mdni 18+

you’d conditioned michael so thoroughly that even the most intimate touches felt like second nature.

whether it was your hand wrapped snugly around his cock while you two watched a movie, you swallowing load after load, or when his face buried between your thighs after a long day, these moments had become—as micheal called it, “friend time.”

after all, that’s what best friends did.. help each other unwind, show appreciation, explore every inch of comfort together. nothing was off limits.

you did everything under the sun.

everything except have sex.

michael still held that one line sacred. to him, it was something reserved for marriage, a vow, a consummation of lifelong commitment. you saw it differently. to you, all that was needed was trust and love—and michael had both for you in overflowing abundance. truthfully, you didn’t care about either at the moment. you really just wanted him inside you.

you’d noticed it more and more lately: no matter how perfectly you sucked him off or stroked him through shuddering orgasms, he’d still be achingly hard afterward, twitching with unspoken need.

“what’s wrong, mikey?” you asked softly, pulling off his cock with a wet pop!

you stayed on your knees, spit striken lips, a thin string of cum still connecting your tongue to his flushed tip. your eyes glistened evident to your abused throat.

“was it not good?”

“n-no, it was really, really good,” he stammered, voice trembling. his fingers twitched against the couch cushions.

“i don’t know why it won’t… why i’m still…”

your wicked brain started to turn. you knew exactly what the problem was.

“s’okay, baby. i’ll help you.”

you rose gracefully, eyes locked on his as you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your white lacy panties and slid them down. michael’s gaze followed them, his breath catching. a flicker of curiosity shone in his wide eyes.

“lovey…?” he whispered, a private nickname he only used when the rest of the world fell away.

you climbed over him, knees bracketing his hips. his cock, still slick from your mouth, rested hot and heavy against your inner thigh. you positioned yourself so your dripping core hovered just above his tip, brushing against him teasingly.

michael looked up at you, eyes blown wide.

“w-wait… isn’t this—isn’t this like doing it? we aren’t really…”

micheals voice trailed off. you cupped his cheek, thumb stroking softly as you held his gaze with full conviction. maybe if you believed such an obvious lie, he would too.

“micheal do you trust me?”

he flinched at the rare sound of his government name on your lips. "of course lovey why would you ask me tha—“

“then believe me when i say this isn’t doing it. if i don’t move.. it doesn’t count.”

you lifted your hand and held up your pinky finger between you, smiling gently.

“promise.”

michael’s eyes dropped to your pinky. a soft breath left him. pinky promises had been sacred between you two since you first became friends—years of secrets, late-night talks, and little vows sealed with linked fingers. pinky promises meant no lies. he searched your face for a long moment, looking for any sign of deceit, but found only your steady gaze. then hooked his pinky with yours.

“okay if you promise..”

you smiled softly and began to sink down onto him, slowly and carefully. inch by inch, your tight heat enveloped his length until you were fully seated, bodies pressed flush together. a shaky breath left michael’s lips, his hands gripping your waist.

for a moment you stayed perfectly still, just letting him feel you. then his hips gave a small, instinctive twitch. then another. he started moving—just shallow little rocks.

“mikey,” you murmured, “you’re moving.”

his eyes fluttered open, cheeks burning. “m’not… not fully,” he breathed, looking to you for approval. “doesn’t count, right?”

you pretended to think for a moment. “that’s right, baby. not fully.”

you leaned down toward his ear and whispered, “but i’m gonna need you to stay real still so i can make you feel good, mkaaay?”

his eyes fluttered closed as his head lulled to the side with a nod. you began to roll your hips in slow, grinding circles against him—keeping him buried deep inside your dripping heat. every smooth roll hugged him tight, your body squeezing and rippling around his length while your swollen clit rubbed deliciously against him. his fingers flexed on your hips as he tried to match you with tiny movements. pushing his hips upwards.

he was really was trying not move.. and technically he wasn’t really moving, right?

you leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, then his lips. “such a greedy boy,” you whispered against his mouth. “is this what you needed, sweetheart? my mouth isn’t enough for you anymore?”

he nodded faintly, his response melting into soft whimpers as you kept rolling your hips, gyrating in that slow, constant motion—drawing needy sounds from him with every circle.

you kept working your hips flush against him so he stayed completely sheathed inside your dripping heat. every smooth roll hugged him tight, your body squeezing and rippling around his length while you rubbed your swollen clit against his pelvis with each lazy grind. michael’s hands trembled on your waist, his breathing ragged, eyes hazy.

