hiii im kimi (pronounced kimmy) !! i mostly write or soon to write bwwm fanfics about the characters of drew starkey, jack o’connell, timothee chalamet, hayden christensen, andrew garfield, lorenzo zurzolo, and maybe others !! i take requests :). don’t be shy to send me an idea, even if i haven’t wrote about the character you’re asking for. some stories will be open to any race of the reader <3.
i mostly write naughty things (hence why my name is what it is.) but some fluffs will be thrown in from time to time. with that said enjoy !! :)
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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.
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.
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the house was completely quiet and still due to it being so late, everyone was was fast asleep in bed but you and Michael
Michael lifted you effortlessly, seating you on the edge of the cool marble counter.
“Mikey, we shouldn’t be doing this here” you whispered, your hands resting on his shoulders as a nervous thrill ran through you.
he stepped closer, fitting himself between your knees. “It’s okay, angel face” he murmured, his voice a low and raspy “everyone is asleep” his hands slid up from your knees, his palms warm against the skin of your inner thighs, slowly parting them. he trailed a path of soft kisses down your jawline, down your neck, before slowly sinking to his knees. your breath hitched as his head dipped between your thighs.
“bu—but what if someone hears?” you gasped, your fingers knotting into his hair as his tongue made contact, instantly melting any remaining protests. every swipe of his tongue was deliberate, a slow and agonizingly perfect torment that had your hips tilting upward instinctively.
“Michael…” you whisper his hands slid under your thighs, lifting you just enough to press deeper against you.
he groaned against your skin, a low vibration that pulsed straight through you. he paused for a second, looking up at you through his eyelashes, dark eyes blown wide with hunger.
“be quiet for me then sweet girl” he murmured against your wet skin, a smirk evident in his tone before he dove right back in, faster this time, deliberately pushing you straight over the edge.
the sudden, sharp creak of a floorboard from the hallway shattered the quiet, followed by the heavy thud of footsteps.
Michael froze, his forehead resting against your inner thigh for a split second as both of your hearts hammered in your chests. before he could even scramble to his feet, a groggy, annoyed voice echoed through the dark house.
“who’s in the kitchen?” Marlon yelled, his voice rough with sleep.
you frantically tried to pull your clothes into place, your hands shaking as Michael rapidly stood up, trying to position his body directly in front of you to block you from view but it was too late, the kitchen light flipped on with a blinding click. Marlon stood in the entryway, blinking against the sudden brightness, wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and rubbing his eyes. he froze, his gaze darting from Michael, to you still perched awkwardly on the counter, and back again.
then the realization hit him instantly. Marlon’s jaw dropped, his expression shifting from sleepy annoyance to pure disbelief.
“why do y'all gotta do that on the counter?” Marlon groaned, throwing his hands up in the air and looking at the ceiling like he was asking the universe for strength. “man, I just wanted a glass of water! We eat off that!”
“sorry…”
a/n: bro what do you guys look up on pinterest to find good pictures for like 60s-90s fics, it took me a while to find that picture and i’m not sure i even like it … FIRST MICHAEL TING WHAT DO YALL THINK 😛
i keep seeing posts and comments of people shitting on writers for the pet name "mama". my response to that is, "okay and? don't read it." i don't like the way white writers write michael, so i don't read their writing. simple. i'm not bashing them for it. there are plenty michael fics that do not include "mama". there are even writers that put in their "content" or "warnings" section that the name is in the fic. they don't have to do this; they're just being courteous because they are aware there are people who do not like that name being used.
the internet has done a great job these past few years at making people more self-centered. not everything is for you, and that's okay. find the things that are for you. when writers write, unless they're fulfilling a request, they are writing for themselves. that's how it should be. when artists do things because they like it and because it pleases them, they and their audience get more fulfillment out of it. when artists think too much of what other people think, they get burned out and discouraged.
also, we do not know who michael jackson is. point, blank, period. we will never truly know this man. everyone is writing an idealized and fantastical version of him. i'm pretty sure i've only read one or two fics that characterize him accurately based on what he's shown to the public and what the people who've known him have said about him. you cannot say, "michael wouldn't say that," because you don't even know whether he would say it or not. there are only a few confirmed nicknames michael called other people and none of them are sexy.
this has to be born out of cultural disconnect because majority of the people i see complaining about this are white, non-hispanic. "mama" and "mami" are very common terms of endearment for african-americans, afro-caribbeans, and caribbean latinos. i've been called this by friends and by my boyfriend. i've called friends this. i've heard parents call their daughters this.
if you don't like it, don't read it. no one's forcing you.
