#MJ Writes

[taegimood]

— my girl (c.yj) ♡

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader genre: friends to lovers, non-idol au, smut, fluff rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 6.1k warnings: unprotected sex, pwp (6k but most of it is smut tbh lol), softdom!yeonjun, inexperienced!reader, dry humping, oral + fingering (f receiving), squirting, petnames (baby, princess, doll, good girl, pretty girl), daddy kink (yeonjun refers to himself as daddy), spanking, creampie, multiple orgasms, light choking but not (he doesn’t squeeze), one instance of spitting, it’s established that jun is older than reader so OPPA IS USED AS AN HONORIFIC and idc if people hate it lol as a korean speaker i’m tired of westernizing shit

a/n - pls picture temptation era hair yeonjun 😵‍💫 this is inspired by a dream i had.. dreamt every part in his room up until the actual penetration 😮‍💨 cockblocked by my own brain

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yeonjun’s sheets are soft as you sit observing his bedroom, taking note of all the little details that his strong personality shines through, the first time you’ve seen the other side of his door — though how you even got to this point in the first place is still something you’re going over and over in your head as you wait for him to come back.

his soft smile is met with your nervous one as he enters the room with two water bottles in hand, shutting the door quietly behind him — your eyes follow his lithe fingers as he turns the lock — and you watch as he places the drinks on his nightstand before turning to you.

the air suddenly feels much warmer when he sits down on the bed beside you, so close that you’re almost touching, and that fond look on his face only serves to heighten your nerves as you remember that he knows what he’s doing, and you don’t.

well… sort of.

everything happened only a few hours before.

your best friend kai had invited you to hang out with him and his roommates, a chaotic group of guys who you’ve grown to call your friends as well; even yeonjun, who you may or may not have developed the hugest crush on ever from the minute that you’d first met him.

it’d been a few months of back-and-forth, sometimes convinced that it must be mutual and other times doubting your judgement completely — has he always been this flirty, or is it your imagination when his eyes linger just a little too long? — and it was on this fateful day at their apartment when it all fell apart.

(or should you say, all came together).

everyone knows to watch out once beomgyu’s got a couple of drinks in him, so it was only a matter of time before your unlucky day came when he’d decide that you would be his glorious first victim of the afternoon; and that was exactly where you found yourself as he took it upon himself to announce to everyone in the room that you and yeonjun needed to admit you wanna fuck each other already, or else he’d “just have to do something about it himself” (whatever that meant).

to say you wanted to crawl into a ditch and die would be the biggest understatement of the century.

your wide eyes were pinned to the floor as the room erupted into multiple reactions; soobin groaning with a smack upside beomgyu’s head as he scolded the younger not to say stuff like that, taehyun’s “damn,” as he knocked back his beer to cover a laugh, kai burying his head into his hands with a shriek — he swore he didn’t mean to spill your secret to beomgyu a few weeks ago, it just slipped out — and of course, the culprit in the center laughing his ass off unphased.

the only one who had yet to say anything was…

you steeled yourself and glanced up, meeting yeonjun’s eyes that were already watching you from across the living room.

your own widened marginally.

he didn’t look disgusted. he didn’t look put off. in fact, he looked…..

your breath caught. there was a small upturn to his lips, a confirmation, the hint of a smile that solidified as he quirked a brow as if in question. as if he was asking you,

“well? what should we do about it then?”

and everything changed from there.

~

it hadn’t taken long for beomgyu’s quick-moving attention span to be directed elsewhere thanks to some faithful effort on hyuka’s part, the others following suit to spare you from the spotlight — and it was only about an hour later when you found yourself alone in the kitchen for a breather, the sounds of your friend’s quarreling and laughter slightly less eardrum-shattering now from where you stood leaning against the sink.

a few minutes passed before the sound of someone else slipping into the room grabbed your attention.

your peace quickly morphed into apprehension.

“hi,” yeonjun whispered, a small smile on his face that read somewhere between gentle and amused.

his hands were in his pockets as he came to lean casually against the counter opposite you, head tilted slightly to the side as his eyes trailed over your expression, and you cursed your mouth for going dry at the sight of him.

his simple black tank top and sweatpants combo had you fighting to keep your eyes on his face — his face, pretty and framed so nicely by silky black hair that was grown out quite a bit longer than usual these days, and you wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through it as your thighs rubbed together subconsciously.

“…hi,” you whispered back.

he breathed out a small laugh.

“i wanted to talk to you, but i didn’t want the others to hear.. figured this was a good opportunity when i saw you get up.”

“r-right..”

why am i so awkward? what the fuck? oh god wait why is he coming closer-

your hands gripped the counter behind you as yeonjun stepped forward. his voice was low, quiet, meant only for you as he stood in front of you with a look on his face that had you melting in more ways than one.

“listen... i know that we’ve never talked about this thing between us. i didn’t wanna scare you off by being too forward, but now that beomgyu ran his mouth about it…”

with a feather-light touch, yeonjun reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“well, i’m not gonna deny what he said, and i’m pretty sure that i’m right when i say.. i think you want me the same way that i want you.”

you felt heat running down your entire body like a zap of electricity.

your fried brain didn’t even have the chance to fully process before you heard beomgyu shout from the living room, “hey, what’s taking so long?!” and the scent of yeonjun’s cologne was like a drug as he leaned in and whispered in your ear,

“if you feel ready to see where this goes.. stay here with me when they go out.”

and just like that he was gone, random assortment of snacks in hand to avoid suspicion as he called back to beomgyu, “i’m coming, just couldn’t decide what to eat!”

and you slumped against the counter with legs like jelly.

~

you received a chorus of groans and boos when you told the guys you were gonna go home instead of joining them elsewhere for dinner and drinks, earning brief suspicion only from taehyun as he eyed you questioningly for a moment — their focus primarily resting on yeonjun’s uncharacteristic opt-out that he’d blamed on a sudden migraine.

you felt ridiculous as you even headed down the elevator with them to the street outside, going out of your way to be believable, rounding the corner towards the subway station until they were well out of sight in the opposite direction before heading back up towards the apartment.

you’d’ve been lying if you said that you didn’t consider leaving yourself; your jittery nerves and quick-beating heart nearly convincing you, until you remembered the look in yeonjun’s eyes and the wetness between your legs returned.

yeonjun, choi yeonjun, one of the most popular and charismatic guys that you know — wants you.

and now here you are on his bed.

when you think about it, in your eyes yeonjun is a lot of things that you’re not; the way he just naturally draws people in, the way he carries himself, always making friends so easily; the fact that he’s genuinely cool, somehow good at everything he does and always looks hot doing it; he’s older than you — not by much, but still — and the number one thing on your mind right now:

he’s experienced.

now you’re no virgin, but your measly 1 past boyfriend is nothing in comparison to the fact that yeonjun’s ability to please a woman is a very well-checked box on his long list of skills (if beomgyu is correct about anything he’s blabbed about, at least. which today so far he seems to be).

and now, as he sits here so close to you with that same look on his face as before, that gentle smile and amused little twinkle in his eyes — well, you know right then that you’re a goner.

“hi,” he whispers, just like he did in the kitchen earlier, and you whisper it back with a shy smile.

this is the first time you’ve ever truly been alone with him.

he looks at you for a few moments, and you wonder if this is what amoebas feel like under a microscope until he places his hand on the bed beside you and rests his weight on it, by default leaning in even closer than before.

“i like you.” he says simply.

in panic mode, you resort to sarcasm - “y-yeah-“ you clear your throat - “um, yeah, i think we established that.”

his laugh sends tingles through you as a real smile not stricken with awkwardness finally blooms on your face, the ice slowly melting for you as you start to remember that right, okay, he’s a friend and not some unreachable deity (for the most part, at least).

“i.. like you too,” you respond sheepishly, and you bite your lip at the underlying shift in his tone as he keeps his eyes locked on yours and says,

“i know.”

the mood has suddenly deepened into something else.

his hand comes up to your cheek, thumb ghosting over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “is this okay?” and you don’t know when his face got so close to yours but your eyes are already threatening to flutter shut as you hum in response, lidded gaze glued to his full, pretty lips that you want so desperately all over your body.

“words, baby.” his voice is a whisper, breath warm against your lips, his own so close now that you can almost feel them —

“y-yes.”

and just like that, choi yeonjun is kissing you.

whatever you thought a real kiss was supposed to feel like, whatever kisses you had felt with your ex —

none of it compared to this.

you feel his smile when you quietly moan, his lips even softer than you had imagined, moving against yours slowly, deliberately, expertly, the hand that had been on your cheek sliding gently to the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss.

his tongue is warm and soft as it traces along your bottom lip, and you don’t care how eager you probably seem as you let it in immediately, trying not to moan again as he slips it past your lips to caress yours; you melt as he sucks lightly on your tongue before giving a teasing, gentle bite to your bottom lip as he pulls away.

you can’t even imagine how dazed you must look — but his knowing smile tells you enough.

you can’t explain it, but in that moment you gain a hunger-fueled confidence. you want to give yeonjun everything.

fuck, you want him bad.

you’re pulling him back to you faster than you can chicken out otherwise, and the pleased noise he makes as you connect your lips again only spurs you on further to do what you’ve been so badly wanting to:

you touch him, hands sliding from his shoulders up to his soft hair, pulling at it gently as his lips travel down your jaw to suckle at the skin of your neck; you moan, freely this time, eyes sliding shut and head tilting back to give him all the access he wants as you wrap an arm around his shoulders and keep him close.

his hand slides around your waist to your lower back as he slowly guides you down to lay against his sheets, your legs instinctively widening for him as he slots his hips between them, and you groan at the bulge now resting comfortably against your clothed core.

it doesn’t take long before he gently rocks his hips forwards.

you whimper, clutching to his tank top as he continues to kiss and suckle along your neck; your legs tighten around his hips and his lips tilt into a smirk against your skin as your body responds to his like it’s what it was made for, and so he does it again, this time continuing into a steady rocking pace.

the hardness of his cock drags deliciously against your center as he rolls his hips into it again and again, slow enough so that you feel everything, but firm enough that it makes your head spin and your thighs twitch with need.

“oppa,” you whisper, pleadingly, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for but you know that you just need more.

“hm?” he hums back, lips still sucking pretty bruises into your neck,

and it’s like he can read your mind as he asks with another smirk against your skin - “want more, baby?”

you nod quickly with a weak, “mhm,” and your heart jumps as his lips move up to your ear.

“tell oppa what you want.”

the husk of his voice sends shivers straight downwards.

he pulls away just enough for you to meet his eyes and you feel like a rabbit hunted down by a fox, but in your case, you never want to escape from his grasp.

“i.. i-i want…”

you can feel the heat blooming in your cheeks, remembering once again how much you haven’t experienced, and you want to tell him exactly where you want him to put his mouth — but instead your eyes avert from his as you mumble in admission,

“i-i’ve never been… well i’ve never been eaten out before. s-so.. um..”

in your peripheral you can see yeonjun’s brows lift to his hairline in disbelief. “what?”

a finger beneath your chin gently draws your gaze back to his and the genuine bewilderment in his eyes is enough to deepen your blush as he asks, “how could that bastard have possibly survived never tasting you?”

your body buzzes with electricity as your eyes widen; there’s a hunger and determination dancing in yeonjun’s stare that you’ve never been looked at with before.

his intensity makes you shiver in anticipation and it’s like you can taste the honey dripping from his words when he says,

“let me make you feel good, baby. let me give you everything that he should’ve.”

your head spins.

you’ve never felt so desired.

the second that you say okay, yeonjun places one last dizzying kiss to your lips before he’s moving down your body, guiding you out of your shirt as he slowly maps out your skin with his lips — you breathe out a sigh at the way his large hands caress you, intentionality in every touch.

eventually he sits up on his knees, pulling back from a kiss to your navel to reach for the hem of your panties. you shiver when his fingers ghost over your hips.

“lift for me,” he instructs softly, and you do, biting your lip as he begins to slowly pull them down, eyes glued to your cunt, and you watch the way his breath hitches in his throat at the strings of wetness that cling to the fabric.

“fuck,” he whispers, practically groans,

“can’t believe no one’s ever tasted such a pretty pussy before… gonna eat you so good, baby..”

you’re going out of your mind with need, his words alone sending another gush of arousal to your heat, your hungry eyes traveling down to trace the imprint of his rock-hard cock in his sweatpants.

teasingly you ghost your foot over it as he slides your panties from your ankles, and his eyes flicker up to yours as you stare back innocently; his gaze narrows and lips quirk up into a lopsided smirk as his warm hands slide up your legs.

“getting brave, now, are we?” he taunts, stopping at your thighs as he wraps his hands around them and spreads your legs open.

slowly he lowers himself between them, all the while keeping his eyes on yours, and your hips jump at the whisper of his breath against your aching cunt when he says,

“better be careful, doll… any game you try to play, i can play it better.”

and when his fingers spread you open and his lips kiss your clit, you already know that he’s ruined you for any other man.

how could you even dream of anyone else when the tip of yeonjun’s velvety tongue slips out to trace teasingly up and down your slit, or when the pad of his finger circles so lightly around your leaking hole that you might even be imagining it?

no, there’s no way you could be imagining this, not as the warmth of his mouth caresses you as he closes his lips around your clit and gently begins to suck, your head tipping back with a shudder as you whine at the feeling.

“eyes on me, princess,” he murmurs against your cunt, and when you manage to bring your gaze back to his, the sight before you is sinful.

his foxlike eyes dark and dangerous and twinkling as he watches you through his lashes, pretty lips forming a smirk that you can only feel and not see as he whispers “good girl,” - before the next thing you know, his tongue is flattening against you as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy, big hands keeping your jerking hips in place as he begins to ravish you, sucking, licking, kissing, groaning shamelessly at the taste of you and sending vibrations straight through your quivering core as you unravel beneath his touch.

“so fucking good,” he moans, sliding a finger inside of you with ease as he begins to pump it steadily in and out, practically making out with your pussy as you whimper, hands instinctively flying to his hair — you almost pull them away when suddenly he adds another digit, the stretch causing your fingers to tighten in his dark strands as your hips instinctively grind forwards against his mouth.

you’re about to apologize when yeonjun moans even deeper than before.

“that’s it, baby,” he grunts, “use my face. want it so bad, don’t you? go ahead and chase it, cum all over daddy’s tongue.”

something unholy snaps inside of you at that.

“f-fuck-” you cry, doing exactly as he said; you can’t help it as you grind your clit down on his warm tongue over and over and over, hands tightening in his hair as his fingers work impossibly faster, and a new sensation takes over you as the dam breaks and you reach your peak;

you don’t realize what’s happening at first as you’re carried through the most mind-blowing orgasm, until you feel the unusual amount of wetness soaking his sheets and hear yeonjun groaning “fuck, fuck, that’s it, baby, that’s it -“ and he’s three fingers deep as you realize you’re squirting.

it’s as though he can read your body like a book the way he can tell when it’s suddenly too much, his pace slowing gradually until he gently slides his fingers from your sopping hole, placing a final feather-light kiss to your clit before his lips and hands move to soothe your quivering thighs.

“you did so good, baby, holy shit..” the bottom half of his face is soaked in your juices as he mouths along your skin, hands massaging and caressing whatever his lips aren’t kissing;

you’re still bewildered, and can feel the raging blush on your cheeks as you’re quick to blurt in embarrassment, “i-i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to-“

“y/n.” yeonjun looks up. “seriously, that was so fucking hot, you have no idea.”

you can see in his eyes that he’s telling the truth.

“r-really?”

he laughs, finally sitting up; “baby, i- fuck, like, you actually have no fucking idea how sexy you are.” he pushes his hair out of his face and it’s only then that you realize how heavy he’s breathing, the bulge straining against his pants somehow a million times more prominent than it was earlier.

“y/n, i’m so turned on right now that i can hardly think straight. please-“

you meet his eyes again quickly,

“please, i need to be inside you.”

apparently today is the day that you learn just how crazy choi yeonjun makes you, because despite your still-twitching thighs and your pussy so sensitive that you’re sure a slight breeze would send it into overdrive, your body is quick to betray you at his toe-curling words when your walls clench from the emptiness and a fresh wave of arousal gushes from your soaked heat.