“l-lovey… i’m gonna— i’m going to…” he whimpered, voice breaking as his hips twitched helplessly beneath you. his cock throbbed hard inside you.

you peered down at him with lust-blown eyes. one hand came up to gently cup his jaw, thumb rubbing slow, encouraging strokes along his flushed skin as you nodded.

“do it,” you whispered tenderly, still rolling your hips. “go ahead, baby… your best friend wants it.”

michael’s eyes widened. he came hard, pulsing deep inside you with thick, warm spurts, flooding your pussy. you moaned softly, clenching around him as your own orgasm crashed over you at the same time, milking every drop.

even as he filled you, you kept moving slowly, eyes locked on his.

“good job, angelface, you did so good for me,” you cooed softly, still trying to catch your breath as you watched his fucked out face melt from intense pleasure into a hazy, blissed comfort. you lightly kissed his cheek while his cock continued twitching inside you.

for a moment the room was quiet except for your heavy breathing.

then michael’s eyes widened in panic. he looked up at you, scared.

he wasn’t wearing a condom… and you sure as hell weren’t on any birth control.

you stayed right where you were, sitting in a pool of both your cum, you brushed his hair back tenderly.

“mikey… do ya wanna make your best friend a mommy too?”

𓂃𓈒

18+ mdni

“baby, be quiet.”

you whisper as your hands frame each side of his head. you lean down, your breasts pressed warmly against his chest. you kiss michael deeply, lips crashing to muffle his needy whimpers. you can’t be caught today.

“oh my gosh,” he breathes against your mouth, his voice trembling and already breaking.

his hands grip your thighs hard, fingers digging in as he tries to ram up into you from below. but this isn’t enough for him. he needs more.

you keep riding, your walls clenching tight around his thick length. his eyes are glistening beneath you, wet and shining in the low light. you assume it’s just sweat, the heat of your bodies making everything slick and shiny.

but he keeps whimpering, soft broken sounds spilling out no matter how hard you kiss him.

yet for micheal you riding him wasn’t cutting it.

he flips you onto your back with a desperate groan. you yelp in shock as he hooks your left leg high over his shoulder, stretching you open in ways you didn’t even know were possible. he thrusts in hard, his cock kissing deep inside you and pressing right against that perfect spot.

relentless strokes follow. sweat slicks your bodies, pressing hot and slippery together. the room smells heavily of musk and sex. in this new position his whimpers grow louder, the deeper sensation driving him wild.

“shh, sweetheart,” you murmur, covering his mouth with your open palm and pulling him closer. “you have to be real quiet.”

even then he keeps moaning into your hand, trying his hardest. he bites gently down on your palm. your eyes roll back at the overwhelming feeling. your palm slips.

he buries his face in your neck, lips pressing desperately against your skin while his hips keep driving deep. the slick slide of skin on skin is filthy, your sweaty bodies gliding together with every thrust. the pressure against your pussy makes your body pulse while the tight heat of your walls squeezes him relentlessly.

you turn your head, spot your discarded panties nearby, and think it’s brilliant—the smartest idea. stuffing them in his mouth should finally shut him up.

you reach for them and push the soft fabric between his lips. you expect it to quiet him down, to finally give you some control.

instead, the opposite happens. michael moans even louder around the panties, the sound vibrating through you. to him this is the best of both worlds—he gets to taste your sweet essence and fuck you at the exact same time. it’s basically his dream come true.

being completely surrounded by you, wrapped in your tight heat while your taste floods his mouth, overwhelming him in a way nothing else ever has.

that’s when you feel it—warm teardrops landing on your cheeks, sliding down your skin.

your eyes flutter open. when you look up, michael’s face is completely fucked out, eyes glassy and half-lidded, tears steadily rolling down his flushed cheeks. his lips are spit-stricken and abused around the bunched fabric, trembling as he bites down hard on the panties trying to hold back the noises.

his hair is a total mess, sticking to his forehead in sweaty strands. he looks so pathetic whimpering over you like this, every thrust making fresh tears slip free because the pleasure is simply too much.

