[cheremj]

Josie. Twenty. I write whatever I feel!

requests are open, send away!

this will be better put-together as time goes on im just lazy right now oops

[cheremj]

i love ur works so much , i’m yearning for more pervy!mike …. i’m not sure if anyone has done something similar already , but i really love his hands and imagining him spanking reader’s cunt and thighs while fingering her … i look forward to seeing more from u , ty in advance >< <33

come get your dinner !!

[cheremj]

ೄ ◞♡ Imagine pervy bsf!michael giving light spanks to your cunt because he swears up and down you showed up wearing the skimpiest bikini he’s ever seen just so you could purposefully get a rise outta him.

Nearing the end of July in California still brings the sun on full blaze, but tolerable enough where it has you think nothing else other than dipping your toes in a pool to relax and enjoy the last bit of summer you have left.

Too bad for you though, as you’re a withering mess in Michael’s arms with your back against his chest, the distant laughter of his brothers out in the backyard becoming more concealed the higher your whines get.

“You did this to yourself, girl.” He whispers into your ear after another smack down, always quick to rub right after to soothe the sting that doesn’t miss an inch to travel across your reddening cunt.

“I-I’m sorry..!” Is all you could really mewl, sorry over something you never did with a motive behind like he’s convinced. You save your breath to try and tell him otherwise, being this far in there is no getting through to him.

And also because he just slipped two fingers inside without much of a warning, reaching places your own fingers wouldn’t be able to get to, eyes rolling back from the unfamiliar pleasure he’s giving.

The curl of his fingers nearly has you lose your sight, pumping with relentless speed, getting him addicted to the wet squelches he’s able to pull from your sopping pathetic cunt. Until he slaps his other hand down to your thigh, you being far from off the hook.

“You don’t have a clue what you do to me, do you?” He refers to your bikini, which the bottoms are now lost in the mess on his carpet floor, your top having one breast spilled out because Michael can’t choose just one spot to touch you.

It’s okay if you didn’t. Michael is more than happy enough to show you, with each slap to your puffy clit to pull a yelp that goes straight to his dick, and the perfect rhythm of his fingers dragging along your sensitive walls that has your body have no choice but to respond to him.

You’ll know by the end of the night.

[cheremj]

Waiting to see Michael and reader 69💔

ೄ ◞♡ 69’ing with Michael is the biggest reminder to you on how much of an eater that man is.

A few moments ago you had a hand wrapped in what couldn’t fit in your mouth, stroking it in sync to the bob of your head. The slurps sounded almost identical to the ones Michael is making, savoring the taste of you. You’ll sometimes press the tip of your tongue to the sensitive spot under the head, wanting to feel him pulse in your grip.

Yet now? You pull your mouth back with a lewd pop the second he starts fucking his tongue into you, pulling the nastiest sounds from you that only fuels him to give you more.

“Oh my god, Michael—“ You moan, palms rested on his stomach because there is just no way you can focus to continue when the heat of his mouth is making you feel so dizzy. His response is a hum, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs to keep you seated on top of his face, dare you ever try to leave.

You usually tend to overthink when it comes to sitting on his face, afraid you might be too heavy or he can’t breathe. However, his mouth is so hot and eager that your brain can’t think about any of those worries other than getting off to it, reminding you with every stroke that you’re his and there is no other place he would rather be than here.

You reach a hand behind you to hold onto the headboard, feeling him flatten his tongue for you to ride his mouth. The sight of you coming apart pulls a moan out of him, wringing out every last tremble and pleasure out from your bones.

You quickly got off, helping to wipe some of your slick off his face as you whine that you barely got to do anything to make him feel good. He didn’t look like he cared much, always riding on that high that his tongue can instantly turn you into a babbling, breathless mess you can’t fight against.

[buckysgirlll]

☆ pervy bsf!michael jackson headcanons

featuring: otw!michael x fem!reader

content warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI — suggestive content, oblivious!reader, inexperienced reader & michael, first kiss

notes: thank you for the requesttttttt, i was gonna make much more headcanons but i just wanted to make it short & sweet!!

michael jackson masterlist ༻ navi

pervy bsf!michael who is undoubtedly a gentleman and refuses to let lust be the focus of his mind but for some reason can’t stop staring at your plump ass whenever he knows you’re not paying attention.

pervy bsf!michael who always suggests to play twister with you so he has a reason to be pressed against your body without it being deemed as innapropriate.

pervy bsf!michael who always convinces you to sleep in his bed with him when you stay over at his place just so he can be all cuddled up against you and feel the way your ass pushes back on his groin during the night.

pervy bsf!michael who convinces you to let him practice kissing on you.

you laugh at his idea, your eyebrow raising. “you want to practice kissing with me?” you ask, crossing your legs comfortably on his bed.

“yeah.” he shrugs, his back pushed against his headboard. “you did mention how you’ve never had your first kiss and… neither have i. so why dont we practice on each other so we dont make a total fool out of ourselves.”

you think about it hard, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. michael stares at your mouth, while you’re deep in thought, wondering if your lips will taste as good as they look.

“hm… okay!” you nod. shifting yourself so you’re closer to him. michael wastes no time with grabbing your jaw and bringing your lips to his.

at first the kiss is extremely rushed. michael jumps straight into it, thinking that kissing would be as easy as it looks but no. it was clumsy, messy and just downright wrong. your teeth kept on clashing, your noses kept on bumping and you just couldn’t seem to find the right position.

you giggle, drawing back.

“wait, maybe we need to go slower, try and find a steady rhythm because im pretty sure that what we just did, was wrong.”

michael nods, his face slightly flushed. yes you’re right the kiss was messy but he can’t help how utterly good your lips taste. maybe he messed up because now he’s had a taste, he’s always going to find an excuse to kiss you.

this time when your lips connect, you do go slower, but somehow it turns more intimate. your lips move against his softly, his hand coming up to rest on your hips. michael leads the kiss, pressing his lips more firmly to yours, swiping his tongue against your lips to try and get entry.

you open your mouth wider, letting his tongue swipe inside. michael’s hands tighten on your hips, lifting you up so you’re settled on his lap.

you swore you felt something hard pressed against your clothed cunt.

pervy bsf!michael who convinces you to watch a scary movie with him, knowing you hate them. just so you can cling onto him all night long.

“mikey.” you whine, using his arm as a shield, when you have a feeling that a jump scare is on the way.

“it’s okay.” michael coos, moving his arm so its now on the back of the couch, hoping you burrow your head in his chest instead.

which you do, ducking your head down when the jumpscare comes on the screen, letting out a small whimper. michael wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer to his chest. his hand settling on the dip of your hip.

