage of this, he angles his head to your side and presses his plump lips against your slightly swollen ones. Hypnotized by his movements you lean in closer, letting him take over ,you relax into his arms, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt in your shaky hands.

“"Shh, it's okay, baby. Just relax and take what you need kay?” you coos at you with that sweet, soft voice of his that always makes you melt.

With a meek nod, you comply, grinding your soaked core against his hardening shaft. He guides your head to rest against the crook of his neck, adjusting his position to press his cock firmer against your eager pussy. A whimper escapes your lips as you cling to his shoulder, your plush thighs receiving gentle caresses before his hands find their way to your ass, cupping your cheeks in a tender hold which elicits a soft sigh from your lips.

“Gonna be my good luck charm, yeah?” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear.

A whispered "yes" escapes your lips as you roll your hips, your sensitive clit rubbing against the fabric of his trousers, leaving a telltale wet patch that he doesn’t seem to care too much about. He just wants his sweet girl to be satisfied and stuffed full with his cum before he takes the stage tonight.

As he kneads your ass in his big hands you feel your high creeping up on you. A flush of embarrassment warms your cheeks as you realize how quickly you're approaching climax. Michael notices your uneven breathing and firmly grasps your hips, halting your movements.

You whine from the lack of friction but he shushes you by taking off your top and loving up on your soft breasts, his lips lavish attention on your soft breasts, careful not to remove your bra in case someone interrupts. As he peppers your chest with kisses, you manage to unbutton his shirt completely, your shaky hands brushing against his toned torso, a silent plea for more.

Amidst the whirlwind of sensations and emotions swirling around you, you fail to notice the swift movement of his hands as he deftly unzips his trousers and tugs them down along with his boxers. Your gaze drifts downwards, and you whimper at the sight before you – his hard cock, weeping precum, a clear sign that he needs you just as much.

"Please," you beg breathlessly, not willing to waste a single moment longer.

Michael takes your smaller hand and gently guides it to the base of his shaft, where you struggle to fully wrap your fingers around its impressive girth. "Go on, take what you need," he urges.

Straightening your back and spreading your legs a little farther, you let your instincts take over as you feel the weight of his shaft in your hand. Slowly, you begin to stroke his cock, marveling at the way the hood pulls back to reveal his glistening tip. A guttural groan escapes his lips as he digs his fingers into the cushions of the couch to restrain himself from bucking his hips.

Drawing closer, you position his tip between your slick folds, a moan escaping your lips at the sensation of his hot cockhead against your swollen nub. With fluid movements, you glide it under your clit, your shared essences facilitating the smooth motion. Lost in the pleasure, you feel Michael's gaze on your face, his eyes drinking in every detail as his fingers tenderly caress your cheek, a chorus of praises spilling from his lips.

"Don't tease yourself, my love. I know you want more," his voice sends a shiver down your spine as you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what's to come.

With a gentle shift, he adjusts your skirt higher on your waist, ensuring it doesn't get in the way as you steady yourself on his lap. Propping his cock at your glossy entrance, you slowly begin to push his thick shaft inside your velvety walls. A whine escapes your lips at the delicious stretch, your fingers gripping onto his shoulder tightly for support.

Both of your breathing quickens as you inch lower and lower onto his big, meaty cock, the tightness of your walls resisting his intrusion even as your abundant slickness attempts to ease the way. Eyes shut tight, you revel in the sensation of being filled by him, the delicious stretch of your walls sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body until the back of your thighs come to rest on top of his.

You pant heavily, pressing your forehead against his, seeking solace in his comforting presence. "Just... just need a sec," you murmur, your voice laced with a mixture of desire and anticipation, as you allow your body to adjust to his size. With a grin, Michael reassures you to take your time, his lips pressing softly against your temple in a gesture of affection and understanding.

His grunts mingle with your moans as you squeeze around his fat cock, your body finally accustomed to its massive size. With newfound confidence, you begin to move back and forth, grinding your hips against his, each motion eliciting a wave of pleasure that courses through your body. Your little clit rubs against his coily pubic hair, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through you as you throw your head back in abandon.

Growing bolder with each passing moment, you lift yourself slightly off his length and drop down again, relishing in the sensation of being stretched with his girthy cock. You repeat this motion a few times, gaining confidence with each descent, until you find yourself bouncing on his stiff shaft.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of skin slapping together, punctuated by your pants and moans of pleasure. As you continue to ride his shaft, you force yourself to open your eyes and gaze upon your beautiful man. His curls frame his face in a wild halo, his mouth slightly open in pleasure. Unable to resist, you lean forward and press your lips against his once more, the kiss muffling the loud noises that fill the room.

His hands guide you up and down his huge cock, setting a rhythm that drives you both to new heights of pleasure. Your cunt releases more of your juices, coating his pulsing shaft and making your movements slick and easy. Some of your essence even drips down onto his heavy balls, adding to the intoxicating sensation of being completely consumed by him.

Meanwhile, his throbbing tip leaks more and more precum, creating a slippery surface that allows you to slide effortlessly on his length. The combined sensations of his cock stretching you to your limits and his skilled hands guiding your movements send waves of ecstasy crashing over you, threatening to consume you entirely.

Michael's hand leaves your heated skin and finds its way to your lips. Without hesitation, you open your mouth and gently suck on his thumb, lost in the pleasure of the moment. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the rhythm of your bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

Eventually, he gently coaxes his hand away from your lips and brings it down to where you're connected. His wet thumb finds your puffy pearl, rubbing tight circles that send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your pupils dilate from the intensity of the sensation, and you can feel the familiar coil building in your lower abdomen, threatening to unravel at any moment.

"I know you're close, sweet girl," his words make you squeeze your gummy walls and whine.

Feeling that familiar coil building in your lower tummy you quicken your movements, bouncing on his thick cock like a desperate bunny, wanting to make him proud. Just as you are clenching around him you can feel him throb inside you, his own release imminent.

You're determined to milk him for all he's worth, ensuring that he won't be distracted when he's on stage. Burying your face into the crook of his neck, you whimper at the burning sensation in your thighs, but the thought of reaching your sweet release spurs you on, driving you to push yourself further.

As both of your climaxes draw near, you hold each other tightly, your warm, sweaty bodies colliding in a passionate embrace. Michael, lost in the throes of pleasure, slams his hips upwards, eliciting a yelp of pleasure from you. With each passing second, you feel yourselves getting closer and closer to that pinnacle of ecstasy, your minds singularly focused on one thing and one thing only.

And then, it happens. Your orgasm crashes over you with an intensity that leaves you gasping for breath. As the waves of your orgasm crash over you with fervor, you can't help but moan loudly, completely lost in the throes of ecstasy. Your cries of pleasure fill the room as your walls clench and unclench around Michael's cock. He continues to rub your pulsing clit, prolonging the intoxicating high as you ride the waves of pleasure.

Just when you think you can't take any more, you feel him drive his hips up, a primal groan escaping his lips. Rope after rope of his creamy seed floods your depths, filling you up completely and painting your walls with his essence. He grunts beside your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he stuffs you full of his cum, some even seeping out from the sheer volume.

As he empties himself inside you, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to his chest, both of you panting and spent. The room is filled with the sound of heavy breathing as you let yourselves calm down, your mouth dry from all the moaning and gasping.

As your breathing gradually evens out, you find yourself smiling contentedly, drawing invisible patterns on his chest with your fingers. He chuckles at the sight, amused by how just moments ago, you were bouncing on his cock with such need and now you look like an innocent angel.

"It's not funny, you tease!" you playfully poke his nipple.

"Hey, it's not my fault my shows are better when you're so needy for me," he teases back, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head as you feign a fake pout and nuzzle into his chest.

Taglist: @heartss444mj @yeriminist @yeaiamme2 @helloaugustmoon @cinnamoncunt @theladyofmylife @minekarina @kionaaa @theskinniestjackson-denny @youronlyonenini @graciegizmo3184 @theasexual-jackson @mrsmikaelsxn

#kate's writing #smut #michael jackson #michael jackson x reader #michael jackson x fem!reader #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #michael jackson imagine

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darling-archeron · 4 months

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Happy Holidays to @charliespringsleftconverse!! I had so much fun writing this fic for @acotargiftexchange and getting to know you better. You said you were having a bit of a rough year, and I hope this fic can help a tiny bit! Thank you for being so patient, I hope the wait will have been worth it. This fic will be divided into four chapters, with updates on Tuesdays!

Many months have passed since the end of the War, but not all wounds have healed. Repairs, both emotional and physical, are still underway. When Feyre finally finds a break in her schedule, she feels duty-bound to visit the one place she thought she’d never return to: her old village. With Rhys by her side, she takes a trip through old memories.

Rated T, 2.6k words | Masterlist | Fic Masterlist

Feyre stood before her wardrobe, blankly staring at the rows of garments before her.

Today was…more difficult than she had expected.

Her options blurred before her. So many pieces, the simplest of them finer than anything she had worn in poverty as a human. A bolt of fabric from the finest could have fed her family for months, back then.

She was only picking out clothes. It shouldn’t have been difficult.

Cauldron, what was wrong with her? She thought she had moved past this long ago. She had never mourned her human life to the extent that her sisters had. She didn’t miss that small village and all the misery that lingered there.

However, that didn’t mean her heart would let her abandon it. She still wanted to help.

The task looming before her should have been nothing to everything she had faced in her twenty-two years.

Hesitantly, she pulled out a navy tunic and brown fleece-lined jacket. On any other day, they would have been fine.

She shoved it back in the wardrobe.

It didn’t feel fine today.

In the back of her mind, she registered Rhys entering the room, returning from the kitchen with two cups of tea. She heard the soft clink as he set both teacups down on one of the nightstands.

Then he came up behind her, snaking a gentle arm around her waist. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the cuff tattoo on his forearm that lovingly matched hers. She stood still as he brushed a loose hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. Even without the mental connection, he always seemed to have a sixth sense for when she was distressed.

“What are you thinking about, love?” He asked through the bond.

Feyre smiled a bit at that. He could have sifted through her thoughts straightaway if he wanted, but she appreciated how he asked instead.

“Just…nervous, I suppose. When we were in my village during the war, I felt like I didn’t really have the option not to go, with so many lives hanging in the balance. But now I do have a choice, and…it’s just overwhelming.”

Now that things were stable, and Velaris was back on its feet, Feyre had chiseled out a bit of time to visit the mortal lands. To help rebuild her old village and any surrounding ones that still needed help – for, despite all of Lucien’s work with Vassa and Jurian, and despite the many months that had passed since the war’s end, aid was still often slow to come to the slip of human territory south of the Spring Court.

Rhys pressed his thumb softly into her side, rubbing comforting circles over the sliver of bare skin while he thought for a moment.

“Nobody would blame you if you never wanted to go back there again. You know that. But you do, because you care, and that’s the important part. And when we’re out there today, I want you to remember something.”

“What’s that?”

“No one can make you small, darling. You are more than the insults the worst of them can throw at you.”

“After I’ve faced so many real monsters and gone to war, this shouldn’t feel so scary. The worst things awaiting us there are a bunch of prejudiced assholes.”

“Well, this is why you’re going, isn’t it? To prove them wrong?”

“I’m going because it’s the right thing to do. Proving them wrong…that’ll be a bonus.”

“And Rhys?” she said, out loud this time.

“Yes?”

“No matter how much you might want to, you have to promise not to incinerate the first person who’s rude to me.”

Rhys’s easy smile receded into a thin line. “Who said anything about incinerating?”

“Sometimes I don’t have to be in your mind to know what you’re thinking. I know you have self control, when you’re willing to exercise it. In the name of diplomacy.”

Rhys leaned in a bit closer, breath brushing against the shell of her ear. “Then you should also know that you’re the thing that unravels my self control most quickly.”

“Oh?”

She felt her toes curl as Rhys pressed his lips to her neck.

“Maybe you should demonstrate exactly how that happens,” she murmured.

Amongst other things, Rhys’s little…interruption to her dressing had certainly made the early morning go by quicker, at least.

By the time they were done, the tea was cold, and it was a good thing she had never dressed, because she would have had to do it all over again.

In the end, she picked a sturdy pair of boots and her favorite set of fleece-lined leathers to guard her against early spring’s slight chill in the mortal land. Why had she felt the need to wear human attire when she wasn’t one? She was part of the Night Court, and proud of it. And the villagers could be as proud and pigheaded as they wanted, but she wouldn’t let it hinder her.