“mikey… sweetie, are you okay?” you whisper, panic cutting through the heat.

he nods quickly, whimpering around the panties, voice muffled. “it just feels… s’good,” he chokes out, tears spilling faster.

“m’sorry baby… i don’t know why… its too much… you feel—“

you reach up to pull the panties from his mouth, worried, but his hand shoots down, grabbing your wrist and interlacing his fingers with yours. he pushes your joined hands down onto the mattress beside your head, pinning you there gently but firmly. he shakes his head, eyes pleading even as more tears slip free.

“no.. no please just..,” he takes in a breath, trying to regain any sense of composure. “just keep them in..”

he keeps driving into you with slow, grinding rolls of his hips, chasing that all-consuming sensation. he’s so overwhelmed—completely wrapped in your slick heat, your taste on his tongue, every sense drowning in you.

your breath hitches, your toes curling as the white-hot tension in your lower stomach threatens to snap. you are completely at his mercy, his whimpers and tears only turning you on more.

“mikey… stop crying, baby, you’re gonna—” you gasp, your fingers tightening around his as your own climax rushes up to meet him.

the desperate squeeze of your walls wrapping around him like a vice is the final trigger. michael’s eyes roll back, more tears spilling as his entire body locks up in a rigid, trembling line.

at the exact moment your body fractures into a violent, pulsing orgasm, he drives into you one last, impossibly deep time.

a choked, muffled cry of absolute surrender is strangled in his throat by the panties as his release floods hot and deep inside you.

your contractions clamp down on him relentlessly, milking him dry as you both shudder together, completely spent drowning in the post-sex sensation.

you brush a tear from his cheek with your free thumb, still catching your breath,

“m’aww such a crybaby”

✧˖°.

mdni 18+

sometimes you wished you couldn’t squirt.

not because it didn’t feel good. god no. it felt like heaven cracking open inside you every single time. like your whole body turned into liquid heat, waves rushing down from deep in your belly, flooding out in hot, pulsing bursts that left you shaking and gasping and soaking everything.

like every nerve lit up at once and spilled over, messy and uncontrollable and so intense it almost hurt. like your pussy was surrendering completely.

it started off so innocently. at his family’s pool party.

“here baby, drink some water,” michael would say softly, refilling your glass again with a sweet smile. every time the ice got low he was right there, pouring more, pressing the cold cup into your hand.

“s’hot out. stay hydrated f’me.”

you should’ve known.

the way his eyes lingered too long when you came out of the pool, the way he shifted in his chair when your wet bikini clung to your curves. you should’ve known what he was really preparing you for.

𓇼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

this was now your second orgasm and he still hadn’t gotten what he wanted. the first two times you had cum hard, thighs shaking around his head, pussy fluttering and clenching on his tongue and fingers.

but you didn’t squirt.

not the way he needed. and each time he pulled back his eyes had that flash of disappointment, dark and hungry, before he buried his face again like he couldn’t stop.

by this point you’re heaving.

chest rising and falling fast, body slick with sweat, legs trembling uncontrollably. your voice is hoarse, words barely forming. you look down through half-lidded eyes and his face is a mess — lips swollen and shiny, chin dripping, curls sticking to his forehead. his pupils are blown wide, completely black, like he’s high out of his mind. as if he just finished doing lines. drunk off your pussy.

“please,” he whispered, voice cracked and desperate. his breath fans hot over your soaked folds.

“just one more. please baby. let me try one more time. one more time…”

you can’t even speak. your throat is raw. you just nod, weak and shaky, because what else can you do when he looks at you like that?

he whimpers in relief and dives back in.

his tongue is everywhere at once — messy, frantic, licking long stripes through your dripping folds before sucking your swollen clit between his lips.

he’s whimpering into you the whole time, pathetic little sounds vibrating right against your most sensitive spots. you can hear him grinding against the edge of the bed, hips rutting desperately, probably already came in his shorts like he always does when he gets like this. but he doesn’t care. he just needs this.