“s’okay baby, i got you.” michael says, smirking to himself.

tags:

@loveposiie @delictezz @crystal-love46 @bluegangstaaaa @alohaluz @raefoxiegirl @xoxogossipgirl02 @khxna @jxngwons-pinkyy @sofisidera @animegamerfox @its-jennarose @anglfac @michaeljacksonfan01 @a-motherfcking-fish @carmykisses @cal3xx @cinnaqm @mikeyspyt @sugacor3 @starstruckivory @michaelsgirlie @mililahchapter21 @galiixoxo @cannonindeez @griddypops @monoigirl @softchaosdiary505 @mjsfinestfish @catash @michaelslover @hello-its-lana16 @itztamar @imeatingheehee @milqyravena @smartyartchick47 @lily-lilith26 @nodisdino @niyahctrl @hornehlittleweeblet2 @kailovesmusicc @valentinaaaapple @cotercat @levelme @theladyinmikeyslife @xyahx @michaelsfavcup @pixieelixer-24 @thebabykashmere @sadieisagoodgirl @babyimhis-mj @appleheadannie @ririsnuckhere @rockurwurld @lustfairyy @ashmariet @aaronlovesava @ms-kaon @applehead-angelface @ciamaevelin @youkeepdreamin @botdfaholic @theprincessh3rself @cherisboring @j3nnyluvscupc4k3s @carouselgirl77 @sugarysweetooth @appleheadedveggie @prettygurljo

[sunsetdrvr]

·˚ ༘ aphrodisiac

off the wall era! michael jackson x black!fem reader (hair is only descriptor) summary: you bring home a treat in the form of two small capsules. cw: 18+, MDNI! established relationship .ᐟ.ᐟ sub4sub (lowkey, lowkey) .ᐟ.ᐟ multiple orgasms .ᐟ.ᐟ cumshots .ᐟ.ᐟ squirting .ᐟ.ᐟ position switching .ᐟ.ᐟ choking (small mention) .ᐟ.ᐟ light dirty talk .ᐟ.ᐟ tears/drool .ᐟ.ᐟ he calls you 'mama' .ᐟ.ᐟ aphrodisiac use .ᐟ.ᐟ not yet proofread. 4.7k words.

oh, he was in for it now.

it was probably a concerning sight– you snickering to an empty bedroom, clutching a bag to your chest with… well, stars in your eyes. but, you couldn't help it. you’d stumbled upon gold.

“michaaael, c’mere for a sec!” 

your voice bounced off of the walls, carrying out of the open door and through the hallway. you scurried to your bed and sat criss-cross-applesauce, two hands behind your back.

michael wasn’t born yesterday. he could hear the mischief dripping from each word you called out– of course he could; after a year of being together he knew your personality, your quirks, your tells like he knew the beating of his own heart. he’d learned you like it was his full time job. he’d learned you better than his full-time job.

tiny afro appearing first, followed by a singular raised eyebrow, michael strided through the doorway. he held your favorite frosted glass cup in his hand, sipping orange juice through a hot pink straw. 

“girl, what’re you up to now?”

“you’ll never– ugh, michael–” you huff when michael sets the cup on your nightstand and flops belly-first, head landing in your lap and arms wrapping around your waist. you raise the item higher in an attempt to keep the surprise for a little longer, shimmying to shake michael off. “get up for a second, will you? i got us something!”

“oh yeah? what kinda somethin’?”

but the vibrations of his words tickle where his mouth meets your stomach and you can’t think between your unwanted giggling–

you wiggle out of his arms in one quick motion, moving to sit directly across from him on the bed. michael, on the other hand, faceplants without your thighs to keep holding him up. 

“seriously, sit up. please?”

and only when he listens do you bring your hands back to your front, dangling a small velvet pouch between your fingers.

“ta-da! an aphrodisiac.”

you shake it some more, as if michael is a fish you’re attempting to lure to shore.

michael’s face is a series of emotions– blank at the start, because was he supposed to know what in the world that was? he’d only ever heard of it once, and with a furrowed brow, he thinks harder about where it could have been. you watch with a slow forming grin.

confusion follows, a little bit of doubt, and then…

oh. oh. 

he remembers the glossy ads now, in a magazine he’d flipped through before meeting you, all airbrushed promises and testimonials from people who probably didn’t exist. there’s no way you thought… 

michael meets your grin with an almost condescending pout. “mama, you know that stuff don’t work right? it’s all a placebo, it’s… it’s made up.”

the eye roll happens before you can stop it. “oh, i’m sorry, i forgot you were a scientist–”

“i’m just sayin’–” he grabs the still dangling pouch from your fingers, prying it open and examining the two capsules inside. he holds it up to the light, examining with precision, twists it between his index and thumb, before letting it sit in the palm of his hand. “it’s a marketing tactic.”

“michael jackson, you believe a man can levitate you using magic, but you won’t believe this?”

at this point, it’s a sass-off. 

michael side-eyes you for longer than necessary, always on the defense when it comes to his beloved magic. “and he did, girl. you were there. levitated jackie’s old self too,” he looks back down at the capsules. “it’s just… well, ain’t no pill gonna make me want you more than i already do. it’s impossible.”

you ignore the start of the desire pooling deep in your stomach at such a devoted statement in such a shy tone. squinting and scooting closer, you tease, “are you sayin’ you’re too horny for an aphrodisiac to work?”

“don't say that word–”

“horny, horny, horny–”

michael leans forward to cover your mouth, flustered. “i don’t need help with… in that department. i’m not buyin’ what they’re sellin’, that’s all.”

“no, you don’t need help at all,” you purr from under his palm seductively, just for the love of seeing him squirm. when he moves, you continue, “but this isn’t about needing help, mikey. it’s supposed to make everything feel… more.”

“more,” he repeats skeptically. but, he can’t hide his interest. not from you. his dark, wide eyes flicker from the capsules and back to you. “more how?”

“more intense. more sensitive. more…” with your palms flat on the bed, you push yourself closer until your lips brush against his ear. he’s frozen, save for a slight shudder, when he feels your breath. “...desperate.”

and that’s all it takes to plant the seed. when you pull back, michael tracks your movement with dilated pupils and stuttered breathing.

“you really think it’s gonna work?”

“i do–” you practically sing, grabbing a capsule from his hands and meeting his eyes. just to bait him a little more, “we can bet on it.”

his eyes light up. “what’re the stakes?”

“if it works,” you start slowly, finger tapping your chin and eyes moving across the room as if you’re thinking– when really, you’d been plotting on this item for months. “and you end up begging me for it… then i win your first pressing of ‘a quiet storm’.”

michael immediately chokes at the mention of his smokey robinson vinyl… but you’ve already awoken the nasty competitiveness in him. “and when it doesn’t work and i win– hm… oh! you’ll give me back my disney shirts. all of ‘em. for good.”

over your dead body.

though you agree anyway. michael kisses the palm of his free hand and holds it out to you; a tradition since the two of first began dating. you mirror his actions, kissing your palm and meeting it to his before you two shake on it. 

with matching grins, you place the capsules on your tongues and take turns washing it down with your glass of water. 

“when does it kick in?” 

“lady at the counter said anywhere from thirty minutes to a few hours– that it depends on the person.”

“a few hours?” michael laugh, shaking his head. “mama, by then we’ll have forgotten we even took ‘em.”

“just means it’ll be a nice surprise when it hits.” you nod confidently.

“and what now?”

“now? we go about our day like normal, baby.”

