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â â â â â â â â đ youâre trying to feel your dr with your cr senses
â a lengthy shifting guide
why is it so hard to shift from your cr to your dr but not so much vice versa? youâve spent the first large chunk of your life believing this reality to be the full extent and foundation of existence. even if you now logically understand this not to be the case, the years spent curating and deepening a mental, emotional, and physical anchor to this reality has warped your perception of reality and instilled in to you the subconscious idea that your cr is the default. and in treating it as the default, the end all be all, and in compromising with it, you reinforce the idea that you are attached or stuck hereâthat it is even a place to get stuck in in the first place. not only do you trap yourself in this reality and grant it power over you that it does not actually have, you start viewing your cr as the âstarting pointâ too, and shifting as some form of transportation from point A to point B. accompanying this belief is an imagined distance created between your current reality and desired reality. you mightâve already recognised this in yourself; the feeling that your dr is somehow faraway, a place that needs to be travelled to.
itâs important to make and internalise the distinction between a shift in realities as an act of metaphysical travel, and a shift in realities as a shift in focus. imo the former is a much better descriptor for what shifting actually is in essence. i will go into more depth later, but a byproduct of being raised the way you were, growing up knowing nothing but your cr and rooting & centring yourself wholly (confined) within it, is the over identification you end up developing with your cr self. you are not living reality, you are watching it. but after years of the constant unbroken immersion, the two become almost impossible to distinguish. you define yourself by and take on as if they were your own the thoughts and identity and feelings of the âvesselâ you are observing, and let them dictate how you experience reality. the lines begin to blur between you; your cr self, and you; your awareness/the observer.
feel your hand. donât touch it, but notice itâs weight and temperature, or the air around it. now feel the feeler. can you feel yourself? or your body, maybe? now go a step further and feel the one feeling. you probably arenât fully able to, but this is the observer. âthe observerâ, or the state of being after breaking the immersion, is you in your natural or purest state. it has also been described as pure awareness, the void state, ego death, sakshi, the self, anatta, and interpreted in different ways across a multitude of different religions and branches of spirituality & philosophy, all used as a means to an end for different things. fyiâiâm not saying you have to completely forsake your cr identity or start ignoring/dismissing your senses or thoughts to shift, just understand that those things donât define you or your reality. the means to the end here is just getting a point across and hopefully helping improve with the approach you take to shifting. all of this to say, youâre not travelling from point A to point B. point A and B are not places you can (technically) even travel to or exist in, because youâre just watching/observing/being aware of. shifting is not the transportation of a self from one location to another. shifting is simply changing what is focused on/experienced; from one stream of experience to another. a shift in focus.
to summarise, you as in your ego, the you in this cr as you know it, your body, your brain, your thoughts, your identity, donât actually go or shift anywhere. you, your awareness, in favour of perceiving you, your cr self, the one sat at your computer or phone or whatever reading this right now, starts perceiving a different you/ego/selfâone that could have the exact same personality, memories, and thoughts, just in another realty, or one that is a different person entirely. there is only a change or âshiftâ for the observer, not the cr self or ego. so stop trying to feel your dr with your cr senses. youâre not going to. youâre so immersed in your cr and cr self that you automatically rely on this realityâs bodiesâ senses to gauge your success when you try to shift, waiting for your cr self to get a cue that itâs never going to get. the surroundings your cr self feels arenât going to go anywhere. nor are your senses going to shut off. your cr body will continue to receive sensory information, because thatâs what bodies do. so donât lie there expecting your bedsheets to disappear or magically warp into your dr surroundings or something and feel like youâve failed when they donât. shifting is not about somehow willing your surroundings to change or lying in your room forcefully convincing yourself that your senses are feeling something else, itâs about acknowledging whatâs beyond those senses. feeling and connecting to what your dr self feels.
if you can still feel your cr, itâs not you feeling it, itâs your cr self. and you are not your cr self.
you can apply this to your thoughts too. your thoughts are no less your cr selfâs than your senses are. if you start getting doubts mid attempt or canât let go of the thought or feeling that youâre not in your dr, remind yourself that you are not your feelings or thoughts or doubts. you are simply observing them. of course your cr self will think that theyâre still in their cr, they are. just ignore them and shift your attention elsewhere. your focus and awareness are what dictate what you experience, if you relinquish your focus from your cr and direct it to your dr instead, thatâs where youâll âbeâ.
obviously thereâs no one set way to shift, so if you want you can stop reading here and apply this information to your shifting journey in whatever way suits you. if youâre interested in my method though, hereâs the compilation of all this info into practical steps you can actually take to shift.
get comfortable somewhere you wonât be disturbed. close your eyes and focus on what you can see. the light behind your eyelids, shapes, colours, whatever. but instead of automatically interpreting these sensations as belonging to your cr, allow them to become sensory input from your dr. light? thatâs coming from the lamp by the xyz in your dr bedroom. or maybe your in a field if thatâs a fitting setting for your dr, and itâs the sun shining down on you. shapes? thatâs because youâve been lying down with your eyes closed for a while now, youâre tired after your classes or job or whatever you do in your dr. even if itâs nothing at all, let it be your drs nothing. just feel it. do this for about a minute.
then move onto your body. whether itâs sinking, lightness, tingling, focus on it. and do the exact same as you did for the previous step, interpret it as input coming from your dr. donât worry if you can still feel your body lying in your bed, because your surroundings arenât going to changeâat least not physically. again, those sensations belong to your cr self, and they donât prevent awareness from directing itself elsewhere. the goal here is to shift your focus away from them and onto something else, so hyperfocusing on your cr and worrying about your surroundings is counterintuitive. just gently guide your attention back to your dr, really try feel your dr surroundings and what your dr body is currently feeling. if you canât fully avert your focus away from your cr, thatâs fine, at the very least just try receive/tap into the input coming from your dr alongside your cr.
finally focus on what you can hear. if youâve already managed to make a connection with your dr through your sight and physical senses just build up on what youâve already got. feel grass tickling your skin? deepen the connection there by focusing on the sound now too, the wind blowing through it. see light behind your eyes? focus on the hum of the lights.
repeat these exercises over and over, deepening the connection with each cycle. if you donât manage to get anything the first cycle just keep going until you do. it might take some practice. like i mentioned before, after spending so much time here and being in constant attunement with your cr self, the sense that your cr is the default starts to take root and it can be difficult to shake the feeling that youâre just indefinitely âhereâ. itâs normal for it to take some time to learn how to question this feeling and push past it. since you've never (technically?) been aware of anything outside of this reality, learning how to do so can be a bit like learning how to use a muscle you've never used before.
this method operates on the idea that reality is something that is tuned into through focus & narrowed awareness and not something metaphysically travelled across, so for the most success with it, iâd recommend starting to make a conscious effort to see your dr less like a place and more like a wavelength or channel, a perspective already existing beyond your current focus. shifting to your dr then becomes an effort to notice and receive input from this channel/wavelength, input that already exists out there and that simply needs to be acknowledged. youâre just picking up on whatâs already there, feeling something that a version of you already feels.
persist in the belief that reality is observed and flexible. youâre not "stuck" anywhere unless you believe you are.
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the inevitable consequences of a very passionate night ⊠ââ€ïžïžàŁȘË Ëââ.
intro âŽïžâžêł.Ëđ„ĘËâËđđËâ ( 4.8k ) childhoodbsf!popstar!reader x bad!michael jackson â± last night your husband made love to you for six hours straight, beyond the break of dawn, and now you must both face the physical consequences. . . but not without a little more lovemakin' of course!
notes âĄâ°à đđ+ established relationship: husband n wife of 8 years. read this for context of the night before if u havenât already ;). . . waking up cockwarming. cosy fluff. morning sex. cuddles n kisses! youâre broken n bruised. . . both covered in evidence of sex. creampie. m+f!orgasm. breeding kink. pregnancy talk. u call him bambi and he calls u tink for tinker bell! softdom!michael. light dirty talk. soft sleepy sex. aftercare
JANUARY 27, 1989. Los Angeles, CaliforniaâŠ
At ten o'clock in the morning, after only four hours of sleep, you unfortunately awoke. Nothing could be registered but the harsh sunlight breaking its way forcefully through the curtainsâpainfully so. Your head was blaring with an ache, your throat felt uncomfortably dry, and as you stretched upon your first intake of breath, you felt entirely paralysed from the waist down. An exaggeration, of courseâthough you were always prone to hyperbole when it came to describing the feeling of what Michael could so easily do to you.
But for a moment, you wondered why you felt this concerningly awful. In your sleepy haze, you assumed you were hungover, but such an assumption only lasted for that short moment, because suddenly another sensation hit you, born between your lower thighs. You were sleeping on your husband's warm chestâyou had registered that alreadyâbut as your body grew familiar with the bright of day (as opposed to the happy slumber you'd been frustrated to be pulled from) you felt something else. Shuffling on Michael's torso slightlyâhumming into his neck as he too stirredâa warm, trickling substance exuded from your sex, swimming from your entrance to the already ruined sheets below.
Funny that you should notice the cum before the much more obvious thing that had accompanied it, because immediately afterward, you finally remembered that you and your husband had fallen asleep cockwarming. While unconscious, Michael was beginning to harden inside you, somehow still nestled in your comforting heat despite the hours of sleep. Usually, when you cockwarmed in other positions, he'd slip out easily during slumber because he did tend to move around a lot, but since your straddled weight had been keeping him still, that position had kept the two of you deeply entwined the whole time.
You smiled as you took acknowledgement of the feeling, and began peppering kisses all over Michael's neck and chest. But you giggled against his skin as you now noticed how the area was littered with your smudged lipstick kiss stains aside your lovebitesâpurple bruises that decorated his beautiful frame, a frame now mostly devoid of the makeup he'd covered himself in before the concert last night. He could only ever be this vulnerable with youânobody else. The patches of pale and brown were colliding with one another all over his torso, and on his face were light expanses of depigmentation, shone over by the morning light.
Eagerly you kissed every inch of what you could reach, ensuring you didn't move too much and trigger him to accidentally slip out of where you wished he could stay forever.
While smothering him in your affection, you laughed again as you saw what were literal bite marks on his shouldersâfaint, but visible up closeâfrom where you'd gotten a little carried away during one round. His torso had been pressed flush to yours, suffocating you beautifully with his weight, and youâd been trying to suppress your moans. Then, it seemed that the only way to do that effectively was to bite your manâs shoulder, but that wasnât a sustainable option of course, so most of the time your whines and screams were released into the sex-scented air, and Michaelâs shoulders were safe from being gnawed at further.
At the time, you had believed the two of you were alone in the houseâit being so big that the noise of the others coming back had completely bypassed your senses. So, without the knowledge of there being several people who went on to listen to you and Michael going at it all night, at the time you really had no actual reason to be suppressing any of your moans. Truthfully, you just felt slightly self-conscious sometimes, because even though youâd been together and married for so long, you often felt it was a little ridiculous the way you acted around your man. You were concerned your pornographic moans would sound either pathetic or over-done, but as the years had passed, Michael truly had become a master at sexual intercourse, and he knew it tooâso he never once judged you for the noises you made. To him, hearing your high whines and your soft moans was a slice of heaven on earth.
A much lesser, subtle version of those sounds he now heard as he himself awoke. You were still humming against his smooth skin, kissing him all overâpartly because you loved to do so, and partly because you wanted to wake him.
âHey, honey,â he giggled as you were busy smooching from his forehead to his cheeks.