Faerie-human relations had gotten far enough that they wouldn’t be chased out of the village with pitchforks, but there was still work to be done. Enough that Feyre had decided not to openly advertise who she and Rhys were, though it would be obvious to anyone who thought about it for a few moments. So Rhys would hide his wings, and they both would keep a damper on the full might of their magic.

They had a quiet breakfast, only interrupted by the occasional comment.

“Mor will be winnowing back in tonight, so she’ll be able to join us,” Rhys mentioned in between bites of toast.

“I can’t wait to see her again, there’s so much to catch up on,” she mused with a smile. It seemed like ages since she had seen Mor, and even longer than that since the whole family had gotten together.

“What time is everyone coming over?”

“I told them around 9. Nothing too extravagant, just good food with our family.”

The long day ahead of them was certainly daunting, but tonight, their whole family would be together again, after months of someone always travelling. The thought of it fortified her for the day ahead. Every year, their little circle seemed to grow bigger and bigger, and her heart only fuller along with it.

After finishing breakfast, they were ready to depart just after sunrise. Part of Feyre yearned to enjoy the morning by flying, but she knew that would take them far too long, and with her lack of experience, she wouldn’t be able to keep up with Rhys over the distance.

So, winnowing it was. Standing in the foyer of the house, she linked her arm with his, and they were off, soaring through the dark fabric of the world. Rhys was only a vague shape next to her, and though she had winnowed with him countless times before, she held on tight.

All too quickly, they arrived. Rhys landed them just outside the driveway to the old Archeron estate on the edge of town. Last week, she had written to the village heads, letting them know the Night Court would be sending aid. Not because she expected some kind of special greeting, but more to give the villagers – many of whom were still wary of faeries – a heads up.

Walking into town would help with that, too. It would be much less startling than the pair of them materializing out of thin air.

Feyre paused for a long moment, taking in her once-familiar surroundings. There was a warmth to the air that hadn’t been present in the farther north Velaris. Behind them stood the ruins of their old manor. Nobody had bothered to salvage or attempt repairs on it; who would, when there was no one left to care about it?

She hadn’t been back to it since those initial meetings after the war had ended. It had been cleaned up just enough to make sure there were usable chairs and no rusty nails poking out of any exposed boards.

All the same, she felt a pulse of regret as she made out the trampled remains of the garden Elain had once loved so dearly.

“Shall we?” Rhys asked, gently breaking her chain of thought.

She nodded, giving him a tight smile.

It was strange to be back in her village, to say the least.

As they approached the town center, memories of the times she had been here before felt like flipping through the pages of a dusty, ancient book.

A young child in the largest mansion in the town, on a hill that overlooked the whole city.

A starving girl, traumatized from the memory of her mother’s deathbed and her father’s leg, broken before her.

A love-struck human woman, returning to the village to see her family’s return to favor.

A newly-made faerie, desperately trying to change the tide of a war.

In some ways, the village itself had changed as much as she had. So little remained of what she remembered. Like the Archeron manor, many of the wealthiest estates had their lands pillaged, ornamental walls razed to the ground..

It had taken her far too long to come here. They could have done more good earlier on, but she couldn’t leave Velaris. Rhys, of course, never intended on stopping her as Tamlin once had, but he had tried to gently remind her that this wasn’t her responsibility.

But wasn’t it? She, along with the rest of the Inner Circle, had bargained with the Mortal Queens for their half of the book, and dragged anyone in range of her family’s home into this.

She had brought about the downfall of the Spring Court, she had left holes in the wall, she hadn’t nullified the Cauldron in time and allowed monsters from Prythian and Hybern alike to find their way in.

Hybern may have pillaged and burned, but she had helped open the door.

She hadn’t come sooner for two reasons:

The first was that repairs in the Night Court had to come first. The second was her own guilt. Helping here…it felt like a cheap way to make up for all the damage she had done, but she couldn’t think of another meaningful way to help.

She was more grateful than she could express that she wasn’t alone in this endeavor. Rhys had a mountain of things to be working on, and yet he had taken the day to come with her.

On the main road, they passed a gaggle of teenagers who stared at them both like they had two heads, their whispers plenty loud to her fae ears.

“…from the Night Court…”

“They say they want to help…”

“I’ve heard they’ll rip the skin from your bones.”

“You think Penalope found a faerie like that when she crossed the wall?”

Was that…admiration she heard in that last remark? Her mate certainly was handsome.

She briefly considered doing something possessive like snaking an arm around him or letting the damper off her magic to twine shadows around him…but that probably wouldn’t help her case.

She had no problem with strangers ogling her mate. Not when he was so clearly hers.

Besides, they weren’t trying to chase her with pitchforks. That was something.

Still, as they walked on, she felt more self-conscious than she cared to admit. It shouldn’t have mattered. She had defied the odds, broken curses and worlds and then stitched them back together again, but part of her was still that lost child, ignoring the sneers of her fellow villagers as she trudged out into the barren forest.

It had been rare for anyone to stop her, to express concern that a child was taking on that dangerous work. She had been younger than these teenagers, who looked like children to her, were. And when she had become fae…

She chased the memories out of her head as they walked into the village proper. Today wasn’t a market day, and the streets were mostly quiet. Here, most things had been rebuilt or were in the process. Nearly everything had been made of wood and hadn’t stood a chance when Hybern lit their matches.

“There aren’t any Children of the Blessed around,” Feyre murmured, noting the lack of their robes and jangling bracelets.

“Does that surprise you?”

“I suppose not. Hard to idolize us when you see up-close what faeries are capable of.”

Most of the noise came from the center of the town square, where four men were in the process of rebuilding the town pavilion.

Somehow, she wasn’t surprised that this was one of the last things being rebuilt. Obviously, people’s homes were much more vital, but the structure had rarely been used in her lifetime. For the common folk, it often seemed like there wasn’t much to celebrate.

Only one of the men, sawing a beam of wood, was facing their direction as they approached. He looked up suddenly, freezing as he took them in.

Fortifying herself, Feyre quickly bridged the last few paces between them, doing her best to look as nonthreatening as possible. The man still had a tight grip on his saw.

“We’ve come to help with repairs. Where can we be of the most use?” she asked, more confident than she felt.

The man’s ruddy face was vaguely familiar, likely someone she had crossed paths with during her years in the village. If he made out anything familiar in her features, he didn’t say.

He eyed the pair of them cautiously, taking in their inhuman features and the unfamiliar make of their clothes. She knew, because it was what she would have done, back in her village days.

“You’re the ones from the Night Court.”

Behind him, the other men had stopped their work, watching the exchange with tension coming off of them in waves . She didn’t need her daemati powers to know what they were thinking.

“Yes. My name is Feyre Archeron. This is my mate, Rhysand.”

Recognition clicked in his eyes at the mention of her last name.

“Yes…Remus said that there were faeries that wanted to help. With all due, I have to tell you that we have it handled.”

Feyre had been expecting this pushback – experienced it plenty of times in Velaris and the Spring Court.

“It seems like you could use any help you can get. You’ve made a lot of progress in town, but we passed by plenty of homes in our way in that are in disrepair. I know the continent hasn’t been sending the help you need.”

“Plenty of people in this village have had their lives and livelihood town apart by the fae. You expect them to welcome you in? My lady?” He tacked on at the last moment.

“I was once human. I understand their fear better than most,” she insisted.

The man paled slightly, and at first she thought it was because of her words. Then she realized that, at her side, Rhys had lifted the damper on his magic ever-so-slightly, a slightly threatening wave of shadows emanating off of him.

“Rhys!” she admonished down the bond. “You said you weren’t going to do that!”

“I said I wasn’t going to incinerate anyone, darling. Besides, I needed to let some magic out. You know how strenuous it is.”

“You won’t let me forget it. Poor, baby High Lord,” she scoffed.

Oblivious to their conversation, the man cleared his throat. “If you insist, there are some homes to the west that were hit hard. They could use help with repairs.”

“Thank you,” Rhys said, all politeness in his voice. “We’ll head there now.”

The man didn’t respond, instead simply turning back to bend over his sawhorse. It was a better reception than she had expected, honestly.

She turned to the winding, familiar path ahead of them, leading to the oldest part of the village.

“Ready?” she asked Rhys.

“Lead the way, darling.”

See you next week for chapter two!

taglist: @thron3ofbooks @the-lonelybarricade @swankii-art-teacher @ghostlyrose2 @brieq @cretaceous-therapod @live-the-fangirl-life @achernarlight @reverie-tales @starfall-spirit @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @highladysith @areyoudreamingof

#acotar #feysand #feysand fic #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyrhys fic #acotar gift exchange #kate's writing

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princesscatherinemiddleton · 1 year

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#shaping us: an early years campaign #kate's writing #kate #p: rf

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ghost-in-the-corner · 9 months

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Also, props to Allan???

He's a doll most people have never heard of. He got discontinued forever ago cause he was perceived as gay by consumers and they didn't like that.

But I love that he had an actual role in Barbie. He was very queer coded, yeah, but he didn't like when all the Kens turned to Patriarchy. He was so uncomfortable that he wanted to abandon Barbieland all together. He knew it was wrong.

And then he helped the Barbies get themselves back. He had a pink jumpsuit and sunglasses and went out all stealthy to get the Barbies in the van. He even voted at the end to keep the constitution the way it was.

Big Allan fan over here.

#barbie #barbie spoilers #barbie movie #barbie movie spoilers #margot robbie #ken #barbie ken #ryan gosling #film #filmmaking #greta gerwig #writing #barbenheimer #michael cera #kate mackinnon #simu liu #will ferrell #america ferrera #corner conversations

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feral-ballad · 3 months

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Kate Baer, from And Yet: Poems; “Idea”

[Text ID: “I will enjoy this life. I will open it like a peach in season, suck the juice from every finger, run my tongue over my chin. I will not worry about clichés or uninvited guests peering in my windows. I will love and be loved. Save and be saved a thousand times. I will let the want into my body, bless the heat under my skin. My life, I will not waste it. I will enjoy this life.”]

#kate baer #hope #excerpts #writings #literature #poetry #fragments #selections #words #quotes #poetry collection #typography #american literature #american poetry

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perfectfeelings · 1 month

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Sometimes suffering is just suffering. It doesn’t make you stronger. It doesn’t build character. It only hurts.

Kate Jacobs; Comfort Food

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 20 days

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Orange Peel Theory With Cod Characters

Would they peel an orange for you? (Scenario based on the test from TikTok)

Characters Included: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves, Vladimir Makarov.

This is probably one of the only times I'll be using the color orange, AHAHAHAHA. As you can tell I wouldn't be okay with the camp half-blood uniform as an Aphrodite kid. Writing this as I'm sick with a cold, my nanny since childhood peeled my oranges for me while telling me to finish all of it because it's vitamin C.

Mansplaining this but the Orange Peel/Peeling Theory surrounding TikTok started with one girl talking about her experience with her ex peeling her oranges for her. It soon turned into a theory/test where people ask their partner to peel an orange for them, something as small and effortless as peeling an orange as that act of service represents their willingness to do things for their partner and if they refuse then that's seen as a red flag because it means that if they're unwilling to do that small thing for them then same case scenario for something big that requires a sacrifice.

They peel it for you almost immediately, no words needed, just you staring at the orange. Grabbing it from the bowl of fruits and meticulously tearing the skin with their thumbs, being careful not to make much of a mess and to not bruise the orange.

It's not a secret that they like to do this, offering other little things like opening doors for you, peeling the skin of apples if you don't feel like eating it and slicing it up for you with a multipurpose camping knife, putting their hand on the edge of a nearby cornered things so it wouldn't be as painful if you hit your head picking something up.

Characters: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, König.

Would tease you once you ask them to peel it for you but will peel it. Would even hand feed it to you, you have to give them a kiss for every orange they separate. If you tell them you don't like the pith (the white stringy part) then they'd take it off for you.

They probably would ask you to peel some for them too some time around soon but you're more than happy to do it for them.

Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, Valeria Garza, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Nikolai Belinski.

You probably should've worded it better, you told them you felt like an orange.. "I feel like a tomato" is what you hear back. You laughed and clarified that you felt like eating the fruit.

"Oh.." they stopped to think if you had any oranges at home at the moment and they got up and peeled it for you, bringing a plate back of two peeled and pulled apart oranges with a glass of water for you.

Characters: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

He'd throw the orange at your head, telling you to peel it yourself.

Characters: Philip Graves, Vladimir Makarov.