—

and that’s exactly what you did.

the hours slipped by with ease. you busied yourself with the mundane rhythm of domesticity– folding laundry that was left in the basket over this busy weekend, wiping down countertops, re-organizing your unnecessarily large amount of hair products. the ¥aphrodisiac became a distant thought until it faded from your mind completely, buried beneath the tasks that filled your afternoon.

from your spot on the couch, you could hear michael’s muffled voice on the phone– deep in business calls with his manager, someone from his label, and finally quincy. his tone shifting between professional and animated and his musical laughter drifting through the walls, washing over you.

michael emerged from the bedroom when the sun began to set, curls on the top of his head flat as if they'd settled as the time passed by. he stretched his arms above his head and you watch unabashedly as his shirt rides up and reveals a sliver of warm brown skin, short and curly hairs leading a trail down and down, lower and lower…

you cut your thoughts off and lean up, elbows holding your weight. “finally done?”

“finally done,” michael sighs happily. he crosses to you, using one hand to flip himself over the couch and falling on top of you– though he uses his other hand to catch his weight. “and quincy wants to push the studio session to next week.” he wraps both arms around you and shifts so that he lays on his back and you lay on top of him. “y’know what that means, mama?”

“mmm, you’re all mine tomorrow?”

michael buries his face into your curls and lets out a content hum. “all yours.” he suddenly pulls back with a soft ‘oh’ and you lift your head up to look at him. dorky smile in place, playful sparkles in his eyes. “so… about the aphrodisiac…”

your face fell immediately. “oh, no…” 

the disappointment is bitter. michael had been right all along. it was a fluke! a scam. a giant waste of your money. you pout childishly and mourn what could've been. “i really thought– i’m sorry. i was so sure it would work, mikey.”

michael’s expression softens instantly. all traces of smug satisfaction vanishes as he reaches for your hand to intertwine your fingers. “that’s okay. we don’t need some magic potion anyway, do we, baby?”

“yeah, i guess you're right.”

“c’mon, let’s just relax ‘n forget about it.”

you’re silent for a minute before you whine, “i really don’t want to give your shirts back, michael.”

he laughs, the movement making you bounce slightly. “oh, you don't need to. was just pulling' your leg. you can have whatever you want.”

you shifted together until you were both lying on the couch, your back pressed to his chest and his arm draped over your waist. your position and the tv helped the disappointment fade into contentment. 

except after about twenty minutes, michael began to shift behind you. subtle at first, a slight adjustment of his hips. then again. his breathing changed too, becoming just a fraction deeper, warmer against your neck. the heat radiated from his body, hotter than usual, like his skin was burning up from the inside.

“you okay?” you murmured.

“yes. um, m’okay.” though his voices sounded strained. tight.

you don’t push it. maybe he was just uncomfortable. honestly–you stretch your neck side to side– you were starting to feel it too. this couch was doing some serious damage to your comfort. you couldn’t blame michael for moving so much. 

but when he shifts again you feel it– the unmistakable press of him against your lower back, hard and insistent even through his sweatpants. you blink, and because you’re just a girl at the end of it all, you wiggle up subtly before pushing your ass against him; holding your breath to hear the sharp intake of breath you knew would be coming.

he surprises you instead when he spreads his hand across your stomach and meets your hips halfway. 

“sorry,” he breathed, but he doesn’t move away. if anything, his hips press closer. “sorry, i–”

you turn in his arms and the sight of him steals your breath. his pupils are blown wide–the darkest you’ve ever seen his eyes, his lips parted and glistening like he’d just run his tongue over them. michael’s eyes dropped to your lips, lashes fluttering when they stretched into a shy smile.

your mind goes blank and the only thing you can think to say is, “hi.”

michael whispers a “hi,” before pressing his lips to yours.

the kiss starts slow, almost tentative– his lips moving against yours with that familiar sweetness you'd come to crave. one of his hands slides up to cup your face while the other wraps around your waist, pressing against your back until you're closer.

you kiss him back, matching his rhythm, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his tongue against yours– in the soft whimper that escapes him when you bite his bottom lip and pull. michael’s hips roll forward unconsciously, seeking friction, and you feel the hard press of him against your thigh once again. thick and insistent. 

when you finally break apart, both of you breathing hard, you feel shy under the weight of his gaze. vulnerable. you reach your fingers out to twist the hem of his shirt and drop your eyes. “i know it didn't work, but we could still…” you trail off, trying to gather your nerve. it was so hard for you to initiate. “if you want. we could still, um, fool around?”

but michael, sweet michael; his response is immediate. his hands grab for your waist, pulling you even closer–if that was even possible. “yes, yes. please.” 

all of your doubts slip away as you smile at his eagerness. “okay, baby.”

you kiss him again, deeper this time– letting your hand trail down his chest and over his stomach, feeling the muscles jump under your touch. lower… lower… until your palm presses against where he needs you the most.

michaels entire body goes rigid. his mouth tears away from yours and he ducks, burying his head deep between the crook of your neck and the couch. the broken, loud sound that rips from his throat makes you pause– a high, keening moan that dissolves into desperate whimpers as his hips jerk forward helplessly. you feel it all beneath your hand– every pulse, twitch, and throb as he comes undone from a single touch.

his whole body shakes with it, fingers digging into your hips so hard you’re sure you’ll bruise as he grinds against your hand. his chest heaves with every broken gasp. 

“michael,”

but you don't finish your sentence, because your attention goes right back to the situation under his pants. 

he was still rock solid.

not softening, not even a little. if anything, michael felt harder. he was so stiff it was almost painful. it felt like all the blood in his body was rushing down there, building so much pressure it seemed like he was about to explode.

“i’m still– how am i–?” michael looks down at himself in confusion.

“oh,” a slow grin crosses your face, utterly giddy at the realization. “oh my god, mikey, it–it's working! it's not a fluke–”

but he wasn't listening. his mouth was back on yours, hands already tugging at your shirt with shaking fingers. he breaks only to pull both your shirts over your head. you help him rid the rest of your clothes, stripping with an urgency that borders on violent. the moment you were bare, michael's mouth was on you– your neck, your collarbone, your breasts; sucking and licking like he was starving for a taste of your skin.

he nearly sobs when you wrap a hand around him. when you start to inch down, fully intent on letting the weight of him press against your tongue, secure between the plush of your lips– only stopping when michael cups your face suddenly. “please, mama. i don’t, um– i won’t last if you do that…”

you look up from under your lashes and he audibly whines at the sight of you like this. “d’you want me to put it in, baby?”

his eyes nearly roll back, only nodding feverishly in reply.

you lay on your back, spreading your legs and catching his eye. “c’mere.”

you don’t need to tell him twice. 

he doesn’t look away from your pussy as he moves between your legs, watching the way your slick glistened in the dim lighting. his hands tremble as he grips himself, guiding the swollen head to your sopping hole. the moment he makes contact– just the barest press of himself against your wetness– he squeezes his eyes shut. with every inch he sinks into you, his face transforms; brows furrowing, jaw going slack and small gasps escaping him. 

when he finally bottoms out, you let out twin moans– your foreheads pressed together and breath mingling in the middle. he’s so impossibly hard that the stretch borders on overwhelming, your walls struggling to accommodate. michael’s arms tremble beside your head and nearly give out when you grind your hips up with a whine, begging him to move. 