âHi, sexy,â you beamed, with so much love in your eyes, and in his too. âMy angelâŠâ
He gripped your waist with a soft passion, then ran his hands up and down your ass and thighs that sat over his mid-section. You were still leaning forward, now cradling his jaw beneath a handsome smile. Your heart achedâbut with the satisfaction of completion, the overwhelming gratitude that this was your forever beau.
âYouâre drippinâ out of me,â you whispered in his ear with a smirk, and he laughed, instantly remembering everything.
âYeah?â he chuckled. âLemme seeâŠâ
You felt him twitch inside you, hardening even more, and you clamped your eyes shut in anticipation. Could you really go for another round? You definitely should no longer be in this position, and no wonder your legs were aching so much despite how you were always so athleticâbecause not only had you been fucked into the mattress for six hours straight, but youâd also then slept directly on top of Michael, with your legs bracketing his thighs, for a subsequent four hours immediately after. It was a serious advantage that you were a dancer, for in your skill you were incredibly flexible, and God knows how bad this would've been otherwise.
But somehow in that moment, under the mid-morning radiance, it didnât matter. Despite all the aches, you were so cosy, cuddled up into your husband's chest with his thick cock inside you, the tip inching closer and closer to your cervix the more his member grew.
Keeping one hand on your hip, Michael reached his other down further to your leaking pussy, spreading his fingers to caress the width of your stretched folds, tugged tight around his length. Using his index and middle finger, he ran through the mess seeping from there and down his balls.
âMikeyâŠâ you sighed against his Adamâs apple, head resting in the crook of his neck as your arms wrapped around him, hands finding their place in his adorable, messy curls. He felt so perfect both beneath you and inside you, now fully hard, and still playing with the mess heâd made in the earlier hours of the morning.
âHow dâyou feel, mama?â he murmured with a kiss to your temple, morning voice thick and huskyâhis natural tone coming through in the most intimate of moments.
âI feel like you broke me,â you giggled, and Michael adored the way the sound vibrated against his collarbone.
He huffed a laugh. âYeah, 'm sorry, baby. I'll run you a bath when we get up, alright? Carry y' everywhereâŠâ Two kisses to your cheek. âAnd then weâre gonna have to rehabilitate before tonight.â
âTonight? Oh God, I forgot about thatâŠâ
Admittedly, you were still in a hazeâof post-sex and of too-little sleepâso it had slipped your mind that you were to be performing two songs with Michael tonight for the very last date of his world tour.
"Yeah, y' not gettin' out of it either," he replied, rubbing his thumbs over your hips.
You pulled your head out of his neck and squinted at him in annoyance. "Michael, you made me like this. You're to blame."
"Oh, was I also to blame for how you begged me to keep goin', huh?" he smirked, with a light smack to your ass.
Instinctively you moaned, before nudging his bicep and resting back on his chest again, nuzzling into his warmth.
"Honey, y' look crazy," Michael chuckled, referring to the bruises blossoming all over your skin, your entirely messy hair, and the makeup smudged all across your features.
"Shut up, you look crazier. And wait 'til you see those scratch marks."
"Oh, Bill saw 'em last night."
"What? Bill was in the kitchen with you?"
"Mm." Michael was trying not to laugh.
"Michael!" You nudged him again, although it was really more of an actual hit this time. "It's bad enough that he heard us but now you're tellin' me he saw what I did to you?"
"Baby, he doesn't care. He found it funny."
"He probably thinks I'm some sort of depraved sex freak."
Michael sighed in amusement. âCâmon, yâknow he's heard a lot more than jus' las' night. He's known us since the very beginnin', baby, this is nothin' new," he pointed out, as his attempt at reminding you that you didn't need to freak out over the current situation, but his supposed reassurance only really stressed you out further.
He kissed your temple, running his big hand through your hair and cradling the back of your head as you laid in his comfort. His other hand continued to rub up and down your torso, but it mostly sat over your ass, squeezing and kneading the skin there. He was achingly hard inside you, but in knowing how fucked out and essentially broken you were, he wondered if he should cut this short
"Darlin'..." he whispered, rubbing his thumb over your lips that were bruised with his kissâthe intensity of a mouth that couldn't display its affections gently, despite how gentle the owner himself was in many other ways. Now, both your top and bottom lip were a fluctuation between your natural shade, your smudged lipstick, and purplish-brown marks where his teeth and the force of his own lips had brushed harshly.
To each other, you both looked sexier than everâentirely ruined at the mercy of your love's passion, looking as though you'd each been attacked by a vicious animal and then ran over by a car in short sequence.
"Mm?" You yawned, noticing a very faint lipstick kiss on the underside of his jaw as you lifted your head. You giggled and kissed over it. "Love decoratin' your pretty face in kisses, my baby. So handsome."
Michael laughed softly, thumb still smoothing over the softness of your bottom lip. He blinked back the intense pleasure of your soaking pussy gripping him, and to you it didn't go unnoticed.
"Mikey, I love you," you sighed, reaching your hands up to wreathe them through his curls, scratching lightly but careful to irritate his sensitive scalp.
"I love you more, I swear. God, my beautiful lady... Never get tired of havin' y' like this..." he whispered back, bucking his hips up a little to direct a slow thrust upward. He hit your sweet spot instantly and you gasped, trying not to tug hard at his hair.
Protectively, he pulled the silk comforter up around your waist, so it would both cushion your lower back and provide a little privacy if one of the maids happened to walk in. Although, it was pretty much a straight given that after last night's noisy activities, everybody would be steering clear of the master bedroom this morning. Nobody would dare go near even the doorknob, until they'd seen with their own eyes that the two of you were elsewhere.
"So, d'y' think we made a baby las' night?" Michael askedâas casually as he might ask how you'd slept, or what you wanted for breakfastâwhile he continued to rock into you with his slow strokes from beneath.
"Michael..." you warned, because he was no longer just moving with absent mindâhe was initiating morning sex, and that really wasn't the appropriate, responsible thing to be doing right now. Especially not after last night. The two of you had a lot to do today that simply couldn't involve more lovemaking.
But Michael wasn't interested in what was most appropriate.
"How many times did I cum in y', honey, I can't remember?" he murmured in your ear, repositioning his arms to create a protective hold around your waist, his slick cock coated in more and more of your wetness with each re-entry into your heat.
"I don't remember either, baby," you giggled, but you cut yourself off with a sharp moan, arching your head back as he rolled his hips up again, so achingly slow; and you couldn't argue against the honest truth that this really was the most perfect way to start your day.
"Mikey, my legs literally don't work, I can't ride..."
"Shh, 's okay, I don't want y' to. Lay like this with me, mama. Rest on me..."
"Mmkay." You grinned, knowing you were about to get scintillating princess treatment. This exact position had actually inspired part of the ending of The Lady in My Life, back in '82. Wrapping your arms comfortably around his neck, and shuffling your weight a little to get the perfect resting position, you pressed several kisses to your man's chest as your way of confirming that you were settled.
"Mhm, jus' like that," Michael groaned, both at the feeling of your soft body against his, and at the feeling of your walls fluttering around his throbbing length. "Yes, baby, now let meâmmmfuckâ"
Another deep stroke upward, where his feet were now planted on the bed to allow him to drive into you with ease. His arms mostly stayed wrapped around you, but his hands would often snake their way down to your ass, to grip and knead.
"Such a pretty ass f'me, baby... All for me, huh?"
You only mumbled into his chest, equal parts sleepy and dazed out in your arousal.
"Got the most perfect body, angel girl..." He smacked your ass a little harsher this time, and you yelped, beginning to kiss over his neck to keep quiet. You really couldn't be sounding like a whore this early in the morning, and even though Michael wasn't fucking you hard like he had been a few hours ago, often it was actually the slower, more sensual sex that had you unable to control the noises that elicited from your throat.
Michael hadn't forgotten about the question that had gone unanswered by you just a few minutes prior, as pertaining to the babymaking potentiality.
"Y' think our baby's down there, huh?"
It was a sort of unspoken agreement that you were both ready for another child. What had been unspoken had been instead prophesied and actualised in every filthy act of the night prior.
But you didn't know how to respond to such a question, because indeed, you hadn't at all talked about this. In that moment, you pictured that there very well might be a zygote currently forming itself within your fallopian tube, ready to travel to your uterus to begin its growth. Certainly, you felt there had to beâbut that wasn't how the fertilisation process worked, and science told that even though you were ovulating, the amount of cum your husband had shot into you consecutively didn't increase your chances of getting pregnant.
The sex itself had surely been a statement though, on both your part and Michael's, because there had been no element of protection used, and neither of you had cared for a moment. Whether an embryo was to begin inside you or not, the way you'd made love last night was a symbol of something you had both wordlessly wanted. Three kids had always felt too little a number for Michael, because he was still set on one day having eighteenâin his ridiculous idealismâand you were also looking forward to the day your careers would come to a comfortable lull, a period that still allowed you to create and perform successfully, but didn't demand of you constant presence.
During that time, when it eventually came, you would spend so much of it making more babies, with the confidence that they wouldn't be pushed to the side in the multitude that would then exist in your household. You could spend at least two years at a time away from any industry responsibility, just living for the purpose of creating children and nurturing them.
Now, Michael was just finishing up his world tour, and you were close to the end of yours too, so even while you were both still in your prime, still the most magnetic, well-known figures in entertainment, it wouldn't be the worst time to have a baby. After all, did you really want to wait until that unknown date that your careers could begin to quieten? Neither of you knew when that would be, so wasn't it best to live in the present?
"Mikey, baby..." You moaned and whined, pulling your head back to kiss all over his face and his neck, sucking more marks into his erogenous zones, and licking over the marks already cemented into his salty skin.
You rocked a little, grinding your clit over his pelvis as his thrusts quickenedâstill on the slower side, his perfect girth filling you incredibly. You were amazed at how seamlessly your pussy could envelop him in this way, even after the organ had faced so much the night before. And too, you wondered how on earth this was the same body part that had produced three children (a set of twins, even) for the man plowing into you.
Michael's low grunts were even more gruff now that it was the morning, and when he wasn't busy talking you through it, those sounds were creating the perfect autonomous sensory meridian response, only adding to the flutters of sheer pleasure building up through your spine.
"Sweet girl, wanna make you feel so good..." he whispered, bringing one hand to your head again to cradle the back of it. You always smiled whenever he did.
But you were starting to place yourself in the real world again, remembering the busy day ahead.
"Baby, y'know we need to get up soon... You need to start signing thoseâohh, mmphâautographs for the fans... And then we need toâ"
"Aht," Michael stopped you from any further logical speaking, never ceasing to fuck up into you in those beautifully slow rolls. "There's nothin' we need to do more than this right here, mama. 'N then 'm gonna pamper y' in the tub. Y' not gonna rush us, 'm takin' it real slow, yeah?"
Instantly, at the sound of his handsome voice you were back in your daze of total arousal. "Mm... oh, baby, you hit my spot so good..."
"Yeah, I know," he whispered, kissing your nose and your bruised lips softly. You kept shuffling on him, wanting to make out but also loving the feel of being babied as you clung to his chest.
Moments passed without a wordâwith nothing but grunts, sighs, and moans, and Michael was moving even slower now, almost not moving at all at points. This was the beauty of sleepy sex, for you were merged as one, in the most intimate embrace you could wish for.
You played with his curls again, leaning back to press your lips to his. "Bambi," you whispered.
The doe eyes that earned him the nickname looked up into your own orbs. "Mm?"
"Are we really sayin' we want another baby?" you asked.
"Y'know 'm always ready, Tink. But it's obviously up to you."
You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath that then undercut a high moan as he hit your spot a little harsher than the last time. You cleared your throat.