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee

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dollkisses05 · 2 months

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This is too fucking real

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crushedsweets · 22 days

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What’re they chatting about…

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quotefeeling · 2 months

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Sometimes suffering is just suffering. It doesn’t make you stronger. It doesn’t build character. It only hurts.

Kate Jacobs; Comfort Food

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ginnsbaker · 7 months

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mastermind

Summary: As your sticks fly across the drums, your eyes momentarily scan the crowd, taking in the faces, the movements, the ecstatic energy. And then, in the flickering club lights, you spot her // …or the one where you find Wanda in the crowd during your band's gig, only to discover there's much more to her than you initially thought.

Word count: 5.2K+ | Tags: Smut (18+), Fluff, Oral and fingering (W receiving), Squirting, Overstimulation, Meet-cute, Drummer!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Requested by anon. I got carried a way for a bit and took a few liberties. Hope you like it!

You almost didn’t make it for tonight’s gig.

Still recovering from the flu you caught last week, you were close to letting Kate fill in on the drums. That is, until Yelena begged you not to let her girlfriend botch a sold-out evening.

The tension backstage is thicker than Bucky’s pre-show smoothie, and, given the mishmash of green ingredients, that's saying something.

“I'm just saying, letting Kate drum tonight is like giving a cat a keyboard and expecting Bonham,” Yelena says, gesturing wildly with her hands.

“Continue talking and you might not have a girlfriend by the end of your next sentence!” Kate huffs, spinning on her heel to stomp out of the area.

You sip on your water, trying to keep your hydration levels up but also stifle a chuckle. This isn’t the first time Yelena’s protective streak has clashed with Kate's overenthusiastic approach to... well, everything. Natasha is trying, and failing, to keep a straight face, while Bucky seems to have found sudden interest in the intricate patterns on his boots.

Your head is throbbing, the remnants of the flu still gnawing at your energy, but you've mustered up just enough strength to make it through tonight's set. Before Yelena or any other band member can comment further, the organizer gestures for your band to take the stage.

You take a deep breath, followed by another swig of water. It's almost showtime, and the excitement is seeping through the nerves, reminding you why you endure the endless rehearsals, sleepless nights, and yes, even the pre-show squabbles.

As you step onto the stage, the applause is deafening. The lights illuminate the sea of faces before you, and you can see the familiar glint of excitement in the eyes of returning fans mixed with the curious expressions of first-timers.

Bucky approaches the mic, flashing his signature charming smile at the crowd. “Good evening, everyone! We’re ecstatic to see so many familiar faces and new ones too! We've got a great set for you tonight, but before we start, let's give a big shoutout to Y/N here, who's powering through the flu to be with us tonight!” The crowd roars in appreciation, and you can't help but wave sheepishly, a tentative smile stretching across your face.

Natasha strums the opening chords of the first song, her fingers dancing effortlessly over the strings. Yelena, momentarily forgetting her earlier spat with Kate, loses herself in the rhythm, the bassline syncing perfectly with your drumbeat. The music flows, each note hitting the right spots, the synergy between band members mesmerizing the audience.

As your sticks fly across the drums, your eyes momentarily scan the crowd, taking in the faces, the movements, the ecstatic energy.

And then, in the flickering club lights, you spot her.

There's a brunette, her hair cascading down, dancing like she was born for this exact moment. The way she sways and lets loose to the rhythm—it's captivating.

But it's when she turns around that your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. Her eyes meet yours, and the world seems to slow down for a moment. Those intense, deep-set eyes pull you in, making it impossible to look away. They're filled with an emotion that's hard to pinpoint: intrigue, curiosity, maybe even a hint of challenge. The message is clear—she's noticed you, just as much as you've noticed her.

She doesn't break the gaze, and as her hips move in tune with your beats, there's a silent communication happening. Your hands, despite the rising temperature of the room, feel cold against the drumsticks. It's a battle to maintain your rhythm and not lose yourself under her spell.

Natasha, catching the look on your face, leans in during a brief instrumental break. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply, attempting to refocus. Your distraction had almost caused you to miss a beat or two.

Your eyes are locked onto the brunette once more as she starts grinding against her friend, her movements confident, sultry, and unapologetically magnetic. It's the sort of dancing that would have any person within the perimeter drooling on the spot. Usually, you'd shy away from openly watching someone move so suggestively, but you find yourself completely mesmerized.

As the next song kicks off, you throw in some extra flash on the drums, just to see if she'll play along. And sure enough, with every fancy beat you drop, she dances right to it. It's like you're both in this unspoken challenge, seeing who can outdo the other. Your fingers grip the drumsticks tighter, and you can feel the heat rising on your face.

That's when Natasha glances in the same direction and catches on. “Well, well, looks like someone's got a fan,” she murmurs with a wink, her voice barely audible over the booming speakers.

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool, but the dryness in your mouth betrays your nonchalance. “Just playing my part,” you quip, though you're keenly aware that your concentration tonight is split between the drums and the mesmerizing dancer.

Yelena, following the exchange between you and Natasha, leans in from the bass guitar, raising an eyebrow. “Who's got you all hot and bothered?”

“Shut up, Yel,” you retort. With cheeks aflame, you try to shove Yelena’s teasing aside, to focus solely on the music coursing through your veins. However, the allure of the brunette is a magnet you can’t seem to resist.

As the beat picks up, so does the pace of your heart, hammering against your chest with every enthralling movement she makes. She is intoxicating, and you’re utterly spellbound.

During the bridge, you hit a sour note—a misstep that rarely happens—and Bucky gives you a dirty look from across the stage. He’s a perfectionist when it comes to the music, and you mouth a silent “sorry” before forcing your eyes away from the captivating sight in the crowd.

But not before catching her reaction.

She's laughing, her eyes alight with impishness, and you'd swear she's looking right at you. There's a knowing smile on her lips that suggests she knows exactly the effect she’s had on you. It’s both mortifying and exhilarating.

You try to keep to the side, hiding behind cymbals and drums, but it's impossible to shake the sensation of being observed. It's like she's got a spotlight aimed right at you, and you're center stage. Every moment you resist looking her way feels like an eternity, but every time you feel the pull to glance in her direction, Yelena’s earlier tease flares in your mind, keeping your eyes stubbornly on Bucky’s flashy shoes.

As the last song fades and the applause rolls in, you set down your drumsticks, nerves and excitement warring within you. You don't hang around for Bucky's wrap-up speech. Instead, you hustle to get backstage.

To everyone's shock, you decide to stick around after the gig. You're usually the most introverted one in the group and never do this.

Natasha sidles up to you, a teasing smirk on her lips. “So, about that girl you couldn't take your eyes off of...?”

You attempt to play it cool, but your nervous fidgeting with your drumsticks gives you away. “What girl?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

Bucky snorts in amusement, a wicked grin stretching across his face. “The one you were practically eye-fucking the entire set? Thought you were gonna jump off stage and grab her right there.”

You're now the shade of a ripe tomato, desperately searching for a diversion. “You guys are seeing things,” you mumble, avoiding their amused gazes.

“Honestly, I was half-expecting her to throw a bra onstage or something, the way you were gawking,” Yelena chirps in.

“Enough,” you protest weakly, your voice drowned out by the laughter of your bandmates.

Just as you're about to slip away to the bar for a breather, a waiter approaches you with a drink in hand. “Compliments of the lady over there,” he says, nodding towards a dim corner of the club.

You peer in the direction he's indicating but can't make out who it's from. The drink looks fancy, possibly alcoholic. Glancing at the waiter, you inform him, “I can't drink alcohol right now, but thank you.”

Natasha snatches it from the tray. “Well, if you're not taking it, it's mine.”

Bucky laughs. “Is everyone in this club trying to woo our drummer tonight?”

You roll your eyes at them, trying not to dwell on the mystery woman. However, it's not long before the same waiter returns, this time holding a simple glass of lemonade. “The lady noticed you weren’t drinking the cocktails and thought you might prefer this.”

Your curiosity almost gets the better of you, but the memories of the striking brunette dancing to your beats earlier still linger fresh in your mind. You opt not to scour the club's corners to spot who's sending the drinks. Instead, you lift the lemonade in a thankful gesture, aiming it in the general direction of where the waiter had pointed, and offer a polite, appreciative smile into the dim.

Natasha teases, “Playing hard to get, huh?”

You shrug and take a sip from your drink. “Just soaking in the night and the rewards of our hard work,” you remark, patting the pocket where you tucked away the cash from tonight's gig. “Isn't that what we're here for?”

An hour later, the club's neon and strobe lights continue to play tricks on your eyes, turning every brunette head you spot into a potential sighting. Each time, however, it’s not her.

Bucky's animated conversation about a new track he's been working on fades into the background. Natasha keeps throwing you knowing glances, but doesn't press. It's Yelena who finally comments, probably having had enough of your desolate puppy-dog look. She nudges you with her elbow, Kate giggling drunkenly by her side. Yelena's arm is protectively around Kate, but her sharp gaze is all on you.

“You know, you won't find her by just sulking here and gazing at every brunette that walks past. You gotta move,” she challenges, her tone equal parts bored and encouraging.

Kate, in her slightly inebriated state, adds with a giggle, “Yeah, go get her, tiger!”

“It's not that easy, you know,” you sigh, brooding over your drink. “Plus, what if she's not even interested?”

Yelena's smirk is almost predatory. “From what I saw? Trust me, she's interested. Now go.”

With a resigned sigh, you push yourself up from the booth. Steeling yourself, you start weaving your way through the crowd, using your slightly sober advantage to maneuver past intoxicated dancers. You scan every corner and table as you walk past, even though there's a nagging feeling in your gut that she might have already left the club.

It’s after what feels like an eternity that you spot a familiar cascade of brunette locks by the bar. She’s engaged in what appears to be an animated conversation with a tall, equally striking man. However, her posture—shoulders slightly hunched, eyes darting around—suggests that she’s far from comfortable.

The protective instinct kicks in before you can talk yourself out of it. Closing the distance, you position yourself between her and the persistent guy, offering her a way out. “Hey there,” you say, smoothly, your voice loud enough to be heard over the clamor. “I've been looking for you. Sorry I'm late.”

She catches on immediately, her relief evident as she steps closer to you, away from the guy. “There you are! I was starting to worry,” she plays along, giving you a swift kiss on the cheeks that has your eyes widening for a second and breaking character. Thankfully, the guy doesn’t notice your blunder, and sensing he's lost this battle, scowls and retreats into the crowd.

Turning to her, you can't help the grin that finds its way to your face. “Sorry for that, I wanted to help, but I didn’t also want to cause any trouble.”

She smiles back, her eyes gleaming in the club lights. “Thank you for the save. I was about to resort to more drastic measures.”

The banter between you flows naturally, the awkward ice broken by the unusual circumstance of your first interaction. “I'm Y/N,” you offer, extending a hand.

“Wanda,” she says, taking your hand. Her grip is firm and her hand warm against yours. It sends a jolt of electricity up your arm. Only now do you notice her eyes, the shade of green in them, and the way they reveal so much yet nothing at all. Just like that, you fall a little deeper into her trap.

“Wanda,” you repeat, tasting the name on your tongue as if trying it out. Your smile broadens instinctively, and she catches it, her nose scrunching up bashfully.

“What?” she asks.

“Oh, nothing,” you chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “I just think it's a beautiful name. Fits someone as beautiful as you.”

She blushes, and you can't help but inwardly high five yourself for making her smile like that. She looks away for a moment, trying to hide her smile but fails miserably, and you find it endearing.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she says, her eyes meeting yours once more, a shy smile on her lips.

The night unfolds seamlessly from there. You find a quiet corner away from the crowd, where the music is a distant thump, allowing conversation to flow freely.

“So, when did you start drumming?” Wanda asks, leaning in a bit, genuinely seeming interested in your answer. You try your best to stay calm as you feel the heat radiate from her body.

“Believe it or not, I started a bit late, around twelve,” you reply, smiling at the memory of your younger self, awkwardly trying to grasp the drumsticks. “But I played the guitar first, picked it up when I was just five.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Wow, so you're a multi-instrumentalist?”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, but can't help the proud grin that creeps onto your face. “Something like that. But I mainly stick to drums in the band.”

She tilts her head, her eyes shining with interest. “Why don't you play the guitar for the band then?”

“Natasha's better than me on the guitar. She's got this incredible flair and finesse. I mean, I'm good, but she's... amazing.”

Wanda nods, absorbing the information, “I've heard her play, she really is. But I'm sure you're just as great.”

You laugh, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Then, taking a sip of your drink, you add, “Playing the guitar actually helps a lot when I'm writing our songs.”