“ohh, w-wait–”

if his look of concerned focus isn’t warning enough of him almost cumming again, the twitch inside of you is. he’s forcing himself to look at the curtains, the clock on the wall, the mail on the coffee table– anywhere but at you below him, staring up at him like he was the only man, the only thing at all, left in this world.

you bring a hand to his neck and pull him down until your lips meet his; a fleeting, soft kiss. you push a hand against his stomach until just the tip of him is encased in your warmth before using the heel of your foot to pull him back in, because damn it, if he wasn't going to move then you would do it for him.

he takes the hint, starting to move– and it’s clear that he has no control. his hips snap forward in sharp, desperate thrusts, chasing sensation with a single-minded focus.

michael presses his body to yours completely, head buried in your neck, and, never once-stopping his punishing pace, he brings both hands down until they’re kneading and gripping at the fatty flesh of your ass. with his hands acting as a barrier between you and the couch, forcing your body into an arch, he’s so deep it has you throwing your head back; a jumbled chant of his name falling from your lips. “mikey, mikey, mikey– fuck!”

your nails rake down his back as you feel the pressure building deep within you, coiling tighter and tighter with each brutal thrust. vision blurring and thighs trembling violently around his waist, you can barely breathe through the intensity of it., can barely form coherent thoughts beyond how so completely filled you are. “oh g–od–” your voice breaks, high and desperate. “so deep, mikey, so fucking deep–” the words tumble out unbidden, raw and honest. you’re so close, teetering right on the edge.

he pulls out so abruptly you cry out at the sudden emptiness, your pussy clenching around nothing, and before you can even process what’s happening you feel the first hot pulse of cum hit your stomach. “michael–?” your eyes fly open and you watch, transfixed, as michael’s hand works frantically over his dick. constant whimpers fall from his mouth as thick ropes of white paint your skin. the sight is so obscene, so unexpected, that you can’t look away. he’s never pulled out, never finished anywhere but inside a condom or you.

michae’s face is twisted in agonized pleasure and his free hand claws at the couch beside your head. his eyes finally flutter open to meet yours, still glazed over with lust, but you break eye contact to look down at where he’s still achingly, impossibly hard. your breath catches.

“can we– can i put it back in, baby, please? need more i–” michael gulps as his eyes flicker across every inch of your body. his hands already grab at your waist, turning you until you’re face down– ass perched high in the air. he doesn’t wait for your reply as he presses a hand to your mid-back, making your arch deeper as he starts to push inside you again. “mmph, yes, yes, just like this– pussy’s s’good–”

you gasp, pressing back into him as he picks up where he left off. it doesn’t take long for the pressure to build back up. you couldn’t have stayed quiet if you tried. with every slam of his hips against yours, balls slapping your clit, you let out high-pitched moans– borderline shrieking. you can hear him behind you, mumbling, babbling “so pretty” “feel s-so good, mama” “never… never wanna leave–” and it has you tumbling right over the edge, pussy sporadically clenching around him. you press your ass against him harder, wanting him deeper, prolonging your orgasm.

“so good for me,” michael moans out, voice raw. “l-look at you, can’t take it–”

he presses you down until you’re flesh against the couch, squeezing your legs together and folding himself on top of you– still pushing into you restlessly in prone bone. you scream out his name and his eyes roll back. overstimulated, you whine, “mikey– m-mikey, slow down, shit–!”

but michael doesn’t listen, thrusting into you from behind, your ass jiggling in the process. his hand sneaks between you and the couch again, circling around to find your clit, rubbing circles and applying perfect pressure–he knew you so well, knew what your body needed– that makes you see stars. you were so sensitive from your first orgasm that it takes almost nothing to build you back up, pleasure coiling tight and hot in your belly. so good it’s almost painful and in an attempt to escape it, you start to raise your body up. he doesn’t let you– using his free hand to wordlessly push against your back, until you return to your previous position. 

“michael– f-fuck,” you attempt to warn, but he just presses harder, a constant stream of whimpers and broken praises falling from his lips near your ear. 

“c’mon, mama, give it to me,” he begs.

you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling something different building inside you– more intense, more overwhelming than before. the pressure is almost unbearable and your muscles lock tight, the filthy sounds of your bodies meeting growing louder. your breathing comes in sharp gasps, your hands clawing uselessly at the armrest. it hits you like a tidal wave and you feel yourself gush around him– hot liquid spilling from you in rhythmic pulses that you can’t control. it covers his fingers, still rubbing relentless circles against you, spreading down your thighs– traveling further with each push and pull of his dick. your vision whites out, the only thing you can focus on is michael groaning behind you, guttural sounds of pure satisfaction– hips stuttering as he feels you soak him.

you’re still gasping for air when michael pulls out with a choked sound and cums, painting your ass white. his forehead falls against you, a trail of drool leaving his lips; sliding down your back and to the side. the broken sounds he makes are obscene– high whimpers dissolving into wracking sobs, and you’re certain this has to be it. you let your body go limp against the couch, trying to catch your breath, your heart still racing.

but, you feel hands on you again, maneuvering you both until he’s on his back on the couch and you’re being pulled on top of him, straddling his hips. your thighs bracket his narrow waist and you look down at him in complete shock, your mind struggling to catch up. you feel the hard, insistent press of his dick between your ass cheeks again. michael has tears building in the corners of his eyes as he stares up at you, asking for ‘just one more’.

you trace every inch of his face, committing this moment to your memory before leaning down to kiss away his tears. “i’ve got you, baby,” you promise, voice soft and wrecked. your fingers thread through his sweat soaked curls as you pull back to look at him, watching the way his chest heaves with each ragged breath. 

reaching between your bodies and wrapping your fingers around him, you guide him back to your pussy. his tip catches against you and you both gasp–oversensitive and overwhelmed– but you sink down slowly anyway, taking him inch by inch. his hands fly to your hips and a broken whimper tears from his throat as he bottoms out. “god, yes,” you whine, rolling your hips experimentally.

you begin to ride him properly, lifting yourself up and sinking back down in a steady rhythm. michael isn’t able to sit still, hips thrusting up desperately to meet you, needing more even though he’s already buried so deep. your eyes lock with his and neither of you can look away; the intensity of his gaze is almost too much but you hold it, watching every microexpression that crosses his face– the way his eyebrows furrow, the way his lips part around silent gasps, the way his eyes threaten to roll back but fight to stay focused on you.

your hand slides up his chest, over his racing heartbeat, up the column of his throat until your fingers wrap around his neck. you squeeze slightly–just enough pressure to make him feel it– and his eyes squeeze shut instantly, teeth sinking into his bottom lip so hard you’re afraid he’ll draw blood. he’s trying so hard to hide how much it affects him, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but it’s obvious– a high, keening whine ringing out into the open space. it’s almost as if a lightbulb turns on inside of you, a fire lighting in your chest, because who knew this side of him existed? 