It’s also a term people use in Africa. Black African men call women they find attractive ’ma’ or ‘mama’. You were very nice on this post but I need these white ‘fans’ to stfu all shade. It ain’t our fault they’ve got nun going on for them.
☙ SYNOPSIS: you and michael try to be intimate for the first time but… it doesn’t fit.
WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI — there’s no plot btw, dry humping, “just the tip” , virginity loss (reader & michael) reader literally begs for it but regrets it after, cockwarming i think, fingering, no use of y/n
☙ WORD COUNT: 1k
michael jackson masterlist ༻ navi
“michael…” you whisper against his lips, you’re sitting on his lap, on the couch in the living room. and you’ve been kissing for what has felt like hours. you already feel the growing bulge in his slacks and you love hearing the slight moan come out of his lips when you accidentally rub yourself on his length.
“mikey, please…” you whine, his hand bunching your skirt around your waist. his hips buck up into yours causing you to ground your clothed pussy onto his crotch faster. you feel your hole clenching on nothing, your panties probably drenched from you being so wet.
you and michael are still fresh in your relationship, having been friends for years until you both couldn’t deny the attraction any longer. you guys have done everything but fuck. you’ve sucked him off, he’s eaten your pussy like he’s starving, he’s plunged his long, thick fingers inside of your warmth, stretching your cunt to its limits and as much as it feels good, you want more.
no you need more.
you need to feel the delicious burn of his dick pushing inside of you, kissing your cervix, wedging himself so far into you that you’re sure you’ll feel him in your stomach.
“mama—”
you interrupt him catching his bottom lip between your teeth. his breath catches in his throat when he feels his dick throb with need.
“i wanna feel you,” you mumble, trailing kisses down his neck, nibbling and sucking his skin.
“baby…” you hear his breath hitch, his hips pushing up into you once again.
“do you not want to fuck me?” you ask him, sitting up straight so your core is firmly pressed onto his bulge.
he lets out a weak breath, like he’s struggling to contain himself. “i do… i wanna make love to you so bad but—”
“what’s stopping you?” you pout. “i’m right here and im already aching to feel you inside of me, look…” you grab his hand, pushing it in between your bodies to your clothed cunt, letting him feel how soaked you are.
“fuck.” michael whispers, pushing your underwear to the side without even realising. you gasp when his fingers circle around your opening gathering your slickness.
“you’re already so wet.” you try and hide your grin at the pure desperation in his voice.
“i know.” you grin. your mouth suddenly falls open when you feel the thickness of his finger pushing inside of your spongy walls.
“mikey…” you moan, grasping his forearm. he hums, working his finger in and out of you.
“i was trying to be a gentleman ma, but you keep on making it so hard for me.” you nod, even though his eyes are focused on the movements of his finger inside of you. it’s like he’s just talking to himself.
“please.” you beg. “ill be so good, i promise.”
you hear something close to a growl escape michael’s throat. you yelp when you’re suddenly flipped onto your back on the couch, with michael above you.
his lips crash down onto yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth with ease. the kiss is messy, a mix of tongue and the occasional clash of teeth, but you don’t care. you even wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you.
you keep kissing him, hearing the sound of his belt unbuckling.
michael pushes his pants down just far enough to free out his length, before rubbing it against you cunt and gathering all of your wetness. you suck in a breath, feeling the tip catching onto your entrance.
you wince feeling the pressure of him trying to push it inside, your hole trying to suck him in.
michael breaks apart from the kiss, looking down and pushing his hips more forward, trying to get at least the tip in.
your eyebrows furrow, feeling just a slight bit of pain. you mentally shrug, thinking it’s normal and just raise your head, pressing your lips back against michael’s.
the distraction works for a second too long, until the painful ache starts to get even unbearable. “is it in?” you ask. looking down to see that the tip hasn’t even breached your entrance yet.