“is this good?” he mumbles against your pussy, voice muffled and broken. he sucks harder, tongue flicking fast. “am i doing good? tell me… please…”

“it’s… s’good mikey” you moan, the words cutting off into another gasp as he pushes two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right.

he moans loud at your answer, hips grinding harder against the bed.

“are you okay?”

he asks, almost frantic, like he’s terrified of doing it wrong even while he’s devouring you. his fingers pump faster, slick sounds filling the room as he laps noisily at your clit.

“yeah… yes, mikey— oh god—” you try to answer but it turns into a broken moan when he sucks particularly hard, cheeks hollowing. your pussy clenches around his fingers, fluttering wildly. you’re so wet it’s dripping down his wrist, down your ass, making a complete mess.

he’s panting into you, whimpering between licks.

“i need it… need you to do it for me… just one more time…”

his free hand grips your thigh hard, holding you open while he grinds his hips pathetically against the mattress.

you can feel how desperate he is, how lost he is in the taste and smell and heat of you. his tongue works faster, sloppy and eager, sucking and licking like he’ll die if he stops.

your walls flutter again, heavy liquid pressure building deeper and deeper. every flick of his tongue sends sparks shooting through you.

your clit throbs under his mouth. your legs won’t stop shaking. you’re on verge of hyperventilation, moaning, barely able to breathe as he keeps asking in that wrecked voice.

“will you do it for me please baby?”

you can only nod and moan, your eyes rolled back, hips twitching against his face. he’s so pathetic like this — face buried deep, whimpering, humping the bed, completely addicted — and it’s turning you on even more.

he laps at you like he’s trying to memorize every single fold, every twitch, every drop of wetness that keeps leaking out of you.

his fingers curl and thrust deep, hitting that spot over and over until your back arches hard off the bed, spine bowing as the pressure inside you swells bigger and heavier than before.

your thighs won’t stop shaking. they clamp around his head but he just pushes them wider, whimpering into your pussy like the suffocation is the best part. every flick of his tongue sends pleasure jolts that seep into every every part of your body.

your clit is swollen and throbbing under his mouth, so sensitive that every suck makes your hips jerk. you can feel how wet you are — dripping down his chin, down his wrist, soaking the sheets underneath you.

your fingers are tight in his curls, pulling him closer even as your body tries to twist away from the overwhelming feeling.

he moans loud against you, the vibration making your walls flutter hard around his fingers. “s’perfect” he mumbles, barely pulling back enough to speak. his voice is wrecked, desperate.

“you promise to do it right?”

“yes— yes, of course mikey for you—”

your words cut off into a long moan as he sucks harder on your clit, tongue flicking fast while his fingers pump quicker. your back arches even more, breasts pushing up toward the ceiling.

he’s grinding frantically against the edge of the bed now, hips rutting in short, pathetic thrusts. you can hear the little whimpers he’s making into your pussy, like he’s right on the edge himself.

his face is buried so deep you can barely see anything but his messy curls. he’s completely lost — pupils blown, cheeks flushed, chin dripping with you.

the pressure keeps building. deeper. heavier. your pussy clenches and flutters around his fingers, getting impossibly wetter. your legs are trembling violently. your breathing is just short, desperate gasps now.

“mikey— i think— i’m gonna—”

he doesn’t answer with words. he just moans louder and doubles down, sucking your clit hard while his fingers curl perfectly against that spot inside you.

it hits you like a wave crashing over your head.

a hot, powerful gush floods out of you, soaking his face, his neck, dripping down his chest in warm streams. your whole body convulses, back arched so high it almost hurts, thighs locked tight around his head as pulse after pulse of liquid spurts out of you.

the relief is overwhelming, mixed with sharp, blinding pleasure that makes you cry out loud. your pussy spasms wildly, walls fluttering and clenching as the orgasm drags on and on.

michael moans deep and broken against your gushing pussy, the vibrations making the orgasm even sharper for you, dragging it out longer.