“if you don’t fuck me right now i’m gonna go clinically insane.”

his brows lift only for a moment before he’s laughing, swooping down to catch your lips in a kiss. “well we can’t have that, now, can we?”

he gets off the bed, your eyes hungrily tracking his every move as he peels the tank top from his torso and casts it to the ground; “fuck,” you whisper as your gaze trails down the defined ridges of his abs; “fuck,” you groan when he hooks his thumbs around the waistband of his sweatpants and pulls them down with his boxers in one go.

his cock is long and slender and flushed pink, the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen as you imagine the weight of it in your mouth.

if it were anyone else, you’d wanna slap the shit-eating grin right off of his face, but this is yeonjun, and the fact that he knows he’s all that only makes him 10x hotter.

you can’t tear your eyes away from his length as you sit up on your elbows to watch, and he enjoys it, pumping himself in his hand and smearing the pre-cum around his tip with a satisfied hum.

but as he reaches for the condoms in his desk drawer, you surprise both him and yourself when you stop him.

“no.”

he pauses, looking over his shoulder at you with quirked brows —

“want you to fuck me raw.”

his mouth goes dry. you can see the fire dancing in his eyes as he slowly straightens, keeping himself under control as he asks carefully,

“are you sure?”

you bite your lip and quickly nod. “wanna feel you,” you breathe, and that does it for yeonjun as he’s back on top of you in an instant, his lips pressing to yours in a searing kiss as you moan around his swirling tongue.

his hand is on your throat, not squeezing, just resting there as if to say you’re mine, and you whine deep in your chest when you feel the tip of his cock sliding through your slippery folds.

“gonna fuck this pretty pussy so full of my cum that it’ll be dripping out of it for days,” he rasps as he taps the head of his cock repeatedly over your clit, the lewd noise met with your whimpers as you grasp at his bicep.

“please,” you whine, “want it, please-!”

his hand slides from your neck down to squeeze your tit as he sits up and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder with his free hand.

“so good for me,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded and lusting as he looks down at you, dragging his shaft back and forth along your slick pussy; “such a good girl, begging for daddy.”

and when he finally pushes the head of his cock past your entrance, stretching you open as he sinks inside, stars explode behind your eyes and you nearly cum again right there on the spot.

“fuuck..” he groans in a drawn-out moan, eyes sliding shut and head tipping back as your walls suck him in, mouth falling open before he catches his plush bottom lip between his teeth and looks back down at you through hazy eyes, giving another rough squeeze to your tit in his grasp.

he slides his hand down to press against your lower belly as he bottoms out, your hips twitching as you gasp, and with his other hand he grips your leg that’s slung over his shoulder as he begins to grind his hips against yours.

you can’t breathe, can’t speak, overwhelmed by how fucking good it all feels, the head of his cock massaging places inside of you that you didn’t even know existed as he rolls his hips over and over, whispering fucked-out nothings;

how tight you are, how good you feel, how he’s gonna make you forget your own name by tomorrow.

and when he starts really moving, hips separating from yours only to connect again with a lewd slap of skin on skin each time he delivers a slow, firm thrust to your cunt, holding you in place so you don’t jolt up the bed — well, you never knew that something so delicious existed, and now that you’ve had a taste, you’re already rendered insatiable.

you paw at any part of him that you can reach, hands finding purchase on his thighs as his pace picks up into a steady rhythm, your lips moaning and pleading and begging around words that you can hardly get out of your mouth.

“look at you,” yeonjun coos breathlessly, “so drunk on my cock already.. perfect pussy made just for me, hm? taking daddy so well? good baby.”

he looks as blissed out as you feel, face wracked in pleasure as he picks up the pace, his hand so large where it still presses over your lower belly that his thumb is able to reach your clit, and the added stimulation along with the pressure of his palm sends your head lolling as you twitch and tremble underneath him.

“j-jjunie..!” you whimper, and you can’t help the nickname from slipping between your lips; you’ve never called him so intimately before, never said his name so freely, but your accidental drop of honorifics seems to stir something inside of him as he groans and fucks you harder;

“say that again,” he grunts as you gasp out from the sudden increase in pace.

“jjunie,” you keen immediately, gripping the sheets, gripping his arms, gripping anything as a muttered curse leaves his lips and his thumb circles faster around your aching clit.

“love it when you say my name, fuck,” he groans, hips slamming into yours and jolting you like a ragdoll as you cry out for him, the knot in your stomach tightening so fast that you swear it’s about to snap, and when he leans forward with your leg still gripped over his shoulder and his cock pounding into you at a far deeper angle than before, fireworks fill your vision as you cum around him harder than you’ve ever came in your life.

“yes, yes, yes, fuck, that’s it, cream on my cock, baby, fuck you’re so- s-so tight, fuck- just like that, let go for me, baby, good girl-“

yeonjun’s voice sounds far away as you spasm around him, his thrusts growing sloppier as your cunt clenches him so tight that it nearly forces him out; he lowers your leg back down to the bed and slows down a little to let you catch your breath but he doesn’t stop, and your watery whimpers are like music to his ears as you clutch onto him desperately.

“t-too much, too much-!” you hiccup, tears spilling from your eyes at all the overwhelming sensations, but you don’t actually want him to stop and he knows it too — he coos at you, hand sliding up to rest on your throat again as he leans down and licks a stripe up your neck to your ear.

“you can give me one more, baby, can’t you?”

a shiver rolls down your spine at the devilish smile in his voice, sweet like honey as he catches your earlobe between his teeth.

“one more so daddy can stuff you nice and full.”

your pussy clenches. “w-want your cum,” you whimper dumbly in response, too fucked out to think of anything else, and yeonjun smiles as he leans back and runs his hands down your body until they reach your hips and squeeze.

“i know,” his thrusts are still steady as he watches you with twinkling eyes; “and i’m gonna give it to you.”

your eyes widen in protest as he suddenly slides out of you without a warning, but the words die in your throat and are replaced with a squeak of surprise when he flips you over onto your stomach instead.

“ass up for me, pretty girl.”

you obey immediately with what strength you have left in your shaky limbs, a quiet whine escaping your throat over not being able to see or touch him anymore.

his little laugh from behind you indicates that he caught it.

“don’t worry, baby,” he soothes as his hands massage over your ass, “we have all the time in the world.”

your heart doesn’t even have time to skip a beat at the promise of his words when suddenly his tongue is on your pussy, your knees nearly buckling at the heat of his mouth as he licks from your clit up to your fluttering hole, and you gasp as he spits on it before his cock enters you fully in one single thrust.

you cry out, knees buckling for real this time as he holds you up, sheets crumpled in your fists as his hips immediately pick up into a quick, dizzying pace.

“love the way you fall apart around me,” he murmurs from behind you, squeezing your ass, “love how you take me so well…”

you want to touch him so badly, want to see the pleasure pooling in his eyes; you don’t have time to respond before he lands a smack on your ass, your surprised squeak spurring him on as he does it again, drilling into your cute little hole like it was made just for him as he breathes out a moan.

from this angle he can see the way your pussy swallows him so hungrily, and his grip on your hips tightens as he drags you back and forth on his cock.

“love.. l-love your.. love this so much… w-wanna be yours…”

he almost misses your dazed mumbling over the loud sound of his hips slapping lewdly against your ass, but he makes out what you said, heart swelling in his chest and cock simultaneously twitching inside of you as he leans forward, his palm sliding up along your spine to brush the hair from your fucked-out face as he pushes your body down against the sheets, chest pressed to your back now and breath caressing your ear as he continues rocking his hips even deeper.

“you’re mine, baby, you’re mine..” he whispers between kisses along your jaw, a reassurance, your soft whimper of a response causing him to bite back a smile as he continues,

“i’ve wanted you for so long.. can’t believe i finally get to have you.” his hand slips beneath you to toy with your throbbing clit, and your ass grinds back against him as a result as you moan wantonly into his sheets.

“i’ve been yours since the.. fuck.. since the second i s-saw you..fuck, p-please don’t stop..!”

your hips are moving with his now as he works your clit faster, mustering your strength and pushing your weight back as you desperately try to fuck yourself on his cock, on his fingers, chasing the rising wave in your belly that’s threatening to break as he meets your quickening movements with his own.

“touch yourself for me, baby,” he murmurs in your ear before removing his hand and propping himself up on his forearms, allowing for a more concentrated angle as he ruts into you, your choked moan muffled by the sheets as you immediately slide one hand down to rub rapidly at your clit, your other one weakly moving to tangle your fingers with his the best that you can;

“gonna cum, gonna cum,” you whimper, drool pooling at your lips, the scent of yeonjun’s cologne and the weight of his body on yours like pure intoxication as he fucks you harder, breaths heavy and staggering in your ear as he grunts,

“cum for me, baby, need to feel it, cum all over my fucking cock-“

and when your third orgasm washes over you, you’re too weak to do anything but let it, body going limp as it wracks over you in pure bliss, the warm feeling of your clenching walls finally sending yeonjun over the edge this time as he shoots his cum into you with a loud and drawn-out moan, voice breaking as he spews filthy words and incoherent curses; he presses his hips impossibly deep against yours before stuttering into sloppy thrusts to fuck himself through the rest of his orgasm as your fluttering pussy milks his cock of every last drop.

the room grows silent save for your heavy breaths, both of your chests heaving as his forehead slumps down to rest against your back; you didn’t realize how tightly you were holding onto his hand until you carefully untangle your fingers from his.

he hisses from the sensitivity as he slides his twitching length out of you.

you look at yeonjun as he rolls off of your back and flops exhaustedly onto his side next to you, and when he meets your eyes, there’s only a passing moment of silence before you both giggle.

his smile is fond and blooming with affection as he rubs a hand up and down your back, moving to smoothe the hair from your face and gently brushing his knuckles across your cheek before resting his hand on top of yours.

“hi,” he whispers.

you giggle again.

“hi,” you whisper back.

“so.. would this be a good time to ask you to be my girlfriend?”

your heart skips a beat and you bite back a smile. “i was worried you’d just want to stick to the sex..” you admit.

yeonjun shakes his head, lips forming into an endearing pout as he laces his fingers with yours.

“nah, you’re stuck with me now, princess,” he grins. “i meant what i said… i’ve been wanting you for so long.”

an indescribable feeling flutters in your chest as you giddily turn your head to bury your face in the sheets, yeonjun laughing as he shuffles closer, rolling you over onto your back despite your giggle-ridden, poorly-executed attempts to fight him off.

you grin up at him and he grins down at you, hovering over you now with a hand on your cheek as his endeared eyes trail over each of your features as if to memorize them.

“my girl,” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you tilt your head up to meet his lips when he leans in and kisses you softly, your hands playing with the long hair at the nape of his neck.

“i meant what i said too,” you murmur against him.

“mine since the second you saw me, huh?” yeonjun’s cocky grin is light and teasing as you scrunch your nose at him, flicking his forehead and sending him into another pout.

“yeah, yeah. whatever, pretty boy.”

instead of responding he buries his face in your neck in a flurry of kisses as you squeal in surprise, laughing as you wiggle around underneath him;“stop, that tickles!”

“gotta make up for all the lost time when i didn’t make a move,” he reasons as his kisses move to your cheeks, your nose, your lips — you’ve never seen this side of yeonjun before, so soft and gentle and sweet; the fact that it seems reserved only for you sends butterflies fluttering through your tummy.

you spend your evening like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as you talk about your relationship, talk about the feelings that led you here, talk about this and that and everything in-between;

“does this count as our first date?” you ask quizzically. he wrinkles his nose.

“no way, i’m gonna do the most romantic shit ever for that.”

you snort. “isn’t that what this is?”

but you don’t have the chance to tease him any further when the beeping sound of his apartment passcode being entered causes you both to freeze.

you were so caught up that neither of you considered the time; nor the fact that yeonjun does indeed have 4 other roommates who would in fact be coming home at some point or another.

that some point apparently being now as the rowdy chatter of your friends erupts into the foyer until you suddenly hear soobin’s tipsy mumble. “what the… what are y/n’s shoes doing here?”

you and yeonjun turn to look at each other as your friends’ voices fall silent.

the seconds pass and you almost wonder if you’re in the clear…

but of course, no peace lasts forever with beomgyu in the house.

“OH MY GOD,” he screams.

“THEY FUCKED!”

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

PICK AND CHOOSE - l.c

Warnings: skin picking

Summary: the one where Luke and you finally discuss whatever is going on in the relationship

Wordcount: 2.4k

You sat down on his bed, the Hermes cabin empty because they were working on a prank against the Athena cabin with the Hephaestus boys.

You had called for this conversation with Luke, both of you putting it off because what was there really to say. This was it now and your heart was speeding up at a record time and you were worried it was going to beat so fast it would fly out of your chest.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just-” you looked down at your hands, fingers picking at the skin by your fingernails, “-I dunno, just feeling a little insecure,”

You could feel the shame wash over you at the words because there is no need whatsoever for you to feel that way.

well there is.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you continue to stare at your skin, hoping that the insecurity will go away with every tug of the hangnails at your fingers.

Maybe it was the fact that he had been paying you no attention since that night or maybe it was the way that you couldn’t stand the thought of other girls looking at him the way that they do, eyes roaming over his body. God, you should be the only one allowed to look at him like that.

You didn't know how long you had been silent for before he reached down and grabbed your hand, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Insecure?”

You scoffed at his words. This was not how this should go. You were supposed to be okay with casual, that’s what the two of you had discussed.

Insecure. The word made you feel sick to your stomach because it was such a petty feeling, like envy and jealousy. It came out of nowhere and sometimes just surprised you but you had been feeling it all your life.

It had been a rough day anyway but the way he said the words made it even worse. It felt like he was taunting you.

You pulled your hand away and placed it back in your lap, only just noticing the skin bleeding at your fingernails.

“It’s silly, I know-“ you started to say and he cut you off.

“It’s not silly,” he reassured, “Everyone gets insecure,”

You shook your head, “This-” you gestured between the two of you, “-us,” just saying the word made your face heat with embarrassment because what us was there.

It felt wrong, like two little kids playing dress up at having feelings. Luke was the first guy you had ever thought about in this way and here you were making a fool of yourself in front of him.

“I dont mean to be-” the words couldnt come. This was one of those emotions that you could never quite phrase and no matter what word you used, it always came out wrong, “-needy?”

Luke could sense your uncertainty about it all and he just watched you intently, those eyes that you could stare in for hours now only gave you one look. Pity.

You had to fight back the words that were trying to claw out of your throat. You wanted to yell and scream and tell him how pathetic that look made you feel, like you were some rescue puppy he had found on the streets and taught new tricks. He was your first: first kiss, first makeout, first…

Images flashed in your mind of him laying in your empty cabin, shirtless, you on top of him, hands pressed against his chest. Then you were lying there next to him in his bed, head laying against his chest as he explained the book he was reading to you. Those moments felt so far away as you looked into his eyes.

“You’re not being needy,”

this time you did scoff, “You know that thing babies get when they play peek-a-boo? Object permanence? I feel like I have that with people. Like if you’re not in the room then you must hate me and this paranoia has followed me round my whole life. Gods, sometimes, dont you just think that everyone hates you and that they’re faking being friends with you?”

The words stumbled off of your tongue before you could stop them and by then you had blurted it all out, chest heaving at the end as you realised how vulnerable you had just been in front of him.

You didn’t even look up from your hands as you waited to hear his response. He was going to hate this and you knew it.

Luke was so calm all the time, holding his composure about this. He barely even mentioned whatever was going on between you when you were with the other campers. It was like you didn’t even exist.

You couldn’t quite but your finger on how long you had been sitting on that feeling but maybe it had been there since the moment you first kissed in your cabin after the bonfire, his lips tasting like the moonshine the Dionysus kids brewed and his hand pressed firmly against your back.