“Wait, you write the songs?”

“Most of them,” you confirm, trying to sound as modest as you can be. “It's a collaborative effort, of course. But yeah, having a knowledge of multiple instruments, especially the guitar, helps lay the foundation for many of our tracks.”

Wanda looks at you, clearly impressed. “That's incredible, Y/N. No wonder your music feels so... personal. It's like you're telling a story with every song.”

“You’ve listened to our songs before?” you ask, mildly surprised.

Wanda nods sheepishly, as if caught harboring a guilty secret. “I might have, a few times... I definitely came here tonight to see you guys perform.”

She then places a hand on your knee, and all at once, your throat feels parched. She scoots closer to you, to speak directly into your ear. “I wish I could see you play the guitar for me.”

You swallow hard. Her suggestion has certainly crossed your mind several times throughout the conversation. “Actually,” you begin, trying to steady your voice, “we keep our instruments in the back of the van. If you're interested, I could... play something for you?”

Wanda pulls back slightly to meet your eyes, looking like she wasn’t expecting you to actually agree to give her a private performance. “Really? Now?”

You nod, then stand and extend your hand to her, grinning. “Ready for a show?”

This isn’t exactly the kind of show you had in mind when you led Wanda to the back of the van. But you’re just twenty seconds into the new song you’ve been working on when she grabs your face with both hands and draws you in for a ferocious kiss. It’s a kiss that you haven’t tasted in a while—completely unrestrained.

You're lucky the drum set hasn't been loaded up yet, and with Bucky's keyboard being used by the current band onstage, there's just the right amount of space. Taking advantage, you push Wanda onto her back without breaking away from the kiss.

You pull away just enough to ask, “Are you sure?” while Wanda starts to slide your jacket down your arms.

Wanda nods impatiently, tracing her tongue along the underside of your chin, clearly enjoying the reaction she provokes.

“Was that a yes?” you prod, sitting up. Wanda sighs, albeit a bit irritably, only because you're suddenly out of her reach, before she collects herself enough to answer, “Yes, Y/N, I'm sure.”

“It's just that... I usually don’t do this,” you confess, looking down in embarrassment.

Your heart is pounding so loudly you're sure Wanda can hear it, especially with the way she's studying you intently. You can feel the heat creep up your neck, coloring your cheeks a deep shade of pink. This isn't typically your scene, and you wonder if she's regretting her decision.

But then, with a move that’s smooth and tender, Wanda slides her fingers under your chin, lifting your head to meet her gaze. Her eyes aren't filled with judgment or mockery, but with genuine understanding and something else you can't quite place.

“I find it... sexy,” she murmurs. “It’s refreshing, actually. Everything about you feels genuine. It's rare to find someone not playing games.”

Your eyes widen a fraction. That wasn't the reaction you'd been expecting.

She smirks a little at your expression, that hint of mischief returning. “Did you think admitting you're a little inexperienced would scare me off? If anything, it makes this even more exciting.”

“I'm not exactly 'inexperienced',” you argue with a bashful smile.

Her voice drops to a whisper, making your breath catch, and she inches just a bit closer. “I'm sure about this, Y/N. The back of a van might not be a romantic scene from a movie, but…” she breathes, and then she makes sure you feel every word she’s going to say next being spoken in your ear. “But right now? I swear, I might just go crazy if you don't touch me.”

Her statement stokes the fire between your legs and acting on the pull you feel, you lean in, hesitating just for a fraction of a second before capturing her lips with yours. Wanda lets out a soft, sultry moan as you deepen the kiss, your tongue boldly seeking entrance. She grants it, and you're immediately intoxicated, not just by the taste of the vodka she's been sipping on, but by Wanda herself. The way she feels, the way she responds—it's all consuming.

She tilts her head, granting you better access, and you take the opportunity to explore every inch of her mouth. The gentle tang of the alcohol is present but overshadowed by her own unique flavor, which is even more intoxicating. You can feel her hands resting on your shoulders, fingers gripping you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

Wanda's breath hitches sharply as you confidently take charge. You yank her shirt off in one quick move, and she's laid bare under the soft street lights. Outside, some party is still in full swing, but in here, it's all about the uninhibited hunger between the two of you.

You slip your fingers to the back of her bra, fumbling just a moment before unhooking it, revealing her. Not wasting any time, you dive in, taking her nipple in your mouth, savoring it. The sensation drives her wild, and she arches her back, pushing herself deeper against you with a throaty moan.

Her fingers grip your hair, guiding and sometimes just pulling when she needs more. Every sound she makes, every pull of her fingers, gets you more revved up. It's intense, it's messy, but it's all too real.

As your hands venture lower, you notice her pupils dilate and her breathing grow uneven.

“You still sure?” you whisper, releasing her nipple with a wet pop. She responds with a desperate whine, pressing her hips closer to yours.

“Use your words, baby girl,” you murmur, nipping at her pulse point.

“Yes, yes, yes…” she answers breathlessly. “Please, Y/N.”

Your fingers playfully glide over her entrance, teasing her, “So wet for me,” you marvel, pressing a firm kiss to her neck. Your fingers dip inside her just slightly, pulling back out to further tease her.

“It's too bad I don't have my strap with me,” you groan, grinding against her thigh, letting her feel how turned on you are. “You'd look so pretty, taking it all.”

Her breathing hitches, “God, I wish you had it too.”

Wanda’s whines intensify, a sweet sound of pure desperation, as you suddenly remove your fingers from her. “Why did you—” she starts to complain, but you silence her with a searing kiss.

“I want to see all of you,” you murmur against her lips. Her skirt is the next target, and you fumble with the zipper, eager to remove the barrier between your hands and her skin. However, as you're about to pull down her underwear, a thought strikes you. Looking around the back of the van, you remember how it's been used for hauling equipment, and the floor isn't exactly pristine.

Thinking quickly, you grab your jacket and lay it out beneath her, ensuring she's on a cleaner surface. “Always got to take care of my girl,” you wink at her, trying to lighten the moment.

“Your girl?” Wanda echoes, her eyes half-lidded, a playful smile curling on her lips.

You realize your slip-up a beat too late, but then, her underwear and skirt are swiftly discarded, and she lies there, beautifully exposed to your hungry gaze.

“You're breathtaking,” you whisper in awe.

She flushes under your gaze. “I could say the same for you,” she murmurs, pulling you closer.

Your eyes roam her body, the soft curves and inviting skin, particularly where she's most sensitive. But you've always been one for asking.

“Can I taste you?” The question leaves your lips, whispered against the skin of her inner thigh, making her shiver.

She responds with a needy, “Yes, please,” and bites her bottom lip, arching her hips slightly, as if laying herself bare for your indulgence.

You don't waste any more time. Shuffling down, you position yourself between her legs, the aromatic scent of her arousal filling your senses. Carefully, you part her folds with your fingers, your tongue darting out to collect the first taste. The first touch of your tongue against her wetness draws a sharp inhale from her, followed by a moan that has your ears burning from how shameless it sounds.

Your tongue swirls around her swollen nub, establishing a pattern that has her thighs clenching around your head. “Fucky, right there,” she groans, her hips thrusting up, eager to meet each glide and flick of your tongue. The wet sounds of your mouth paired with her whimpers urge you to sneak a hand beneath your jeans, seeking relief for your own building tension.

Her hands tighten in your hair, pulling you closer, almost as if she's trying to mold you to her. “More, right there... Oh, god!” she cries out, providing the exact guidance you need.

Amused by her reactions, you intentionally draw out a slurping sound as your tongue dives deeper, making Wanda retreat, but you abandon your own need for release to grab her ass and pull her back to your mouth.

“Y/N, please, please, I’m—”

“You like that, don't you?” you tease, voice husky with lust. “You sound so pretty when you beg.”

She keens, a desperate sound, her fingers tightening their grip on your hair. You're relentless, enjoying every second of her unraveling, and she's close—so close.

“Are you going to come for me, Wanda?” you growl, lost in the intoxicating taste of her, pressing your tongue deeper, seeking out every intimate spot that makes her body jolt and writhe above you. Her voice breaks into a high-pitched cry, “Y/N! I'm—I'm—” and you feel her climax, her entire body shaking with the force of it, her wetness dripping from your chin down to your throat, drenching you in the process.

Wanda's gasps fill the space as she shudders, the aftershocks of her orgasm leaving her body trembling. A wicked grin spreads across your face as you take in the sight of her, completely spent and vulnerable. She squirms beneath your mouth, trying to escape the onslaught of sensations. “Too much,” she pants, her voice hoarse.

Ignoring her plea, you continue your ministrations, lips and tongue working in tandem, driving her to the brink once more. As you feel her tensing up, preparing to escape your relentless assault, you slip two fingers inside her, feeling the tight clench of her around you. The unexpected intrusion steals her breath and the fight from her limbs, her resistance melting under your touch.

“You want more, don't you?” you murmur before your lips find her clit again.

The van is starting to smell like sex. You know you'll have to do something about this later, but for now, you can't bring yourself to care as you take in every detail of the naked girl before you. The pleasure is almost overwhelming for Wanda, teetering on the edge of pain, but she feels another climax building deep inside her.

“Y/N!” she cries, her grip on your hair tightening, her back arching. “I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!”

You don't stop, doubling your efforts, fingers and tongue working in sync, driving her up and beyond any point she's ever known. Suddenly, there's a gush, wetter and warmer than before, surprising you both. You pull back slightly, and she looks down, mortified. Her face turns a deep shade of red, and she tries to squirm out from beneath you.

“I'm so sorry... I—” Wanda stammers, scrambling to hide her face in her hands.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, a smirk forming on your lips. “Wanda, that was... incredibly hot.”

She looks away, still trying to process what just happened. “I didn’t... I've never...”

Sitting up, you gently cup her face, making her look at you. “Hey, it’s alright,” you say softly, trying to reassure her. “Don't be embarrassed. I'm honored that you felt comfortable enough with me to let go completely.”

She gives a shaky laugh, her fingers lightly tracing circles on your chest. “I can't believe you made me do that on the first try.”

“And I’m extremely lucky to be able to,” you say with a chuckle, gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

She blushes for a moment, then says, “I noticed you didn’t... you know. Do you want me to...?”

“Next time,” you promise, pressing a tender kiss on her forehead. “Right now, I need to make sure this van doesn’t end up as evidence of our... activities.” You wink, earning a soft giggle from her.

“Besides, I have to admit, I thoroughly enjoyed watching you fall apart because of me,” you add, mischievously wetting your lips.

She blushes, playfully swatting at your arm. “You're impossible.”

You were the first to step out of the van, offering Wanda a moment of privacy to get dressed. When she finally emerges, she leans on you for support. “I can't feel my legs,” she jokes, struggling a bit. She hands you your jacket which you'd forgotten, helping you slip it on. Immediately, the scent of her hits you, reminding you that she had climaxed twice on that very fabric.

Before you can dwell on the thought, a man approaches Wanda. It’s the same guy from earlier, the one she was arguing with at the bar. You instinctively square your shoulders, ready to step in between them, protectively, but Wanda halts you with a hand on your chest.

“Pietro!” Wanda exclaims, letting out an exasperated sigh as she utters her brother's name. You halt, puzzled.

She knows this guy?

Pietro looks at Wanda, then at you, his eyes narrowing for a moment. “You ready to go, Wanda?” he asks, clearly impatient.

She turns to you, giving you a soft, apologetic smile. “Y/N, this is my brother, Pietro.”

You swallow dryly, offering a somewhat clammy hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Pietro just eyes your hand, perhaps connecting the dots from earlier. Feeling like an idiot, you quickly pull your hand back, subtly rubbing it against your pants. He departs without another word, muttering to Wanda, “I'll be in the car. Don't keep me waiting too long.”

Wanda watches Pietro go, her smile fading a bit. Turning back to you, she takes a deep breath. “Okay, so, about earlier,” she starts, biting her lower lip nervously. “I might have, um... staged that whole fight thing to get your attention. He wasn’t too thrilled about the idea, but he played along.” Her eyes dart to the ground, avoiding your gaze.

You blink, processing her confession. Before you can come up with any coherent response, she giggles at the dumbfounded expression on your face. “I really have to go,” she says.

And then, before you can react, she plants a featherlight kiss on your cheek. The warmth of it lingers on your skin as she steps back, her eyes holding yours for a long, sweet moment.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes glistening under the soft moonlight. “Tonight was... unexpected, but amazing.”