"I actually think, um... I think I am ready. Y'know..." As you spoke, Michael took his hand from your ass and interlaced it with one of your hands, listening intently. "You're just about to finish touring," you continued, "and I'll be done too after next month. It'll be the first time in a while where we'll be free to somewhat relax. I think now's a better time than ever."
"Really?" Michael's eyes were shining. "I think so too, baby. You seriously want a fourth now?"
"Mhm. Really. I've been thinkin' about it for a while," you said quietly, before beaming as your man paused his thrusts, beginning to tickle you with a huge, heart-achingly childlike smile on his face. The sudden action made you squeal, and even more so as he started to smother kisses all over your chest and neck, completely overcome by the ecstasy of sheer happiness.
"Seriously, honey?!" Michael grinned, cupping your cheek and pulling you down into a kiss that you had to fight to retreat from in order to respond.
"Yes, baby," you laughed, and again he tickled you further. "Mikey, stop it!"
Without pulling out for even a second, he shifted the two of you onto your sides facing each other, and in that new positionâyour other favourite for morning sex, alongside spooningâhe made love to you with even more passion. Legs and hands entwined, bodies entirely covered in the bruised effects of an ardent devoted love well-displayed, Michael sped up, mercilessly hitting your spot as he fantasised about how you'd both go through the process of pregnancy again, and then the process of bringing another child into the world he hoped to save. He held so much gratitude for you being the one to give him all his childrenâthat you'd put your life on hold in so many ways for at least a year, and he couldn't wait to help you through it all again.
As he held your leg up to hit deeper, he smirked at the sight of your thigh.
His amused expression confused you. "What's so funny, baby? Oh fuckâ"
"Your thigh, honey," Michael chuckled, slowing down his pace slightly to talk. "There's bruises near the top, look. That hasn't happened in a while."
Your mouth shot openâsure enough, there were more bruises you hadn't even noticed, in the shape of Michael's fingerprints, from where he'd held your legs in place during mating press and every other position where he'd needed to keep your ever-moving body still.
"Michael, what theâ? Thank God they're so high nobody's gonna sâohhh, baby, stop it, 'm gonna screamâ"
He only chuckled more, pounding into you harder now as the bedframe began to shake. While one hand held your leg up, his other was resting over your womb, moving from there to your clit and back again, as he thought of nothing but the image of you swollen with his fourth child.
"I love you, oh God, I love you..." he repeated, and you said each word back with sincere conviction.
"My baby," you whined.
"Perfect mama... 'm so happy y' givin' me another... I don't deserve you."
"You deserve all that's beautiful, honey. You're so beautiful..." you sighed, eyes shut in pleasure as you grabbed his hand to hold it again.
"Y' gonna cum, pretty angel?" he murmured in your ear, unfortunately needing to let go of your hand almost immediately because your clit needed him more.
He rubbed in figure-eights, bringing you closer and closer to your peak, all the while never ceasing to whisper his devotion and gratitude for your body and your soul.
"Oh, Mikey, yesâ"
"Yeah, tha's it, let it all go for me, baby girl... C'mon..."
A few moments later, and the coil in your abdomen split open, releasing its tightness into white hot bouts of pleasure. The sensation coursed through your veins, coating your husband's shaft in even more wet slick and leaving you breathless, falling forward into his chest as he chased his own release.
Soon enough he was there, and your cunt was filled to the brim with hot ropes of his seed, aside noisy groans that filled the huge bedroomâbecause if you were bad enough at keeping quiet during the act, Michael was even worse.
You laid there in each other's arms for a couple of silent minutes, clinging, wanting to stay in the embrace for a lifetime. Michael ran his hands up and down your torso, and then his index finger over your wedding ring, as he always liked to do post-sex. He brought your leg to rest over his thigh, breathing in your scent as you breathed in his.
You found yourself reminiscing to him over that time you broke a bed together during your honeymoon at Disney, because you'd truly been close to experiencing that same incident again last night. You laughed at the memory as you each traced over your matching tattoos: your first initial in cursive on the inside of his wrist, and his on the inside of your own wrist too. Youâd got them tatted a few years ago after a drunken rendezvous, and youâd seen it as a great achievement that youâd managed to convince Michael to actually be on board with a tattoo, even though it was only small.
But there were two issues that disrupted your sweet creampie-cuddling session.
"Baby, you need to pull out."
"Why?"
"Because first I need to pee, and then I need to take off these damn sheets before Maria has to." You shook your head in disbelief at the mess you could already see parts of dotted around the mattress. "I refuse to let her deal with this, oh my God."
Michael laughed. Maria was one of your maids, and you absolutely detested the image of her having to clean your cum-ridden bed herself. You might have been a whore for your husband, but you wouldn't be so disgusting to make others subject to the sightâeven if they had been unintentionally subject to the sounds. There were indeed stains of Michael's release and your own sticky liquid all throughout different areas of the bed, and from where you lay in his arms, you guessed correctly that it must be way worse than the minimal parts you could currently see from your angle.
"Alright, fine," Michael sighed, pulling out slowly. You both hissed, and of course when you shuffled to sit up, more thick cum oozed from your entrance, staining another inch of fabric. There had been no point in attempting to avoid that though, because the bed was already messy enough.
Turning to dangle your legs over the side, you winced at the aches, then stood up on the carpet below. Orâattempted to stand up, rather; because as soon as you tried to, your knees buckled, and you quite literally almost fell to the floor.
"Ow, shitâ!"
This was even worse than a day-long dance rehearsal, or the most difficult workout routine you'd ever put yourself through. What the fuck? Michael had never taken you so intensely beforeâand that was a significant statement to make, given that he was such an intense lover.
"Mama, y' okay?" he asked, brows furrowed, but he'd expected this. There had been many a time in the past where he assigned himself the duty of carrying you around everywhere after a night of hard sex.
As he looked at you, hunched over, attempting to walk with legs that felt nearly limp and effectively useless, he noticed a matching bruise on your other thigh and smiled to himself. Without wasting a moment, he was out of bed as quick as ever.
"C'mere. Up," he ordered gently, standing naked beside you, arms outstretched and prepared to pick you up into a bridal carry. That he did, while you hummed into his neck, so appreciative of his gentlemanly efforts that always followed what could only be deemed the very opposite of gentle.
"There you go, honeybaby," Michael smiled, kissing your forehead over and over as he maneuvred your spent body into the ensuite. After having peed, you sorted out the sheets, tugging them off the mattress with the silk comforter that was also partly affected, before stuffing them into a bag that you'd deal with later. Meanwhile, Michael was preparing a bubble bath, and lighting candles around the tub for ambience, even though it was eleven o'clock in the morning.
At the mention of a bubble bath, the name reminded you of a certain somebody. "Mikey, where's Bubbles?" you called from the bedroom.
"Bill's lookin' after him!" Michael called back over the noise of running water. "He's not gonna run in 'n interrupt us, don't worry!"
You laughed to yourself. You were always so welcoming and understanding of Michael's need to have all sorts of animals around in the house, but sometimes it got a little stressful. Not knowing whether a bird or a snake or a damn chimpanzee would face you when you turned wasn't the most calming experience you could expect to have in your mansion, but you put up with it all for Michael's sake.
After he bathed you that morning, so sensually and passionately that you very nearly begged him to take you again, you both tried your best to make yourselves look as presentable as possible. It took a very long time, but eventually you were done.
Or at least you assumed you were; because of course the conversation surrounding the state of Michael's back was had only in the earlier morning, a good twelve hours before he was to go onstage and forget all about the evidence of your wild night together, displaying the extent of it to the world.
Then, when you joined him on said stage for a sensual duet, you didn't hesitate to run your hands all over the artwork you'd produced. You would be chastised for such promiscuity in the weeks that followed, but you never regretted the display one bit; nor did you regret the embryo that indeed began to grow that same night, into your welcoming womb.
listening to these middle schoolers ship bakudeku and act like i dont know what Iâm talking about makes me feel so old. you fools. I was there when that ship meant you tolerated abusive relationships and got you iced out of the friendgroup. it really was tododeku or die.
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dump his ass. move to a walkable city. start hormones. get into fiber crafts. dye your hair weird. grow an herb garden. foster a distrustful cat. take a welding class. invite your friends over for tea and cake. get way too into obscure media. explore a new cuisine. lie to the police. protest in the streets. life has so many possibilities don't it?
make out with a frenemy. buy noise cancelling headphones. wear office inappropriate attire. quit a toxic workplace. improve your apartment. start a dog walking sidegig. get on first name basis with your local librarians. bully politicians at town hall meetings. get an unexpected piercing. cultivate farmer's market connections. trade recipes with a gossipy old neighbor. unionize your apartment complex. move to the countryside. let a friend take you larping. keep a sword on your mantleplace
get a tattoo on your 40th birthday. be tempted to buy a loom. do a charity drag show. sue your landlord. buy a really nice kitchen appliance. volunteer at an anarchist soup kitchen. rediscover a tv show you watched when you were 8. spam your state senators. shop at asian grocery stores. do cosplay. buy trans flags in bulk and mount them along the highway. go viral for unexpected reasons. move in with your best friend. make lemoncello with leftover lemon rinds. run for school board membership. explore pegging.
I've been needing to put my thoughts out on this for a while now. I've found myself slowly growing more and more frustrated with my shifting journey as time progresses. I know that there is no time limit to shift--no matter what happens, I'll shift anyway. I think the difficult thing is that I want it now. I want it. Like right now. And I already have it, but I don't feel like it's here. Perhaps this is where I need to keep persisting. I think that the difficult part of my manifestation journey is here--and its back better than ever. I'm at the point of silence, the point where it feels like the opposite is happening. For the last couple of mornings I've woken up and I've opened my phone. It feels like every time I get an edit on my tiktok fyp, my 3d is mocking me. Somehow, everything has been telling me that it's not real, but there are things that give me hope.
- I have a friend who is also a shifter. We talk about her DR and what her experiences will be. Talking about that with her is very enjoyable. I've scripted her into my Mowtown DR as well.
- I had some auditory hallucinations last night. I know they're just signs that sleep is coming, but I really do also believe they're glimpses of my reality. Perhaps it's my cousins laughing behind the doorway, coming to barge into my room and wake me up.
- If MJ believes that magic is real, then so do I.
I have to keep persisting. If I can't, I must. If it shouldn't, then it has to.
I think that I also have to face some things I'm afraid of. I have to sit and grasp it. I mean, really grasp it. When I shift, the boundaries of my knowledge will no longer exist. So far, this plane of existence is all I've really every known of. I want to go to other places, exist in other bodies, explore realms I never thought possible. The gibberish my brain comes up with just before the edge of sleep--I want to live in it. That nonsensical sense. But at the same time, I am scared. Sometimes I delay it. I spend too much time picking the perfect song. I spend too much time scripting, reading fanfic, working on things in my CR that i know don't matter as much as it would to shift. I keep thinking that my journey will take away from my experiences here, but it wouldn't--they're part of my experience's here.
I think what I need to do is just let my imagination take me where I want to go. Have fun with it. That's the key
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michael arrives home from a demanding music video filming day and enters absolutely fatigued, wanting nothing but to kiss you all over, however, placing you on his lap as he did so affected him more than he thought.