“i—” michael blushes, “it’s not going in. m’trying.” you feel the burn of him pushing his hips forward again, pressing your hand against his stomach.
“it’s not going to fit.” you swallow, embarrassment eating you up alive.
what kind of girlfriend are you if you can’t even take your boyfriends dick?
michael looks down at you, then looks at his enlarged member. he bites his bottom lip like he’s thinking. you honestly want the couch to swallow you up whole, you’ve never been so embarrassed.
“uh.. maybe if i just—” you gasp, clutching onto his shoulder when the burning intensifies and you feel the tip of his member pop inside of you.
michael hisses at the penetration, never actually feeling something so damn tight before. it feels like you’re trying to suck the skin off of his dick.
you on the other hand have never felt so full. you’re aware that it’s just the tip, but you don’t believe you have any more room available for the rest of his length.
“oh god.” you pant, resting your head back on the arm of the couch. “i underestimated how big you actually are.” you whine, when he pushes his hips forward again, causing another inch to slip inside.
“i don’t think i can take anymore.” you gulp, already digging your nails into his back.
michael nods, dropping his head in the crook of your neck. “i agree… why don’t we just stay like this for a while.”
you nod quickly, believing that if he does thrust another inch inside of you then he might just tear you apart from the inside.
you may have been too greedy and underestimated the size of your boyfriend.
on the bright side, it’s only you guys’ first time so maybe next time you’ll be able to take all of him.
𓍢ִ໋ otw!era micheal is obsessed with making you squirt.
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?”
‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.
a/n: hi sweeties ive been young and turnt and havent updated in a hot minute.. anyways ill be uploading more and i see ur reqs i swear im not ignoring them hopefully they’re finished soon, kisses!
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.
°❀⋆ despite everything that happens behind closed doors, you two maintain a completely normal friendship on the surface. in public, during studio sessions, or when hanging out casually, nothing seems different. you laugh together, talk about music, and act like the close best friends everyone knows you are. after every private “friend time,” michael always pulls you into a tight hug, buries his face in your shoulder for a moment, and whispers sincerely, “thank you… you’re my favorite person in the world.”
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Omg MOREEEE of manipulative experienced reader and inexperienced guilty MJ
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.”
you stroked his cheek again, smiling sweetly. “i know, mikey. its okay. i forgive you.”
Omg MOREEEE of manipulative experienced reader and inexperienced guilty MJ
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.”
you stroked his cheek again, smiling sweetly. “i know, mikey. its okay. i forgive you.”
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.
°❀⋆ despite everything that happens behind closed doors, you two maintain a completely normal friendship on the surface. in public, during studio sessions, or when hanging out casually, nothing seems different. you laugh together, talk about music, and act like the close best friends everyone knows you are. after every private “friend time,” michael always pulls you into a tight hug, buries his face in your shoulder for a moment, and whispers sincerely, “thank you… you’re my favorite person in the world.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I have a request!!! Like maybe otw/thriller mike, on his day off we go the fair/carnival on a cute little date with each other since reader and mike both have been busy lately with both their jobs. Reader sees a one of those machines where you could win giant plushies, and in this case it was a capybara (reader LOVES capybaras) and when she tried to play it to try and get it but lost mike stepped it in and won it for her. Basically just fluff and sweetness🥹🥹 its cause I love capybaras
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ The claw machine • thriller!Michael x reader
⤷ ゛Synopsis ˎˊ˗ in which Michael wins you a plushie from the claw machine !
𑣲⋆ Contains : fluff, fluff, fluff, claw machine pro Michael !