You finally looked up at him, eyes meeting yours. When you would stand up, there was a significant height difference but here, sitting down, you were on even playing ground.

“We can stop,”

those words made your heart sink, stomach twisting into knots at the idea. How could you go back to the way things were before when he had been looking at you like that? When you knew what he sounded like in bed, breathy words whispered into your ear?

“That’s not why I came here,” you stated, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to put into words the way you felt.

There were no words and there never would be. How could you ever express all of the love and care that you have for him without seeming obsessed after two makeout sessions. This was supposed to be casual.

You had promised him no feelings from either of you and yet here you were less than two weeks later, heart so full to the brim with him that any pain he felt, you felt tenfold.

“Then why did you?” He asked so nonchalantly and you could feel the tears burning at the back of your eyes.

Shaking your head, you looked back at your blood stained fingernails, “I shouldn’t have,”

His eyes trailed down to your hands. You both shared the same bad habit, biting at your fingernails. His were painful, bitten to the halfway point and scared yet yours were healed, nice paint always draped on top to hide the peeling of your skin - your next victim.

Luke grabbed onto your hands to stop you from the compulsion and you felt forced to look into his eyes, “I don’t want to stop either,”

They were the words that you wanted to feel so why did they make your heart sink even lower into your chest?

“I-” the words were caught in your throat. Keep your composure. Thats what you kept repeating to yourself as you felt the tears brimming on your waterline. Crying in front of him was not on the agenda today.

Casual. Most boys dream and most girls nightmare. You should be okay with all that you could get from him, a kiss here and there but maybe that was making these feelings worse.

Maybe it was the way that he wouldn’t act like he wanted you on some nights, barely even acknowledging that you are there, his conversation focused on some other camper as you stood by the sidelines waiting like an idiot.

Maybe it was the way he talked to other girls, their eyes trailing over his shoulders and arms like he was on the market, hand on his shoulder as they laughed at one of his shitty jokes.

Maybe it was the way that you wanted him to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you close, to kiss you when the other head of cabins were looking, to want to make out with you when he was sober as well as drunk.

“I like you,” you blurted the words out.

He chuckled, “I like you too, is that not obvious,”

You shook your head with disdain at his comment. This was not time for silly jokes.

“No. I really like you and I dont want you to kiss other girls,”

his brow furrowed and he shook his head quickly, “Who said I want to kiss other girls?” He questioned.

You shrugged, a sheepishness coming over you at your admissions, “Beckendorf,” you stated, “He said he wanted to wingman you,”

”Did I say I wanted Beckendorf to wingman me?”

“No, but-“ you furrowed your brow and he just looked at your confusion.

“I like you a lot,” he promised but the words seemed to melt off of your skin like they meant nothing, “I do not want other girls, it’s just-“

You cut him off before he could finish his sentence. “You want to be single but have me on the side, just in case you get bored?”

He could hear the spitefulness in your words, the anger in your tone and he wondered how long this had been building up in your chest for, how long you had been wanting to say this to him.

“That is not what you are to me,” he reassured but the words didn’t help.

Scoffing, you pulled your hands away, “Then why don’t you want to kiss me? Why do I have to make the effort all the time?”

He tilted his head to the side and looked at you, watching as a tear slipped over your waterline. You cursed yourself as he leaned forward and wiped the tear away with the pad of his finger. He hated to see you like this, so much self loathing inside of you.

“I’m nervous,”

Now that was a ridiculous statement, “You? Nervous,” you shook your head at the woods because there was no way that they could ever be true, “You are like the coolest person I know, why would you get nervous?”

You watched as a blush crept up to his cheeks, “Because you’re the coolest person I know,”

your eyes widened at his admission and you wondered if he meant it.

“I worry that we are going to screw up our friendship by doing this, that I am no going to be a good boyfriend for you. I cannot lose you,” he admitted and you just sat there for a moment, staring at him.

“I think i just did, screw it up I mean,”

He shook his head, “You? Never,” he promised, hand coming down to rest on your knee which you only just noticed was bouncing up and down in your nervous state, “I care about you so much,”

”Then show it,”

“The other campers-” he started to say and you sighed. Great. Another excuse why you were not going to be working out.

“Ignore them, let’s be us,” you were practically begging at this point because you knew he could call this arrangement off any second and you would be left drowning in all the affection you never got to show him.

“I don’t want them to know, they will get involved and ruin this,” he was right and you hated that.

“I want you to want me,” the words tumbled from your mouth easier than you expected them to, “I want to be at the bonfires and you dance with me and talk to me and it sounds so needy,”

“It’s not needy,”

”It is!” You exclaimed.

The room went silent and you were left staring at one another, listening to the creeking of the walls in the wind and the rustling of the grass, “It is,” you repeated, a little bit quieter.

”I can’t do casual,”

He nodded, understanding the complexity of it all, “I can’t do a relationship,”

A sob was caught in your throat as you heard those words, they were the last thing that you wanted to hear and he knew that, watching as your face contort at his statement, lip trembling as you tried to stop the tears from overflowing.

“Okay,”

He tilted his head to the side, “Okay?”

You just shrugged because what was there left to do. There was no way that you were going to be able to convince him that you were worth it, that you were worthy of being his girlfriend if he didn’t want to be convinced.

“You’re an idiot,” he stated and you turned to look at him with a face that read shock horror.

“Excuse me?”

He could see all the hurt and anger bubbling up inside of you, brows pulling together and nose scrunching up just like it always did before a fight. He knew you too well.

“I would try. For you,” he stated and there it was again, the flip of emotion on your face to one of confusion, your lip pulling up in confusion, brows still furrowed but softening to complexity, “I want you in my life and more than a friend,”

You shook your head because this was all so wrong. You stood up, head spinning. This was not the way that this was supposed to go. This was going to be you breaking this thing off with him and yet here you were potentially entering into a relationship.

He followed after you before you could reach the cabin door, hand sneaking around your waist to pull you closer to him, “Say yes,”

“Luke,” a hand came out, balancing against his chest.

“Say yes,” he repeated, nose nuzzling against your throat. You knew this was wrong but Gods, it felt so right.

“Luke,”

He hummed in response, looking up at you with those big brown eyes that you had come to love over the years.

”Say yes,” he hoped one more time would do the trick.

You nodded your head, leaning down to feel his breath against your lips, “Okay,” you nudged your nose against his, “Okay,”

“Be my girlfriend?” The words seemed so natural on his tongue and you couldn’t fight the warm feeling in your chest at being addressed in that way.

You kissed him then and there. There still were not enough words to explain this feeling but as you kissed against the door in the Hermes cabin, you knew you were going to regret this moment in the long run.

But right now, there was no regret.

A/N sorry for the lack of posts, I've been at uni for a while but I'm feeling the inspiration. This is good for you guys and bad for me because this is the most autobiographical fanfic I've written in a while so enjoy as my love life plummets to hell

[riaraa]

No Angels by bellarkyy on AO3

A Mixte 1963/Voltaire High fanfiction about Michèle Magnan and Joseph Descamps

Joseph becomes obsessed with Michèle after she is the reason for him losing his eye. But, instead of hating her in the way he expected, he is beyond attracted to her. She won't leave his mind no matter what he does. And as he witnesses her begin her journey of figuring out sexual pleasure, he is happy to insert himself and help her out.

Michèle is drawn to Descamps, has been since the moment she saw him. He is tall and broad and once he has the eyepatch on, his attractiveness becomes exponentially more. With being around so many boys, something about her has changed and she doesn't know how to describe it other than feeling hot all of the time. And, one boy in particular makes her feel like she is burning: Descamps. When he offers to help her discover what true pleasure is despite their past, she can't deny him.

[cozy-fantasy-corner]

Daddy’s Home (Steve Rogers Drabble)

Pairing: Caregiver!Steve Roger x Age Regressor!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of stress, age regression, the use of the word “Daddy” (non-sexual usage)

Word Count: 547

Summary: Steve has a long day at work and his best girl knows exactly what to do to make it all better  :)

Author’s Note: This is a sfw age regression fic. Please DNI if you sexualize age regression. It is a coping mechanism. This is a comfort fic. 

After a long day at the office, Steve trudged wearily towards his apartment, the weight of his responsibilities as both an Avenger and a leader pressing down on him like a heavy cloak. Each step felt like a struggle, his mind consumed with thoughts of mission reports and training sessions that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Every ounce of his expansive muscle mass wound tight. All he wanted was to get home to his best gal. 

As he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for his floor, Steve felt the exhaustion seeping into his bones, his eyelids heavy with fatigue. Leaning against the wall, he let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the brief respite from the chaos of the day. For a moment, he allowed himself to drift, the image of a warm bath and a cozy blanket beckoning to him like a beacon of comfort in the midst of his exhaustion.

But his moment of peace was rudely interrupted by the loud ding of the elevator doors opening. Before he could take a step towards home, a blur of fluffy curls and cable-knit flew at him, filling the cramped space with warmth and sweet giggles. She was swallowed whole by his favorite sweater. A soft chuckle escaped him, Steve found himself enveloped in the embrace of his beloved, her petite frame fitting perfectly against his tired muscles.

Burying his face in her neck, Steve inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of roses and oranges washing over him like a soothing balm. "Baby, I missed you," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath as he held her close, savoring the feeling of her in his arms. She peppered soft kisses across his gruff face and carded her thin fingers through his long mane. A wistful sigh escaped his lips as her nails gently scraped the nape of his neck. 

As they stumbled into their apartment, Steve's heart swelled at the sight that greeted him: a massive pillow fort, expertly constructed and adorned with twinkling fairy lights and their favorite Disney movie ready to play. His exhaustion melted away at the sight of the care and creativity his babygirl had poured into the surprise. Confusion danced across his feature. How on Earth did such a tiny woman get their Alaskan king from the bedroom to the living room. 

She had been staring hopefully at his tired weary face, but his look of confusion was mistaken for anger. With a sheepish look about her, she wriggled out of his embrace, her eyes shining with tears. 

“Daddy, please don’ be mad. Fri said you needed snuggles n sleeps. I made dis jus for you.” she pleaded mournfully to him. Steve's heart ached at the sight of her tears, his love for her swelling with each passing moment. He smoothed them away with a calloused thumb. Pulling her close, Steve showered her with kisses, his laughter mingling with hers as they sank into the comfort of their makeshift castle, the troubles of the day fading into the background as he curled around her petite frame. 

“Oh sweet girl. How could I be mad? This is exactly what I need.” he cooed with a soft chuckle. He rubbed his beard against her soft cheeks and she shrieked out a laugh. 

[whorxology]

⛧☾༺♰PJO Masterlist♰༻☽⛧

Main masterlist

KEY * = Smut (R) = Requested Bold and Italicized means characters I enjoy writing for and will probably bump on my priority list if requested

❀ Luke Castellan

SFW Alphabet Restless Cabin Fun * (R)

❀ Percy Jackson (Logan Lerman)

SFW Alphabet (R) Red Handed (R)

Late update: 03/02/24 2:16 AM

[snotveryinteresting]

Imagine, if you will, f//arcille inducing. Spoilers for the manga, I suppose.

Falin has the kink, though she's pretty low-key about it, only indulging if Marcille is in the mood for it as well. Her soft, delicate feathers always seem to do the trick in Marcille's and her own nose.

Falin plucks a feather out of her plumage, picking a sharp ended and fluffy feather for Marcille. Marcille always looks a little bit nervous about the feather going in, but once it's in, her face scrunches up with the tickle. Falin slowly drags her soft feather around the edge of Marcille's nose, making Marcille squirm and tear up, but it's not enough for a sneeze. While wiping her tears, Falin goes into Marcille's nose and strokes the inside, making Marcille's large ears twitch with the tickle.

"Eh...heh! Heh!"

Marcille hitches, nose beginning to run, as she gasps for air and relief of this ticklish feeling. Falin smiles... and removes the feather. Marcille looks at her with wide eyes, still hitching but sneeze becoming out of reach. This is going to be a long night, but Marcille wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

[mjwiththefangs]

Trickery & Daggers Masterlist ✦

Morgana is no ordinary half elf. Aside from her shock of violet hair, Morgana is a warlock and her patron an unaligned Archfey, who knows much more about her past than they let on. Throw an ex-magistrate, runaway vampire spawn and some deadly parasites in the mix and some harsh truths will be dragged to light while they seek a way to survive.

Also available on AO3

Rated M. Eventual smut

Warnings: (to be added)

Centres on my Tav, Morgana, an Archfae Warlock. I might be a bit obsessed with her.

Entirely self indulgent.

Game retelling, with my own flair added. Tavstarion. Found family trope and camp shenanigans.

Chapter List:

Chapter 1 - Tumblr / AO3

In which we meet (almost) everyone.

Chapter 2 - Tumblr / AO3

In which we encounter the emerald grove and greet some residents.

Chapter 3 - Tumblr / AO3

In which a snake is dealt with, and a nice night around the bonfire is had.

Chapter 4 - Tumblr / AO3

In which a hot tiefling is collected, and some campmates spar.

Chapter 5 - Tumblr / AO3

In which we get to know everyone a little more.

Chapter 6 - Tumblr / AO3

In which a hungry vampire comes calling.

Chapter 7 - Tumblr / AO3

In which we play a questions game.

Chapter 8 - Tumblr / AO3

In which studying happens, and we voice a reflection.

Chapter 9 - Tumblr / AO3

In which we tackle arachnophobia

[spectre-tabris]

so (as some of you have already heard about, at great length) i've spent the last idk week or two completely consumed by writing absurd amounts of eso fic. and now i am trying to decide if I should apologize or cackle madly at the realization that the entire collection might as well be subtitled "in which i make my love for verandis ravenwatch everyone else's problem"

[sameschmidtdiffname]

I personally choose to believe that the Hunger Games series is supposed to be Katniss's memoir/way of setting the record straight about her and her loved ones part in the Games/war. Meaning I think the entire country of New Panem was going into a FIT with every new chapter they read, let alone book. Just imagine the podcasts for a second.

"SO THE STAR-CROSSED LOVERS OF DISTRICT 12."

"YEAH."

"FATED SOULMATES."

"DESTINED TO BE TOGETHER."

"Role model for all of our relationships, I think it's safe to say."

"Mmhmm."

"It was a SURVIVAL STRAT????"

That baby reveal??? Had the country in SHAMBLES when they realized Peeta was lying. Her editors probably told her to just keep that out and she probably just said "why?? I have actual kids now, it's fine." The tabloids are blowing clear the fuck up all day every day. Peeta's hijacking??? People already knew but they didn't know EVERYTHING. God, those podcasts were LIT.

[michaelsfavgirl]

through the keyhole

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: While Michael attends to his duties as a devoted husband (taking you to pound town), the maids arrive unnoticed. Drawn by the sinful sounds echoing from your bedroom, they find themselves unable to resist eavesdropping.

Tags: smut, established-relationship (y'all are married <3), OCs, p in v, mating press, voyeurism, creampie, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), fingering, lots of drama, legal ramifications, mike being the worlds no. 1 husband.

Word Count: 7.2k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: Although I'm proud of this, the writing process for this was hell! But anyway, I need detailed reports on what y'all think about everything as compensation, thank you very much.

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

The noise of the curtains fluttering from the warm wind and the quiet chatter of the TV wakes you from your slumber. It's most definitely way past the acceptable time for a lie-in, probably closer to noon, but you don't care. With the way last night ended, with shared moans bouncing off the walls, no one could blame you. He had been so desperate for your touch after shutting himself in the studio for hours, hungrily taking you again and again until you couldn't string sentences together anymore.

Speaking of the incubus himself, as you open your eyes, before you can even muster up the strength to stretch your sore limbs, you're met with a tantalizing sight of Michael sprawled out on the bed next to you, absentmindedly watching the television. He's leaning against a pillow propped up against the headboard, completely nude. This isn't surprising, but what captures your attention is his soft and heavy length resting enticingly against his thigh, looking as delicious as ever. You try to ignore the slickness pooling between your thighs.