â â â â â â â â 18+ mdni
7.3kă ïč ăthriller michael á± đ».rea CONTAINSă ïč ă( smut w little plot )ăsoftdom!mj, established relationship, oral ( m&f ) munch mikey >â â < crying, dry humping, riding, spit as lube, stomach bulge, insecurities, no use of y/n, unprotected (wrap your willy! dont be silly!) creampie, aftercare
your home, once scented tobacco, smells of musk and skin when michael enters sapped, and from afar, bleary.
the click of the door lock pulls your attention from the tv to his beat face, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead and back, clinging to his white tee, creating transparent patches and the faithful impression of how weary he is.
you grab onto the back of the couch as you twist your torso to earn a better view, and at that moment, his tired gaze makes its way to you.
previously half-lidded, his eyes ever so slightly widen at the sight of you clad in nothing but an oversized shirt and panties, because in all sincerity: you didnât expect him to arrive home so early. itâs usually early mornings to past midnight with michael's schedules, yet itâs only 8 pm.
rising to your feet, your brows crease in worry as he walks over to the couch. âbaby,â you breathe, hands reaching out to help him. as he moves closer, his panting grows more evident as well as the scent of sweat and the faint smell of his lingering perfume. only then did your nose take in the scent. âwhatââ
he nears and takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together and gently squeezing as he collapses himself onto the plush cushions and pillows of the couch, pulling you down with him, though with a lighter landing.
a content sigh escapes him as if he only just revived his memory to breathe. leaning closer, you can hear faint sounds of him panting through his headache; the way it catches in his throat and he has to swallow to breathe properly again; one breath being light, and the other grows heavy to then heavy again and so on; the way he expels a low moan during lighter exhales.
his previously stiffened body finally releases the tension heâs been unknowingly holding all day. he finds comfort in the bolsters of the couch, the welcoming warmth of his home, the quiet dialogue from the television, and most importantly, the presence of you. heck, his head was pounding in his skull before he even came through the door, however, now the first wave of ease washes over his head for the first time in hours as he feels his heartbeat slowing in his chest.
picking himself up, he lays his hands on the cushions, one balled into a fist, and pushes himself toward you. it happened so fast. his head lowers as his fist spreads to hold onto your waist, his other hand reaching for the back of your neck, something you canât feel until his thumb begins to trace circles against your nape. glancing down, the hand gripping your waist trembles as he caresses your side. he buries his head into the crook of your neck.
âbaby, âm so tired,â michael sighs into your skin as you feel his sweat adhere to you. his breath is hot against your neck, and you shudder as you try to strain a sentence out of your newly stubborn throat.
âi couldn't tell,â you somehow manage, voice seeping through quivering at first before you could find your poise as you give a languid nod. he lets out a pfft with a laugh despite his exhaustion, still able to muster up strength to laugh with you, and a smile tugs on your lips.
and then you feel it. though itâs feather light, he presses a kiss to your neck. and another. as though it were instinct, your hand makes its way to his curls, lightly scratching at the back of his scalp as his hands twitch from the touch. as they pile up, a giggle bubbles from your throat. âmikeââ
âshh,â he chuckles sluggishly, grinning against your skin, âi wanna kiss you.â he intervenes with another kiss, humming into your neck. a hot flush you canât swallow overwhelms your cheeks as it spreads down to your neck with a shudder, seeking to pass it off as merely tepidity radiating from michaelâas if that makes the spin of your mind any better.
you donât know why this feels different.
your eyes narrow as you gander down and scan his face. his cheeks have grown a little rosyâyouâre unsure whether itâs from his exhaustion or if he even walked in with that tint on him at all. his styled edges are visibly a bit soaked from his sweat, regarding the droplets of it, and a faint grin sneaking itself through his kisses, yet the only thing distracting you is how his lips feel on your skin.
they arenât even on your mouth, you shouldnât be so affected by it.
and yet, to make it worse, he starts to suck crudely along your neck, a wave of heat hitting your body with embarrassing haste, and your eyes inadvertently shut. your fingers twine with his curls once more, yet this time, it seems as though he tries to stifle something like a groanâsomething you feel you shouldnât have caught. the action heedlessly pushes him closer, and he doesnât pass his chance to mark the rest of your skin accessible to him, kissing you almost ardently, like he got excited from the new reach. your stomach churns.
despite it, you bat your eyes back open. the awareness of how eager he came to be hits him, and with a flush to his cheeks, he reluctantly slows his kisses, suckling gently on your neck, and he splays his quivering hand on your nape. that's when you feel your lungs still, and you belatedly call attention for yourself to take a breath.
michael tightens his grip on your waist, the hand to your nape sliding down to hold your hip with waiting intention unbeknownst to you. his hands snake around your stomach and make their way around your waist until his arms are full of you, so unsought that your gaze instantaneously travels down to his arms around you, and looking back, it leads to your eyes searching him again.
a blemish near his cheekbone, a sweet, lasting mark from his bygone acne as your interest flickers to the tip of his nose retreating with each tender kiss. he tilts his head and settles into the backrest, every so often altering with each new area he covers just to rest back there again; as he does so, the dim light from the television grazes over his skin, and though brisk, you catch sight of the excess beads of sweat sitting on his forehead.
michael lets a low simper make off at your hand in his hair wincing before harking back to your side and onto his wrist, a fleet sound that wriggles its way into your spine and down to your lower back, your stomach stirring anew.
it shouldâve been cute; you assume it oughta, but as he digs his face back into your neck and litters wet kisses against your skin, the air around grows someway bawdier than it already was.
his self restraint is unmistakable. he's trying to save his kisses gentle, you can feel it, and yet, his efforts prove in vain as he drifts further from what little control he has in his allegedly tired body. his tongue grazes your skin between a kiss, and michael feels you shudder in his hold.
the television is practically inaudible nowâtwofold when youâre so drawn to each wet noise he makes when he stops sucking on your skin, and every soft sound that escapes his lips when he leaves another kiss on you.
you can smell himâthe faint damp and tangy scent from his sudor, the smell of the vanillas in his shampoo laying just underneath, the airy amber from his perfume, and the raw, musky moisture from his skin that for whatever reason, affects you drastically as your thighs clamp together before you can even have a say in your actions.
michael's heart is hammering against his ribcage. he feels heat bleeding into his cheeks, and as a way to ground himself, he gives a light squeeze to your hip every few kisses, and spoilers, itâs forlorn.
he can't keep ignoring this forever. he needs you so, so madly right now, and the tension in the room only coils in his stomach and bullies his composure (which is something heâs surprised he even has at the moment).
and then it slips.
it starts when his lips caress your earlobe, lightly nipping it with his teeth, and he stops for a heartbeat too slow. his breath stutters in your ear, airy and hot with desire.
and suddenly, youâre hyper aware of the fact youâre merely wearing panties when a pool of heat reaches your lower back.
he presses his lips together, a little wet from his own saliva, and tries to stabilise his breathing (to no avail). he moves down, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses near your nape, then the dip of your neck, to near your collarbone, until abruptly, he finds the sensitive bit of skin on you, to which you suck in a breath and curl your lips inwards as a sound begged to be let out of your throat. as his teeth nip the area, it prompts your head to tilt averse onto the back of the couch, and michael grows dizzy with pure want.
his hands seep their way into your shirt and caress your sides as he drags his lips, teeth grazing your skin as his breath sends another wave of heat through you.
it was so sudden. both of you didnât pre-empt it, and it shows when he rolls his hips into you, and a mewl knocks itself out of your throat as michael lets out an audible gasp.
âbabyâbaby, i'm so sorry. is⊠is this okay?â his words are strangled as he pulls away from your neck, lips parted. turning your head, your eyes meet his.
theyâre wide and hazed, laced with need. his brows are high and drawn together as his last effort to hold back.
and with that, you cracked.
your lips crash onto his, hot and messy, hips grinding against the growing bulge in his slacks as you do so, and michael groans into your mouth. almost immediately, his hands grasp back onto your waist to spin you around, breaking the kiss before settling you onto his lap again, a choked moan leaving his lips at the contact, pressing his lips back on yours as he tilts his head.
painfully, you haul yourself along the thick ridge of his tent, a moan leaving your mouth to which michael eagerly swallows. he pulls away to catch his breath.
he pants lightly against your lips with hooded eyes, yet he canât manage to keep them off you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth and peppering more down to your jaw, lips wet from you.
you rock down on him, the friction so delicious, yet not enough to satiate. his head promptly drops, forehead sticking to the side of your neck a whimper spills from him, trickling with hunger, and heâs not trying to hide it, either.
his lips find their way back to yours, pure, full-blown desire woven into it as you feel your panties soaking, clenching around nothing, and likely leaving a wet patch on michael's pants.
âmikey, please,â your voice comes wrecked as you force yourself away from him just enough for you to speak, and the sound of you begging alone gets a groan out of him.
he rubs up against you, lightly nipping your bottom lip as an unstable gasp shakes out of you. âwords, pretty.â his words hit firm and teasing, a smile creeping onto his face, one hand sliding from your waist to your thigh, gently squeezing your skin to egg you on.
âneed youâŠâ you gulp back a gasp, running words through your head, nitpicking ones you find too vulgar or dirty and scrambling them in frantic obscurity, âmake love to me, pl-ease,â you finish meekly. your hands grab onto his shoulders, dipping your head down gingerly in a flustered haze, primarily because you have never done this with him, let alone said such a thing, and the tremble of his hands on you says so much with so little. he connects your lips again, nodding into it as a sign of approval.
his shaky hands move to the backs of your upper thighs, keeping a strong grip as he warily lifts you up. by instinct, your legs wrap around his waist as your arms did around his neck, and he grins into the kiss.
he brings you to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and coming to a halt when his knees hit the mattress, settling you down onto the sheets as if you were a delicacy.
michael wastes no time in peppering kisses down your bodyâyour jaw, neck, your collarbones for a moment too long before moving to your inner thighs.
your panties are so embarrassingly damp from your arousal, and his bottom lip quivers as his breath hitches from the mere sight of you soaked. Â
he leaves a burning, wet trail of kisses up your thigh up until he feels a hand in his hair, upping his head to avert his attention to you. and suddenly, his eyes slightly widen as he grows meek at his actions, a red tint bleeding up to the tips of his ears.
almost instantly, you clamp your thighs together. âw-wait,â you squeak, and your mouth goes dry. never in your life have you felt more self-conscious, and even more when you feel as though youâve fissured the moment. humiliation bounds around your muscles and renders you stiff.
the cognisance roots itself into his skin in prickles. his eyes change into something gentler, his brows fleetly lifting before pressing together lightly. he scans your face, looking for an ounce of jest in your expression, because frankly, he canât wrap his head around how the woman he loves most, the woman who is so incredibly perfect in his eyes, could be thinking negatively about herself. and yet, he finds none.
hand leisurely settling on your thigh, he caresses your skin so tenderly it almost burns, radiating into your chest and down to your core. âmama, youâre so perfect,â he coos, and thereâs nothing but pure sincerity dowsed in his voice, your cheeks growing so hot you think he can see it. âi hope you see yourself as i see you. i'll make you feel so, so right, justâplease⊠let me please you. i want to feel like i deserve you, let meâjust,â his breath trembles, voice breaking just slightly, so devoutly and longingly you could only take a pause.
and then he glances up.
his eyes glimmer and practically pleads, brows creasing up, and so incredibly desirous it messes with your head. you take your bottom lip amidst your teeth.
barely through your nod, michael's eyes go wide and pries your legs back open, diving down between them and sweetly kissing your inner thighs as a finger twirls around the cotton of the only thing keeping your pretty pussy away from him. the shudder of your breath only urges him further, only cutting short when he reaches too closely, taking another glimpse of you to make certain itâs alright.
rather than a nod, or even a simple yes, he receives your hands tangling themselves in his hair, and thatâs all the confirmation he needs.
he slides off your panties almost frantically, precariously pulling âtil they fall neatly on the hardwood of the floor, raising your leg over his shoulder as the other locks your leg down in a meek, yet firm grip. michael revels in the sight of you all soaked for him so pretty, tentatively staring before a slight tug of his hair spurs him on, shyly dropping his head between your thighs.
he leaves a soft kiss to you, something experimental as his hot breath fans your cunt, fingertips digging into the back of your knee more so for himself. and without thinking, he licks a long, tantalising stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and your mouth gapes, slipping a whimper from your throat. âm-mikey, th-that feels so goodââ you scarcely manage, words jumbling in your head as you struggle to make them coherent.
your flavour on his tastebuds intoxicate him and cloud his mind, nose bumping against your bud and savouring your taste as he licks up greedily, humming against you, inducing a choked noise out of your mouth. wrapping his lips around your clit, you pull on his hair with a whine.