“mmm, look at me,” you prompt him, whimpering despite your attempt at commanding. he obeys immediately, locking eyes with you again as you continue to ride him. both of you are complete messes as you bounce on him, chasing your own pleasure while he thrusts up frantically, his hands roaming everywhere– your thighs, your ass, your waist– like he can’t decide where to touch, like he needs to feel all of you at once. 

your left knee slips between the couch and the cushion, wedging into the gap where the springs are exposed. the metal digs into your knee painfully, sharp and unforgiving, but you don’t adjust. you don’t even care; the sight of michael like this, mouth open in a silent scream and body trembling, is a drug more potent than any aphrodisiac. you’d endure anything to watch him fall apart like this, to see him so vulnerable and utterly yours.

“michael,” you gasp, feeling your third orgasm building impossibly fast, “i’m– oh god–”

both of his arms wrap around you in a bear hug, pulling you down against his chest with surprising strength. your bodies are pressed together completely, sweat-slicked skin sliding against skin, and his mouth finds yours in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. you swallow his moans as his hips piston up into you with renewed urgency, the new angle has him hitting that spot in your gummy walls, his pelvic area rubbing against your clit with each thrust. you break from the kiss and with a loud, shaky moan your orgasm washes over you in waves so intense your whole body convulses.

“hohh, so tight– squeezing me s’tight. need to fill you,” michael whines, “my girl, all mine, go-ooh-gonna cum, i lo-ve you, love you, love you–”

michael follows immediately behind, arms tightening around you like a vice as he buries himself as deep as humanly possible. you feel him twitching inside of you– filling you completely as he sobs. you kiss him through it, gentle and reassuring even as the aftershocks roll through both of you.

“so good,” he whimpers into your neck, hips still moving with tiny thrusts, like he couldn’t help himself even now. after some time of you catching your breaths together, hearts racing in sync, you run shaky hands down his back

“mikey, baby, we need to clean up.”

“don’t wanna,” he mumbles, but his movements were slowing finally, his body going limp and heavy on top of yours. “wanna stay inside you forever.”

“you can’t stay inside me forever.”

“why not?”

you couldn’t help but laugh at that. “because i’m sticky everywhere from your cum–”

he buries his head deeper into your neck, suddenly shy “don’t remind me. m’sorry, mama. that was so dirty.”  when he finally rolls onto his back beside you, he seems to really look at you for the first time, taking in your state– covered in his essence, marks blooming on your hips and thighs and knees, your hair a wild mess. “god, i’m sorry, you’re a mess… you look– so… sexy,” his cock gives a valiant twitch against your thigh and you glare at him.

“don’t even think about it,” you warn. “i couldn’t take anymore if i tried.”

michael gives you a sheepish look. “i was out of control, huh?”

“you were,” you agree, “but it was hot.”

a slow smile spreads across his face as he breaks eye contact, “yeah?”

“mmhm,” you shift, winching at the sore ache between your legs. “but… i don’t think i felt it– the aphrodisiac. i didn’t feel any effects at all. that’s weird, right? we took the same thing.”

“maybe it affects people differently?” michael suggests, though he sounds uncertain. 

you ponder for seconds before your curiosity wins and you half-walk, half-stumble to your bedroom, searching quickly for the velvet pouch. when you find it, you pull out the small card with it’s typed warnings inside.

…and then you start giggling.

michael appears behind you, looking over your shoulder as he wraps both arms around your waist– your naked bodies pressed together once more, like magnets. “what?” 

but he sees it soon after, the small print at the bottom: FORMULATED FOR MEN.

michael blinks once. twice. and then he laughs with you. you feel his dick twitch against you again before he asks, “well? should we buy the women’s version? just, um, to see?”

[3leni]

me and @cheremj reuniting on mjblr

[cheremj]

I can’t believe this like guys that’s twin

[3leni]

this is information i never should’ve been shown…

[cheremj]

fingers in mouth drabble,,,, specifically with pervy bsf!michael,,,,, ok let me go to bed

[cheremj]

Hi! I found you from my friend sending the cockwarming post 🤭 I LOVE how your drabbles give my own imagination a launchpad to run wild, and was wondering if you have or could do something that has the reader giving particular attention to his neck 🫪 (otw/thriller ideally)

I've never requested anything from any writer before but these are unprecedented times

it’s been posted! and omg, I’m so honored to be ur first! I’m so happy my drabbles can give someone some creativity <3

[cheremj]

Sensitive

contains semi-fluff, smut (minors dni), hickeys, teasing, dry-humping, whiny mike, you get a kick over making him pathetic

Michael couldn’t stop giggling.

You were trying to show how much you’ve missed your boyfriend, peppering his neck in the gentlest kisses to create goosebumps, but he couldn’t stop giggling.

Your clock reads 1 am, a chill in your room due to the half opened window Michael climbed in from an hour ago, parents passed out down the hall but now you’re not too certain with how loud he’s becoming.

“Michael.” You deadpanned for the third time, pulling away to watch him sheepishly cover his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just tickles..” As if it wasn’t obvious to you already, to which you rolled your eyes at. Deciding to be a little mean, you continue a little more. “Oh, what does? You mean this?”

You couldn’t help yourself. Michael’s laughter is the most melodic sound you’ve ever heard, dare you’ll say it pleases your ears more than his singing voice. The kind of laughter that has you not wanting it to ever end. However, unfortunately it did, because in the midst of your tickly kisses, your lips pressed a little too firm on a spot near his ear, letting out a moan before he could even think to stop it.

You both simultaneously freeze, Michael due to shock, and you trying to decide if you heard correctly or not. Suspicions were confirmed the minute Michael tried to babble out an embarrassed explanation, but you didn’t care for none of that. You wanted him to make that sound again.

“Oh, did you like that?” You asked, yet knowing the answer already. You don’t even wait for a response, going back in search for that particular sensitive spot, pressing a repeated kiss there.

He delivered another noise for you, this one sounding a little whiny which is coming from his shy nature, and the moan he did earlier because it’s sending heat all the way down to his pants.

And boy, do you feel it.

A tent forming in his pants that is gradually getting tighter because you now let your tongue peek through your slow kisses up his neck. You sense him wanting to say something, worried he’ll get too loud and get the both of you caught, but his greed is stronger as hands now find their way to your hips, encouraging you to start grinding down.

But you don’t, not yet at least.

You don’t budge, hovering a bit. “Don’t do this to me, baby..” He often says when he’s not getting what he wants, having you pull a smile. You get bolder — kiss, suck, then lap the hickey with your tongue. One hand leaves your hips to cover his mouth, aware he won’t be able to help himself.

“Can’t believe I’m now finding out how sensitive your neck is, Mikey. I wonder if I could make you come from just this?”

Surely you must be joking, he thought.

Him fighting to stay quiet with a trembling hand clamped over his mouth only gave you fuel to keep going, pathetic looking real good on him.

The hickeys you create are scattered on all different places on his neck, almost like you’re trying to not miss a single spot. As you like to believe you’re not entirely evil, you pull away to start grinding down on his bulge that’s been aching for any type of friction, soaking up the way he sharply inhales through his teeth. He uncovers his mouth to hold your hips again, to keep your moves real nice and slow.