His cock is a sight to behold, thick and veiny, with a prominent ridge running along the underside. The head, peeks out from his uncut foreskin, is swollen and glistening with remnants of your previous night's activities. You  can't tear your eyes away from it, from the way it lays there just waiting for your touch.

You groan inwardly. How is he so nonchalant about this? How can he just sit there, so casually, with his massive cock on full display? Doesn't he know what effect it has on you, how it makes you crave him like nothing else?

You keep staring shamelessly, your eyes trailing every little detail. In your already fuzzy state, you don't notice Michael glancing at you, an amused smile growing on his face as he follows your half-lidded gaze.

Teasingly, he readjusts his body, making his hips thrust upwards slightly, causing his thick cock to bounce a little. You whimper quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. That sound doesn't even register in your mind until you hear him chuckle. Your eyes dart upwards to his face, feeling your cheeks grow hotter under his amused gaze.

"Enjoying the view, huh?" he teases, and you quickly turn onto your back, facing the opposite direction to avoid his stare.

"None of that," he murmurs, reaching over to cup your face and gently turn your gaze back to him. "Look at me."

And you do. Goodness gracious, how does he manage to be so gorgeous even with his curls messily framing his face? Your eyes linger on his lips as you try not to look directly into his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk as he gently positions your face higher, silently commanding you to meet his gaze.

His long fingers trace your cheeks as he brings your faces closer together, forehead to forehead, noses bumping. He leaves the softest of kisses on your cheeks before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is slow and unrushed; he doesn't even bother moving his lips much, just softly keeps them pressed against yours.

"Did you sleep well, baby?" he asks after pulling away, making you unconsciously lean in for more. You nod and nuzzle your cheek deeper into his warm palm. "Yeah? I'm not too surprised," he says, trying to suppress a smirk. You had fallen asleep last night while he was cleaning you up during aftercare, that's how thoroughly he had tired you out, but it's not like you're complaining. You playfully hit his chest..

Michael's chuckle rumbles through his chest, vibrating against your skin as you lay there, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours. He shifts slightly, the movement drawing your eyes back down to his impressive length. He notices and smirks again, his hand moving to gently guide your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze once more.

"I know what you’re thinking about," he begins, his voice a low, seductive purr, “know what you’re craving."

Your breath hitches at his words, the passion in his eyes making your heart flutter. His thumb strokes your cheek, and he leans in, pressing another tender but more heated kiss to your lips. The kiss deepens this time, his tongue gently parting your lips, exploring your mouth with a languid passion that leaves you breathless. When he pulls away, his eyes are dark with desire.

His hands trail from your hips to your naked pussy, cupping it in his large palm, feeling the warm skin against his hand. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, making you gasp. His finger slips through your folds, gliding between your glistening flesh with ease. He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear, "Always so needy, aren't you?"

Before you can respond with an eye roll at his usual teasing, he moves on top of you, spreading your thighs wide. Your breath catches in your throat as you look up at him. He groans at the sight of your drenched pussy, marveling at it for what feels like an eternity. His eyes hungrily stare at your already pulsing clit, desperately begging for attention.

 "Do I have to fuck you every morning for you to function properly?"

Your heartbeat quickens at his words, your hips bucking towards him instinctively. He spreads your thighs even farther apart, shushing your whines with an authoritative raise of his brows. "You know what to say," he prompts, his voice low and commanding.

"...Please touch me," you murmur shyly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He decides to tease you further, enjoying the power he has over you, "What was that? I didn't quite hear you."

"Please, Michael," you beg, a little louder this time, "please fuck me."

"That's more like it," he says with a satisfied expression, taking in your already needy state before reaching over to his nightstand. He opens the top drawer and grabs a bottle of lube, squirting a generous amount onto his lengthy shaft. He strokes his cock a few times, ensuring it's well-lubricated. Without the lube, it's impossible for him to ever make love to you without unwanted pain; he's just too big. Whatever's left on his fingers he spreads it across your already glossy folds, circling your hole for longer than is necessary. 

He gives you a look, silently making sure you still want this. After you nod enthusiastically he positions himself at your tight entrance, dragging his swollen tip up and down your flesh before gently pushing in the head, watching as your cunt stretches around him. With the events of last night, it's not as difficult as it might have been otherwise. His cockhead slips past your folds with ease, and you already feel yourself clenching around him.

"Needy girl," he murmurs under his breath, his voice thick with desire.

He torturously slowly slides half of his cock into your wetness and pulls out. Repeating this endlessly until his fat length is fully swallowed by your greedy pussy, “There we go,” he breathes out at finally watching your folds stretch around his thickness. His prominent veins deliciously rub against your slick walls, eliciting breathless moans from your lips. Your eyes flutter from the stretch, the sensation overwhelming, head pressing deeper into the plush pillow.

He steals a peck from your lips and squeezes your hips. He thrusts slowly at first, hips grinding smoothly at a mellow pace, savoring every inch of you. Consequently, making you think he's going to go easy on you but when has Michael Jackson ever been predictable?

At a speed that has your eyes widening he presses you further into the bed, folding your legs closer to your shoulders, putting you in a deep mating press that leaves you breathless. Before you can utter more than his name, he drives his hips against the back of your thighs, completely filling you up. “Jesus fucking christ Michael.” you choked out.

He picks up the pace, ramming his meaty cock into your squelching pussy. Your essence creates a white ring around his base, making him groan in pleasure. This new angle allows you to feel every inch of him deeper and deeper inside you. You can't control yourself, your moans growing louder and louder. Your eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open as filthy whines and moans escape.

As he keeps pounding you into the mattress, he looks at your face and almost cums on the spot. The sounds in the bedroom are sinful - a mix of your moans and his grunts blending together, the bed banging against the wall with every hard thrust of his hips, skin slapping rhythmically.

"Look at you, already going dumb on my cock," he awes, his voice full of adoration.

You nod while not quite sure what you’re agreeing to, his words barely registering in your mind through the haze of pleasure. His smirk widens at your response, watching your nails dig into the sheets. The room starts to fill with the smell of sex, the musky scent only turning him on more.

He continues to fuck you fast and hard, his coily pubic hair rubbing against your throbbing clit, making your hips buck, chasing more of that sweet friction. Your moans grow louder, and if his cock wasn't so good, you'd try to be quieter. But all you can think about is how good he feels inside you, stretching you, filling you completely.

Your heavenly sounds drive him wild, he loves how in the mornings your sleepiness makes you more uninhibited, your cries ringing through his ears. But still, he decides to reach over towards the remote, turning up the volume of the TV to drown out the noises. Although he's never cared about the maids or security hearing him, he knows that when you come down from your high, you'll appreciate this gesture. 

As you both lose yourselves in the throes of passion, the maids: Annie, Susie, and Diana make their way towards the entrance of the sprawling estate for their weekly cleaning duties. The warm rays of the sun cast a serene ambiance over the grounds, punctuated by the tranquil chirping of birds, blissfully masking the storm of debauchery that awaits them inside.

"You know, I still can't believe they faked everything," Susie remarks, squinting against the sunlight.

"I'm actually not that surprised, they always seemed fishy to me," Annie replies and smiles at Susie’s scrunched up face.

"Come on now, they named themselves Milli Vanilli, what kind of name is that?" Diana chimes in, adding her two cents to the conversation.

As they ascend the doorsteps and open the front door, entering the home, Annie continues her thought, "I mean, all singers lip-sync now. They're just the ones that got ca—"

Diana abruptly pinches Annie’s arm, cutting her off with a sharp sting, "Ow, what the hell—"

"Girl, shush!" Diana whispers urgently, motioning for silence.

The three maids strain their ears, their attention drawn by the unmistakable erotic sounds emanating from the bedroom—a rhythm of skin slapping against skin, accentuated by soft moans and gasps. Susie instinctively covers her mouth, freezing in place with wide eyes. None of them move a muscle as they process what they are hearing.

"Are they…?" Annie starts tentatively.

"Oh, absolutely." With wide eyes they exchange shocked glances. None of them move a muscle, unsure how to handle the unexpected discovery. Honestly how do you go about stumbling across your boss fucking his wife? 

Diana, always the boldest of the trio, begins to tiptoe toward the hallway leading to the bedroom, prompting panicked whispers from the others.

"Diana! What are you doing?" Annie hisses urgently.

Rolling her eyes, Diana smirks back at them. "As if you two aren't just as curious," she retorts, continuing her stealthy approach toward the imposing double doors that shield a scene of raw intimacy unfolding behind them. Annie and Susie exchange resigned groans but follow cautiously behind.

Pressing their ears against the wood, they strain to catch every moan and whispered utterance, their curiosity piqued despite the scandalous nature of their eavesdropping.

"This is crazy," Susie breathes out in a hushed voice.

Unaware of the maids' clandestine surveillance, Michael drives into you with unrelenting force, his powerful hips slamming with yours in a relentless rhythm. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your senses overwhelmed by the delicious sensation of every ridge and vein of his cock stretching you to your limits. Your back arches instinctively, your slick walls gripping him tightly, sucking him deeper into your warmth.

"Greedy fucking pussy," Michael's voice groans with desire, strained with the effort of holding back. he mutters, the words laced with need. "Squeezing me so tight."

"P-please," you stutter, your voice barely a whisper amid the relentless assault of his powerful thrusts. "It’s too much."

"You can take it," he growls, his breath hot against your skin as he leans closer, his chain dangling temptingly in front of your face. "I know you can. You’re my good girl." His movements are deliberate, claiming you completely.

In a moment of pure instinct, you gently bite his shoulder, your nails digging into his skin as pleasure overtakes you. The bed beneath you rocks with each forceful rock of his hips, the headboard banging rhythmically against the wall. The murmur of the TV in the background does little to mask the crescendo of your combined moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

He adjusts his position slightly, angling his length to hit that sweet spot deep inside you. Your entire body trembles with the promise of release, his warm breath against your neck adding to the overwhelming sensations flooding your senses.

Meanwhile, outside the bedroom, Susie murmurs breathlessly, "Y’all hearing this shit?" Her pulse quickens with excitement. "I’ve never heard anything like it."

"That damn TV, can’t hear anything," Diana complains, pressing her ear harder against the wall in a futile attempt to drown out the sounds from within.

"They're really going at it, huh?" Annie whispers, trying to stifle a chuckle. "Didn't know Mr. Jackson had it in him." Her eyes widen with playful astonishment. "I mean, I knew he was passionate, but this...?"

"Lord forgive me for sinning," Susie quips, crossing herself dramatically as Diana giggles at her theatrics. "Oh, stop it, you."

"And half the country thinks he's a virgin," Annie adds with a sly grin. "Isn't that ironic?" Their cheeky banter fades as they're filled with arousal and a twinge of envy, listening intently to the man they've all undoubtedly fantasized about, lost in passion with his beloved behind closed doors.

Back in the bedroom, Michael pulls back to look into your eyes, his own darkened with lust. He grips your jaw and "You like that, baby? You like being fucked like this?" His words send shivers down your spine, your gummy walls instantly tighten around him.

"Yes," you gasp, your voice breaking with need. "God, yes."

"I want you to make a mess on my cock," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding, igniting a fresh wave of heat within you. "Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" You nod eagerly, breathless whimpers escaping your lips.

"Listen to how loud she's moaning," Annie murmurs from outside, her voice tinged with envy. "She must be feeling real good."

As you approach the brink of release, Michael grins devilishly, his movements becoming almost frantic to draw out the exquisite tension building between you. With every plunge of his fat cock sliding deeper and deeper, kissing your cervix, your legs tremble, your body quivering as you hurtle toward release. You cry out as your orgasm rips through you, driving you to a point of true wanton. Uninhibited, sinful moans echo through the room as you claw at the sheets.

Unable to handle your pulsing walls clinging to him he pounds you into the mattress, chasing his own high. As your body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat you try to calm down but the feeling on his bulbous tip flooding your pussy with his hot spurts of cum pushes you towards overstimulation. He sucks love marks on your neck to stifle his groans, as he feels his voluminous cum fill you up completely. He doesn't slow down, riding out your climax, driving you higher and higher until you're nothing but a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him.

Outside, the maids are spellbound, ears pressed against the door, their own breaths quickening in unison with yours.

"Oh my fucking God," Susie whispers, barely audible over the symphony of pleasure spilling from the bedroom. 

"Shh!" 

The maids, captivated, listen intently to your gasps as you climax. They wait a few more moments, taking in the heavy breathing and murmurs of endearment between you and Michael. Once the sounds start to subside, Diana gestures for them to move. “We should get out of here before they catch us.” 

“Uh huh,” Susie agrees, her voice trembling slightly. They tiptoe away from the door, retreating to an empty room down the hall, locking themselves in.

Once inside, they're all breathing heavily, heart pounding in their chests. The air is thick with anticipation, their faces flushed with arousal.

"I- uh…holy shit," Susie’s voice is hushed but tinged with excitement. "She was so loud."

"No shit," Annie replies, her own breath still coming in short bursts. "I mean, it sounded like he was breaking her in half."

“You reckon his dick is really as big as they say?” 

“Jesus Christ D, give us a moment to breathe.”

“I’m just saying, that girl’s always so quiet and sweet you know? Don’t think she’d be the type to fake her moans unless that dick is real good.'' Diana shrugs with a little grin on her face.

Susie fans herself with her hands, trying to cool down. “Yeah that's true, she’s always blushing and looking down when she talks to us, but here she is taking all that from him.”

Annie tries to be civil about all this but can’t help but add, “you think they go at it all the time?”

Diana’s grin grows wider as she nods. “You know it ain’t just a quick thing either, he probably takes his time too, making sure she’s thoroughly satisfied.”

“Lucky girl. I wouldn't mind being in her shoes,” Susie says dreamily.

Diana leans against the door, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You and me both,” she continues, “I gotta say, we have to do that again."

Annie looks at her, bewildered. "Are you crazy? We can’t just stand outside their door listening to them fuck."

Diana rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on. With how hard they were going at it, it's not far-fetched to think they'll do it again tonight. We should wait till they go back to their bedroom and listen in again."

"Absolutely not," Annie insists, crossing her arms defiantly. "That's crossing a line."

But Diana persists, knowing the curiosity and desire are mutual. "Oh, stop with this fake righteous act, y’all liked it, admit it."

Annie looks to Susie for support, but she just shrugs, clearly intrigued by the idea. Diana smirks, sensing victory. "See? Even Susie wants more." Susie, usually the shy one, surprises Annie by siding with Diana. "I mean… It was kinda hot.”

Annie huffs but doesn't entirely reject the idea. Diana’s enthusiasm is infectious, and deep down, Annie knows she’s curious too. "Fine. But how are we gonna do it without getting caught?"

Diana’s smirk grows wider. "We just gotta be smart about it. We know their routine. Once they’re back in the bedroom tonight, we’ll sneak up and listen. Simple." 

Annie finally relents, though still cautious. "If we get caught, it’s on you, D."

Diana grins, clearly enjoying the thrill. "Trust me, it'll be worth it." The three of them continue to hash out their plot, excitement hanging thick in the air.

The trio finally compose themselves after their illicit eavesdropping and gossip session, deciding it's time to actually get to work. They set about their cleaning tasks, though the air between them crackles with the shared secret. Every now and then, one of them breaks the silence with a hushed comment or a knowing glance, the earlier events still fresh in their minds.

As they tidy the living room, the sound of a door opening draws their attention. Michael and you emerge from the bedroom, your body language relaxed and content, a stark contrast to the intense passion that had filled the room earlier. Michael's arm drapes protectively around your waist as he guides you towards the kitchen, his touch gentle and reassuring.

The maids exchange glances, curiosity piqued once more. "Look at them," Susie whispers, her voice barely above a breath. "She looks so satisfied."

Annie, ever the observant one, nods and without looking up continues to do her job. "Bet she is.”

Diana snickers. "Yeah, she looks fucked out, she was moaning so loud. Damn near broke my eardrums." if they hadn't heard your desperate pleas and whimpers they’d definitely find it hard to question your innocence.