âyou sound so pretty.â he smiles into your cunt as his tongue probes you. âtaste sâsweetââ he cuts himself off like he canât keep away from your taste for long, hungrily burying himself back into you and swirling his tongue around your clit.
it doesnât take long for his narrowly reserved pace to speed up as he eats you like heâs been starved of this for far too long, moans muffling against you as your body jolts at the pleasure. his tongue pushes past your folds, messily fucking you with his tongue, barely acknowledging the saliva running down his chin. every little sound of his vibrates up your spine, mewling at each one.
generously, your juices coat his lips and the surrounding skin, legs almost buckling if not for his hold on you. your breath catches in your throat before you choke out a cry of his name, and his ears instantly perk.
he craves to hear it again.
without thought, or even with him regarding it, he brings two digits to you and buries them in the warmth of your cunt, a sob almost immediately ripping through your throat. he laps at you as if itâs the only thing he knows how, nose harshly pushing your clit upward before giving it a suck again.
all he can think about is youâyour smell suffocating him so sweetly, your essence all over his face, how responsive you are, all of it driving further and fogging his head. you have not the slightest clue of what you do to him. he wants so badly for you to fall apart right on his tongue, and heâs gonna have it. his tongue enters you again, and you can feel how it drives deeper and deeper, walls fluttering around his muscle as he relishes in your aroma and taste as he loses himself further in you. lewd, filthy noises of him slurping stills in the air, your pants and moans drowning it as your back arches off the mattress, his hand travelling under your thighs to hold your hips down, and your leg instantly closes around his head, only pushing him deeper as his groan hits right to your clit.
his fingers curl inside you again, his eyebrows drawn taut with immersion, eliciting a strangled mix of a whine and a sob from your mouth, quietly gasping reiterates of his name. âbaby,â he muffles, refusing to stray from your taste, âwanâ hear youâŠâ
a vulgar string of drawn-out whimpers fall from your lips before his name slips again in a loud moan, squeezing at your hip as he groans in pure satisfaction, pumping his fingers increasingly hastier, the squelch of your walls hitting his ears so obscene he begins to rock against the mattress.
âmikeyâplease, mh, i think iâm g-gonnaâŠâ you barely shove the words out of your mouth as you pant out, legs shaking around his head, waves of pleasure threatening to crash over you with each waking second.
you didnât have to forewarn him in the slightest. not when he can taste and feel you so undeniably in his mouthâhow the band of your lower tummy tightens as your walls succeed, back fighting to arch off the bed, nails digging into his scalp and tugging on his curls.
âi know, pretty⊠let go fâme, please, baby. need to taste youâmm, wanâ try something,â he mutters breathlessly, pulling away fleetly to take his digits out of you, tentatively pressing his thumb down on your clit as you writhe at the sensation, ecstacy overwhelming your senses as your orgasm ripples through your body, and michael is quick to attach his mouth back on you to lap at your juices.
âmmpfhâmh, taste as good as yâsoundâoh,â he moans as he completely engulfs himself into your taste, thumb beginning to lazily draw circles on your bundle of nerves as his tongue plunges into you as if youâre the only thing thatâll quench his perennial thirst, and you pull at his hair, eliciting an elated sound from him.
ât-too much!â you cry, voice increasing in pitch as your trembling legs unwillingly wrap him into you nearer, contrasting as you wholly try to push him away.
withdrawing himself from you pains him more than he can feel.
but when he does, his eyes meet yours, pupils dilated and swallowing the brown of his iris, and with a brief glance down, his lips gleam in the dim light, drenched in you, chin dripping with your arousal, the sight immediately rushing heat up your neck and into your cheeks.
then his eyes flash with guilt. âbaby,â he says, voice is trickling with urgency as his tongue darts out to taste yourself on his lips, still covetous even as he apologises, âiâm so sorry, pretty, i shouldâve stoppedââm sorry, are you okay?â his large hand caresses your quivering inner thigh and kneads the skin there, free hand finding perch on the plush of the bed next to your other thigh, propping himself up as the mattress dips with the weight of his knee. his other knee settles beside your hip, the hand that assisted him in climbing on the bed landing on the sheets behind you, his disparate hand never halting motion on your skin.
michaelâs eyes flicker between yours, big and hazy, glutted with concern as though heâd done something unable to be pardoned. you can only scoff, the tip of your index tracing his jaw without a thought, and you take in the sight of his eyes briefly splaying as your finger wipes your arousal off his jaw. his breath stutters once you reach his chin, flicking your finger off and cupping his cheek as fast as you jerked your finger, gently coaxing him in before your lips meet again in a tender kiss.
he melts into it instantly, the hand rubbing your thigh flying to hold the small of your back. drawing averse, he pants as he murmurs a hot string of babbles of how he adores your taste, a breath-width away from your lips before he delves back, pushing his tongue in your mouth to help you taste your flavour. âyâtaste like a dream,â he sighs into your mouth, smiling against your lips with gratitude more than anything. the flavour of your essence mingled with michaelâs own taste is enough to take a precedent swelling moan out of you and into his ears, to which he drinks with the same indebtedness.
heedlessly sliding your heel toward you, your knee lifts and catches itself when it makes the slightest contact with the aching tent in michaelâs slacks heâd been desperately trying to disregard, a whimper leaving him as quick as his head dips in the crook of your neck, hand holding back from squeezing your skin in a fit of self-restraint. heâd been holding back. âmike,â you mutter just loud enough to reach his ears as he barely manages to lift his head, eyes locking to yours with a critical aching need consumed in his gazeâsomething you canât bear to pay no heed to. âlet me take you.â
who are you not to repay him?
your words come sheepish, timid, yet to him it hits with a newfangled ripple of unadulterated need searing ardently through his veins. you gesture to the edge of the bed with a tilt of your chin. he knows better than to ask how despite his struggle to credit the prospect of you taking him in any of the perverted ways that is on his mind. he heaves himself away from you. jointly, you find your way to the contrasting cold of the floorboards from the warmth of his sheets. the cold almost instantly dissipates under the contact of your knees as michael seats himself on the outskirt of the mattress with untrained eyes indulging in how your eyes look under the dim light as your attention flickers to his trousers.
and a rush of deep red amasses into his cheeks, mouth parted, yet producing no sound as he catches his breath at the fleeting recognition. âohâwait,â he says, his usual soft tone welling with uncertainty as well as a faint, almost eager undercurrentâwhich he canât veil when your eyes find their way to his once more.
âi canâtâŠâ he takes a deep swallow, âno, i canât let you do that, pretty, you shouldnât be down there doinâ somethinâ like⊠that,â he speaks already as though he floundered to make something articulate.
âyouâve helped me, haven't you? canât i do the same?â
he stammers as his head tries to conjure a valid reason against yours. âlet me, baby.â your hand taps his knee, a smile playing at his lips like it always does when you call him that, yet an unfamiliar, almost heated shiver wriggles up his spine at the tap of your finger. âi want to.â
his dire need garners and gluts his senses as the allure of your glim unwavering causes his reason to fail him, both mingling into something heâs impotent to reject. he parts his lips, though not without reluctance. âyouâre sure?â he asks, however, by this time, your leisure taps move into full-on caresses, and his limbs draw themselves tense. and before you could answer, your unplanned touch ignites a feeling that travels through his veins with haste. âah- ah, itâs⊠why is itâ why does⊠okay, okay,â he qualms as the emergent bulge beneath his pants begins to sore like heâs never felt before, his lower abdomen burning. is it supposed to feel like this? he didnât know it could get this bad, and embarrassment seeps through his bones.
with his wince and agreement, briskly, you tug on his pants as he lifts himself from the sheets so you can slide them off, the fabric leaving his skin also leaving a fire with them as ardour hums everywhere in his body. and as your hands make contact with the waistband of his underwear, an unmistakable wet patch that formed a while ago from his generous amount of precum visible to you, his mind, as well as his heart, racing.
his hands aviate to cover his face when you free him from the confinements of his briefs. as soon as the cold air hits him, his mind races a slew of protests.
youâre too pretty to be down there. this is so dirty. on your knees is so, so dirtyâas if he didnât just eat you out and would do it for hours if you just let him. what if you think itâs⊠i dunno, ugly? you shouldnât be doinâ something like this. he shouldnât have accepted, but how could he not when desire settles and rattles his bones? the words weigh on his tongue until he canât carry it any longer, lips parting to give way to his protest.
with such tenderness his heart aches, your plush lips wrap around his mauve tip, previously coated in precum with now your saliva, and the words lodge in his throat almost violently as a hearty wail ousts it. your eyes flick up just in time to view the hands shielding his face trembling and moving down, revealing his crimson-painted cheeks with his brows creased and oh, what a sight it is. his hands descend to steal a glimpse of your mouth around his length, and from the mere gander, a whimper slips his throat.
you have never thought of such about him when you finally viewed him. tip slick with so much precum it was attractive, the mere sight already soaking you again, veins running prettily along his length. if heâd been looking at you earlier, heâd see the way you were gaping him with such awe. as if he couldnât get any more perfect, this sure solidified it.
you give him initially shy kitten licks on his tip, whimpers already spilling out of his mouth before you start lapping, savouring the taste of his leaking slit before moving downâthough not without taking a hefty inhale firstâhis big hands finding purchase in your locks.
the sight is so filthy to see. how you meld to him, engulfing his dick and letting him feel the warmth of your mouth, dim light shimmering in the shade of tears stilling in your waterline. his hands twine themselves in your hair and gently tugs as your hands wrap around the area you canât reach with solely your mouth. lifting your head up and off of him, your tongue traces along his prominent vein, applying pressure with which his head starts to swirl at as his hips jerk without his say. heâs grateful he didnât do that while he was in your mouthâuntil it happens.
your lips envelop him, bringing him back into the warmth of your mouth, swallowing him as your hand experimentally squeezes his base. before you could ask if that felt okay, his hips thrust up into your mouth again, and heâs immediately spewing apologies. he loves it so much, and youâll do it again if it means eliciting that mewl out of him again. you pull yourself up from him with a pop, hands working his shaft to replace the absence of your mouth.
âi didnât mean to⊠oh, âm sâsorry,â his words slur as your hand unwavers, and heâs sneaking his bottom lip between his teeth as you finding leverage on his shirt, yanking him toward you and colliding your lips together in a hot, muddled kiss, interjecting his effort to suppress the noises slipping from his lips so he could speak. his slick on your tongue transferring to his tastebuds spins his mind as a hand to your hair moves to your cheek.
your arm wraps around his neck, hand tugging on his shirt as he sets out a whimper to your mouth before complying, breaking off the kiss so he can lift his shirt up and over his head only to reattach your lips to his just as quickly as he hurls the fabric to who-knows-where in the room. you break it off once more. âstop apologizing,â you whisper, squeezing as you pump him, thumb rubbing along his prominent vein glossed in your spit, and a cry tears through him as he pulls himself back with his hands tangling in your hair again. licking a long stripe, your hands settle back near his base anew before you have him back in your mouth, unconsciously humming against him as vibrations shoot up his spine expels itself as a moan.