he keeps licking through every pulse, tongue working desperately like he can’t bear to miss a single drop. his hips stutter hard against the bed and you hear him whimper loudly as he, well you assume, cums in his pants, grinding through his own orgasm while still buried between your legs. his moans vibrate right against your oversensitive clit, making you shake even harder.

when the last spasm finally fades you collapse back onto the bed, chest quivering, body limp and trembling. michael rested his soaked cheek on your thigh, breathing hard, face shiny and flushed.

his lips are plush and abused, swollen from how long he’s been devouring you. he looks more fucked out than you do his eyes glassy, pupils still blown wide, like he’s floating somewhere far away.

you’re barely able to breathe yourself, but you reach down with a shaky hand and gently pat his damp curls. he leans into your touch immediately, nuzzling his cheek against your thigh with a soft, content sound.

“are you…

you let out a breath.

okay, mikey?”

he looks up at you, like you’re the only thing in his world. his eyes are soft and full of worship even through the haze.

“i will be.. if you let me go one more time?”

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

boundaries m.jackson

warnings: sexual themes explored, oral (f receiving), very, very clear signs of manipulation, sub!micheal x manipulative!reader.

part 1

18+ MDNI

you really hated when other people tried to come between you and michael.

diana ross had pulled him aside after catching you sitting on his lap, arms drapped around him, your faces inches apart.

but... so what? thats you friend it aint any of her buisness.

"michael, sweetheart i dont know what that girl has goin' on but whatever it is, its not appropriate."

"w-what? thats my best—"

"no michael. best friends dont do that. you need to set up a boundary of some sort."

ever since then, michael had been quiet and distant, barely looking at you. you finally cornered him alone in one of the smaller back rooms, locking the door behind you with a soft click.

michael looked up at you with wide, nervous eyes. his gaze kept moving from your face to the floor and back again, unable to settle.

you sat down across from him, studying him quietly. he shifted uncomfortably, fingers twisting in his lap.

after a long silence, he finally spoke, voice shaky and quiet.

“i… um… i think… we should set boundaries,” he mumbled, eyes darting away from your face again.

“y’know… maybe it would be better if we… had some boundaries.”

“who told you this, mikey?” you asked softly.

he couldnt even look at you properly as he said it. michael was never quick enough to come up with something like this on his own. the words sounded foreign in his mouth.

he swallowed hard.

“i-i just thought… maybe its getting too much and—”

“who told you that."

his shoulders slumped. “…diana. she saw us and she said i needed to set boundaries. that it wasnt… appropriate. i got scared and i didnt know what to say to her…”

of course it was diana. that fucking meddling bitc—

the rage flared hot in your chest—you were fuming inside, imagining her smug face telling him what to do with your michael. but you kept your expression gentle and sad on the outside.

“so she gets to decide how our friendship works now?”

“she tells you whats appropriate between us?”

michaels face crumpled. “no— i mean… i-i didnt mean it like that.. i dont know...

“thats fine,” you replied with a sad little smile. “if thats what you want.”

“if thats what i—” his voice cracked. “i want you. youre my best friend.”

“no, mikey. you want what diana wants.” you looked down at your hands, letting your shoulders slump.

“and thats fine.”

michaels eyes widened. he stared at you—the way your usual bright, happy expression had gone quiet and defeated. you were always his angel, always smiling and making everything better. seeing you like this clearly hurt him.

“i.. i really didnt mean for you to be sad,” he whispered, voice trembling, breathing growing ragged.

“its okay,” you said softly.

“we can set the boundaries. but if we have boundaries… we cant really be best friends anymore.”

“no!” he blurted out, almost yelling. “no, i want to be best friends! please.."

“but you want the boundaries. you want dianas rules.”

“no.. no.. no i want you—” his words cut off as his breathing became frantic, chest heaving like he was on the verge of a panic attack. his breath kept catching in his throat, shallow and uneven.

he swallowed hard over and over, hands moving restlessly up and down his knees, desperate for any sort of comfort as his whole body seemed to convulse with anxiety at the thought of losing you.

you shook your head slowly. “you already made your decision, mikey. you cant have your cake and eat it too.”