You press your palms on top of his chest for balance, your grinds getting more desperate and needy when your clit keeps getting hit perfectly by each tiny buck of his hips. Room is no longer filled by the sound of the cold wind coming from outside, instead being of your guys hushed noises of oohh’s and aahh’s.

Until you opened your eyes to look down, and not being a fan on how lonely and naked the left side of his neck looked in comparison to his right, painted by your reverence. You couldn’t let that slide, right?

His voice cracked in the middle of another moan being ripped out from his throat the second you bring your face back down to his neck, repeating the same pattern that’s been turning him into a breathless mess. Kiss, suck, then soothe it with your tongue.

“Please baby, you’re gonna kill me.” He gasps out, since just because you’re back to giving attention his neck, your grinds haven’t stop. Two pleasurable feelings mixing together into one is overwhelming every bone in Michael’s body, mouth open to let all noises be set free that he’s given up on holding back.

You wanted to tease, to edge. Michael being a trembling mess beneath you all because you accidentally discovered something new he enjoys that he himself didn’t know until now, how could you not take advantage of it and have a bit of fun?

Although, you became a little too eager. Lips running across to stop in the middle of his neck, feeling his adam’s apple throb with each whimper. You plant a kiss there, then suck, and that’s what did it for him.

Michael pants heavily from beneath, eyebrows screwed and eyes shut, a face you recognize all too well what it meant. “No way..” You softly breathe, stopping the movement of your hips.

“You’re so mean to me.” He whines into his hands, causing you to huff out a scoff. “Right, like you were telling me to stop.”

You giggle at his silence, all so telling. “You’re not mad though, right?”

He gives you a reassuring shake of his head, pulling you back on top to kiss you all over your face. “Never mad at you.” You hum as his kisses get softer, lolling your head to the side as they get lower.

Until you let out a giggle at a particular one because it tickled, making you both still. There was no point in backing out of it, as Michael’s already flipping your positions, now hovering over you with nothing but a sweet revenging glint in his eyes.

Your giggly pleas fall on deaf ears, smothering you in tickly kisses with an occasional playful growl. You swore you were keeping it hushed, but the next morning with your parents already waiting for you at the kitchen, sharing pointed looks that makes you wanna shrink, says otherwise.

[plumppies]

I’m going to say this once and never again. If you don’t agree with me, you’re more than welcome to unfollow and block me. I’m also not a chicken and will be tagging exactly who I’m talking about because this is honestly ridiculous.

I’m going to preface this by saying this isn’t to cause drama or get likes. My account is garnering plenty of engagement from my writing and my personal posts already. This is merely for educational purposes and to shed light on an issue that’s infested the internet for years. This is also NOT just about the MJ fandom but I’m using it as an example because it’s happened here. Again, if you don’t agree with me, unfollow or block me!

I recently followed an account under the impression that they were a black owned blog. Their layout, use of AAVE and black oriented reaction pictures made me believe that I found another black writer to support. But I learned that the owner is a white women.

I want to follow more black writers here to uplift them in a space that is heavily biased against black fans. Situations surrounding belittling black writers in the MJ community have been rampant for a while now so I take it upon myself to support and follow fellow black writers who represent me and many black MJ fans who have felt underrepresented in the fandom.

Back to the issue. Finding out that this account is a white woman behind the scenes upset me quite a bit. I genuinely believed she was one of us and was combating the racial problem within the fandom. That being said, I’d like to point out why this is more than just a ‘I feel scammed’ situation and more about digital dishonesty.

Digital blackface is a massive issues in online communities across the internet. It’s a conversation that has been ongoing for years now, even before I was on the internet. Many people outside of the black diaspora have downplayed it as a problem, stating that free speech shouldn’t be considered black fishing or harmful towards black communities. However, I would like to point out that Digital Blackface is more than just using ‘black media’ to express yourself, it directly impacts how the world views black peoples as a whole.

Accounts on Tumblr and other platforms have popped up pretending to be black people since conception of social media. They use Ebonics and black reaction pictures/gifs as a means of communication which often time leads to real black-owned accounts believing that they are interacting with black people. In hindsight, one would merely say “well it’s not their fault you thought they were black,” and that is exactly the problem.

As I said before, I follow black blogs to uplift my people. The internet is riddled with racism directly impacting black communities. We get called the hard r, monkeys, ghetto, nasty, undesirable etc and platforms don’t bat an eye. Racism towards us is so normalised that it’s bled into every internet fandom. So you see why black people online gravitate towards each other? Because we want a safe space for ourselves. We want to appreciate each other, dote on each other, love, respect and support each other’s art.

How do black folk know that an account is black owned? We use Ebonics, black media and black phrases that only we would know. So you can imagine how disheartening it is to find out that an account using such media would be a white woman behind it.

Nonblack POC or white person reading this might not understand the gravity of this situation but I implore you to read up on it and take time to fully understand why it’s upsetting.

Terms like ‘the saxophones are getting louder” “goofy ahh” “I’m crine” “unc” “Deadass” are AAVE/Ebonics. Finding them on TikTok and incorporating them into your online vocabulary when you’re not apart of that community is a form of digital blackface and cultural appropriation. It’s not Gen Z slang or TikTok slang and it’s not a funny audio just for vibes. It’s BLSCK AMERICAN language.

I’m not BA and I do use Ebonics here and there but I avoid incorporating it into my speech when I don’t understand how to use it properly. And I don’t use much of it because, again, I’m NOT black American. Black Americans have been kind enough to even let black people outside of the United States use their language and I don’t even want them to think that I’m being irresponsible with that privilege.

Now in regards to this situation. I don’t want to hear things like “Michael was for everyone.” Although that was true, you would be really stupid to believe that Michael didn’t understand that black people were/are the most marginalised and racially abused people on the planet. This man grew up in undoubtedly the most racially divided time in USA history. He even spoke out about the industry steals from “especially black artists”. He was aware that black art is abused for white financial and political gain. Black media (whether it be music or simply reaction photos) is art.

So why position yourself in a way that make you appear to us as a black woman @michaelmuse ? Your entire aesthetic is based in a way that draws in a black audience. You use black faces as reaction pics and Ebonics but you draw the line at reblogging black fanfics when you know that this site favours reblogs over comments and likes.

Your previous username (ebonymuse) in itself is indicative of the issue I’m discussing here. ‘Ebony’ is a term primarily used to describe black people. Urban dictionary defines it as “the essence of dark skin that is enriched and plentiful with melanin. greatness. beauty”. It’s even a common term used to define a porn category for to black people. Now the term itself is constantly being critiqued for bordering on being a fetish term, however, you see how it’s for black people? Dark skin people to be exact?

So why is a white woman with white ass skin using that term in their username? I’m a black woman with albinism and even I wouldn’t use that term. Why? Because it isn’t not for my pasty self.

I’ve read some of your fics and this has nothing to do with me wanting diversity or inclusion from you, nor is it to hate on your work. You do use Ebonics in your work so I’m sure you knew that your fics would attract black readers to your blog. Your behaviour (whether you did it intentionally or not) was deceptive and potentially harmful to my community. You need to educate yourself on the contents of this conversation to fully understand how bad this situation actually is. There’s no way you’ve been on the internet and didn’t know that black Americans have been begging nonblack (especially white) folk to stop using their media as your own or as ‘a silly tend’ or to be relatable.