A/n: hopefully you dont mind that I did thriller era mike 🥹
It was one of those rare days when your and Michael's days off finally lined up, and it was the perfect day. The sun was beating down on the concrete, making it too hot, a thin layer of sweat starting to build up on your forehead as the blow of the wind cooled you down. The clouds danced in the sky, making all sorts of shapes as they gently moved along.
Having a shared day off meant finding an activity that both of you could do, which today was the fair. Michael loved the rides, and you loved the giant claw machines with the prizes, which most times ended in failure while Michael ended up doing the hard part, letting you flaunt whatever you got from the machine like you did it all by yourself.
The familiar sound of the machines running, playing their own individual distinct sounds, the light smell of metal mixed with the smell of fair food oozing into the air as the machines sat waiting to be played. The heavy sounds of metal rattling as the rides moved around, almost violently, made your stomach twist. Your eyes glanced around, taking in every little bit of the energetic scenery that was filled with kids running around with giant sticks of cotton candy, excitement bubbling up as you spotted your favorite machine.
“Mikey, look!” You tugged at his arm, already dragging him over to the claw machine that was brightly lit up, displaying the giant capy plushies that were pressed against the four walls of the glass, the giant claw dangling tauntingly in the air, begging for you to give your best try at it, pulling the coins that sat in your purse, inserting them into the machine. The claw moved around in a jerking motion before it allowed you to move the joystick, guiding it to the perfect spot, making Michael look at the sides to make sure it was lined up before you pressed the button, making it fall down, narrowly missing the brown plushie and grasping at it before dropping it.
“Aw, man, I almost had it,” you whined, immediately inserting another coin to try again.
“Let me try,” Michael spoke, letting his hands make their way to the joystick. For some reason, no matter how many times you tried to line it up perfectly, it never seemed to work, but when Michael did it, he won something every time. Maybe it was the years of experience talking, or maybe he was just that good at everything he did.
“See, if you angle it like this, it’ll pick it up perfectly,” he spoke, pointing at the claw as it made its way down, squishing the smiling face of the capy as the claw picked it up by the head as it dangled in the air before dropping down into the prize chute with a soft thud.
“Oh, it's so cute! Thank you, Mikey,” you spoke, taking it out, holding it up before hugging it with one arm. The softness of the fur felt nice against your skin.
“What should we name it?” you said, shoving the smiling plushie in his face, watching as he thought carefully before coming to a conclusion.
"How about noodles?" he smiled, placing his hand in yours, fingers intertwining, his smile growing by the second as he looked at you.
"Perfect!"
"Now, let's go get on the rides," he pointed to a particularly scary ride that somehow flipped upside down, screams from everyone on the current rotation of the ride only getting louder as you stared in horror as Michael laughed, pulling you towards the line.
Summary: Michael was curious and who was better to ask than his friend
Now playing: Worst behaviour -kwn (feat. Kehlani)
“So, does riding hurt girls?” Michael randomly asked as he sat on the carpeted floor of your dorm room.
You looked at him from your bed, with your eyebrows furrowed, thinking of what could have him ask such a question.
“It just depends.” You shrugged answering honestly. Michael hummed, a comfortable pause in the air.
“Does it hurt you?” He asked. When you told Michael you’ll help him with life experiences, it went farther than you thought.
When Michael came to college, he didn’t have many friends. Both of you were paired for a project and you being a social butterfly, he felt comfortable with you.
He had an initial attraction to you but after allowing him into your circle, it only grew. One boring night in your dorm, he confessed he didn’t have much experience.
Why wouldn’t you want to help a very attractive, adorable, friend in need.
Somehow you ended up being friends with benefits.
•••
“You ready, baby?” You asked him, wrapping your hand around his large length. He nodded, breath picking up admiring your naked body.
When you and Michael first was heading down the intimacy road, you were so sure he wouldn’t be able to handle all that. Boy, did he prove you wrong.
The bed creaked as you positioned yourself over him, lining up his tip to your entrance. He placed his palms on your bed, clenching the sheets in anticipation.