From their vantage point in the living room, they peek into the kitchen. You sit down heavily on one of the chairs, your body spent and exhausted, fingers lazily tracing random patterns on the marble counter as you lean your head on your arm . Michael kisses the top of your head and moves with practiced ease, starting to prepare a quick meal for you. His movements are efficient yet tender, his focus solely on making sure you're taken care of.

As you absentmindedly glance around, your eyes meet Susie's. You smile gently and give her a small wave. For a moment, there's a flash of recognition in her widened eyes before she quickly returns the greeting with a shy nod. She turns back to Annie and Diana, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"She saw me," Susie whispers, her voice a mixture of panic and excitement. "She smiled and waved."

Diana snorts. "Probably too blissed out to care. Look at her. She’s got that post-fuck glow."

Annie rolls her eyes, but a small smile plays on her lips. "You two are incorrigible. But yeah, she does look pretty content."

The trio continues their cleaning, though their attention frequently strays back to the kitchen. They can't help but watch as Michael moves about, his focus unwavering as he prepares something for you. Every now and then, he glances your way, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

"He’s so attentive," Annie murmurs, almost to herself. "I mean, he just spent all that time… you know… and now he’s making sure she’s okay. That’s so sweet."

Diana smirks. "Yeah, he’s definitely got enough left in him for round two tonight. I can tell.” 

Susie bites her lip, clearly torn between embarrassment and curiosity. "I just hope we don't get caught."

As they continue to clean, their whispers and giggles fill the room, the earlier intensity of their task somewhat forgotten in light of their newfound entertainment. They dust the same shelves over and over again just because the view of the kitchen is by far the best from that specific angle. The sight of you and Michael in the kitchen, a picture of post-coital domesticity, only fuels their fascination.

Michael, sensing your exhaustion, walks over to you with a plate of food. "Here you go, sweetheart," he says softly, placing the plate in front of you. "You need to eat something."

You smile up at him, your gratitude evident in your eyes. He smiles and sits down next to you, watching you with adoring eyes.

The maids watch this exchange with keen interest. "He’s so good to her," Susie whispers, a note of envy in her voice.

Diana rolls her eyes playfully. "Of course he is. You heard how he was talking to her. ‘You’re my good girl,’" she mimics, her voice dripping with mock lust. "He’s got her wrapped around his finger."

Annie, who has been silent for a while, finally speaks up. "You know, maybe we shouldn’t be talking about them like this. It’s kind of… invasive."

Diana rolls her eyes. "Oh my god, Annie. Live a little. They’re not gonna find out. Besides, it’s not like we’re hurting anyone."

They continue their tasks, though their eyes frequently stray back to the kitchen. The atmosphere is charged with a mix of lingering arousal and the thrill of having witnessed something so private. As they finish up in the living room and move to another part of the house, they can’t help but continue their whispered conversation. "So, we’re still following through with the plan?" Susie asks, her voice tinged with anticipation.

Diana grins. "mhm."

Annie shakes her head, though a small smile plays at her lips. "You two are crazy. But fine. Just this once more, we’re not doing it again."

The trio shares a conspiratorial laugh, their bond strengthened by their shared secret. As they go about their tasks, their minds are already anticipating the evening, eager to once again be a part of the passionate world they had stumbled upon.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, you finish your meal, your energy slowly returning. Michael sits next to you, his hand resting on your thigh, a silent reassurance of his presence.

You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder. "Thank you," you murmur, your voice soft.

He presses a kiss to your temple. "Anything for you, baby. You know that."

As the day wears on, You both spend the day lounging around the house, basking in the simplicity of each other's company. The day has been a rare gift of leisure, a precious break from Michael's usually hectic schedule. The sun sets lazily, casting a warm glow over everything.

The trio finds themselves looking forward to the evening, their curiosity and desire rekindled. The thrill of the forbidden being too intoxicating to resist.

As the day winds down and evening settles in, the maids finish their duties and prepare to leave. Michael politely, walks them to the door. "Goodnight, ladies," he says with a charming smile.

"Goodnight, Mr. Jackson," they reply, trying to keep their voices steady. They share a quick glance, the events of the day still fresh in their minds, and attempt to leave casually. As the door shuts behind them they walk down the path they’d usually take to return home but they make a turn to the right, making their way towards the back of the house.

You are already in bed, lounging in a tank top and panties, the warm weather prompting you to kick the covers off playfully. The soft light of the setting sun filters through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the room.

Michael steps into the bedroom, locking the door behind him, his gaze finding you instantly. You turn your head towards him and smile, your hand constantly reaching towards his direction, the sight of him filling you with warmth. He shakes his head teasingly as he pulls the covers back onto the bed.

"You always do this," he shakes his head, his voice filled with affection.

You watch him intently as he undresses, his movements slow and deliberate. He strips down to his boxers, revealing his toned physique, and you can’t help but feel a surge of desire. Your eyes are hungry, taking in every inch of his body which is draped in golden sun rays.

He slides into bed next to you, his presence comforting. He gently coos, "Are you feeling hot, baby?" His hand finds your hip, kneading it softly, feeling the soft, warm skin under his palm.

You nod, your eyes half-lidded with desire and mischief. Taking his hand, you guide it down between your legs, pressing his fingers harder against your clothed clit. "I am," you murmur, your voice barely a whisper, signaling where exactly you’re feeling hot.

He chuckles, a low, knowing sound. "You're insatiable," he teases, his fingers starting to move in slow, tantalizing circles. The fabric unsurprisingly dampening in an instant.

Your eyes flutter from the slight pressure and you spread your legs wider, inviting him in. "You love it," you counter with a small smile.

He smirks and admits, moving between your spread thighs, his fingers hooking under your panties and slowly pulling them off. He casually lets them fall on the floor as his eyes are immediately glued to your weeping cunt, already salivating at the view.

Meanwhile, in the backyard, the maids have been waiting, the anticipation building. Diana, ever the ringleader, whispers, "It’s time." They tiptoe towards your patio which is connected to your bedroom. They crouch down next to the glass doors, holding their breath as they try to peer inside without making their presence known. The house is quiet, the only sounds coming from within the intimate space you and Michael share. They inch closer, their breaths shallow and hearts pounding, the thrill of voyeurism electrifying their senses.

Inside the bedroom, the atmosphere is intimate and calm compared to the morning's intensity. Michael lays on his front, his face inches from your glistening pussy, still leaking with his cum from earlier. He bites his lip at the sight, the raw desire in his eyes making you shiver with anticipation.

He gently slides his middle finger into your hole, pushing his cum deeper inside you. "Look at you, so full of me," he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. "Such a good girl, taking everything I give you."

You moan softly, the sensation of his finger inside you making your body hum with pleasure. He parts your glossy folds with his fingers, exposing your sensitive clit. Leaning in, he suckles on the bud, rolling it in his mouth with expert precision.

Peering through the glass, their eyes widen as they take in the sight before them. Michael is between your legs, his face buried in your pussy, his tongue working you with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Your eyes are shut tight, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he devours you. The soft glow from the bedside lamp casts a warm light over the scene, highlighting every intimate detail.

"God, seeing it is so much better than just listening," Susie whispers, her voice a mix of awe and arousal.

They press against each other, jostling quietly for the best view. Michael's focus is entirely on you, his eyes closed as he savors your taste, his tongue flicking over your clit with expert precision. The way he worships your body is mesmerizing, each movement filled with intent and passion.

Suddenly, Michael pulls away with a wet pop, your juices glistening on his lips and chin. You whine at the loss of contact, your body trembling with need. "Shh, baby," he soothes, replacing his tongue with his thumb, pressing it against your swollen clit and rubbing gentle circles.

The maids hold their breath, their eyes glued to the scene. Michael prods two fingers against your entrance, teasing you before slowly sliding them in. He breathes in deeply, savoring your scent as his fingers begin to scissor inside you, stretching your tight walls. His wedding band glistens, drenched in your slick, as he pumps his fingers in and out with a steady rhythm, the cold metal adding to the pleasure.

Susie, filled with envy and arousal, leans closer to Annie. "I've never seen a man eat pussy this good," she whispers, her voice tinged with longing. 

"He definitely knows where the clit is." Annie giggles and adds.

Diana, unable to contain her excitement, groans softly. "When is he going to take out his cock and fuck her?" she hisses, her eyes locked on the sight of Michael's fingers disappearing inside you.

Annie glares at her. "Oh, I'm sorry, is watching this not enough for you?" she snaps quietly.

Michael's fingers work their magic, the squelching noises filling the room as you whimper and buck your hips against his skilled hands. He watches you intently, his eyes dark with lust, enjoying the way you respond to his touch. "You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "My girl."

Your whimpers turn into moans, your body arching off the bed as he brings you closer to the edge. "Michael, please," you beg, your voice a breathy whisper.

He leans in, his breath hot against your skin, leaving hickeys along your inner thighs. "What is it, baby?" he asks, his thumb pressing harder against your clit.

"Wanna cum," you gasp, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

He smirks, his fingers curling inside you to hit that sweet spot. "Then come for me, sweet girl," he whispers, his voice a low growl.

The maids watch in rapt attention, their own bodies reacting to the scene before them. Susie's cheeks are flushed, her breath quickening. "I can't believe we're actually seeing it this time," she whispers, her voice trembling with excitement.

"Look at how he handles her. It's like he knows exactly what she needs." Annie breathes, her eyes wide with awe.

Diana, her frustration mounting, shifts restlessly. "I want to see him fuck her," she insists, her voice a low whine. "Wanna see what his cock looks like."

Annie shoots her a sharp look. "Just be patient," she snaps. "Enjoy what we're seeing now."

Inside the room, Michael's fingers move faster, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your moans grow louder, your body trembling with the intensity of your impending orgasm. "I- I’m close" you cry out, your voice breaking with need.

"There there," he murmurs, his fingers never faltering. "Let go for me. Cum all over my fingers."

With a final flick of his tongue and a deep thrust of his fingers, you shatter. Your orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing with pleasure. Michael holds you through it, his mouth and fingers never ceasing their movements, prolonging your release until you are spent and trembling.

The maids are transfixed, their own arousal palpable. "y’all…" Susie whispers, her voice filled with need. "I didn't even know it was possible to cum that hard just from fingers."

Annie nods, her eyes still fixed on the scene before her. "He’s Michael Jackson, what did you expect," she murmurs. 

Diana, her eyes dark with lust, can barely contain herself. "I want to see more," she insists, her voice a desperate whisper.

As you come down from your high, panting, Michael gently withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips. "You taste so good," he purrs, his eyes locked on yours. You stretch weakly, your body still trembling. Michael licks his drenched fingers, savoring your taste as his eyes lock onto yours with a smoldering intensity. He leans in to give your clit a soft, lingering kiss, a gesture of tenderness. 

As he moves off the bed to take off his boxers, you whimper from the loss of contact, your body still trembling from the recent orgasm. You always become so clingy afterward, seeking his warmth and touch even if it's scorching hot outside.

“I’m right here, baby,” he coos gently, his voice soothing as he pulls down his boxers, freeing his throbbing cock. The maids, hidden just outside the glass doors, gasp in unison at the sight. Michael’s heavy shaft sways with his every move, a sight both impressive and intimidating.

“Goodness gracious, that thing is massive,” Diana whispers, her eyes wide with arousal.

The others nod, their mouths hanging open in shock. “No wonder she always looks so happy,” Susie murmurs. “It’s hard not to when your man’s packing like that.”

Annie notices Diana’s hazy expression, her eyes glued to Michael’s meaty cock as she licks her lips. Annie nudges her sharply. “Stop drooling, Diana.”

Susie giggles, trying to stifle the sound. “Yeah, you look like you just came.”

Diana shoots them a side-eye, irritated but unable to tear her gaze away from Michael as he strokes his meaty shaft, preparing himself. She unconsciously leans forward, hands pressing against the glass doors, her desire overriding her sense of caution. The door creaks in the silent room, a loud and unmistakable sound.

Annie, eyes wide with realization, hisses urgently, “Wait, no!”

But it’s too late. Packed together like sardines, when Diana pushes forward, the glass doors swing open, and they all tumble into the room with a loud, resounding thud. The sudden intrusion shatters the intimate atmosphere, and for a moment, time seems to freeze.

You gasp in horror, your eyes wide as you scramble to cover yourself. Michael’s head snaps around, his expression shifting from surprise to fury as he sees the maids he had just bid goodnight to, now sprawled awkwardly on the floor. They remain frozen, their eyes wide with horror at having been caught.

“Fuck,” Annie whispers, the word barely audible but carrying the weight of their collective dread.

Michael’s eyes blaze with anger, but his first instinct is to protect you. He immediately grabs the covers and drapes them over your body, shielding you from their prying eyes. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering, “Stay here.”

You try to argue, your voice trembling, “But Michael-”

He cuts you off with a commanding look, one you don’t often see, filled with authority and protectiveness. “I said stay,” he repeats firmly.

Nodding obediently, you clutch the sheets closer to your face, your heart pounding in your chest. Michael turns halfway, careful not to expose himself completely, and fixes the maids with a venomously calm stare.

“Wait in my office,” he orders, his tone cold and tolerating no argument.

The trio stares dumbly for a few seconds, processing his words before they scramble to their feet, tripping over themselves in their haste to leave. Broken apologies tumble from their lips as they run out of the room, their faces flushed with shame and embarrassment.

Once they’re gone, Michael turns back to you, his expression softening. “Are you okay?” he asks gently, his hands cupping your face.

You nod, though your heart is still racing. “I guess…I'm just shocked.”

“I’ll take care of this,” he promises, his voice filled with a protective resolve. He kisses your forehead again, then stands, pulling on his discarded boxers and trousers. “Stay here and try to relax, okay?”

You nod again, watching him as he leaves the room, your anxiety mixing with a strange sense of reassurance at his presence.

Michael leaves you in the bedroom, his heart heavy with both fury and a fierce protectiveness. As he walks down the hallway, the moonlight filters through the windows, casting long shadows and illuminating his path. Each step he takes echoes softly against the wooden floor, the sound mingling with the seething rage that burns within him. His fists clench and unclench at his sides, every muscle in his body taut with anger.

In the office, the maids are huddled together, in a state of panic, their faces filled with dread. They had thought themselves clever, sneaking around to watch, but now the reality of their actions is sinking in.

“Oh my god, we’re so screwed,” Susie whispers, wringing her hands nervously.

Annie turns to Diana. "This was all your idea!" she hisses, her voice trembling with fear.

Diana glares back, her own nerves frayed. "Oh, don't you dare put this all on me! You wanted this as much as I did!"

Susie, caught in the middle, raises her hands in a futile attempt to calm them. "Guys, please, this isn’t the time. We need to stick together."

The door swings open, and they all jump, turning to see Michael standing in the doorway, his expression a mask of controlled fury. He steps into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click that feels like the final nail in their coffin.

“Explain yourselves,” he demands, his voice low and dangerous.

The maids exchange panicked glances, none of them wanting to be the first to speak. Finally, Annie steps forward, her voice trembling. “We... we’re so sorry, Mr. Jackson. We didn’t mean to intrude. We just...”

“Just what?” he snaps, his patience fraying. 

Susie whispers, her voice barely audible, "We were just curious..."

Michael raises his brows, his eyes narrowing. "Curious? Curious?!”  he repeats, louder this time. The word hangs in the air, heavy with disdain.

He loses his cool for a moment, his voice rising as he yells, "Are you out of your fucking minds?!"

The maids shudder, their fear palpable. They are totally fucked, and they know it. “We’re truly so sorry,” Annie stammers, her voice breaking. “We never meant for this to happen.”

Michael’s expression remains hard, his eyes cold as ice. “You think an apology is enough? You think saying sorry will fix this? You’ve breached a level of trust that’s hard to come back from.” Michael’s eyes bore into each of them, his disappointment palpable.

Michael takes a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. “What gave you the brilliant idea to spy on us?”

There’s a heavy silence as none of them dare to speak. Michael’s patience wears thin. “I’m not going to repeat my question.”