“im sorry. i dont know. i mean—”

“you hurt me, michael… my heart hurts.”

his breath hitched sharply. tears glistened in his wide eyes, threatening to spill over. “what? youre hurt? im sorry— im so sorry,” he choked out, voice frantic and breaking. his hands kept rubbing anxiously over his knees, swallowing repeatedly as fresh waves of panic washed over him.

“what can i do? you always make me feel good. how can i make you feel better so youre not hurting anymore? ill do anything.”

you raised an eyebrow. “anything?”

thats how his head ended up between your thighs. michael had dropped to his knees and buried his face in your dripping cunt without hesitation, clumsy and frantic.

he was eating you like a starving animal—loud and wet slurping sounds filling the room as thick strings of his spit mixed with your slick. your juices coated his chin and dripped down onto the couch.

his tongue lapped messily through your folds, sucking noisily on your clit while he humped the air desperately, his hard cock straining painfully against his pants.

“okay, slow down, baby,” you murmured, threading your fingers through his curls and yanking him closer. “thats it… good. flatten your tongue right there on my cli—yes, just like that. youre doing so well, mikey.”

he moaned loudly into your soaked pussy, the vibration shooting through you. his movements stayed awkward and sloppy, but he never stopped, tongue dragging sloppily over your dripping hole before sucking hard again.

his wide, teary eyes kept flicking up to your face, begging for approval while his hips jerked uselessly.

“a little harder now,” you praised, stroking his cheek. “suck on it like you mean it— good boy. get your tongue inside me. deeper. yeah, just like that, my favourite boy."

while one leg stayed hooked over his shoulder, you pressed the sole of your other foot firmly against his throbbing bulge, rubbing and pressing down on his aching cock through his pants.

“see? only i can get you like this. only i can fix this for you."

michael whimpered pathetically into your cunt, hips bucking wildly into the couch as fresh drool and your juices ran down.

“dont ever mention boundaries around me again,” you said, voice dropping. the sweet facade slipped as pure anger bled through.

who would even dare to interfere in your business? this was your michael. only you could tell him what to do.

michael didnt notice the venom in your tone. to him it sounded like you genuinely cared.

wow… she gets this mad just at the thought of losing me, he thought, eyes shining with fresh tears of relief and adoration even as he kept devouring you.

my best friend… she really cares about me that much. the same way i care about her.

“m’sorry—s'sorry,” he mumbled messily into your sloppy, dripping pussy, the words garbled and wet. “m’sorry im not always… i dont want boundaries. i just want you. please let me make you feel better.. dont be sad."

you kept guiding him like a teacher with her desperate student—telling him when to flick faster, when to shove his tongue deeper, when to suck on your clit until your thighs trembled.

despite how inexperienced and sloppy he was, your toes curled in pleasure because he was eating you so shamelessly, face completely buried and grinding like hed die without your taste.

when you finally came on his tongue, thighs clamping around his head and gushing against his mouth, he kept licking and sucking greedily through every spasm until you had to push him back.

you pulled him up and kissed him deeply, tasting your own tangy cum all over his messy lips and chin. he was caught off guard—messy and eager, not sure where to put his hands as they fluttered awkwardly before gripping your waist tightly.

michael melted into it, breathing hard, still whispering apologies between wet, desperate kisses.

“m'sorry really, really sorry” he whispered against your mouth, over and over. “i didnt mean to hurt you. please dont be mad at me anymore.”

MY BEST FRIEND

synopsis: you convince poor mikey that giving your best friend blow jobs is normal..

micheal jackson x manipulative!reader

18+ mdni

══════════════════════

°❀⋆ you and michael have been best friends for years. you're the only person he fully trusts in the world. that long history is exactly why you’ve been able to get away with so much. it started innocently — long hugs, holding hands, you sitting on his lap because “it’s more comfortable,” and kissing his cheek while calling him “such a cutie.” michael ate up every single word. why would you ever do something bad to him? you were his safe person.

°❀⋆ michael is painfully shy and completely untouched. he’s never properly kissed anyone, never been intimate in any way. over time, as your touches grew more intimate, you slowly convinced him that “best friends helping each other with their bodies” is completely normal — especially for someone as stressed as him. he believes every gentle lie because it’s you saying it.