And with that, she turns and hurries off to where Pietro is waiting for her by a parked car. You stand there, feeling the spot on your cheek where her lips touched, watching her until she hops into the car and drives off into the night. It’s only after the car disappears around the bend that you mentally kick yourself for forgetting to ask for her number. With a sigh, you turn back to your van, resigned to cleaning up.

The chill of the night settles in, and when you slip your hands into your jacket pockets, your fingers catch a scrap of paper. It feels out of place, foreign to the usual belongings you stash in there. You pull it out, and to your surprise, it's a receipt. The drinks listed there jog a memory: an alcoholic cocktail offered to you earlier in the night which you politely declined, and the tangy lemonade that followed right after.

Realization dawns on you. Wanda had been orchestrating things all night. You flip the receipt over and your heart skips a beat. Scrawled at the back in a neat, cursive handwriting is her number, accompanied by a simple message: “Call me soon.”

Grinning like a fool, you grab a cloth and some disinfectant from the compartment. Cleaning the back of a van has never felt this satisfying.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #oneshots #wanda maximoff au #yelena belova #kate bishop #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff smut #fic request

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michaelsfavgirl · 3 months

Text

innocence

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: Wanting the best for his angel, Michael takes you to your dream vacation place and makes your first time unforgettable, more special than you could have imagined.

Tags: smut, virginity loss, teasing, dom!michael, sub!reader, fingering, oral (fem receiving), hand job, p in v, creampie, implied age gap, praise kink, bit of spit kink, mike's huge cock (yes, it needs it's own warning).

Word Count: 7.7k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: I won't write a part two to any other one-shot, however, when it comes to this one would you be interested in this becoming a little series where Michael teaches virgin!reader (well not anymore lol) how to ride him, give him a blowie etc.?

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

After a while of lounging on the daybed next to the pool and conversing it gets dark, and your impatience is palpable. You playfully boop Michael's arm, looking up at him with wide, pleading doe eyes. Your eagerness is obvious, but Michael can't resist teasing you a little, acting as if he's oblivious to your earlier conversation.

He blinks innocently, tilting his head in mock confusion. "What's got you so worked up, little one?" he asks, a playful twinkle in his eyes. He knows exactly what you're thinking but can't resist teasing you.

Your cheeks heat up out of a mixture of frustration and anticipation. You lean closer to him. "You know exactly what I'm talking about," you whisper, not wanting to explicitly say what you're yearning for.

Michael's lips curl into a knowing smile. "Do I, now?" he says, his voice velvety and indulgent.

You huff in mock annoyance, your fingers lightly tracing patterns on his arm. "Yes, you do," you reply, your yearning gaze meeting his. "You promised, remember?"

His smile deepens, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "ooh” he says, his tone full of faux realization. "You mean... that promise."

You can't help but giggle, your exasperation melting into a softer expression. You playfully swat his arm. "Don't tease me like that," you chide, your voice a gentle plea.

Before he can say something witty, the rain begins to fall gently. Your playful annoyance is momentarily forgotten as Michael swiftly sweeps you off your feet, cradling you in his strong arms. You let out a surprised squeal, your heart racing as he carries you effortlessly into your bedroom, the floor-to-ceiling windows revealing a breathtaking view of the now gloomy weather.

With careful tenderness, he sets you down on the plush bed. The rain outside has grown more insistent, the rhythmic patter against the window creating a comforting atmosphere. Michael's forehead rests against yours, his warm breath mingling with yours as he looks into your eyes, his gaze sincere and searching.

"Are you sure, baby?" he asks softly, his tone tender and full of concern. "This is a big step, I want you to be absolutely certain."

His willingness to wait and his insistence on your comfort have only solidified your trust in him. You reach up to gently cup his cheeks. "Michael," you say, your voice steady despite the fluttering of your heart, "I've thought about this a lot, and I want it. I want it with you."

A soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips, his eyes softening with emotion. He brings his hand to cover yours on his cheek, a gesture of connection and reassurance. "Thank you, sweet girl. I promise I'll make this special." With a gentle, lingering kiss, Michael seals your agreement, his lips warm against yours.

Moving to sit on the bed, he settles you onto his lap, your bodies fitting together perfectly. Your playful squeal brings a fond smile to his lips. Kissing your neck, his lips brush against your sensitive skin, leaving short sweet kisses all over. In response, your breathy sigh sends a shiver down his spine.

His fingers trail along your hips, fingertips gently tracing the contours of your body. As he nibbles and sucks on your neck, he feels your body respond, your breathing growing more ragged with every kiss.

"Can I give you a little mark, baby?" he whispers against your skin. You look at him with wide, innocent eyes, needily nodding.

He presses his lips to your neck again, this time with a bit more fervor, gently licking and sucking on your neck, leaving a small purple mark behind. Your whimpers are more pronounced now, overwhelmed by new sensations.

As he pulls away, you whine and ask for another one, temporarily losing your shyness. "Another one?" he murmurs, his lips trailing lower along your neck. You whimper softly, your body leaning into his touch as if craving more. With a smirk, he complies, suckling another mark on your delicate skin, his fingers digging slightly into your hips as he does it.

Not feeling satiated enough, you ask for more, wanting to revel in this new feeling that's making you feel aroused. He hesitates for a moment, his arousal evident in the darkening gaze he fixes upon you. "Sweetheart, if I do another one, your neck will be all purple," he warns in an amusing tone.

But your eagerness is apparent as you beg for just one more, using your best puppy dog eyes to win him over. He groans softly, unable to say no to his precious girl.

"Alright," he relents, his voice a husky whisper. "One more, but then we'll have to stop." And so, with a final lingering nibble on your heated skin, he leaves one more hickey on your neck.

Laying you down on the bed gently, he looks into your eyes with a softness that makes you feel tingly. His voice takes on a playful, tender quality as he whispers, "Can I kiss you all over, sweet girl?"

You nod your head and suck in a breath when he bends down slightly and kisses his way from your collarbone to your chest. He presses tender kisses to your soft breasts through the fabric of your bikini. Sliding his warm hands up your body, he cups one of your tender breasts, making you gasp. He smirks at your reaction and moves lower, his lips finding your tummy, pressing wet kisses on your skin while gently fondling your breasts.

He grabs your thighs and boldly spreads your legs. He looks up at you, checking if you're okay with what he's doing. You nod eagerly to urge him to continue. He smiles and presses kisses to the soft skin of your inner thighs, his breath warm against your sensitive flesh. You look up at the ceiling, feeling too shy to make eye contact with him.

As his lips leave a trail of small love marks across your thighs, he teasingly retreats and sits back down on his heels, which brings you out of your trance. Your whine of protest is met with a playful chuckle from him. He gently hushes you, "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm not stopping, I just want you to be absolutely ready."

His fingers trail along your cheek as he continues, "I won't do anything unless you're dripping wet and aching for me. Your pleasure and comfort come first, always." Ugh, he’s so damn perfect it makes you want to scream.

Looking down, he traces the outline of your soaked bikini bottoms with a teasing smirk, feeling the damp fabric cling to your pussy. “Please…” you say breathlessly. He groans under his breath, finding it difficult to resist you. His fingers dance along the edge of the bikini curiously. And then he finally slips his hand underneath, feeling how hot your skin is.

He lets his long fingers graze over your slick folds, feeling how puffy and swollen they've gotten from need. His touch elicits a broken gasp from you. Feeling desires take over, you clench your little hole around nothing, desperately wanting him to slip his fingers into you and make you feel good. The wet squelching sound of your pussy makes his cock twitch in his shorts.

He can see the desperation in your eyes. But he is determined to prolong the delicious torment, to ensure that every moment is etched into your memories.

"Patience, my love," he murmurs against your ear, his voice a low, seductive whisper. You buck your hips, the tingling sensation between your legs making it unbearable to wait any longer.

He slowly removes your bikini top, big, strong hands peeling it off your warm body. You stare at his every movement, mesmerized by how confident he seems. He exposes your tits, and the sight of them makes his breath catch in his throat.

“Gorgeous,” he whispers.

He doesn't give you time to react as he wraps his lips around one nipple, gently sucking while his other hand kneads your other breast. He worships them, his lips and tongue lavishing attention on your sensitive flesh, his fingers and mouth lightly pinching and teasing your nipples until they stand erect. You moan, never having been touched like this.

“Can I?” he asks as he tugs on your bikini bottom.

“Yeah,” that's all you manage to say before laying your head further on the pillow, feeling your cheeks heat up.

He lays down on his stomach and takes off your bottoms. The sight of your wet, puffy pussy makes his heart race. Fuck, you’ve got the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen. He spreads your legs wider, his gaze drawn to how your slippery clit and small hole are visible between your soft folds.

He revels in the scent of your arousal. You feel so vulnerable as his fingers gently spread your swollen folds apart, revealing more of your cunt. Your small, tight entrance seems to beckon him. It’s so small he can barely see it; how is he going to fit his meaty cock in you?

You whimper meekly as he keeps staring at your glossy cunt, your wetness dripping down your slit. Finally sure that you truly want this, he gives your sensitive, untouched clit slow kitten licks, eliciting a sweet moan from you. But as he envelops your clit in his lips, sucking and licking your nub, your sounds become more explicit. Happy that your pussy is getting some much-needed attention.

Michael detaches his lips from your clit and replaces it with his thumb. He circles your virgin hole with his warm tongue, teasing you. You whine from desperation, pushing your hips towards his mouth. He pinches your inner thigh as a warning; he's the one in control, don’t be greedy. He slowly slides his tongue into your tight hole. As your slick touches his taste buds, he groans into your pussy, already addicted to your taste, so sweet and mouthwatering.

Good luck trying to stop him from eating you out every chance he gets, from now on.

His own hunger grows with each taste of you, his tongue becoming bolder as he explores the depths of your wet walls. The sensation of your tight hole squeezing around his tongue drives him wild, along with how your slick covers his lower face.

You whine as he pulls away from you. But before you can complain, he brings two of his fingers to his mouth and sucks on them slowly. His eyes focus on yours as you notice a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, taking in your appearance—half-lidded eyes, lips parted, breathing heavily. He wishes he could freeze this moment.

Taking his now spit-covered fingers, he places them at your entrance. “Gonna ease my way in, baby, okay?” you nod enthusiastically.

Slowly, he pushes his fingers into your tight hole, feeling your walls stretch around them. You whimper as you try to get used to the foreign feeling. “You’re doing so well, little one,” he reassures you, wanting you to feel as comfortable as possible. He starts to steadily pump his fingers into your drooling hole, your essence making everything more slippery. You try to suppress your moans, but the way he so deliciously scissors his long fingers into you for the first time doesn't make it so easy.

A seductive smile graces his lips as he looks up at your blissed-out state, his fingers continuing their relentless rhythm inside you. The lewd, dirty words he keeps whispering seem to fuel your desire. You feel like you might cry from how good it feels already.

After a bit, with your consent of course, he adds a third finger, making your breath hitch and heart beat faster, if that's even possible at this point. And then, he carefully adds a fourth finger, feeling your tightness stretch around him. You try to close your legs from the slight burning sensation, but his other hand keeps them pried open.

“I know it hurts a little, but I need to make sure that you’ll be able to take my cock, okay sweetheart?” he asks in that gentle voice that always makes you melt.

As he keeps sliding his fingers inside you he knows he needs to do something to ease the tension, so he gets closer to your drenched pussy and wraps his lips around your clit once more, sucking on your button while simultaneously stimulating your hole. You keep bucking your hips, trying to chase the high that's so near.

Michael can also tell so he speeds up his movements, wanting nothing more than to see his girl in the throes of pleasure. “Are you close sweetheart?” he muffles against your swollen folds, not wanting to stop his ministrations even for a second. Not even having enough strength to nod, you simply whine and clench around his fingers.

He keeps the pace steady as he watches you throw your head back and shamelessly gush on his fingers, filthy sounds leaving your innocent mouth. You look so angelic, breathing uneven, nipples erect, it takes everything in him not to make you cum immediately again, but he knows you need a minute to catch your breath.

He slowly pulls his fingers out from your quivering entrance, he marvels at the sight of his fingers glistening with your cum. He brings his fingers to his lips, his dark eyes locked onto yours, and he sensually licks your creamy wetness from his fingers, savoring the taste of you.

Your cheeks flush with a deep shade of red, unable to say anything, your innocent gaze meeting his intense one. He can see a mixture of embarrassment and arousal in your eyes. He continues to suck on his fingers, his tongue swirling over the remnants of your wetness.