âth-that⊠that feels weird, mgh, do it again⊠please,â he mutters breathlessly. your cheeks hollow, and his head throws back as his oozing tip brushes the hind of your throat, his bottom lip quivering when you bob your earnestly. oh, you look perfect like thisâhair tussled from his tugs, lips moulded to his shaft, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed a rosy tint, peeking through your eyelashes to glance at his expression, eyes falling to his abs coated in a light sheen of sweat before shutting your eyes againâsomething he doesnât fail to miss.
ây-you have such a pretty mouthâah, feels soââ he blabs, cut short by his own whimper. his hips stutter at the feel of you rotating your wrist, one hand moving down from your scalp to caress your cheek, tracing along your jaw with gentle, yet jagged lines as he strains to keep his head steady. as his tip hits the back of your throat once more, you ardently fight your gag reflex, throat tightening around him as he fills with concern. âcan youângh,â he cries, âbreathe? o-oh, babyââ his hand draws taut in your hair, and when you peek up, tears are stinging his waterline. âbaby, please,â he pleads, voice cracking, âi canât⊠i donât wanna c-cum like this,â he divulges, gripping the sheets with his hand formerly on your cheek with a firm hold.
michaelâs arm, placed precariously behind him with his hand outward and grasping the sheets for poise, collapses as his strength leaves him, his elbow hitting the mattress. and generously, craving to fulfill his desires, you climb on the bed and move to the left of him as he discerns you with impressive haste, pushing himself back so his legs wonât dangle out of the mattress anymore.
propping your knees to either side of him, you hover your sopping cunt above his waiting dick as tenderly, he kneads the side of the small of your backâmore so for himself. and when he finally regards what youâre about to do, his object is cut short by his tip prodding your entrance, and your whimpers mingle with the burning aroma of the space.
gradually, sorely, you sink down into him, both of his hands flying to your lower back, nails digging divots into your skin as his cock twitches inside of you, forcing a whine from your throat. heâs filling you up, head falling low as whimpers leave you in strings. your hands head for his shoulders as gently, he brings you in until you embrace, tilting his head and whispering tenderly in your ear. âyâr doinâ so well, ma⊠jusâ a littleâ m-ore,â he coos, sighing barely through the latter, unable to mask the garbled moans that escape his mouth.
âo-oh myâmike,â you choke out, shaking with each inch you descend as your grip on his shoulders grow firm, then weak again. his arms tremble as they assist you in falling into him, whining dulcet in your ear as the feeling of being stuffed overwhelms your system before youâre to the hilt. you pant against his chest as he does your head, his hand tracing leisure, consoling circles to your skin.
the moment you finally pull off him, the sweat coating his torso clings to your shirt before you fully asunder. the hold you have on his shoulders linger as you begin to move, his breaths coming ragged and in a medley of bursts and drags. âhoh, youâŠâ he swallows deeply, âyâfeel sâ warm, so tight⊠oh, youâre sâtightâdidnât know it felt like this, oh,â he cries, and when your head lifts, tears are threatening to fall and lacquer a watery line down his cheeks. the sight alone makes you clench down on him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest and sending searing flurries of heat through his veins as you find your rhythm.
his hands work to guide your hips, bucking his up with every pummel he ushers from you, clit brutally bumping against his pelvis with each. his name falls from you, breathy and mingled with his plethora of babbles as your nails bore crescents in his shoulders, your eyelids fluttering shut and back open just to see the blissed out expression adorned on his comely face. his thumb caressing your inner hip falters when you roll your hips on him without his guidance, his hands tightening around you and rocking you down, and with it, a tear that was stilled in his eyes finally founders and leaves a line of salty liquid as it falls, then anotherâbut that one mixes in his sweat. the feeling of your walls suffocating him leaves him delirious, but the notion of you exhausting yourself up there pains him, and oh, he doesnât know how much longer he can keep still. and it doesnât at all take long for him to act.
his hands grasp stiff and unyielding to your hips, flipping you both and stealing you of your breath as he snaps his hips and rips a lewd sound that lands somewhere between a mewl and a cry from your achy throat. he grabs firm to your shirt and briskly pulls it up and over your head and off to somewhere in the room as swiftly as he had flipped you.
he gapes at you from this newfound angle of being on top of you, and it knocks a strained grunt out of his parted lips as he begins to move. âmikey, w-whatâah! mh, ke-keep going, pleaseâŠâ you sob as his dick drags in your gummied walls, melding each ridge and vein of him into you and stretching you impossibly more than you already have been. eyes ripping from yours, his burning stare is pulled to where you two join, and michael ogles at how his cock continuously buries and disappears into the warmth of your sweet cunt. each thrust forms a frothy ring of his precum and your arousal at his base, his eyes eagerly drinking up the sight before his fixation moves just slightly up.
his pupils blow wide when they land on the swell outline of his dick in your tummy, and from the sight alone he chokes out a strangled moan. âamâŠâ he pants as his hands move near your navel, âam i doinâ that?â he presses lightly on your abdomen as he bucks his hips a tad harsher than intended, and your body quivers, back arching off the sheets as his tip dotingly kisses your cervix, letting his head fall as well as his jaw.
with the shift in your positions, the feverish newfound angle has his cock hitting deep into the sponge tissue of your sex, and your mouth gapes. âth-there! right there, mikey, pleaseâŠâ your whimpers are drowned by the lewd noises of his pelvis slamming against your moist skin as his pace grows relentless at your spur.
all that consumes him is how your hot cunt sucks him in and the filthy squelch that comes with it. his dewy eyes dart between your disheveled face and the curve of his dick bulging from your stomach, and when your walls clamp down on him again, he shuts his eyes, the salty droplets that had settled in the rim of his eyes rolling down his rouge tinted cheeks and falling from his chin. âyouâre⊠yâr squeezinâ meâhoh,â he moans, head reeling as his hands hastily shrithe to envelope your torso, slogging to refrain from collapsing on you as he lowers until youâre wholly flush against his clammy chest. he strains a throaty mix of a huff and a whine against your cheek before smashing his lips onto yours in a searing kiss, his hand caressing your side and leaving heat where it was once placed.
each snap of his hips have him continuously ramming into and abusing the sweet dip in the inlay of your womb. the bedframe gashing the paint off the wall with every rock accompanies the wet plaps of skin slapping skin and the descants of your fused moansâsounds that send tingles through michaelâs bodyâsounds heâs eager to devour. his swollen lips trails wet kisses down to your lower lip, your chin, and to your jaw, and you let your head fall back only for michael to capture your lips in his again, your raised head only deepening the sloppy motions of your mouth against his, and you squirm as you struggle to keep up, for each buck of his hips swirls your head absurdly further.
his head falls into the dip of your neck, panting against your skin, your pussy pulsing around his length as your abdomen twists. âmh, mikey, hoh! âm s-sssso close,â you choke, hands clutching at his shoulders and the flesh of his upper arms as you clamp around him, suctioning his girth deliciously as he brings a hand to return to your belly, the pressure from his wring reducing your mind to a haze of nothing but him.
âi-iâm close too, ohmyâ oh, wh-where should i⊠do i do itââ heâs cut short by his own cry and swallow, âinside? wanâ me to pull out?â
you claw at his back, only mustering a frantic shake of your head, holding him firm in place, his large hand once on your belly trembling as he takes a soft hold to your cheek. the rhythmic pace of his thrusts grow sloppy, overbrimming with primal need, to which your sight distorts âtil youâre convinced the whites clouding your vision are clusters of stars.
the hot coil in your lower abdomen snaps when he fills you to the hilt again, your body falling limp, cunt throbbing around him as ripples of pleasure glut your being, creaming his dick and gushing on the sheets as he helps you ride out your orgasm. michaelâs mouth hangs open, slurring a series of moans and incohesive blabs as he soaks in every contortion of your face, the bucking of his hips turning desperate. he buries himself in you wholly when his warm seed spills and earnestly coats your velvety walls in white, filling you so full with his release it shows with a mere glance at your tummy.
the both of you stay like this for a little whileâpanting against each otherâs skin as he stills inside of you, the dripping of cum spilling out your sopping cunt and droplets running down his length eliciting quivers out of you two until he slowly drags his leaking cock out of the warmth of your sex. âare⊠are you okay?â he breathes before raising his head from the comfort of the curve of your neck, meeting your dazed eyes as his thumb grazes your cheekbone.Â
his curls cling to the clammy skin of his forehead, eyes hazy and pupils blown wide, lips red and swollen. âmhm,â you hum, nodding your head as a smile adorns his elated face. with one last peck to your lips, he heaves himself up and off the mattress, heading to his restroom and back with a cloth before he settles himself between your aching thighs again. his cheeks flush a deep red upon the sight, shyly swiping the cloth to wipe away the mingled essences of the both of you, and as he progresses closer to your core, your body flinches and some of his seed seeps further out of you, and his teeth tug on his lower lip as he canât seem to pull his eyes away.
when he finishes up, he plants a tender kiss to your inner thigh. he then waits outside the door of the restroom as you use the toilet a few minutes later. by this time, you two are dressed back up, although hodieral in pyjama attire.
the moment he hears the twist of the doorknob and you swinging the door open, heâs already on youâlips crashing onto yours in a messy, yet gentle kiss as he devours each of your laughs, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips as he backs you into the bed and sends the both of you collapsing onto the plush pillows.
the final thing youâre able to recall is how his lips travel to your cheek, leaving sweet pecks in between âthank youâs before your eyelids give out on you.
your home, once scented tobacco, smells of musk and skin when michael enters sapped, and from afar, bleary.
the click of the door lock pulled your attention from the tv to his beat face, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead and back, clinging to his white tee, creating transparent patches and the faithful impression of how weary he is.
you grab onto the back of the couch as you twist your torso to earn a better view, and at that moment, his tired gaze makes its way to you.
previously half-lidded, his eyes ever so slightly widen at the sight of you clad in nothing but an oversized shirt and panties, because in all sincerity: you didnât expect him to arrive home so early. itâs usually early mornings to past midnight with michael's schedules, yet itâs only 8 pm.
rising to your feet, your brows crease in worry as he walks over to the couch. âbaby,â you breathe, hands reaching out to help him. as he moves closer, his panting grows more evident as well as the scent of sweat and the faint smell of his lingering perfume. only then did your nose take in the scent. âwhatââ
he nears and takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together and gently squeezing as he collapses himself onto the plush cushions and pillows of the couch, pulling you down with him, though with a lighter landing.
a content sigh escapes him as if he only just revived his memory to breathe. leaning closer, you can hear faint sounds of him panting through his headache; the way it catches in his throat and he has to swallow to breathe properly again; one breath being light, and the other grows heavy to then heavy again and so on; the way he expels a low moan during lighter exhales.
his previously stiffened body finally releases the tension heâs been unknowingly holding all day. he finds comfort in the bolsters of the couch, the welcoming warmth of his home, the quiet dialogue from the television, and most importantly, the presence of you. heck, his head was pounding in his skull before he even came through the door, however, now the first wave of ease washes over his head for the first time in hours as he feels his heartbeat slowing in his chest.
picking himself up, he lays his hands on the cushions, one balled into a fist, and pushes himself toward you. it happened so fast. his head lowers as his fist spreads to hold onto your waist, his other hand reaching for the back of your neck, something you canât feel until his thumb begins to trace circles against your nape. glancing down, the hand gripping your waist trembles as he caresses your side. he buries his head into the crook of your neck.