I’ve seen a few black British blogs come to your defence and I’m bewildered to see them pandering for a white woman about something that affects black people as a whole. I myself am not Black American but I will stand by them when their culture and language is diluted and turned into a ‘trend’ for everyone else to steal and appropriate. It’s wrong and it impacts us all. White people (even other POC) don’t separate us. They see one fake black account say stupid things and assume that’s how all of us feel/act. I understand that the UK is differently set up but your low racial self esteem is affecting us all. You let white Brits walk all over you and your culture and you just laugh along like it’s funny. This is why racism there will never end. You let white footballer wear braids, let white folk use AAVE and flat out call your Afros messy and you think it’s not that serious. Stand up. Immediately.

You guys really need to do better. Stop misconstruing Michael’s words to get away with disrespecting black people. You’re becoming just as bad as those who racially attacked him.

With love.

[cheremj]

new fic should be out sometime this weekend!! got a new job so I’ve been busy but I’m not letting anything stop me from thirsting over our man

[coeurlace]

🎥 ୨୧ michael takes such good care of his baby. ─── thrad era.

pairings: soft dom michael jackson x black!fem reader.  genre: smut. warnings: reader is submissive. pussy slapping. no p in v sex. usage of "cunt" & "sir."

a/n: this was supposed to be a lot shorter but i couldn't help myself.

there's nothing he loves more than torturing pleasuring his pretty girl. not fully proofread. mdni.⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

can't stop thinking about thrad!michael with his big hands forcing your legs apart and keeping you between him, back against his chest. he's still dressed while you're completely naked and it both makes you feel shy & so turned on you want to cry. by now you'd already lost count of how many times his hand came down on your bare cunt. he made you count them at first, even starting over once you stumbled from nine to eleven, but you were so gone by now and michael is just being a meanie at this point :( your pussy has its own heart beat and the obscene noises coming from it as his hand makes direct contact with your wetness is making your head feel fuzzy.

you can't even really get any words out at this point.

"you still with me, hm? want me to keep going, baby?" michael asks you. his hand rubs firm circles on your heat. you can't tell if he's trying to soothe the stinging or torture you. you decide it's both. as you nod your head yes, he makes a disapproving noise and pulls his hand away. you whimper at the loss of contact. "i need to hear you say it." and when you finally work up enough energy to let out a weak "please," he brings his hand down again and your eyes roll back. and then his slaps become gentler, also quicker. he aims directly towards your clit. you grip his free arm with yours and whine into him.

you ignored the urge to close your legs as a hard slap against your pussy turned into gentle rubbing again. the way he forced them apart and kept you wide open was so unfair !! you were beyond overstimulated from his hand against your clit, and yet he showed you very little sympathy.

"what's wrong? you wanted this, didn't you?" there's a hint of a giggle in his voice and it makes you pout. "stop complaining when i give you what you ask for." he mumbles into your ear. "i'm sorry, sir." you respond, quietly. your head is still all fuzzy and your heart is racing so fast it's going to leap out of your chest any minute now. you didn't even know if you wanted him to stop or keep going anymore.

at some point he continues bringing his hand down against your heat and you lose the concept of time. hard slaps mixed in with gentler ones, and your pussy continued fluttering beneath his hand. all while he mumbled "you're okay," and "don't worry, i got you" against your ear. god, he treated you so well. you were so lucky to have him <3

[cndybliss]

please stop spam liking and reblogging my works. it results in my newer releases not getting pushed out enough due to tumblr wrongfully marking "bot-like" activity.

[cheremj]

!!!!

[cheremj]

I fricking love ur theme for ur blog ugh it’s so coolll 😙

awww I appreciate it lovely !!

[cheremj]

hey so i saw a rumour (or a fact), that michael liked doing it in risky places? so 😛

⋆˙⟡⋆✿ Michael LOVES fucking you in risky places don’t even get me started. No matter where he is, who’s around, he struggles to resist the temptation of pushing you against a wall while hiking one of your legs up, in dire need to show you how hard you make him when you’re barely doing anything besides sitting looking pretty as his girl.

It could be the night of the Grammy Awards, People from all different celeb tiers who seek for Michael’s attention to either congratulate him on being a nominee when it’s no shocker to anybody, or to discuss potential collabs to boost their music career path.

Little do they know that he’s currently thrusting himself into you in an unoccupied space of the venue, yet still close enough to the event where distant chatters falls upon both your ears. How you decide to wear a dress he picked out for you months ago, not having a chance to wear it out until now. It drove him completely insane with how well it didn’t miss a single curve of yours to hug.

“Oh fuck, Michael, please..!” You don’t know what exactly you’re begging for, too cock-drunk to be coherent. He didn’t care, as his cock throbs in preparation to spill into you, drugged on the way your cunt clenches with each drag.

“The second we’re done—shit— you’re gonna go out there and greet all those people, with your cunt leaking full of me. Nobody will know but me, how you’re squeezing me so tight like you don’t ever want me to leave.”

God, it was too much. The high adrenaline coursing through your veins at the possibility of getting caught, it heightens both of your guys’ pleasure. On top of that, the way he’s speaking to you so filthy in contrast to his soft velvet voice, you’re certain it’s the wine talking. You’ll make sure to keep him sipping on that throughout the rest of the night.

The fat head of his cock starts to hit inside you perfectly with the way he angles your leg up a little higher, now deeper than ever before. A loud cry rips out your throat before you could even think to hold it back, his large palm quickly coming up to cover your mouth.

“Shit girl, you want everyone to know how good I’m fucking you, huh? You don’t care if people see you going dumb over my cock?”

No, no you don’t, and he knows that, too. So he picks up his pace, skins slapping harsher together, muffled noises being spewed into his warm hand.

The media will be seeing you wear the same dress for the next couple of events for reasons you will not say.

[cheremj]

hiii!! boyfriend thriller!era mike taking shy reader’s virginity? YOU WRITE SO GOOD OMFG LIKE I JUST READ ALL YOUR FICS AT ONCE LMAO 💗💗

Thrill Her

contains thriller!era mike, smut (minors dni) p in v sex, fingering, teasing, michael winning best boyfriend award, he knows how to take care of you, he’s HUNG, you beg for it

It should be a crime how incredibly attractive your boyfriend looked in his crimson leathered outfit for the music video of Thriller, because the second you followed him into his private mobile he uses to escape the chaos of the set, you’re on him.

It became tongues fighting to dominate the other, Michael winning by a landslide, getting ahold of your waist to be pulled down to the couch to be more comfortable instead of accidentally being bumped into corners of dressers and counters. His hands there didn’t travel anywhere further, and his kisses didn’t go anywhere lower, because that is all you ever allow him to do for the past five months of your guys’ relationship.

Michael is your first boyfriend, and to say you’ve been overthinking everything you’ve been doing in the relationship is an understatement. More-so when it came to intimacy, how you two don’t share the same knowledge on it.