He slowly withdraws his fingers from his mouth. With a playful glint in his eyes, he kisses your lips tenderly. He can feel your surprise as your own taste meets your lips, and he can't help but chuckle softly at your reaction.

Your cute squeal and the way you pull away only add to his amusement. "Mmm, you taste so good," he murmurs in a husky voice, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. "I could barely bring myself to stop. But I wanted to save some for later." His words are infused with a teasing tone, his lips brushing against yours in a light, affectionate kiss.

Michael tries to kiss you again, but he can feel your shyness as you move your head, avoiding his attempt. Your innocence is endearing to him, and he understands your hesitations. But he also knows that a little teasing could go a long way in pushing your boundaries.

As he slides his fingers back into your tightness, your gasp of surprise only fuels his desire. He thrusts his fingers gently a few times, watching your reaction closely. Then, as he withdraws them and presents them to your lips, he can't help but let out a low groan at the sight of your blushing.

"Come on, little one," he teases, his voice low and husky. "I promise it's not as naughty as you think. Just a little taste," he adds with a smirk, "Or I might just have to be a little greedy and have it all for myself."

He watches as your blush deepens, your gaze meeting his. When you slightly open your mouth, he slides his fingers in, his own breath catching at the sight of your lips wrapping around his fingers. The sensation of you sucking on his fingers sends a jolt of desire through him, and he can't help but let out a soft moan.

"Good girl," he praises gently, his fingers moving in your mouth with a controlled rhythm. "You're a fast learner, aren't you? Sucking so eagerly..." His words are laden with innuendo. He continues the teasing motion for a moment longer before finally withdrawing his fingers, a satisfied grin on his lips.

Straightening up, he positions himself between your legs, his hands resting on your thighs as he watches your reactions closely. All this makes you feel needy again, and he can see the frustration building up within you as you impatiently buck your hips against nothing, your desire evident in your every movement.

He can't resist teasing you, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "What is it that you want, sweet girl?" he asks, his voice velvety. "Tell me."

“Need you,” you mewl quietly.

“Need what, baby?” he taunts. He wants you to say it.

“Need…need your cock,” you whisper, your shyness coming back.

"You need my cock, hmm?" he murmurs, satisfied with your answer.

His hands trail up your inner thighs, fingers gently grazing over your soft skin before kneading the warm flesh. He has been thoroughly enjoying the time he’s spent teasing you, watching you squirm and whimper under his touch. As he continues, he can't help but notice how your slick is creating a damp spot on the sheets beneath you.

Seeing your eagerness, he decides to give you a small taste of what you crave. He smirks down at you, his fingers momentarily stilling their movements. "You want to see it, don't you?" he teases, his voice low and seductive. "My cock?"

Oh my... this is actually happening to you.

He chuckles softly. "My angel…," he purrs, his tone carrying a mixture of pride and anticipation. "You're about to have all your fantasies come true, my innocent little one." Your newly stretched hole drools at his words, a clear indication of just how worked up you're becoming.

"But remember, baby," he adds, his voice a husky whisper, "I'm going to take my time with you. I want to make sure you're absolutely ready for me." He can feel his own excitement building, his cock straining against his shorts as he imagines finally giving you what you crave.

Without wasting more time, he teasingly removes his swim trunks and settles himself between your thighs. Your eyes widen as your gaze falls upon his impressive cock, a mixture of curiosity painting your features. He can't help but notice the way your breath hitches.

His hard cock is proudly on display, its size and girth intimidating you. He watches as your eyes travel along its length, taking in every detail. He smirks as he sees your glossy pussy clench, your body instinctively reacting to the sight before you. It’s so thick that it can’t fully straighten. A thin layer of foreskin partially covers his wet tip, which is leaking pre-cum. A few noticeable veins here and there. His round, juicy balls hang beneath, looking heavy and suckable.

He's huge, and when I say huge, I mean it. At least 9 inches and extremely fat.

"First time seeing a cock, huh?" he muses, a hint of smugness in his tone. You look up at him, jaw on the floor. You had suspicions that he was above average, but this is not what you expected. Not that you're complaining though.

He can't resist pushing the teasing further, seeing how your innocent eyes widen as he pulls back his foreskin, exposing the sensitive head of his cock. His fingers move lazily, a slow and deliberate pumping motion that causes his thick shaft to throb, more of his pre-cum dripping out.

As a droplet of his precum glistens on the tip of his cock, he lets it fall, landing directly onto your puffy clit. Your gasp inflates his ego. He grins mischievously, his voice dripping with playful arrogance, "Enjoying the view, sweetheart?"

He leans in closer seductively, "Your little hole is so small, I can barely see it. But don't worry, my big cock is going to stretch you out and fill you up completely." He punctuates his words with another slow pump of his cock, making sure you can see every inch of him.

With a final teasing tug at his shaft, he releases his cock and shifts his position, bringing himself closer to you. His eyes lock onto your blushing face as he poses the question, "Do you want to touch it, baby?" His voice is low. Licking your lips hungrily, you say yes.

Gently, he guides you, lifting you and placing you on your knees before him on the bed. He positions himself in front of you, his lengthy cock proudly erect. Taking your delicate hand in his, he guides it towards his pulsing dick, his fingers gently curling your smaller ones around the base.

Your fingers barely make it halfway around his girth. Feeling anxious from all the new sensations, you mutter to yourself. “It’s heavy,” he manages to hear you and grunts. "Mmm, that's because it's so big, sweet girl," he replies, his voice laced with need.

Encouragingly, he whispers, "Now, give it a little squeeze." His other hand slides around your waist, pulling you closer. Your hesitant touch only fuels his arousal, your inexperience driving him wild. You can feel more of your slick pooling between your folds.

But he doesn't want you to feel overwhelmed. Gently, he places his larger hand over yours, guiding your movements, showing you how to stroke his thick length. "That's it, baby," he murmurs, his breath hitching as your fingers move along his cock.

“Spit on it.”

He sees you hesitate as he requests you to spit on him, sensing your shyness. You bite your lip, your face flushed with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment. As your grip on his cock loosens, he offers you gentle encouragement, his voice soft and coaxing. "You can do it, little one. Just a little bit, make it messy."

As you collect your saliva, you do as he says, but unfortunately, your saliva ends up on your fingers rather than his cock. He senses your embarrassment, and your teary eyes tug at his heartstrings.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," he whispers tenderly, his fingers gently wiping away your tears. "You're doing just fine, baby. Remember, you're new to this," He plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

He cups your cheeks, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "I'm not upset, okay? You're doing amazing, and I'm so proud of you." His thumbs brush away your remaining tears before he gently urges you to try again.

When your spit finally lands on his cockhead, his groan of approval is deeply gratifying. He praises you with a delighted chuckle, his hand squeezing your body affectionately. "That's my girl. Good job, baby. Now, spread that delicious spit all around for me."

As you follow his guidance, your strokes create wet, naughty sounds. Your bashful reaction, hiding your face in his chest, only makes his cock harder. He holds you close, your bodies pressed together firmly, and whispers words of admiration into your ear. "That's it, sweetheart, keep stroking. Show me how good you can make me feel." His words are soothing, easing your nerves as he guides you through the sensual act.

After a bit your hand grows tired from the prolonged play. He can't help but find your whimpering adorable. "Aw, my sweetheart, is your hand tired?" he coos, his eyes twinkling with affection. "Don't worry, we've had enough of playing with my cock for now."

He lays you down gently on the bed, settling between your spread legs, his eyes locked onto your drenched pussy. The sight of your glistening folds drives him wild.

Teasing you, he traces a finger close to your cunt, just barely grazing your swollen clit. Your hips instinctively buck, and you let out a desperate whine. "You've been such a good girl, waiting so patiently. I think you've earned your reward, don't you?"

His fingers lightly trace patterns on your inner thigh, skirting oh so close to your glossy center. "Tell me, baby, do you want me to finally take you? Do you want to feel my cock stretch your little pussy?" He asks seductively. You nod your head eagerly and stare hungrily at his stiff cock.

He spreads your legs even farther apart, anticipation building within you. He presses the tip of his heavy, thick cock against your tiny hole, feeling your slick coating his sensitive head. His fingers dig into your soft hips as he attempts to push himself into your virgin pussy, the tightness and resistance driving him wild.

You whine from the pressure of him trying to slip his dick into you. Grabbing onto the sheets, you shut your eyes, preparing yourself for the burning sensation. He struggles to fit his tip inside you, and you can see his brows furrowed in concentration, which makes your cheeks heat up from embarrassment, but if you only knew how much your inexperience is turning him on.

"You're so damn tight, little one. I can barely even get the tip in."

He grunts from the resistance, finding it more difficult to ease his cockhead in than he anticipated. But with a quick warm smile thrown your way, he finally manages to push the tip in, spreading your pussy lips around his bulbous tip. You gasp, your breathing picking up as you try not to look him in the eyes.

"Look at you," he purrs, his hand cupping your face to make you face him, his eyes locked onto yours. "So untouched... It's almost too much for my cock to handle." he feels his pre-cum oozing out of him in large globs. Your warm gummy walls enveloping him so nicely.

He pulls out slightly, giving you a chance to breathe, then slowly slides his back in. He continues this slow, teasing rhythm, only pushing in the tip and then completely pulling out to watch your hole close. He maintains the slow, tantalizing pace, his gaze locked onto yours as he rocks a bit further with each shallow thrust, savoring the sensation of your warmth squeezing him so good.

He continues to try and slide more of his meaty cock inside your slippery pussy, the tightness and resistance making his eyes flutter and roll back. He is careful not to hurt you though. As he persists, you whine, a mixture of discomfort and the beginnings of pleasure finding you. Your innocence and vulnerability tug at his heartstrings, and he pauses, looking into your eyes with genuine concern.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he asks softly, his voice filled with tenderness.

Tears well up in your eyes as you nod, your voice trembling as you speak, "I-I'm okay, just... it's a little painful."

He can't bear to see you in pain, so he leans down and gently kisses your lips, his hand reaching to softly caress your cheeks.

"I've got you," he murmurs against your lips. "I'll make it as gentle as possible."

With a reassuring smile, he intertwines his fingers with yours, your hands clasping tightly. He resumes his slow and careful movements, gradually inching his lengthy cock deeper into your slick walls. You squeeze his hand tightly.

As more of him slips inside you, he leans down to capture your lips in a soft kiss, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before slipping inside your mouth. He wants to distract you from the discomfort, to show you that he is there for you every step of the way.

He pauses, his thick cock buried about halfway in. He leans down and captures your lips in a tender kiss, his hips gently rolling to maintain the connection between you. He can feel your tightness around his cock, and it takes every ounce of his self-control not to fuck you senseless.

As he stares at where you’re connected he groans from the sights, your folds stretched wide around his thick shaft, your milky essence smeared all over his cock. He can't help but marvel at the sensation of your pulsing walls. Your tightness is almost overwhelming, and he can see a mix of pleasure and discomfort on your face.

He leans down and kisses you softly, his hips making slow, shallow movements to let you adjust to his size. "I know, sweetheart, I know,” he murmurs against your lips, whispering sweet reassurances and dirty encouragement in your ear.

He continues to push himself into you, little by little, until he finally bottoms out with a deep groan. You moan as you watch him close his eyes, his curls hovering over your face. Your cunt is stretched to its limits by his thick, girthy cock.

He relishes in the sight of you, your delicate flesh tightly hugging his dark shaft, your innocence now forever claimed by him.

As he begins to move within you, his hips rocking back and forth, he presses his coily pubic hair against your puffy clit, earning a gasp and a shiver from you. His round, juicy balls press against your ass cheeks, making you squirm.

You bury your face in his chest, your moans muffled against his skin as he continues to pump his cock inside you. You feel like your body is on fire, overwhelmed from the pleasure of finally being claimed by Michael.

He kisses the top of your head, his voice a soothing murmur. "You're doing so well, my love. Just relax and let me take care of you."

For a split second he pulls out, which makes you pout. He teasingly slaps his heavy cock against your swollen clit, the sensation making you gasp.

"Such a sensitive little clit," he chuckles, his voice laced with desire.

Not wanting to have you start whining, he thrusts back into you, groaning at the way your wetness coats his shaft and makes it glisten and drip down his heavy balls.

He picks up the pace slightly, a hunger evident in his movements. As your body moves along with his,your legs wrapped around his hips, he can't resist reaching for your soft skin, his fingers sinking into the supple flesh.

"God, you're so beautiful," he groans, his eyes locked onto the way your body moves under his touch. You blush.