âbaby, âm so tired,â michael sighs into your skin as you feel his sweat adhere to you. his breath is hot against your neck, and you shudder as you try to strain a sentence out of your newly stubborn throat.
âi couldn't tell,â you somehow manage, voice seeping through quivering at first before you could find your poise as you give a languid nod. he lets out a pfft with a laugh despite his exhaustion, still able to muster up strength to laugh with you, and a smile tugs on your lips.
and then you feel it. though itâs feather light, he presses a kiss to your neck. and another. as though it were instinct, your hand makes its way to his curls, lightly scratching at the back of his scalp as his hands twitch from the touch. as they pile up, a giggle bubbles from your throat. âmikeââ
âshh,â he chuckles sluggishly, grinning against your skin, âi wanna kiss you.â he intervenes with another kiss, humming into your neck. a hot flush you canât swallow overwhelms your cheeks as it spreads down to your neck with a shudder, seeking to pass it off as merely tepidity radiating from michaelâas if that makes the spin of your mind any better.
you donât know why this feels different.
your eyes narrow as you gander down and scan his face. his cheeks have grown a little rosyâyouâre unsure whether itâs from his exhaustion or if he even walked in with that tint on him at all. his styled edges are visibly a bit soaked from his sweat, regarding the droplets of it, and a faint grin sneaking itself through his kisses, yet the only thing distracting you is how his lips feel on your skin.
they arenât even on your mouth, you shouldnât be so affected by it.
and yet, to make it worse, he starts to suck crudely along your neck, a wave of heat hitting your body with embarrassing haste, and your eyes inadvertently shut. your fingers twine with his curls once more, yet this time, it seems as though he tries to stifle something like a groanâsomething you feel you shouldnât have caught. the action heedlessly pushes him closer, and he doesnât pass his chance to mark the rest of your skin accessible to him, kissing you almost ardently, like he got excited from the new reach. your stomach churns.
despite it, you bat your eyes back open. the awareness of how eager he came to be hits him, and with a flush to his cheeks, he reluctantly slows his kisses, suckling gently on your neck, and he splays his quivering hand on your nape. that's when you feel your lungs still, and you belatedly call attention for yourself to take a breath.
michael tightens his grip on your waist, the hand to your nape sliding down to hold your hip with waiting intention unbeknownst to you. his hands snake around your stomach and make their way around your waist until his arms are full of you, so unsought that your gaze instantaneously travels down to his arms around you, and looking back, it leads to your eyes searching him again.
a blemish near his cheekbone, a sweet, lasting mark from his bygone acne as your interest flickers to the tip of his nose retreating with each tender kiss. he tilts his head and settles into the backrest, every so often altering with each new area he covers just to rest back there again; as he does so, the dim light from the television grazes over his skin, and though brisk, you catch sight of the excess beads of sweat sitting on his forehead.
michael lets a low simper make off at your hand in his hair wincing before harking back to your side and onto his wrist, a fleet sound that wriggles its way into your spine and down to your lower back, your stomach stirring anew.
it shouldâve been cute; you assume it oughta, but as he digs his face back into your neck and litters wet kisses against your skin, the air around grows someway bawdier than it already was.
his self restraint is unmistakable. he's trying to save his kisses gentle, you can feel it, and yet, his efforts prove in vain as he drifts further from what little control he has in his allegedly tired body. his tongue grazes your skin between a kiss, and michael feels you shudder in his hold.
the television is practically inaudible nowâtwofold when youâre so drawn to each wet noise he makes when he stops sucking on your skin, and every soft sound that escapes his lips when he leaves another kiss on you.
you can smell himâthe faint damp and tangy scent from his sudor, the smell of the vanillas in his shampoo laying just underneath, the airy amber from his perfume, and the raw, musky moisture from his skin that for whatever reason, affects you drastically as your thighs clamp together before you can even have a say in your actions.
michael's heart is hammering against his ribcage. he feels heat bleeding into his cheeks, and as a way to ground himself, he gives a light squeeze to your hip every few kisses, and spoilers, itâs forlorn.
he can't keep ignoring this forever. he needs you so, so madly right now, and the tension in the room only coils in his stomach and bullies his composure (which is something heâs surprised he even has at the moment).
and then it slips.
it starts when his lips caress your earlobe, lightly nipping it with his teeth, and he stops for a heartbeat too slow. his breath stutters in your ear, airy and hot with desire.
and suddenly, youâre hyper aware of the fact youâre merely wearing panties when a pool of heat reaches your lower back.
he presses his lips together, a little wet from his own saliva, and tries to stabilise his breathing (to no avail). he moves down, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses near your nape, then the dip of your neck, to near your collarbone, until abruptly, he finds the sensitive bit of skin on you, to which you suck in a breath and curl your lips inwards as a sound begged to be let out of your throat. as his teeth nip the area, it prompts your head to tilt averse onto the back of the couch, and michael grows dizzy with pure want.
his hands seep their way into your shirt and caress your sides as he drags his lips, teeth grazing your skin as his breath sends another wave of heat through you.
it was so sudden. both of you didnât pre-empt it, and it shows when he rolls his hips into you, and a mewl knocks itself out of your throat as michael lets out an audible gasp.
âbabyâbaby, i'm so sorry. is⊠is this okay?â his words are strangled as he pulls away from your neck, lips parted. turning your head, your eyes meet his.
theyâre wide and hazed, laced with need. his brows are high and drawn together as his last effort to hold back.
and with that, you cracked.
your lips crash onto his, hot and messy, hips grinding against the growing bulge in his slacks as you do so, and michael groans into your mouth. almost immediately, his hands grasp back onto your waist to spin you around, breaking the kiss before settling you onto his lap again, a choked moan leaving his lips at the contact, pressing his lips back on yours as he tilts his head.
painfully, you haul yourself along the thick ridge of his tent, a moan leaving your mouth to which michael eagerly swallows. he pulls away to catch his breath.
he pants lightly against your lips with hooded eyes, yet he canât manage to keep them off you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth and peppering more down to your jaw, lips wet from you.
you rock down on him, the friction so delicious, yet not enough to satiate. his head promptly drops, forehead sticking to the side of your neck a whimper spills from him, trickling with hunger, and heâs not trying to hide it, either.
his lips find their way back to yours, pure, full-blown desire woven into it as you feel your panties soaking, clenching around nothing, and likely leaving a wet patch on michael's pants.
âmikey, please,â your voice comes wrecked as you force yourself away from him just enough for you to speak, and the sound of you begging alone gets a groan out of him.
he rubs up against you, lightly nipping your bottom lip as an unstable gasp shakes out of you. âwords, pretty.â his words hit firm and teasing, a smile creeping onto his face, one hand sliding from your waist to your thigh, gently squeezing your skin to egg you on.
âneed youâŠâ you gulp back a gasp, running words through your head, nitpicking ones you find too vulgar or dirty and scrambling them in frantic obscurity, âmake love to me, pl-ease,â you finish meekly. your hands grab onto his shoulders, dipping your head down gingerly in a flustered haze, primarily because you have never done this with him, let alone said such a thing, and the tremble of his hands on you says so much with so little. he connects your lips again, nodding into it as a sign of approval.
his shaky hands move to the backs of your upper thighs, keeping a strong grip as he warily lifts you up. by instinct, your legs wrap around his waist as your arms did around his neck, and he grins into the kiss.
he brings you to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and coming to a halt when his knees hit the mattress, settling you down onto the sheets as if you were a delicacy.
michael wastes no time in peppering kisses down your bodyâyour jaw, neck, your collarbones for a moment too long before moving to your inner thighs.
your panties are so embarrassingly damp from your arousal, and his bottom lip quivers as his breath hitches from the mere sight of you soaked. Â
he leaves a burning, wet trail of kisses up your thigh up until he feels a hand in his hair, upping his head to avert his attention to you. and suddenly, his eyes slightly widen as he grows meek at his actions, a red tint bleeding up to the tips of his ears.
almost instantly, you clamp your thighs together. âw-wait,â you squeak, and your mouth goes dry. never in your life have you felt more self-conscious, and even more when you feel as though youâve fissured the moment. humiliation bounds around your muscles and renders you stiff.
the cognisance roots itself into his skin in prickles. his eyes change into something gentler, his brows fleetly lifting before pressing together lightly. he scans your face, looking for an ounce of jest in your expression, because frankly, he canât wrap his head around how the woman he loves most, the woman who is so incredibly perfect in his eyes, could be thinking negatively about herself. and yet, he finds none.
hand leisurely settling on your thigh, he caresses your skin so tenderly it almost burns, radiating into your chest and down to your core. âmama, youâre so perfect,â he coos, and thereâs nothing but pure sincerity dowsed in his voice, your cheeks growing so hot you think he can see it. âi hope you see yourself as i see you. i'll make you feel so, so right, justâplease⊠let me please you. i want to feel like i deserve you, let meâjust,â his breath trembles, voice breaking just slightly, so devoutly and longingly you could only take a pause.
and then he glances up.
his eyes glimmer and practically pleads, brows creasing up, and so incredibly desirous it messes with your head. you take your bottom lip amidst your teeth.
barely through your nod, michael's eyes go wide and pries your legs back open, diving down between them and sweetly kissing your inner thighs as a finger twirls around the cotton of the only thing keeping your pretty pussy away from him. the shudder of your breath only urges him further, only cutting short when he reaches too closely, taking another glimpse of you to make certain itâs alright.
rather than a nod, or even a simple yes, he receives your hands tangling themselves in his hair, and thatâs all the confirmation he needs.
he slides off your panties almost frantically, precariously pulling âtil they fall neatly on the hardwood of the floor, raising your leg over his shoulder as the other locks your leg down in a meek, yet firm grip. michael revels in the sight of you all soaked for him so pretty, tentatively staring before a slight tug of his hair spurs him on, shyly dropping his head between your thighs.
he leaves a soft kiss to you, something experimental as his hot breath fans your cunt, fingertips digging into the back of your knee more so for himself. and without thinking, he licks a long, tantalising stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and your mouth gapes, slipping a whimper from your throat. âm-mikey, th-that feels so goodââ you scarcely manage, words jumbling in your head as you struggle to make them coherent.
your flavour on his tastebuds intoxicate him and cloud his mind, nose bumping against your bud and savouring your taste as he licks up greedily, humming against you, inducing a choked noise out of your mouth. wrapping his lips around your clit, you pull on his hair with a whine.