Silence fills the room as the maids exchange terrified glances. Finally, Diana stutters, "We... we eavesdropped earlier this morning." Susie starts to tear up silently, her guilt and fear overwhelming her.

Michael breathes out heavily, the sound like a hiss through clenched teeth. "Sit," he commands, his tone brooking no argument.

They scramble to comply, their hands shaking as they take their seats. Michael retrieves a folder from the desk drawer, pulling out several documents and laying one in front of each of them with a pen.

"Sign," he says, the word clipped and devoid of any warmth.

Annie furrows her brows as she reads the document. It's a non-disclosure agreement. It hits her like a punch to the gut: he's making them sign NDAs to ensure they don't blabber about this to anyone, especially the press. Without reading through it, they all sign. Their hands shake so much that their signatures are barely legible. 

Michael retrieves the signed documents, his eyes never leaving theirs. He stares at them, his gaze hard and unforgiving. "Consider yourselves fired," he says, each word delivered with cutting precision.

The maids’ faces pale further, the reality of their actions hitting them like a sledgehammer. 

They swallow hard, nodding silently. Without needing further prompting, they rise from their seats and make their way out of the office, their footsteps heavy with the weight of their actions. As they exit the estate, the night air feels colder. As they walk down the long driveway and the gravity of their situation sinks in.

As they reach the gates, they look back at Neverland ranch one last time, the grandeur and beauty now a stark contrast to their current despair. They exit, their steps heavy and their minds filled with regret.

© michaelsfavgirl 2024

Taglist: @theladyinmoscow @yeriminist @yeaiamme2 @helloaugustmoon @cinnamoncunt @theladyofmylife @minekarina @kionaaa @theskinniestjackson-denny @leociinta @graciegizmo3184 @theasexual-jackson @mrsmikaelsxn @fallinlovewithevil @armasbw @b3rk1ey @sirusxx @maybe7tommorow @falllovesomemichealjackson @moonuoi @iconsmjj

[taegimood]

— yeonjun overstimming himself to make you cum ♡

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 1k warnings: smut, overstimulation (m receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (m receiving), dirty talk, use of pet names (baby, good girl), tummy bulge, pussydrunk soft dom bf!jun~

a/n - i’ve had this idea for a while now, lots of people seemed to like my other jun thought so here’s another one ♡ my inbox is open, send in requests for any member~!

──────────────────────

your legs tremble with every steady thrust to your cunt that yeonjun delivers, the room hot with moans and labored breaths.

the sight above you is heavenly; his dark hair hanging over his eyes, eyes that are boring into yours as he keeps his lips so tantalizingly close — so close, but just far enough to make you beg for it.

you whine as you chase him into a kiss. moaning into each other’s mouths as his skin slaps against yours, you squeeze your legs tighter around his waist and grip the toned arms that hold him up on either side of you as his pace begins to quicken. “baby..”

you can tell he’s close by the breathlessness in his voice and the way his eyes screw shut, lip tugging between his teeth to stop the moans that threaten to spill.

he’s fucking into you so deliciously. your back arches as the tip of his cock hits particularly deep; with a strangled gasp, your hips buck up into his and the way your pussy clenches around him has yeonjun seeing stars.

“baby, i’m- f-fuck, i’m gonna fill you up so good.” he groans. “such a good girl. pussy so good.. squeezing around me like that, fuck..” you can tell that he’s close. his thrusts grow sloppy, desperate, drilling into you as he chases his approaching high. you’re practically drooling, moans spilling from your parted lips as he hits so deep, so good —

before he can help it, his cum is spilling into you, stuttering thrusts slowing to a stop as he pants heavily; the silver chain around his neck is still swinging as he hovers over you, catching his breath. you whine desperately at the sudden loss of movement, your orgasm so close, now chased away —

as much as you want to cum on his cock, you’re at least happy to have his fingers and tongue to help you meet your high, always the doting boyfriend. but as yeonjun sits up onto his knees, what you don’t expect is for him to grip your hips, yanking you further down on his sensitive cock instead of slipping out of you like he usually would, your legs splayed open over his thighs as your hips lift slightly off the bed.

you both gasp in unison at the feeling. “j-jun-?!”

you’re already lifting yourself up onto your elbows, but yeonjun’s hands remain firm on your hips.

“still gotta make you cum, baby, don’t i? just relax for me,” he breathes. you drop back onto the pillow in surprise as a fresh wave of arousal crashes over you, your boyfriend’s sweaty chest still rising and falling in pants as his brows furrow at the over-sensitivity. “jjunie it’s okay, you can just—“

his first thrust takes the words right off of your tongue and somewhere far, far away, and this new angle has you gripping the sheets for dear life. “fuck,” you gasp out as he picks up the pace into a sharp rhythm, pulling your hips against his with firm slaps of skin on skin, his twitching, hardening cock drilling the deepest parts of you like it’s his job. you can’t stop the lewd moans now, wondering how you’re even able to make any sound at all when he’s fucking you this good.

“that’s it, baby, take it,” he grunts, his eyes glued to the bulge of his big cock in your tummy.

“you like it when i use myself to get you off, huh? you like it when i service you like this?” he chuckles, the filthy wet noises that your pussy is making growing even wetter at his words. “y-yes..” you whimper pathetically, unable to even say anything else.

“so fucked out on my cock, can’t even speak..” he murmurs breathlessly, and despite all his taunts, you can tell that he’s no better than you as his words grow increasingly less convincing and just as desperate-sounding as you feel.

he’s pounding into you so messily, one of his thumbs moving over your clit in quick circles, his lips parted and head lolled back as he releases a loud groan at the way you’re clenching around him so tightly. you can see the way his abdomen is tensing from the sheer overstimulation he’s giving himself in his determination to get you off and you nearly cum just at the thought of it.“jjunie, ‘m so.. so fucking close, p-please.. please..”

“that’s it, baby, fucking cum all over my cock, let go for me, fuck- good girl-“ he gasps out, his voice more of a high whine now than anything, his low dominating tone from before practically evaporating with each thrust. his thumb is moving rapidly over your clit, eyes screwed shut and hips twitching, the over-sensitivity stripping him of any thought other than getting the both of you to cum. “n-need it, jun, need it so bad-!” you’re rambling, gripping onto his hand that still holds your hip, shaking and squirming and desperately trying to buck your hips further into him. you can feel the chord about to snap when your eyes meet his, and just like that, your vision flashes white as your orgasm wracks over your entire body. you can feel yeonjun’s warm cum spurting into you again as he moans out filthily, both of you shaking and slick with sweat as he finally collapses on top of you in a daze.

neither of you speak as you both catch your breath, chests moving fervently against each other’s. yeonjun slumps fully into the crook of your neck.

“holy fuck,” he rasps.

“yeah. holy fuck, yeonjun.”

he lifts his head tiredly to give you a shit-eating grin. his hand moves to soothe up and down your waist; “my stamina is no joke, huh?” you roll your eyes but return his smile anyway, resting your arms around his shoulders as you pull him down into a kiss. “can’t believe you did that..” you mumble shyly. he nuzzles his face into your cheek, peppering it with kisses, and you giggle.

“gotta give my best for my baby.”

[dayas]

8 + elphaba & fiyero?

8 ⧽. giving them unabashed heart eyes when they do something cute and getting caught

AHHH MY FIRST FIYERABA PROMPT I AM SO EXCITED!!! I’ve been wanting to write for them since I got out of Wicked last week. Hopefully this is okay!

—

Fiyero Tigelaar isn’t exactly known for thinking. In fact, all he’s ever projected to his fellow students is that he doesn’t think, that he simply dances through life and refuses to invite further stresses and woes in with further consideration. And yet. He hasn’t been able to keep her out of his mind. Elphaba Thropp, the spirited, stunning witch he’d nearly trampled on accident in the forest. She’s the very reason he finds himself in the library of all places, a location he actively avoids. Books are mirrors just as much as they are windows into different worlds, and the last thing he wants to do is risk seeing himself reflected within the pages of some myth or legend.

She’s sitting at her favorite table, her head bent, her braids pulled back away from her face. Her finger traces a singular line a few times over before it moves on, winding itself around the ends of a few of her braids. She’s reading (no surprise there), but what catches his eye isn’t what she’s doing. It’s that she’s smiling. Fiyero doesn’t think he has ever seen Elphaba smile, not like the one she wears now. Something soft and secret, wholly hers, belonging to no one else. Unbeknownst to him, his own face mirrors her expression, a soft smile settled upon his lips. He watches her because he can’t help himself, because he’s still intrigued by her even when she’s silent.

“I can see you, you know.”

Elphaba’s eyes flicker up, catching his gaze and holding it hostage. Fiyero doesn’t flinch, only shrugs.

“I wasn’t certain you could. You’re missing your glasses today. I’m glad to know you’re so attuned to my presence, though.” Her eyes roll quickly, and that same fondness appears in his.

“Maybe in your dreams, Tigelaar.”

“So you dream about me, Thropp?”

She shakes her head, and he flashes a charming grin at her.

“What exactly happens in these dreams?”

“What do you want? You were staring rather intensely, so you must want something.”

Fiyero moves closer to her, settling a few steps away from where she is seated.

“Can’t a man admire beauty from afar?”

Elphaba frowns immediately.

“You don’t have to lie.”

He shocks himself by lowering his voice, the softness of his tone matched evenly by its authenticity.

“I’m not lying.”

Something flashes behind Elphaba’s eyes. He can’t tell what it is — she tears her gaze away from his before he is able to determine it.

When she speaks, it is barely audible.

“Why were you looking at me like that?”

Her eyes, so wide, a beautifully deep green, return to seek his out. The prince’s words are barely above a whisper, the blue of his own eyes holding hers steadily.

“You know why.”

Elphaba takes a sharp breath, biting down on her lip. She takes her book and stands abruptly, nearly running into him in her rush to leave.

“Elphaba — ” Fiyero says, confused, laying a gentle hand on her wrist to stop her. He’s thankful she does, and he uses his other hand to brush his fingers beneath her chin, turning her head so he can see her face. He’s shocked to find tears welling up in her eyes.

“You are a lot of things, Fiyero,” she whispers, her voice shaking, “but I never thought you were cruel. Not like this.”

“You don’t have to believe me.”

His own whisper is an impassioned blurt.

“You don’t have to believe me, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. That what I feel for you isn’t real.”

“It can’t be real.”

“It is.”

They are locked in a stalemate he never expected, but one he refuses to leave first. He feels it, when she begins to break down. He takes a step closer, cupping her cheek in his hand, his other holding hers.

“Tell me you don’t feel it too.”

He will leave her alone, he will, if she doesn’t. She’s close enough to him that their chests brush together with every breath they take.

“I can’t.”

The sound of heels clicking cuts through their moment.

“Meet me tonight,” Fiyero murmurs into her ear, “the woods. Eight o’clock.” Elphaba nods, and he takes off then, nearly crashing into Galinda as she puts herself in his path.

“There you are!” she chirps, as bright and bubbly as ever, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, dearest.”

Fiyero lets her steer him away from the outside of the library and chatter on. He doesn’t hear a word she says; he’s too busy thinking of what will come when the sun sets and he can finally see the woman’s who’s forced him into thinking again.

[riaraa]

Chapter 3 of my Michèle Magnan/Joseph Descamps story No Angels is live on AO3!

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | my ao3

Now, he really wants to kiss her. To touch her and taste her brazenly. Instead, he clears his throat and shoves his hands in his pocket so he doesn’t crash their mouths together in public.

It’ll all be worth the wait. There is no greater satisfaction than delayed gratification.

“See you next week?” He asks instead.

She nods before spinning away and walking quickly down the street. As she turns the corner and is out of his sight, he feels the urge to go after her—he hates to see her go.

[cozy-fantasy-corner]

Band of Idiots Pt. 4: Coney Island

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, angst, pining, language, Steve being an angsty cat, mentions of violence, alcohol, illness, death, and fondue-ing 

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Steve, Y/n, and Bucky are as thick as thieves. They spend a day at Coney Island together. Feelings are discovered and lies are told.

Author’s Note: It’s been ages since I’ve updated this fic. My apologies. Life got crazy. I graduated high school, moved out of state for college, and then got super sick. But I’m back and better than ever. My inbox and dms are always open!

(not my gif. credit to the owner)

-------

Brooklyn summers could be unbearable. The molten heat pounding on the asphalt of a concrete jungle was enough to make any seasoned New Yorker feel faint. The air looked like a blur and felt like it was baking the city alive. The sun a constant, unrelenting oven. 

July of 1934 was no different. In fact, it was somehow worse. 

Just two weeks ago, Stevie had his fourteenth birthday. And boy was he rearing to go. The torturous temperatures had Stevie acting like an alley cat. He was always yowling about something and picking fights with any and everyone. 

Three days this week he’d come home while Miss Sarah was at work cut up and bleeding. I’d be an amazing nurse with the amount of times I’ve given that boy stitches and set his nose. 

With Bucky’s new job down at the docks, he couldn’t save Steve so easily from all of his fights like he used to. Poor Buck is so worried about our boy. The thought of him biting off more than he can chew is enough to cause a knot in all of our stomachs. We wouldn’t know what to do without him. 

------- 

Today, Bucky had the day off of work and he’d been saving for weeks to take us to Coney Island to blow off some steam. For him, that was spending all his money to impress dames. For Stevie, it was drawing while next to me on a bench or the beach. As for me, I loved to just sit and observe all of the people: the sights, the smells, the sounds. 

The train ride to the amusement park was crowded and boiling with body heat. It smelled like stale sweat and old people in the worst way. The screams of children and the loud chatter from other patrons were enough to give me a headache, even with my bad ear. My back was killing me from standing for so long without a break, forcing me to brace myself on Steve and Bucky’s shoulders. Of course, Mister Meat-Head over here was flexin’ his suddenly very toned shoulder under my grip which caused me to blush. Thank God my face was already red from overheating, or he’d have poked fun at me about it. 

My shitty lungs were being squeezed by the warm, wet air, and I wheezed slightly. My wheezing was met with Steve’s and a concerned glare from Bucky. I moved my hand to my bag, fumbling for my peppermint oil. My fingers met the cold glass and pried it open near our noses. A deep inhale eased the pressure in my chest. 

“You alright, Kiddo?”

“She’s peachy, Buck. We’re on a hot train with a buncha loud, smelly assholes and we both got shit lungs. Wattaya think, ya jerk?” Steve snarked back, radiating thick annoyance. My mouth fell open in shock. 

Bucky threw up his hand defensively, a mildly hurt look on his face. Steve was never this cross, even on his worst days. Something was wrong, had been for weeks. Getting into fights, coming home later, skipping meals, being snippy, even to me. Now it was getting worse. I hoped that it wouldn’t ruin our day out, but part of me knew that things would only go downhill from there. And all I could do was brace myself for impact. 

I pulled my shoulders closer to my neck and inched towards Buck a little bit. My eyes squeezed themselves shut and I tried to breathe in, hoping for calm. All I got was B.O. and a frown from Steve. He knows I only do that when I’m nervous, and he was the thing making me nervous. 

Buck seemed so set on enjoying the day that he glazed over everything and plastered his trademark Bucky Barnes grin on his sweaty face. I almost wanted to pinch his arm just to snap him out of it. No one should smile that much or look that good doing it. Especially not on a train in the summer heat. Honest to God, it was annoying. 

Between Mister Sunshine and Mister Scrooge, the day was bound to be interesting to say the least. 

------

Bucky had stopped to grab me some pop while Steve stormed off, a bit too eager to be rid of us for my taste. A minute piece of my heart crumbled away. Never, in all the years that I had known Steven Grant Rogers, had he voluntarily put distance between us. I couldn’t figure a rhyme or reason, all I could feel in that moment was hurt. 

I ambled along the dock, book in hand. The salt-tinged air lapped at my frizzy locks and splotchy skin like a cooling balm. It felt like I could fully exhale finally. Deep breaths were a blessing. 