You whimper, your voice laced with shyness. "Michael..."

He coaxes you gently, his breath hot against your ear. "That's it, baby. Let me hear you. I want to hear how good I make you feel."

Feeling more confident you let loose a little, not suppressing your noises. Moaning and calling his name next to his ear. Telling him you’re all his.

"Yes, that's it," he purrs, his thrusts becoming more urgent.

You gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your voice grows more desperate. "F-feels so good, please…" the sound of skin slapping overwhelming your senses.

"You're mine, and I'm here to worship you, to give you everything you've ever wanted."

His words are like a spell, casting you deeper into a world of pleasure and submission. Your heart races, your body arching to meet his every thrust. You can feel his desire coursing through his veins, his need to please you, to make you feel like a princess.

"You own me, sweetheart," he continues, his voice husky. "You can have anything you want, anything you desire. Just tell me, and I'll make it happen. You're in control now, and I'm at your mercy."

Oh. my. Fucking. god.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes almost pop out of their sockets from his words. His promises, the way his cock so deliciously rolls inside your slick pussy, it's all just so overwhelming. You meet his gaze, your eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and longing.

"I want to make you feel like royalty, baby," he murmurs, his rhythm never faltering. "You deserve nothing but the best, and I'm going to give it to you. Every touch, every kiss, every inch of my cock inside you—it's all for you."

You dig your nails onto his shoulders, unable to say something back as pleasure takes over you. His words are a declaration of his devotion, and you can't help but surrender to the offer, always having wanted to be spoiled. You feel a sense of completeness you had never known before. You're his, and he's yours.

He continues to pump his fat cock into you, your squelching hole adding to the intensity. But greed is tugging at your heartstrings, and you can't help but let out whimpers of frustration. He senses your restlessness, but he's determined to be cautious and gentle with you.

"Please," you whimper, your voice tinged with need and desperation. "I want all of you."

He sighs, knowing where this conversation is headed. "Baby, I've told you, you need to be patient," he scolds gently.

You pout, your lower lip jutting out in a stubborn manner. "But I want it all, Michael. I can take it, I promise."

He raises an eyebrow, his tone firm. "You're not listening, little one. You can't rush this."

You let out a whine that tugs at his nerves, but he holds his ground. "It's gonna take time, a few weeks maybe, for you to fully take my cock." Yep, he’s that huge.

Your whining only intensifies, your frustration and desperation evident. "I don't want to wait weeks. I want it now."

He leans in closer, his voice taking on a dominant edge. "Listen to me, sweetheart. Taking all of my cock right now is unrealistic for your first time. You need to relax and let your body adjust."

You huff, untangling your legs from his hips. "You're being mean," you mutter.

He chuckles softly, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. "I'm not being mean, baby. I'm being honest and realistic."

"But- but… ugh," you whine again.

He smirks, "You're such a spoiled, greedy girl, aren't you?"

Your cheeks flush, but you don't back down. "Yes, and?" you retort.

With a sigh, he gives in slightly, sliding a little more of his length inside you. You gasp, your body trembling as you adjust to the stretch.

He decides it's time to remind you of your place, to show you who's in control. In one swift motion, he plunges himself fully into you, all nine inches filling you to the brim.

You gasp, mouth agape, your back arching as a mixture of pleasure and discomfort washes over you. He holds still, allowing you to adjust to the sensation, his dark eyes fixed on your face.

"See, baby?" he whispers, his voice low and commanding. "I knew you couldn't handle it."

You grit your teeth, determined to prove him wrong. "I can, I can take it." Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.

Rolling his eyes, he begins to thrust slowly. But after a few moments, he can see the pain in your eyes, the way your brows furrow and your lips tremble.

Without a word, he withdraws slightly, going back to sliding only half of his cock. He keeps his pace steady, his grip on your hips tight as he continues to move inside you.

"You need to be honest with me, sweetheart," he scolds gently, his voice a mixture of concern and authority. "I can tell when something's wrong. Don't push yourself too hard."

You nod, your stubborn facade finally giving way to the truth. "It hurts a little, but I want to take all of it."

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers in a low, dominant tone, "Well, you're not gonna get it all right now. And you know what? My cock isn't going anywhere. You'll have plenty of time to take every inch, little by little."

You let out a frustrated groan, your head falling back against the pillows. "You're so frustrating."

He chuckles again, his hand caressing your cheek. "I know, baby. But it's for your own good."

You sigh, your head resting comfortably on the pillow. "Okay, fine. I'll try to be patient."

"That's my girl," he says, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "Now, let's focus on making you feel good, okay?"

Your pout slowly turns into a small smile as he resumes his gentle thrusts, his dominant teasing having its desired effect. As he grinds his hips against yours, he makes sure to keep a close eye on your reactions, determined to ensure your pleasure and comfort.

He can't help but be captivated by you. Your body glistening with a layer of sweat, your pussy coated in your shared creamy wetness. He groans at the erotic sight. His stiff cock slides effortlessly into your slick folds.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he leans down and spits right onto your swollen clit, the wetness mixing with your juices and sliding down your folds. He repeats the action a few times, each drop of saliva making you gasp and your pussy clench around him.

"Such a dirty girl," he teases, his voice thick with desire. "You love how messy and wet it gets, don't you?"

You let out an embarrassed moan, your cheeks flushing as you try to deny it. "N-No, I don't..." You bite your lip, your breath hitching as you struggle to form a coherent response. "I... I just... It's..."

He nips at your earlobe, his voice a seductive purr. "Say it. Admit how much you love it."

Your voice comes out in a soft whimper, barely audible. "I... I love it."

He groans in response, the confirmation driving him wild. "That's it, baby. Doing so good for me."

You moan softly as his movements intensify, your fingers clutching the sheets beneath you. "Michael..."

He nuzzles against your neck, his lips brushing your heated skin. "Let go, my precious. Feel it all."

Michael's thrusts take on a more deliberate rhythm, his lengthy, thick cock filling your tiny virgin pussy with each deep thrust. His fingers rub your pulsing pearl swiftly, and you shut your eyes from how good it feels, your lips swollen from how much you've bitten down on them.

"There you go," he teases. "You love it, don't you? You love how my big cock fits perfectly in your needy hole."

Yes, you want to scream but the overwhelming pleasure stops you from it. Poor thing, you just want to say how much you like it, but your fuzzy state clouds your mind. How cute.

As you lose yourself to the euphoria, your moans become more uninhibited, louder, shameless. His own groans of pleasure resonate in the room. He knows you're getting close, so he rewards you by pushing his cock deeper into your tight warmth.

The sensation is almost overbearing for you, and your voice wavers between a gasp and a moan. You're so fucking close. Your heart races, and your breathing grows erratic, a single tear escaping and rolling down your flushed cheek. Noticing, he brings his face closer to yours and kisses it away, tasting the salty liquid on his tongue.

With his lips at your ear, he urges you on, his tone commanding and endearing. "Can feel you squeezing me, little one, c’mon, make a mess on my cock." His words drive you wild.

And then it happens. Your body trembles, and your legs shake. Your grip on him tightens, nails digging into his flesh, definitely leaving a mark. Your moans turn into cries. He watches the orgasm wash over you, your head thrown back with your mouth hanging open. Beautiful is the only word on his mind.

He feels you clench around him, the pulsating grip of your virgin pussy against his cock driving him wild. So fucking tight. He lets you ride out your sweet release, continuing to grind gently into you, prolonging your pleasure.

As the waves of your climax slowly subside, he holds you close, your erect nipples pressed against his toned front as you tremble in his arms. His lips press to your temple in a tender kiss. He whispers soothing words, guiding you through this new experience.

"Shh, my sweet girl," he coos, his voice grounding you. "You're doing so well. Just let it all out. I've got you."

Your cries gradually transform into shuddering breaths, and he can feel the rapid beat of your heart against his chest. He stops his movements.

As your trembling subsides, he tenderly kisses your lips, lips pressed against each others for a bit as if to reassure you. "You did amazing, sweetheart," he whispers with a soft smile on his face.

He shifts slightly, his big hands finding your flushed face. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with genuine warmth. "You know, most girls wouldn't have been able to handle what you just went through. But you... you're something special." You feel so warm on the inside, knowing you made the right choice to give yourself to him.

He cups your cheeks, his thumb brushing against your skin in a soothing gesture. "I'm so proud of you," he continues, his voice low and comforting. You whimper softly as he still holds you in his protective arms.

"Now, it's time for me to fill you up completely. I'm going to give you all of me, just like you've given yourself to me."

He resumes pumping his girthy cock into your slippery walls. You whimper as you’ve become a little sensitive from your orgasm. The edge of his climax overwhelms his senses. He hides his face in the crook of your neck, leaving little pecks all over.

"I love you," he murmurs, the feeling of the burning sensation in his lower stomach making him stumble over words as he bares his heart to you. "You're my princess, my everything. I was made for you, to satisfy every craving, to fulfill every desire." Your eyes widen, not expecting him to get so vulnerable. But you can’t deny the butterflies in your own tummy.

Whimpering, his thrusts become more urgent, his control slipping as his climax approaches. His muscles flex as he chases his high, now his hands digging into your hips. You gently kiss his cheek as encouragement, not knowing what else to do as you’re new to the realm of intimacy. This brings him over the edge, and with a guttural moan, he releases himself inside your drooling cunt. His hot, creamy cum spills from his sensitive tip, filling you up completely. He feels his shaft pulse as he keeps leaking more and more of his sticky seed into your little hole. You pant from the new feeling of his warm essence coating your walls.

After a few seconds, he breathes out and stares at where you two are connected. He pulls out carefully. Cursing under his breath, his eyes fixated on the sight before him, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as he watches his cum leak out of your stretched hole, down your asshole, and onto the sheets. He feels a surge of possessiveness, knowing that he had left his mark on you in the most intimate way possible.

Still breathing heavily, he leans down to connect his lips to yours. "You're mine now," he whispers against your face. "And I'm yours. Forever." Your eyes lock with his, and you can see

nothing besides honesty and adoration on his face which makes you feel loved and cherished in a way you’ve never experienced before.

Gently, he scoops you up in his arms, your form fitting perfectly against his sturdy frame. He carefully carries you to the bathroom to clean you up before laying back down onto the bed again. His movements are careful and tender, like he's holding something fragile. As he lays you down, he can't help but notice the fatigue in your eyes.

He settles beside you, his body enveloping yours. His arms wrap around you, and he pulls you close. It's as if your bodies are meant to fit together like a puzzle.

He looks into your eyes, concern etched on his face. "Do your legs feel achy?” he asks softly, his voice a gentle rumble. God, he’s so perfect. Of course, he cares about your legs aching after being spread open for so long. His warm palm travels south as he cups your pussy in his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Is it achy here too?” he grins.

You gasp and shake your head slightly, too drained to put your thoughts into words. Your eyelids are heavy, your body feeling sated after the intense experience you've shared. “Aw, my poor baby,” he leans down and kisses you on the forehead.

He holds you even closer to his chest, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "Rest, my princess," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead. "You've had quite the night."

You manage a soft smile, your eyelashes fluttering as you fight against sleep. Your voice, barely above a whisper, reaches his ears. "Thank you... for making it special."

His heart swells at your words, the sincerity in your voice touching him deeply. "No, thank you," he whispers back. "Thank you for trusting me."

As you drift into slumber, nestled in his arms, he can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. The moonlight filtering through the window casts a gentle glow over your peaceful features, emphasizing the innocence and vulnerability that had captivated him from the start.

Gently caressing your cheek, the weight of his actions settles on him - he has taken your virginity, and he has done so with care and consideration. He wanted this to be a beautiful memory for you, something you will always cherish, and that's exactly what he did.

Leaning down, he places a soft kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest as you sleep, your breaths even. It's a sight that fills him with a protective urge. Carefully, he adjusts the covers around you, ensuring you are comfortable. He knows that he holds your heart in his hands, and he intends to cherish it.

With a final caress, he whispers softly in your ear, "Sleep well, little one, I love you.”

In this quiet moment, he holds you with a possessive tenderness that speaks of his unyielding commitment. He is yours, body and soul, determined to be the best lover for you. And as you both rest in each other's arms, he knows he is exactly where he wants to be - with you, forever.

#kate's writing #smut #michael jackson #michael jackson x reader #michael jackson x fem!reader #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #michael jackson imagine

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darling-archeron · 3 months

Text

Departing from the town center, Feyre led Rhys out the other side of town. They didn’t run into anyone else on the quiet country road. She hadn’t walked this path in years, but the lay of the land came back to her as they made their way along.