You glided his tip between your folds, noticing he was already leaking pre-cum. He bit his lower lip, eyebrows pinched. You loved how sensitive he was, it only gave you encouragement to keep going.
You slid down on his stiff length, causing a whimper to tumble from his lips. You let out a moan, your arousal causing a smooth entry. You finally felt your ass connect to his hips indicating you reached the base.
His eyes were clenched tightly, chest rapidly moving up and down. "Look at me, Mikey." You told him, tilting your head to the side. He opened his eyes, already hooded seeming as if he was fucked out.
His dick stretched you out so well, and you couldn't help but clench around him. 'D-don't do that, I'm not gonna last." He moaned, hands flying to grip your hips.
You never cared if he came too quick, that was usually your goal. He managed to pop right back up a few minutes later.
He may not realize it but he has the stamina of a rabbit. You shook your head, planting both feet on the bed before sliding yourself up.
You stopped to where only his tip was in before slamming down, creating a clap in the room from the skin meeting.
"OH M-" Michael cut himself off with a loud moan, throwing his head back. "Mhm, you like the way that feel?" You asked.
Before he could respond, you repeated your movement, and his hands flew out to grip the fat of your hips. “P-please!” He whimpered, soft panting coming out.
His eyes struggled to stay open and you settled on rocking your hips against him. Michael was truly the best you ever had, and you told him that just to make him get all shy and cover his face.
You could tell he was smitten over you and you eat it up every time. As you grinded against him, he took that moment to catch his breath, admiring your pretty face above him.
His eyes landed on your glossed lips feeling the urge to kiss them. Once he felt you lifting up to his tip, his mind went somewhere else knowing what’s next.
You dropped back down onto him, ripping another cry out from him. His eyebrows furrowed,babbling random phrases as you continued the vulgar movement.
“Oh my—t-too good—can’t take it.” He whimpered. You placed your hands on his abdomen, throwing your ass against him, shaking the bed. Every slam, he let out an exasperated moan.
“You can take it baby—take this pussy—fuck.” Another thing he learned about himself is hearing your sweet voice dirty talking him. It only made him want to nut in you.
You placed one of your hands on your knee, gold bracelets jingling. You continued to bounce on him, and his mind started to get foggy, that’s how he knows he’s getting close.
“My baby look so cute under me like this.” You giggled while his head lolled to the side. “Y-you gonna make me cum.” He quickly said, hands tightening and loosening around you waist repeatedly.
He seemed as if he was trying to hold on to his sanity, using your soft skin as a guide.
You placed a hand on his knee, slightly arching back giving him an open view of your glinting belly ring. “You wanna cum, baby?” You asked him and he nodded quickly.
“Where at?” You loved making him speak to you, especially since he was shy when you first started. He didn’t even like hearing the words at first, now he begs you to speak like that to him.
“Inside.” He whimpered, “Show me.”
Whenever you say that phrase, it’s like a light switch. A sign for him to take over and do what he wants. He never fails to listen either.
He reaches up to pull you down against him, your nipples pressing against his chest. He planted his feet properly on the floor before pounding up into you.
You moaned, hands gripping the sheets feeling his tip kiss your cervix repeatedly. “T-tight—oh my God—p-please!” He begged as if he wasn’t in control. His hands trailed to grip your ass, making you meet him halfway.
The ball in his stomach only grew, and yours was already halfway. “Fuckkk, you doing so good.” You moaned in his ear. His jaw was dropped, dragging your soaking pussy up and down his length.
You felt his grip tighten, pace becoming frantic. You decided to kiss him, easing your tongue in his mouth.
His moans mixed with yours feeling your warm tongue roam in his mouth. He felt your slick glossed lips rub against his, sharing the shiny product.
Your eyes rolled back, body shaking as the bubble inside of you popped. You didn’t have time to warn him, too warped in the feeling of him using you.
The uncontrollable clenching from your pussy had him toppling over, warm nut shooting up into you. You sat up, catching your breath in the process.