Very little time passed when Buck had bounced up beside me with his angelic grin. His baby fat had melted away in recent months, giving him a devilish yet heavenly appearance. That stupid, perfect grin caught me off guard. I was in awe that my safety net, my friend could possibly be this beautiful. He had always been handsome, but not once in my life had I seen someone, anyone, look so perfect. I wasn’t aware that my feelings for him could grow, but by-golly they did. 

Just staring at him wouldn’t do, so I elbowed him in the ribs. His playful pout made my chest squeeze. It wasn’t in the usual painful way like my attacks. It was something new, unfamiliar. He chuckled and pulled me under his arm as we continued down the dock. I felt so small and safe at his side. Tiny jolts of electricity seemed to pass from his skin to mine with every step. 

Nestled into Bucky’s side, we meandered towards the rides. A good handful of summers had passed since we’d been able to come here, but we had long outgrown the attractions we were used to. We bickered back and forth about which adventure to choose. I was thankfully able to convince him to take me on the ferris wheel at some point today, but I knew I’d have to let him have his fun first. The way his eyes lit up talking about the Cyclone told me that I wouldn’t have any choice but to go with him. God, I hate roller coasters. 

That Godforsaken ride was the bane of my existence, but my boys loved it to death. I always ended up with my head tucked into someone’s chest as we whipped ‘round and ‘round. On especially good days, like today, I was able to hold my lunch down.  

Something about this time felt odd. Bucky kept looking at me with a goofy grin. This smile wasn’t his normal endearing, toothy grin; there was something more to it that I couldn’t quite place. That look had my heart pounding in my chest, not from fear, but excitement maybe. 

------

Many more strange glances were exchanged over the next couple of hours, Steve’s attitude problem mostly forgotten. I couldn’t help but worry that something was wrong with Buck. Over the last 7 years, he had looked at me a lot of ways: worried, annoyed, caring. Today was a whole fresh set that I couldn’t quite name. It made me uneasy, yet giddy at the same time. A tiny, delusional part of me thought that maybe, just maybe the older boy loved me like I loved him. That would be impossible. He loves me like a sister. 

The rumble of Bucky’s voice shook me from my thoughts.

“How ‘bout that ferris wheel now? I think I’ve tortured you enough for one day.” he said with a chuckle. I nodded eagerly. 

As I went to start walking towards my favorite ride, I felt a hand in mine. Bucky’s. My breath caught in my throat, but I wouldn’t allow myself to freeze up. He couldn’t know how that tiny gesture affected me. Instead, I smiled up at him, squeezing his massive hand as we moved. 

Such a simple motion brought all of the thoughts I had shoved to the side crashing forward. My mind was in such a state that I didn’t even realize that we were at the front of the line, about to enter our car. Bucky moved to help me up with his kind smile and I sheepishly accepted. 

Damn him. Damn his beautiful smile. Damn his gentlemanly ways. 

After we settled beside one another, he took my hand in his again. His calloused thumb smoothed over the back of my velvet soft hand. It was almost like he was trying to tell me something. Lord, I need calm down. 

As we reached the top, Buck peeled me away from his side and turned look at me. He had an energy about him like he wanted to say something. His brow was furrowed, his eyes serious. His hands rubbed themselves down his thighs nervously. I couldn’t help but feel a little scared. Bucky is the calm one, the happy one. There has never been something he couldn’t turn into a joke. His brow only set itself this way when he was uncomfortable. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. 

I gulped. 

This had to be bad, right? But it couldn’t be. Nothing bad could ever come from such beautiful lips. Nothing. 

A sudden warmth on my lips jerked me out of my worry. My eyes blew wide in surprise. The warmth was Bucky, more specifically, Bucky’s lips. Everything faded away, even the shock, as I melted into the soft feeling of him against my mouth. His work-hardened hands came up to cup my cheeks while I sat there limp in his arms. We had all kissed on another over the years, light pecks on the cheeks and forehead. This one was different. 

Bucky pulled back for air and I sighed softly. Our foreheads met, eyes closed. My body was still limp, but my head spun a million miles a minute. He feels the same way. I’m not crazy. What does this mean? What about Steve?

Steve! 

We jumped apart when a sharp, familiar cough pierced through the haze. My startled eyes met Steve’s angry ones. Dread filled my stomach as I clamored away from Buck and onto the platform of the ferris wheel. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

------

Steve grabbed my arm roughly and dragged me towards a building nearby. Buck ran after us, yelling for us to stop. I was filled with panic and guilt. Steve looked like he was going to kill someone, well Bucky specifically. 

“What the FUCK was that, Y/N?” Steve growled, fist closing more tightly around my bicep. 

Before I could respond, Bucky was towering over both of us looking just as confused as I was. He paused for a second, taking in my shaking figure. His eyes hardened with rage. No one was allowed to scare me, not even Steve. He grabbed his shoulder harshly and spun him around. 

“You wanna let her go, Punk?” Buck hissed. Steve bristled and clenched his jaw. 

In true Steve fashion, he decided to forgo using his words, leaping straight to using his fists. His fist connected with Bucky’s jaw and I screamed. Bucky shot me a worried glance before pinning Steve to the wall as gently as possible. They stared one another down. All of our chests were heaving. 

Steve looked up at our friend with tears brimming his baby blue eyes, “How could you, pal? You know better”.

Bucky’s face softened instantly and my panic grew. Steve has feelings for me?

Buck muttered an apology and let Stevie go. I pushed myself between them, tears rolling down my flushed cheeks. Their gazes on me were piercing, my skin heating under their eyes. I grabbed Bucky’s hand and turned to Steve. He grabbed my free hand and squeezed softly, eyes full of tears and remorse. I put my head on his chest and hugged him tightly. 

“Stevie, what’s goin’ on, huh?” I whispered pulling back slightly. 

He just croaked, his words seeming to escape him. Buck squeeze my hand, whispering his goodbyes. As the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the alley, a heavy silence enveloped us. Steve's gaze was distant, lost in the swirl of emotions that had consumed him. I stood there, my heart heavy with the weight of unspoken truths and tangled feelings.

"I... I don't know where to begin," Steve finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes searched mine, a mixture of pain and longing flickering within them. 

I reached out, gently touching his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. "It's okay, Steve. Whatever it is, we can figure it out together," I said softly, offering him a small, reassuring smile. Of course we could, I love him more than life itself. 

He nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "I... I've been trying to deny it, but... seeing you with Bucky, it just..." His voice trailed off, his expression haunted.

I took a step closer, closing the gap between us. "Steve, whatever you're feeling, it's okay. You don't have to hold it all in," I whispered, my heart aching for him. I didn’t mean to hurt him. We had promised as kids never to harm the other. That promise lay shattered at our feet, and it was all my stupid fucking fault. 

Tears welled up in his eyes, reflecting the fading light of the setting sun. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion.

I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. We stood there, clinging to each other in the dwindling light, the weight of our unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. I shushed him softly like Ms. Sarah would, hoping, praying that I could ease his pain with imitation of his mother’s love. 

In that moment, amidst the chaos of tangled feelings and fractured relationships, the crushing realization that I had potentially destroyed the most meaningful bond in my life washed over me. One kiss and our worlds had crashed apart. 

Steve and I remained locked in our embrace, the warmth of each other's frail presence a balm to our troubled souls. The world seemed to fade away around us, leaving only the echo of our steady heartbeats and the whisper of our shared breaths. Clinging to him seemed to be the only thing keeping the ground from vanishing beneath us. He would never let me fall. 

With a gentle touch, I tilted Steve's chin up, meeting his gaze with a tenderness born of years of friendship and unspoken understanding. "I need you to say it." I whisper, my voice cracking under the weight of years of shared memories and unspoken emotions.

Steve's eyes searched mine, his gaze filled with a vulnerability that tore at my heart. "I love Bucky. More than you will ever know, Minnie." he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. Something inside of me fractured. 

He loved him? I felt betrayed. Steve had known for years how I felt, and he had kept this to himself. To what, protect me? Tinges of frustration bubbled up inside of me. He had lied to me, let me confide in him in the earliest hours of the morning, given me advice. None of it was in earnest. 

My anger fizzled out when I saw the tears falling from his pleading eyes. There wasn’t a way in the world I could stay mad at my Stevie, however betrayed I felt. 

I brushed away a stray tear that clung to his cheek, my thumb tracing a gentle path across his skin. "We'll figure it out together, Steve. Whatever comes our way, we'll face it together. All three of us," I promised, the conviction in my words unwavering. He flinched at my mention of all of us. His eyes begged me to keep his feeling for Buck between him and myself. I nodded knowingly, unwilling to betray him. 

In that moment, amidst the fading light of a Brooklyn sunset, I knew that this God-forsaken mess was far from over. But as long as we had each other, I was certain that we could weather any storm that lay ahead. And with that knowledge warming my heart, I held Steve a little tighter, silently vowing to never let go. 

[whorxology]

⛧☾༺♰Restless♰༻☽⛧

WARNINGS: Mentions of past relationship with Luke, Spoilers for Ep 8 PJO, Angst, Cliffhanger, very much so not canonically accurate, not proofread

W.C: 0.7

A/N: I have not read the books only knowledge I have of PJO is from the movies, TV series, and multiple fics I have read. With that being said this is purely for fun. You are more than welcome to disagree and leave feedback.

A/N: I kinda fell out of my PJO phase after the last episode but I wrote like right after the last episode dropped and forgot to post it 🧍🏻......... its here now 🤗

Again. Again. Again. Again. You continue to hit the dummy over and over again. The wooden sword dug into your palm as it hit the stuffed mannequin. You had hoped that training would help take things off your mind but the events from last night played over and over in your head. It was like a broken record or a taunting little kid annoying and making you bubble with anger.

You weren't supposed to be there. You were supposed to be with Annabeth watching Clarrissa. Annabeth had disappeared and you were left alone with the target. She had made a snarky comment about if you wanted to make friendship bracelets with her since you seem to be glued to her ass. She and you weren’t friends mainly because of how rude she was to Percy. Her comment made you realize that she wasn't Percy's friend and that meant that the prophecy couldn't have been about her. 

You had rushed to find Percy and Luke. You couldn’t believe your thoughts you didn't want to think that Luke, amazing boyfriend Luke, your Luke could be the traitor. You had hidden in the treeline just a few feet from Percy and Luke. Everything seemed to be okay which made your chest loosen up a bit. Then you heard it. 

“I didn’t think you’d give ’em to Grover to wear.” 

“How long have they been doing that? '' Percy’s voice pulled you from your mind. The loud clank of the sword could be heard as it made contact with the dummy. Actually, dummy would be an overstatement at this point. This was just a bag of straw on a pole with a face on it. A face that awfully resembled Luke's. The hitting got harder the pole holding the bag of straw was shaking with every hit. 

“Since this morning, they couldn't sleep and as soon as the curfew was over they got up and immediately came here” Annabeth spoke. You knew it was her. She's been periodically checking in on you since you got here. 

“Have they eaten or drunk anything at all? It's nearly 100 degrees out here” When was the last time you ate or drank anything. The subtle grumble in your stomach reminded you that it had in fact been a while. You ignored it fueled by anger the hunger faded. 

The once loose feeling tightened by a lot. Your chest felt as if you had been hit full force by a bull. Your hands shook as you reached for your sword. The sword Luke had gifted you. Tears spilled from your eyes leaving wet trails down your face and a salt ting on your lips. It was Luke all along. How could your Luke do this? Everything you thought you knew about him. Gone. 

“I am your friend.” 

The loud crack of your sword drew you from your thoughts. You had broken the wooden sword in half. The large blade splinted jaggedly down the middle. Tossing it aside you hastily pulled out your sword. The beautiful golden glimmer on the handle reminds you of Luke. You swung at the dummy and you swung hard. The harsh bangs were heard throughout the camp. 

“She’s going to end up breaking the poor dummy”  Percy tried to joke to ease the tension in the air. You didn’t acknowledge the joke still hitting the dummy as if it was Luke all over again. 

“Better the dummy than us” Annabeth muttered barely loud enough for you to hear. You swear Luke had said the exact same thing to you when you had pissed off Clarrissa. The memory of you and him laughing turned sour in your mind. A loud almost thunder-sounding crack echoed throughout the camp. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to look at the source. The source was you. You had hit the dummy so hard you had cracked it in half.  

You were panting hard. Sweat covered your entire body as your shirt stuck to your back uncomfortably and your bare thighs stuck together the shorts you wore in hopes of keeping you cool failing. Your fingertips were white from how hard you had been gripping your sword. The blood-red gems leave imprints on your palms. 

You were still thinking of last night. 

“Are you okay you don’t look so good?” You could hear his voice. It was fuzzy and spun around in your head. You turned to face him. To tell him you were fine. You spun around fast only to be met with two Percy Jacksons. 

“Huh?” was all you said as your sword slipped from your grasp and you fell to the side. Head hitting the land before it all went black. 

 “Percy, none of this was meant to betray you”

[mjwiththefangs]

Trickery & Daggers - Chapter 8

In which studying happens, and we voice a reflection. Also on AO3 Masterlist Word count: 3805

--

Morgana finds herself watching Astarion go and standing by his tent for a few more moments as his silhouette disappears with the others.

 She almost jumps out her skin when she hears a chuckle behind her.

 “You seem quite fond of him.”

 “Wyll!” She yelps, “I, um, he’s a good ally.” She flounders, her words sounding flimsy even to her own ears. Wyll’s eyes crinkle in a good-natured smile. “That he is.” He agrees.

 She fumbles, an embarrassed flush crawling up her neck and clears her throat awkwardly. “Do… Do you know much about vampires, Wyll?”

 His expression lights up. “Well, there's always the basics; they're vulnerable to sunlight and a stake to the heart certainly won't do them any good. Then they're also weak to silver, running water can burn like acid - as can holy water!” He exclaims, and then hums thoughtfully. “Now, what else… they don't need to breathe, you know, although somehow they still have a heartbeat. An undead heartbeat, granted, but it's still present. It's why their skin is typically cool to the touch.”

 Morgana blinks. “You… you know a lot.”

 He laughs once. “Well, when you're a monster hunter, it pays to know these things.”

 “Have you killed many vampires?” She asks warily, her voice low and hesitant. Wyll regards her, eyeing her curiously and weighing her up.

 “I won't harm Astarion. I already had my hunches about his condition.”

 Her brows jump up and her lips part in surprise. “Then- then what about this morning? With everyone at his tent!”

 “I thought it best to be present in case things got out of hand.” He explains and swiftly returns to her earlier question, “I haven't killed any vampires, as a matter of fact. Only the regular undead. What information were you after, my friend?”

 “Ah.” She straightens and turns her head, looking at nothing in particular. “I just, I was curious. I wondered what he- vampires are capable of.”

 He doesn't comment on her quick amendment but makes a thoughtful noise and rubs his chin, considering. Then he snaps his fingers and points, beaming at her.

 “We should go see Gale, if you’re curious. He’s educated about almost everything and has plenty of books you could peruse, I'm sure.”

 “Oh!” She blinks in surprise and nods, following after him, “Sure.”

 Wyll raises his arm, waving and calling to Gale as they approach. The wizard raises his head from the ration store, in the middle of picking out the nights’ dinner, smiling and waving a hand in return before quickly casting a mage hand to begin chopping vegetables. He turns his full attention to them both, greeting them warmly.

 “If it isn’t our two resident Warlocks. To what do I owe the pleasure? Something tells me you’re not here to help with dinner preparations.” He gives them a wry smile, and Wyll chuckles.

 “Actually, Morgana here had been asking me about vampires,” he gestures to her, “I told her we should ask you, since my own knowledge is rather lacking.”

 Morgana silently lifts a brow at Wyll. Gale lights up, humming and rubbing his beard in thought. “I suppose that makes sense, in light of recent revelations.” He glances at her neck, and Wyll leans forward, peering around to study her too, and she shuffles uncomfortably. “He’s left quite a nasty bruise there. Does it hurt? I have plenty of scrolls of lesser restoration, if you would like one.”