If they followed this road for long enough, eventually they could make their way to her family’s old cottage, and the memories buried deep there. A feeling she couldn’t name – shame, sorrow, anger, maybe – rolled around in her stomach at the thought of returning to that dark, decrepit place.

She was mentally trying to map out who else lived on this side of the village, and they were just cresting the ridge when it came to her.

Isaac Hale’s farm was out this way, as was the broken-down barn they had used as a meeting place for their…couplings.

She could see that barn now – or rather, what was left of it. The roof had caved in, taking one of the sides with it, making for a half-standing pile of rubble.

She inhaled sharply as she beheld the Hale farm, less than half a mile down the road. And it appeared that this was one of the homes in need of help with repairs if the small group of men working on pounding in fence posts was any indication.

“Everything alright?” Rhys asked, having noticed her stiffen.

She nodded, fighting the slight blush that wanted to rise in her cheeks.

Feyre felt no shame in being with Isaac. It had been before she had met Rhys or even Tamlin, and he meant nothing to her now, anyway. The mediocre sex provided distraction and a few moments of warmth in their cold world – that was all. It had been a long time since she had thought of Isaac and the hours they had spent together. But still, something about it felt a bit awkward. Especially when she knew the mating bond could chafe on Rhys hard.

The group of humans noticed Feyre and Rhys long before they got close, stopping one by one to watch them. Feyre supposed that even in the simpler clothes and with their powers masked, there was no denying they weren’t human.

She wasn’t sure how they would be received. Like many in our village, Isaac had worn an iron cuff that he believed would ward off faeries. She didn’t blame him – she would have done the same, had there been the money. But had his feelings changed?

“Who are you?” a man – one of Isaac’s uncles, maybe? – called out as they approached.

“We come to help,” Feyre called out, showing her empty hands, devoid of any physical weapons. There wasn’t much she could do to show she had no intent of using her magic to harm. “We heard there were repairs to be done yet in the human lands, and traveled from the Night Court to help wherever we can.”

She didn’t slow her pace at all, they hadn’t been walking particularly fast.

“Why now? And why did they send your court?” She didn’t miss the hint of disdain in his voice.

“We have been preoccupied with taking care of our people. And though the courts have an alliance, nobody sent us. We came of our own accord.”

She and Rhys were nearing the end of the worn path now, and she scanned the line of faces before her, expressions ranging from frightened to hateful. There was the man she thought was Isaac’s uncle, his two younger brothers, a girl no older than fourteen who she vaguely recalled as his sister, and – there, on the end, Isaac himself.

He hadn’t changed much since she had seen him last. His hair was less shaggy, and he had a beard now, but he was still lean from the hard season, with the same cautious brown eyes she remembered.

He frowned, squinting. “Are you…Feyre?”

“That’s right,” she said. “Hello, Isaac.”

Surprise sparked from Rhys.

“Is that who I think it is?”

“Yes,” she responded, not having the time to say anything else, because one of his younger brothers scoffed, breaking her train of thought. Micah, she remembered. That was his name. As he shifted, she caught a glimpse of the dagger at his side. Ash.

Not a weapon she would have expected to see on a farm boy, but perhaps all bets were off now that the wall came down. She felt a pulse of magic from Rhys. He had seen the same thing she had and was putting a shield around them. They could never be too careful.

“Feyre? Don’t be delusional, Isaac. This is probably some sort of skinwalker, twisting the memory of the girl you used to know.” Unlike the caution that had coated his Uncle’s voice, she recognized Micah’s tone for what it was. Pure hatred, the depth of it startling her.

Is that what they were thinking now? When Graysen found out Elain and her sisters had become fae, she assumed the truth had spread to the rest of the village, but clearly not. It was always rumors and nonsense around here.

“And why would the Night Court only send two people if they wished to help?” Isaac’s uncle chimed in again.

At her side, Rhys finally spoke. “Because we didn’t think you’d react kindly to a unit of soldiers in your village. And because you’ll find that the High Lady of the Night Court is perfectly capable of providing plenty of aid, all on her own.”

They all paled.

“I had heard the rumors,” Isaac said quietly, “but I didn’t know if they were true.”

“I swear to you that I am Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court. This is Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court.”

“Rhysand?” he said into her mind, determined to ease the tension. “You wound me.”

“You know you’ll always be Rhys to me,” she said affectionately. “But I don’t think they need or deserve to know you as Rhys right now.

“I worked, along with my sisters and the rest of the Night Court, to bring aid and shelter to the human lands during the War. If we meant you harm, you must realize we would have picked a time before now.” She paused, watching her words sink in. “So I ask, where can we help?”

The humans paused, all deferring to Isaac for an answer.

“You can’t be considering this,” Micah hissed.

Isaac held up a hand, warning in his furrowed gaze. “Enough, Micah. It will take us days to do this work all on our own. And we know Feyre. If she’s willing to help, I’m happy to accept.”

He turned to the barely-begun fence line, a few poles pounded in the ground, and Feyre could see sticks sticking out of the ground where the next posts were meant to go.

“We mean to finish splitting wood today and let it dry the rest of the way before we started pounding posts, but…maybe you could help with that part?”

Feyre nodded, letting her magic dance at her fingertips. She could use her Summer Court magic to draw any water out of the wood.

There was a hefty pile of logs off to the side, undoubtedly waiting to be split for the rough post-and-rail fence.

“I can help with the wood splitting,” Rhys added.

“Rhys, you’ll scare the shit out of them if you use your shadows to cut through all of those logs at once,” she warned.

“Would it help if I didn’t do them all at once?” Rhys responded drily.

“I think you know the answer,” she retorted.

It seemed that was that. Isaac was quick to delegate tasks, assigning Rhys and his uncle to split wood, even though it quickly proved that Rhys didn’t need any help.

It did take Feyre a bit more concentration to draw the moisture out of the wood from the rain a few days prior. She stood in front of a pile of freshly split logs, watching the moisture bead in front of her, when she heard footsteps cautiously approaching.

“I’m happy for you, Feyre,” Isaac said as he approached her. “You look different from the last time I saw you. More content.”

“I am. I don’t think either of us could have predicted how things would unravel, for either of our peoples.”

She took her eyes off the project, looking up at him.

He was quiet for a long moment. “Do you still consider humans your people?”

The answer that was the truest – that her heart was still painfully, breakably human, that many of her memories were all-to-human bared far more of herself than she felt like doing to Isaac Hale. Not to mention his nosy relatives who were undoubtedly straining to hear their exchange.

She settled for part of the truth. “Faerie, human, it doesn’t matter. We should all take care of each other when we can, I think.”

Isaac’s eyes widened with surprise.

“What?” Feyre asked, bemused, though she didn’t look up from her work this time.

“It’s just that woman I knew - didn’t think like that, I don’t think.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were that observant.”

He shrugged.

“How is the village?” Feyre asked eventually, figuring Isaac was more likely to give her an honest answer than anyone else. “It seemed quiet when we came in.”

“Half the town took all of their savings and fled to the continent. My family has spent two years working odd jobs and doing what we can to get to where we were before all of this. Besides, we lost a lot of people during a consumption outbreak last winter. Including my father.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied honestly. Tyler Hale had been a good, fair man.

“Consumption?” Micah spat from down the line. “Are you seriously lying to spare her feelings?”

Feyre bristled, feeling Rhys’s confusion and indignation alongside her own. “Excuse me?”

Instinctually, she reached for Isaac’s mind, cutting through his nonexistent shields as easily as soft butter. His thoughts swam by her quickly, like fish in a pond, but a quick scan of them told her he didn’t mean any harm.

Isaac ground his teeth. “We did lose many people, but not to consumption. To a beast.”

That was enough to make Feyre suspicious. “Go on.”

“It stalked around the outskirts of town. A great big thing that looked like it had been made from the wood itself, its fur was like branches and teeth like sharp pine needles. But most of the people who got close enough to see it didn’t live to tell the tale. Including my father. And Anya, Micah’s betrothed.”

“Is it still prowling?”

He shook his head. “No. A group of us managed to hunt it down and kill it with ash arrows after many months.”

“Do you think Tamlin’s control is still slipping?” she asked Rhys down the bond.

“It wouldn’t surprise me. It certainly sounds like one of his beasts.”

She grimaced. Each time she heard about how the Spring Court was falling apart, she couldn’t help but feel it was her fault. She had brought Tamlin down, and he had deserved it, that vengeful part of her still whispered, but perhaps – perhaps she had gone too far.

“I’m so sorry for all of your losses,” she said, pausing her work and turning to meet the gazes of Micah and Isaac – the only two in earshot - where she could. Once, she had lived in fear of something similar happening to her family. “It doesn’t justify it by any means, but things in the Sprint Court, the court nearest here, have been a bit volatile lately. I swear that we will look into this. It shouldn’t be happening.”

Guilt churned around and around in her stomach.

Neither of the men said anything, Micah’s mouth in a thin line and his hand resting against the hilt of that knife.

“Watch what you do with that knife,” Rhys said, that protective nature of his sparking up.

Micah scoffed. “As if you truly think I could harm you.”

“My wife killed a faerie with a single ash arrow when she was still human.”

The man seethed. “Well, that’s lucky for you. My fiancée couldn’t. She thought she was safe from the faeries, with the new peace accords.”

“I’m sorry,” Feyre breathed again.

Micah didn’t seem to hear her. “She was beautiful. And kind. Our world couldn’t take that from her. She was generous to everyone she came across – she was traveling by herself to bring a pie to one of the old widows on the other side of town. That’s when the beast got her. And she never came home.” Vitriol coated his every word, and Feyre at last understood the depth of where his hatred came from. “So forgive me for now bowing and scraping at your attempts to make amends.”

Feyre bit back the urge to defend herself, insist that she had no part in this – but hadn’t she?

A world divided cannot thrive, she had once thought, in those initial days after the War. But when things like this still happened, when the humans were left defenseless…what good was any of it?

She felt Rhys brush up against her mental shield, comforting and reassuring.

“Was it a mistake to come here?” she asked down the bond, well aware that she was still standing wordless before the Hales.

“You came here to help where you can. Do you want Tamlin’s inaction to reflect what you do?”

“Maybe it’s my actions that are responsible for all of this.”

“Feyre,” Rhys said, voice firm. “We’ve talked about this.”

“But I can’t let it go,” she replied, frustrated.

“Either way, you can’t change what’s already done.”

As usual, her mate just had to be right. She ground her teeth together. Maybe she had been wicked and horrible, maybe this was all her fault. But the least she could do was help build this fucking fence.

“I truly am sorry for everything you have suffered. I’m trying to change things, and I know that won’t happen overnight. But the least I can do is help you fix this one thing,” Feyre said firmly.

This time, Isaac seemed to be waiting for his brother’s response.

Micah nodded his silent, stony agreement.

While Rhys had split wood and Feyre had dried it, the Hales had finished digging holes for posts. Neither of them had any experience with fence building, so it took some time to get accustomed to the actions. With a bit of practice, soon it was quick work for Feyre and Rhys to use their magic to pound them in and attach the crossbeams.

Feyre hadn’t planned to rely so heavily on magic. It felt good, sometimes, to do things by hand, but in this situation, it had felt necessary.

“I think we should keep moving,” Feyre said to Isaac as they stood before the final product. The rest of his family, looking warily at Feyre and Rhysand, had gone into the barn to do noontime chores, leaving her, Rhys, and Isaac alone.

Isaac nodded. “We appreciate the help. I’m sorry about my brother.”

“Don’t be,” she said brusquely. “He has every right to feel the way he does. Who else around here could use assistance?”

Isaac gave her a handful of names, most of them familiar to Feyre.

“We’ll see what we can do,” Feyre said.

Without much more of a goodbye, Feyre and Rhys departed down the winding country road once more.

Feyre contemplated things as she walked on. Could she have done things differently? Over the course of the past few years, there were a thousand choices she made, thousands of things that could have ended up differently if she had made a different choice.

The memory of her family’s old cottage flickered once more in the back of her mind. She had sworn she was done with that place.

Wasn’t she?-

@thron3ofbooks @the-lonelybarricade @swankii-art-teacher @ghostlyrose2 @brieq @cretaceous-therapod @live-the-fangirl-life@achernarlight @reverie-tales @starfall-spirit@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @areyoudreamingof

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #acotar gift exchange #feyre archeron #rhysand #in any lifetime darling #kate's writing

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