°❀⋆ the first time you wrap your hand around his cock, he’s shaking like a leaf. “a-are you sure this is what friends do…?” he whispers, face burning bright red. you stroke him so gently and whisper, “of course it is, mikey. i’d never lie to you. doesn’t it feel better when i touch you?” he nods shyly, hiding his face by looking down. he cums in under two minutes, apologizing the whole time. “o-oh my… it got on your hand… it’s so dirty… i-i’m s-sorry…” you just smile, bring your fingers to your mouth, and slowly lick his release off while looking at him. “that’s okay, mikey. see? all clean.” you show him your now spotless hand and praise him softly for being so good.

°❀⋆ after that night, he starts getting hard the second you lock the studio door. you tease him softly, “look your body already knows this is normal. best friends take care of each other like this.” michael whimpers and nods, too embarrassed to argue, letting you pull him out of his pants again and again.

°❀⋆ you love edging him for long periods. especially when he’s shaking, glassy eyes peering up at you desperately. “shh, it’s okay if it hurts a little. that just means i’m doing it right. i care about you, which is why i have to make sure you feel everything.” he cries and begs so prettily, repeating whatever you tell him like doctrine: “y-yes… even though it hurts… you’re just helping me…”

°❀⋆ after you finally let him cum, he gets extremely clingy and guilty. he buries his face in your neck, breathing hard, mumbling, “i shouldn’t have let you… but it felt so good… is that bad?” you stroke his curls and whisper that it’s perfectly normal, that he needs this, that only you understand him, and only you can make him feel this good.

°❀⋆ he becomes addicted without realizing it. after long studio sessions he’ll come to you shyly, eyes on the floor, fiddling with his fingers, too embarrassed to make eye contact. “i… i feel really stressed again. can we… do the friend thing?” you always smile sweetly and say yes, because best friends never say no to each other.

°❀⋆ he starts calling it “our special friend time” in his head. he genuinely believes this is a normal, caring thing best friends do. still guilt eats at him constantly, but the pleasure and your hands win.

°❀⋆ one night after a long edging session, you slide off the couch, kneel between his legs, and wrap your lips around his throbbing cock. michael’s eyes go wide. “w-wait… you don’t have to— this is too much…” he gasps, but his hips twitch forward anyway. he cums embarrassingly fast, moaning your name while apologizing the entire time.

°❀⋆ right after he finishes in your mouth, the guilt hits him harder. he feels like there’s a huge power imbalance, like he’s taking advantage of you. he pulls you up gently, face burning. “i… i feel so bad. you’re always making me feel good, but i haven’t done anything for you. how can i make you feel better? please tell me… i don’t want to be selfish.” you cup his cheek and smile sweetly: “mikey, this is how you make me feel good by letting me take care of you. if i care about you, why would i keep score?”

°❀⋆ from that point on, his mind is completely corrupted. every time he sees your plump, glossy lips while you’re talking, his cock twitches. you’ll catch him staring and ask, “mikey… are you okay?” he’ll snap out of it, completely dazed. he feels disgusted with himself afterward. she was just trying to help me… and here i am being filthy.

°❀⋆ when you bend over in the studio to point at lyrics, your heart-shaped ass perfectly outlined, michael has to look away fast. his mind floods with filthy thoughts. he prays that night, begging god to take the lust away. but the second he sees you smiling at him again, all his prayers disappear.

°❀⋆ innocent things now trigger him— your hands writing notes, adjusting headphones, your thighs in those short skirts when you cross your legs. he feels horrible for lusting after his “helpful” best friend, but he still gets painfully hard every single time.

°❀⋆ at night when you stayed over, which is very often ever since you started ‘helping’ him, you heard everything from the guest room: the quiet shuffling of sheets, his soft desperate whimpers, and the way his breathing quickens as he tries to touch himself quietly while thinking about you. you smile in the dark, knowing.. you weren't dumb.

°❀⋆ when he finally confesses his “dirty thoughts” with teary eyes, you pull him into a hug and whisper, “it’s okay, mikey, those are natural feelings.. that just means your body needs more help from me. let me take care of it again.” he melts instantly, nodding shyly and letting you pull him out of his pants once more.