 Swiftly, he plucks one from his pack and offers it to her. He says nothing about her evident hesitation, as though sensing her reluctance to condemn Astarion. She mutters a ‘thank you’ as she unfurls the scroll, those eyes carefully and slowly scanning the script before she utters the incantation, briefly glowing with a soothing blue light and the scroll disintegrates.

Those eyes flick up to meet his, shining with a nervous uncertainty.

 He tips his head, ever-so-slightly, the faintest realisation dawning upon him, but he chooses to make no comment.

 “Now. How can I help in your pursuit of knowledge?”

Her hands twist the rings around her fingers and she inquires “Do you have any books on vampires?”

“An excellent question! I have a few tomes on monsters; I have an entire volume dedicated to Count Strahd. Or would you prefer something specialised in the undead?” He punctuates with raised index finger, Wyll covertly covering his amused smile behind his hand.

 Morgana thinks for a moment, twisting her lips as she considers. “Do you have them with you? Could I look at them first?”

 “By all means! If you would allow me a moment, I shall procure them for you.” The wizard nods, and excuses himself, ducking into his tent.

 Wyll nudges Morgana.

 “It seems you’re in capable hands, my friend. I have some chores to take care of around camp, if you would excuse me.” He bows at the waist and flashes her a debonair smile. “Should you find yourself restless, I'd be more than happy to spar with you again. But, be sure to rest and recover your strength.”

 Morgana smiles appreciatively, and thanks him, telling him she'll think about it. In truth, more sparring would certainly be beneficial and she doesn’t dislike the training by any means, however she can’t shake the sluggish feeling deep in her bones, nor the persistent ache still in her leg. A day at camp might be just what she needs to recuperate.

 A thump noise draws her attention to Gale, dropping a pile of books onto his small desk outside his tent and she trots over, brimming with interest.

 “Now, some of these are perhaps much more academic, and less to the point. They may still be of some interest to you though.” He nods, gesturing and stepping back.

 Morgana takes a deep breath, and flicks her fingers by her side, breathing the syllables for a comprehend languages spell. Although unlikely, she very much hopes Gale doesn't notice. Or at the very least doesn't point it out.

 Indeed, as he'd said, a couple of the books present ostentatious prose, philosophising about the nature of a vampire and studies into what harms such a creature, rather than their capabilities. A bit too wordy for her liking, and not what she’s looking for.

 Those ever observant brown eyes watch her, studying, saying nothing and coming to a conclusion. Gale clears his throat.

 “If I may,” he moves a book aside and plucks up a red tome, offering it to her. “This one may have what you're looking for, in much more concise terms, and much less grandiloquent prose.”

 A pause passes.

 “Gale, I have no idea what that word means.”

 He snorts with laughter and waves her off. “It's a straightforward read.” He tells her warmly and understanding passes between them.

 Slightly humbled, a little embarrassed, and mostly grateful, Morgana tips her head. “Ah. Right. Thank you Gale. I can return it to you l-”

 “Consider it a gift.” He interrupts. The mage hand has finished chopping vegetables. “Now, you must be keen to start studying, and naturally, dinner will not take care of itself. I'll see you tonight, and don't be afraid to seek me out and ask questions if anything doesn't make sense.” He adds.

 Once again, she nods her thanks to the kind wizard and hurries back to her own tent.

…

 Hours pass, and Morgana is hunched over the tome, faerie fire twinkling above her and reflecting shadows on the canvas walls. Her journal is spayed out beside her, open to a new page and filled with notes.

 Reading through the book, she can't help but wonder if Astarion has been holding out on her. Although, there is the concerning possibility that he is genuinely unaware of what he can do. If that is so, she thinks, could it be that starvation has weakened him?

 The thought twists through her guts like a knife and she decides to carefully approach the subject with him later in the evening.

 Malnutrition could very well be restricting the vampiric powers he should have.

 As for Vampire Lords, she has discovered that yes, they are typically cruel and power hungry beings, just as Astarion had said and has written down what to expect and how best to combat one.

 She wants to be prepared, after all.

 Apart from all that, and her theorising and jotted notes, she's stumbled upon some helpful information about other undead whilst trying to find the vampire section. For example, a zombie will be non-hostile if you smell like them. It amused her at least.

Begrudgingly relenting that she can't keep rereading the same pages over and over again and hoping to glean new information from the same paragraphs, she turns the page and discovers a new subject of discussion. Her mouth tugs down into a frown.

“Duh… ham… pears?” What's that?

 Her tongue clicks and she flicks her wrist, but nothing happens. She scowls at her hand, as though it is to blame, and it is not that she already used her spells for the day.

 So much for another comprehend languages.

 Unable to cast any more spells, and with dwindling interest, Morgana skims over the page, noting that … this is a creature not dissimilar to a vampire, and a rather rare occurrence. 

 Convincing herself that she's unlikely to ever come across any, she rationalises that it is not worth trying to understand more. So she flicks back to the previous pages yet again and dives back in, deciding that actually, maybe, she can find more in the text, slowly but enthusiastically reading over the powers and abilities vampiric spawn should have, drinking it in and committing it to memory.

 There is still the mixture of excitement and confusion as she pours through the text, unsure whether or not Astarion is aware of any of this. He told her himself, he was turned two hundred years ago, of course he should know what comes with being a vampire. But what if he doesn't? Maybe she could teach him a thing or two.

 Either way, she can't wait to share her findings with him.

…

“Ugh, gods, could the pair of you just shut up for five minutes, I can't hear myself think.”

 Morgana startles awake at the shrill voice.

 “oh please, Astarion-” she can practically hear Shadowheart rolling her eyes, at the same time as Lae'Zel hisses “quiet, Astarion,” but before either can bite out a scathing remark, Karlach’s booming laughter fills the air, clearly delighted and the bickering dies down.

 Morgana pushes herself up from being sprawled over the books and rubs sleep from her eyes. The sounds of Gale and Wyll greeting their companions and general chatter fills the air outside, and the fragrant scent of cooking wafts through the gap in the door, causing her stomach to rumble.

 When did I fall asleep? she wonders.

 Regardless, she can hear someone outside asking after her, and excited shouts and barking - wait, barking?

 She throws the tent flap open, stepping out and quizzically searching for the source of the noise and landing firmly on a fluffy white dog.

 “You found a dog?” 

 “Morgana!” Karlach cries joyfully, jogging over with the pooch. “Isn't he sweet! Astarion found him, his name's scratch!”

 “... Astarion found a dog?” The warlock asks dubiously. She bends down to the canines level, invoking speak with animals as she does. Karlach laughs again.

 “Well, I think he was just hungry; caught the scent of blood and followed his nose.”

 Ah. 

 “But he's certainly had his fill today, Fangs killed more goblins than Lae'zel, ripped their throats right out!” She adds enthusiastically. Morgana nods, only half listening, offering her palm to the dog with a soft “hello.”

 Scratch happily woofs a “hello” back, tail wagging and licks her palm, the other petting him on the head.

 Animals always were easier than people.

 “It's nice to meet you, Scratch, I'm Morgana.” She speaks softly, oblivious to Karlach chuckling and shaking her head, turning back to the others. Morgana asks the dog about himself and tells her she hopes he wasn't lost.

 Scratch whines softly. “My friend was injured. I stayed with him until I knew he was gone.”

 “Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry.” She soothes, rubbing his ears and telling him he has a home with them as long as he wants, and moving on to chatter about what he likes, nodding enthusiastically when he barks joyfully about how he loves to play fetch. She's so caught up in the sweet canine’s company that she doesn't hear the vampire sauntering over.

 “I'm sorry; are those supposed to be words coming out your mouth, or have you finally gone batty?”

 She can't help but laugh, giving Scratch a final pat on his head, rising to her feet and facing Astarion. Her eyebrows jump up and she laughs once, disbelievingly, any prior retort dying on her tongue.

 “You're covered in blood.”

 And he well and truly is, too. Red splatters across his handsome face, crimson stains are stark against the silver of his hair, and scarlet is draped all down his front. There are smears around his mouth, as though hastily wiped away.

 His mouth lifts into a near manic grin and he cackles with glee. “Well, you all know what I am now. Why not fight with all my weapons. I get to ruthlessly kill goblins and sate my hunger, win win!”

 Morgana snorts. “No wonder Wyll already had you figured out.”

 “Oh? He did, did he?” Astarions smile falters slightly and he mutters, “I suppose I'm lucky to have woken up without a stake between my ribs.”

 She shrugs. “I don't know, he seems amicable enough.” She points at the vampire and he jerks back, “anyway, you reek of blood, go rinse off or change or something.”

 His eyes briefly flick to the puncture wound on her neck, and smoothly he switches back into a sultry smirk.

 “My dear, I'm a vampire, I live in blood.”

 She rolls her eyes and gestures, again, to the stream, forgetting her earlier excitement to tell him about what she'd discovered in the book. She'd remember later, of course. For now, the warlock leaves him be, assuring she'll catch up with him later, and spends most of her evening by the campfire with her companions, catching up and enjoying a hot meal as the sky grows dark.

 As she tells Shadowheart about her day spent reading and journaling, the cleric nodding along and checking her wound while she talks, Morgana suddenly breaks off mid sentence, remembering Astarion and excusing herself.

 Quickly, she grabs the book from her tent, and then she finds the elf brooding, back turned to her.

 He's cleaned up, she notices, the perfumed scent of bergamot, rosemary and brandy coming from the stainless linen of his shirt.

 “Need something?”

 His voice startles her out of her thoughts, and she notices an ornately carved mirror in his hand. 

 “You… you can see me?” She inquires.

 The vampire quirks one brow. His mouth opens, ready to snark at her that his kind don't have reflections, but then her mouth twists into an unnaturally large smile, her head tilts and then contorts to the side and she scurries away, staring unnervingly back at him.

 “Suit yourself-” but as he turns around with a huff, she's still here, regarding him with those curious silver orbs.

 “...what brand of trickery is this?” He asks flatly, unimpressed.

 “Oh. It wandered off again then.” She says it so nonchalantly, as though discussing the weather or something equally mundane, that for once he's lost for words, confusion writ upon his face.

 “Come again, darling?”

 She looks sheepish this time, clearing her throat. “Fey stuff.” She flicks her hand, dismissively, and he nods, understanding dawning.

 Fey always were fickle creatures, so naturally, inheriting their boons came with a few catches. A wandering reflection, a weakness to iron and an inability to lie or break promises. Yet the little half-human has all the strengths of an Archfey's power and as well as their charms.

 She points to his hand mirror.

 “What were you doing?”

  Always with the questions, this one. How closed off she had been, that first day. Assessing everyone silently.

 “The tadpole changed many things. I… had hoped it might have changed at least one more,” he takes a long look at the silver mirror and scowls, “but, apparently not. I've never even seen this face- not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”

 Anger roils through him, visceral and unpleasant, and for a moment they're silent. Her soft question brings him back to his senses.

 “What colour were they before, Astarion?”

 He blanches, realising with horror that he has no idea. He's forgotten.

 “I… I don't know. I can't remember. My face is just some dark shape in my past - another thing I've lost.” the mirror shatters, hitting the ground with all his frustration and hurt and bitterness.

 Another silence.

 His glare snaps to her and his anger evaporates. She scans his features, as though committing them to memory.

 “What?” He breaths, almost afraid to break the moment.

 Her throat bobs.

 “I see you.” She whispers. “What do you want to know?”

 I’ll be your mirror.

 He doesn't expect this. To actually feel open with her, the gentle sincerity in her voice, the softness in his own as he replies.

 “I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see.”

 She sucks in a deep breath. Studying him contemplatively.

“Those piercing eyes…” she starts, hesitantly. He preens, smirking, “go on.”

 “Your hair curls around your ears… it sweeps back in a way that is far too perfect for a man without a reflection.”  He barks a laugh.

Her teeth worry on her lip, her eyes dipping to his and snapping back up, her cheeks turning rosy.

“Then you have that dangerous smile.”

 “Oh! Oh, I like that. Very good.” And he does. He will always take even the most shallow praise with glee, relish in it. His chin lifts with that sharp grin. “Now just tell me I'm beautiful, and we can call it a day.”

 Her shoulders relax, a small laugh bubbling from her and she smiles, tipping her head to the side and folding her arms.

“It's a very nice face, Astarion. You're beautiful.”

 But his attention now snaps to the object in her hand, seemingly forgotten. Her curiosity must be rubbing off on him as he gestures to the book.

 “What's that? Some late night reading? Sorry darling, I'm a bit too old for bedtime stories.” he teases lightly and she rolls her eyes.

 “I'd actually forgotten. That's why I came to you.” She clicks her tongue, grasping the tome with both hands and staring at its cover, debating her next words. “have… have you been honest with me? About your condition and what you can do?”

Hah. Honesty.

He scoffs. “Well I glossed over the two hundred years of torture and starvation.”

 She ignores his leering, instead searching for a page.

 “Can you spider climb?”

 “...excuse me?”

 “Vampire spawn are supposed to have their own powers and strengths.” She points at a paragraph and he resists the need to snatch the book away and read this poppycock himself. She finally meets his eyes and he remains cautious. She'll want something for the information, surely.

 “I have a theory. If you're able to feed regularly now, these powers should be available to you.”

 To his utter surprise, she extends her arms, handing him the book. She must see his suspicion or his hesitation.

 “You ought to have this. I've read and re-read it several times in the last few hours, I even made notes.” She adds with a nervous chuckle and he eases some, reaching and carefully taking the book, still waiting for some sort of catch.

 When none becomes apparent however, he slides the mask back into place, playful teasing at the ready.

 “You made notes? I've seen in that little journal of yours, I would not call that chicken scratch legible enough to be ‘notes’ .”

 Morgana's jaw drops indignantly and something like a squawk of protest leaves her. Her arms flop gracelessly and she drawls out “Well, excuse me, we didn't all get the benefit of an education!”

 Oh? 

“You taught yourself to read?”

 Like prey caught in torchlights, she freezes. Momentarily. A long ragged sigh makes her deflate in front of him.

 “Don't tell the others.” She groans. “Nerifyra lends me their power, I taught myself using comprehend languages, courtesy of The Lady of Whispered Promise.”

 The name rings a bell, faintly, somewhere in Astarions mind. He has heard of her, this Archfey who lends her power to Morgana.

 “It's unlike you to be forthcoming about your patron.”

 She just shrugs. “She likes you. I have more liberties in what I can discuss with you.”

 “She does, does she?” He purrs with a sly look, “And what about you?”

 He’s realising that he adores catching her off guard. The way she jolts, mouth opening wordlessly, the blush that creeps along her cheeks, and the indignant noises she makes. It's so amusing he finds himself laughing, even more so when she pouts at him.

He waves his hand flippantly.

 “Anyway, darling, an labhair thu ar cainnt mhàthaireil ?” [do you speak our mother tongue?]

She blinks owlishly. Then again, mouthing the words to herself. She cocks her head, brows furrowing in confusion.

 “I… That’s elvish?” Her nose scrunches up. “Yeah, I can speak a little.”

 “An urrainn dhut a leughadh?” [can you read it?]

 Her scowl deepens, and again she mouths the words to herself and then huffs a sigh. “tha leughadh nas duilghe.” [reading is more difficult]

 “I could teach you.” He says in a low tone. “Think of it as… a trade. For the book.”

 Morgana eyes him sceptically. He’s been careful not to make fun of her. He needs her trust and this could help with an idea that he’s been slowly cultivating. After a pause, she nods. 

 “Ok.”

 “Excellent. We can start tomorrow night. For now, it seems I have some reading to do.” And so he bids her a good night, and retires within his tent, making himself comfortable among the pillows, his small lantern flickering firelight on the canvas, and he opens the book and begins to read.

…

While she returns to her own tent, an idea swims and gains purchase in her mind and guides her to rummaging in her pack, grasping the journal and flicking to a new page. She picks up a pencil and smiles, her heart jumping ever so slightly in her chest, and allows her hand to dance across the page.

 Those piercing eyes. The silver curls. The dangerous smile.