Your friends hasn’t failed to constantly remind you how lucky you are to have a boyfriend who doesn’t mind going at your pace, not one complaint leaving his mouth when makeouts don’t go further, because if you’re satisfied with it, it’s more than enough for him.

Yet that doesn’t mean you don’t have thoughts to take it one more step, urges even. Your shy nature getting in the way of your hunger is beyond frustrating, and tonight is a great example of it.

You take your hands somewhere they haven’t been, dipping fingertips inside his pants to lightly tug. You speak before he had the chance to raise a questioning brow.

“Please, I—“ You swallow, ignoring how hot your face already is, or your brain screaming to you you’re not ready when that’s not how your heart is feeling. “I need you.”

The silence that follows is thick, hearing every distant chatter outside the mobile van, every rise of each other’s chest to breathe. You almost pondered if you mistakenly said it in your head and should repeat, until you felt warm hands grab ahold of yours.

His thumbs swipe across your knuckles gently, eyes searching in yours for any hesitancy. “Are you sure?”

You nod, reassuring by leaning in for another kiss. His hands push against your shoulders for your back to hit the cushions of the couch, breaking the kiss to leave small nips into the heated skin of your neck.

You gasp at the new sensation, lolling your head to the side to give him more skin to paint as many hickeys as he wants. How long you forced yourself to deprive any affection that go past kisses from him, you’re convinced he could make you come just from this alone.

You focused so much on the softness of his lips on your sensitive skin that you failed to remember when he started to take off your jeans, now left in your panties that are embarrassingly soaked too soon for your liking.

“You’ll tell me if you change your mind about this, right?”

You were fearing that would happen in the next couple minutes, but with the way he starts to slip his hand under the damp fabric for that first push of his fingertip to your entrance, you can barely see that happening anymore.

Your muscles tighten, the rest of his digit sinking, can’t help but clench around just the smallest part of him inside you.

“God, you’re so tight… I can’t imagine how you’ll take me.” He murmurs, doing a slow agonizing flex of his finger inside. He watches every uneven, ragged breath leave you, every sharp pulse being sent to you when he nestles deeper, not wanting to miss any discomfort your face might make.

Your body flutters around him, gasping at a second finger prodding to enter alongside with the one already in. He brings a hand to cup the side of your cheek, sprinkling kisses on all around your face. “Talk to me, ma. Is this still okay? How’re you feeling?”

Bless him for continuing to check in to see if you still want this, for you had your eyes squeezed shut since this started. You couldn’t bring yourself to look down to see his hand between your legs, pulling such lewd noises from you that makes you want to hide your face into the crevice of the couch.

Your walls begin to welcome each slow pump of his finger, which has you buck your hips up to brush against his hardening bulge, thinking you’re ready. “Yes, I’m okay— just—“

Your sentence dies as you feel his free hand get ahold of your hip, putting a stop to your desperate grinds. “Impatient, are we?”

He huffs out a giggle from your pout, seeing you not understand why he’s dragging this on the night you’re finally willing to take things to a next level. “Sweet girl, you’ll regret me not stretching you out first before taking me. I know you want it, and you’ll have it, but trust me for right now.”

And with that, he sinks a second finger in, pushing in as deep as it can go. They still for a long moment, letting you adjust, letting the heat coil heavier inside of you.

Every slow drag is calculated, rhythm perfect and precise, making sure your body has no choice but to open up for him. Your body jerks from a particular sharp stroke, a wrecked gasp leaving you, your stomach beginning to tighten. You were expecting to be met with pure bliss a few seconds later, but he retracts his fingers back, glistening in the light from your slick.

Your stomach does a flip at the sight of him bringing the two fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean while holding your overwhelmed gaze. “You’ve been hiding this sweet taste from me for this long?”

He knew you wouldn’t respond, too busy covering half of your face that’s been burning up each second. He fumbles with the fastenings of his pants, dragging them halfway down until he’s bare for you to admire.

Your mouth nearly goes dry at the sight, how heavy his cock sits between his legs. You feel your cunt begin to clench around nothing, the anticipation overbearing.

As if he could hear your worries, he leans down to press a small peck to the corner of your lips. “It’ll fit, I promise.”

You hold onto his forearms as he lets you feel the weight of it first, heated head of his cock dragging slowly across your clit. Your breathing shatters, his grip on your hips tightening as he drags himself across again, coating his cock in your wetness with each glide.

Your thighs tremble from every teasing press, gasping each time it swipes past your entrance. You sense how he’s waiting for your permission, working you up until you don’t have a choice but to plead for it.

“My baby looks eager to take me. Is that what you want?”

You think your broken mewl is sufficient for an answer, but Michael doesn’t agree. He tilts your chin down, thumb brushing against your lower lip to coax out a response.

“Y-Yes, I want it.”

You’re thankful Michael isn’t mean enough to have you repeat yourself a bit louder, your words followed by the first slow, shallow push.

He pulls out, to have you feel the loss for a cold second, and then pushes in deeper this time. The stretch burns, fills, overwhelms every inch of your body. It’s nothing like his fingers at all, embarrassed from the ounce of confidence you held a few minutes ago that you could handle what he carried.

He holds his own ragged breaths and groans to hear yours instead, to not miss out on any discomfort you might show. After each push, he’ll let you adjust around the length, then roll another inch of his cock.

His hips then flush to yours, the fullness hitting you like a punch to the lungs. Warm hands grab ahold of yours to remove them from your face, peppering kisses to the knuckles. “Don’t get shy on me, ma. Need you to watch how well you’re taking me.”

He doesn’t let go of your wrists, bringing them to rest against his chest. A helpless noise escapes you as you bring your eyes down, watching the way his cock disappears after every steady thrust. The quick brush of his pubic bone to your clit sends jolts through you, mouth falling open around a silent gasp at the added pleasure.

He moves with perfect control, cock sinking into you with dizzying precision. You feel your orgasm crawling up from behind, how sharper it feels than what you get given whenever you get needy all alone with your own hand between your legs.

His is right around the corner as well, another deep thrust, holding for just a second before pulling back again. You couldn’t stop the plea you spilled, body melting, hips continuing to snap forward to push you further, higher, closer.

“That’s it, let go f’ame. You’re doing so good—fuck— squeezing me so tight like you can’t get enough.”

You let your orgasm rip through you, breath hitching so sharply it feels like your lungs forgot how to work. It cuts through you like a blade, setting fire to everything inside of you. You let out a silent cry that catches in your throat, back arching as the tension finally snaps. He doesn’t miss the way you fall apart, the way your eyes flutter, the way your whole body clenches around him like it’s trying to keep him there forever.

Which what has him break, hips stuttering once, twice — and then he pulls out in one swift slide, bunching up your shirt to spill all over the expanse of your stomach.

You both share heavy breaths, pupils blown wide. He lets his forehead rest against yours, the world narrowing to the press of his body against yours, wishing this moment doesn’t have an end. You swipe a bead of sweat off the side of his jaw, now holding the side of his face like you can’t bear to be apart from him.

Before he could ask once again if you’re okay, your lips find his. You feel the slow, wet press of his tongue, head tilting to deepen the sensational kiss.

Yeah, you’re more than okay.