âyou sound so pretty.â he smiles into your cunt as his tongue probes you. âtaste sâsweetââ he cuts himself off like he canât keep away from your taste for long, hungrily burying himself back into you and swirling his tongue around your clit.
it doesnât take long for his narrowly reserved pace to speed up as he eats you like heâs been starved of this for far too long, moans muffling against you as your body jolts at the pleasure. his tongue pushes past your folds, messily fucking you with his tongue, barely acknowledging the saliva running down his chin. every little sound of his vibrates up your spine, mewling at each one.
generously, your juices coat his lips and the surrounding skin, legs almost buckling if not for his hold on you. your breath catches in your throat before you choke out a cry of his name, and his ears instantly perk.
he craves to hear it again.
without thought, or even with him regarding it, he brings two digits to you and buries them in the warmth of your cunt, a sob almost immediately ripping through your throat. he laps at you as if itâs the only thing he knows how, nose harshly pushing your clit upward before giving it a suck again.
all he can think about is youâyour smell suffocating him so sweetly, your essence all over his face, how responsive you are, all of it driving further and fogging his head. you have not the slightest clue of what you do to him. he wants so badly for you to fall apart right on his tongue, and heâs gonna have it. his tongue enters you again, and you can feel how it drives deeper and deeper, walls fluttering around his muscle as he relishes in your aroma and taste as he loses himself further in you. lewd, filthy noises of him slurping stills in the air, your pants and moans drowning it as your back arches off the mattress, his hand travelling under your thighs to hold your hips down, and your leg instantly closes around his head, only pushing him deeper as his groan hits right to your clit.
his fingers curl inside you again, his eyebrows drawn taut with immersion, eliciting a strangled mix of a whine and a sob from your mouth, quietly gasping reiterates of his name. âbaby,â he muffles, refusing to stray from your taste, âwanâ hear youâŠâ
a vulgar string of drawn-out whimpers fall from your lips before his name slips again in a loud moan, squeezing at your hip as he groans in pure satisfaction, pumping his fingers increasingly hastier, the squelch of your walls hitting his ears so obscene he begins to rock against the mattress.
âmikeyâplease, mh, i think iâm g-gonnaâŠâ you barely shove the words out of your mouth as you pant out, legs shaking around his head, waves of pleasure threatening to crash over you with each waking second.
you didnât have to forewarn him in the slightest. not when he can taste and feel you so undeniably in his mouthâhow the band of your lower tummy tightens as your walls succeed, back fighting to arch off the bed, nails digging into his scalp and tugging on his curls.
âi know, pretty⊠let go fâme, please, baby. need to taste youâmm, wanâ try something,â he mutters breathlessly, pulling away fleetly to take his digits out of you, tentatively pressing his thumb down on your clit as you writhe at the sensation, ecstacy overwhelming your senses as your orgasm ripples through your body, and michael is quick to attach his mouth back on you to lap at your juices.
âmmpfhâmh, taste as good as yâsoundâoh,â he moans as he completely engulfs himself into your taste, thumb beginning to lazily draw circles on your bundle of nerves as his tongue plunges into you as if youâre the only thing thatâll quench his perennial thirst, and you pull at his hair, eliciting an elated sound from him.
ât-too much!â you cry, voice increasing in pitch as your trembling legs unwillingly wrap him into you nearer, contrasting as you wholly try to push him away.
withdrawing himself from you pains him more than he can feel.
but when he does, his eyes meet yours, pupils dilated and swallowing the brown of his iris, and with a brief glance down, his lips gleam in the dim light, drenched in you, chin dripping with your arousal, the sight immediately rushing heat up your neck and into your cheeks.
then his eyes flash with guilt. âbaby,â he says, voice is trickling with urgency as his tongue darts out to taste yourself on his lips, still covetous even as he apologises, âiâm so sorry, pretty, i shouldâve stoppedââm sorry, are you okay?â his large hand caresses your quivering inner thigh and kneads the skin there, free hand finding perch on the plush of the bed next to your other thigh, propping himself up as the mattress dips with the weight of his knee. his other knee settles beside your hip, the hand that assisted him in climbing on the bed landing on the sheets behind you, his disparate hand never halting motion on your skin.
michaelâs eyes flicker between yours, big and hazy, glutted with concern as though heâd done something unable to be pardoned. you can only scoff, the tip of your index tracing his jaw without a thought, and you take in the sight of his eyes briefly splaying as your finger wipes your arousal off his jaw. his breath stutters once you reach his chin, flicking your finger off and cupping his cheek as fast as you jerked your finger, gently coaxing him in before your lips meet again in a tender kiss.
he melts into it instantly, the hand rubbing your thigh flying to hold the small of your back. drawing averse, he pants as he murmurs a hot string of babbles of how he adores your taste, a breath-width away from your lips before he delves back, pushing his tongue in your mouth to help you taste your flavour. âyâtaste like a dream,â he sighs into your mouth, smiling against your lips with gratitude more than anything. the flavour of your essence mingled with michaelâs own taste is enough to take a precedent swelling moan out of you and into his ears, to which he drinks with the same indebtedness.
heedlessly sliding your heel toward you, your knee lifts and catches itself when it makes the slightest contact with the aching tent in michaelâs slacks heâd been desperately trying to disregard, a whimper leaving him as quick as his head dips in the crook of your neck, hand holding back from squeezing your skin in a fit of self-restraint. heâd been holding back. âmike,â you mutter just loud enough to reach his ears as he barely manages to lift his head, eyes locking to yours with a critical aching need consumed in his gazeâsomething you canât bear to pay no heed to. âlet me take you.â
who are you not to repay him?
your words come sheepish, timid, yet to him it hits with a newfangled ripple of unadulterated need searing ardently through his veins. you gesture to the edge of the bed with a tilt of your chin. he knows better than to ask how despite his struggle to credit the prospect of you taking him in any of the perverted ways that is on his mind. he heaves himself away from you. jointly, you find your way to the contrasting cold of the floorboards from the warmth of his sheets. the cold almost instantly dissipates under the contact of your knees as michael seats himself on the outskirt of the mattress with untrained eyes indulging in how your eyes look under the dim light as your attention flickers to his trousers.
and a rush of deep red amasses into his cheeks, mouth parted, yet producing no sound as he catches his breath at the fleeting recognition. âohâwait,â he says, his usual soft tone welling with uncertainty as well as a faint, almost eager undercurrentâwhich he canât veil when your eyes find their way to his once more.
âi canâtâŠâ he takes a deep swallow, âno, i canât let you do that, pretty, you shouldnât be down there doinâ somethinâ like⊠that,â he speaks already as though he floundered to make something articulate.
âyouâve helped me, haven't you? canât i do the same?â
he stammers as his head tries to conjure a valid reason against yours. âlet me, baby.â your hand taps his knee, a smile playing at his lips like it always does when you call him that, yet an unfamiliar, almost heated shiver wriggles up his spine at the tap of your finger. âi want to.â
his dire need garners and gluts his senses as the allure of your glim unwavering causes his reason to fail him, both mingling into something heâs impotent to reject. he parts his lips, though not without reluctance. âyouâre sure?â he asks, however, by this time, your leisure taps move into full-on caresses, and his limbs draw themselves tense. and before you could answer, your unplanned touch ignites a feeling that travels through his veins with haste. âah- ah, itâs⊠why is itâ why does⊠okay, okay,â he qualms as the emergent bulge beneath his pants begins to sore like heâs never felt before, his lower abdomen burning. is it supposed to feel like this? he didnât know it could get this bad, and embarrassment seeps through his bones.
with his wince and agreement, briskly, you tug on his pants as he lifts himself from the sheets so you can slide them off, the fabric leaving his skin also leaving a fire with them as ardour hums everywhere in his body. and as your hands make contact with the waistband of his underwear, an unmistakable wet patch that formed a while ago from his generous amount of precum visible to you, his mind, as well as his heart, racing.
his hands aviate to cover his face when you free him from the confinements of his briefs. as soon as the cold air hits him, his mind races a slew of protests.
youâre too pretty to be down there. this is so dirty. on your knees is so, so dirtyâas if he didnât just eat you out and would do it for hours if you just let him. what if you think itâs⊠i dunno, ugly? you shouldnât be doinâ something like this. he shouldnât have accepted, but how could he not when desire settles and rattles his bones? the words weigh on his tongue until he canât carry it any longer, lips parting to give way to his protest.
with such tenderness his heart aches, your plush lips wrap around his mauve tip, previously coated in precum with now your saliva, and the words lodge in his throat almost violently as a hearty wail ousts it. your eyes flick up just in time to view the hands shielding his face trembling and moving down, revealing his crimson-painted cheeks with his brows creased and oh, what a sight it is. his hands descend to steal a glimpse of your mouth around his length, and from the mere gander, a whimper slips his throat.
you have never thought of such about him when you finally viewed him. tip slick with so much precum, the mere sight already soaking you again, veins running prettily along his length. if heâd been looking at you earlier, heâd see the way you were gaping him with such awe. as if he couldnât get any more perfect, this sure solidified it.
you give him initially shy kitten licks on his tip, whimpers already spilling out of his mouth before you start lapping, savouring the taste of his leaking slit before moving downâthough not without taking a hefty inhale firstâhis big hands finding purchase in your locks.
the sight is so filthy to see. how you meld to him, engulfing his dick and letting him feel the warmth of your mouth, dim light shimmering in the shade of tears stilling in your waterline. his hands twine themselves in your hair and gently tugs as your hands wrap around the area you canât reach with solely your mouth. lifting your head up and off of him, your tongue traces along his prominent vein, applying pressure with which his head starts to swirl at as his hips jerk without his say. heâs grateful he didnât do that while he was in your mouthâuntil it happens.
your lips envelop him, bringing him back into the warmth of your mouth, swallowing him as your hand experimentally squeezes his base. before you could ask if that felt okay, his hips thrust up into your mouth again, and heâs immediately spewing apologies. he loves it so much, and youâll do it again if it means eliciting that mewl out of him again. you pull yourself up from him with a pop, hands working his shaft to replace the absence of your mouth.
âi didnât mean to⊠oh, âm sâsorry,â his words slur as your hand unwavers, and heâs sneaking his bottom lip between his teeth as you finding leverage on his shirt, yanking him toward you and colliding your lips together in a hot, muddled kiss, interjecting his effort to suppress the noises slipping from his lips so he could speak. his slick on your tongue transferring to his tastebuds spins his mind as a hand to your hair moves to your cheek.
your arm wraps around his neck, hand tugging on his shirt as he sets out a whimper to your mouth before complying, breaking off the kiss so he can lift his shirt up and over his head only to reattach your lips to his just as quickly as he hurls the fabric to who-knows-where in the room. you break it off once more. âstop apologizing,â you whisper, squeezing as you pump him, thumb rubbing along his prominent vein glossed in your spit, and a cry tears through him as he pulls himself back with his hands tangling in your hair again. licking a long stripe, your hands settle back near his base anew before you have him back in your mouth, unconsciously humming against him as vibrations shoot up his spine expels itself as a moan.
âth-that⊠that feels weird, mgh, do it again⊠please,â he mutters breathlessly. your cheeks hollow, and his head throws back as his oozing tip brushes the hind of your throat, his bottom lip quivering when you bob your earnestly. oh, you look perfect like thisâhair tussled from his tugs, lips moulded to his shaft, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed a rosy tint, peeking through your eyelashes to glance at his expression, eyes falling to his abs coated in a light sheen of sweat before shutting your eyes againâsomething he doesnât fail to miss.
ây-you have such a pretty mouthâah, feels soââ he blabs, cut short by his own whimper. his hips stutter at the feel of you rotating your wrist, one hand moving down from your scalp to caress your cheek, tracing along your jaw with gentle, yet jagged lines as he strains to keep his head steady. as his tip hits the back of your throat once more, you ardently fight your gag reflex, throat tightening around him as he fills with concern. âcan youângh,â he cries, âbreathe? o-oh, babyââ his hand draws taut in your hair, and when you peek up, tears are stinging his waterline. âbaby, please,â he pleads, voice cracking, âi canât⊠i donât wanna c-cum like this,â he divulges, gripping the sheets with his hand formerly on your cheek with a firm hold.
michaelâs arm, placed precariously behind him with his hand outward and grasping the sheets for poise, collapses as his strength leaves him, his elbow hitting the mattress. and generously, craving to fulfill his desires, you climb on the bed and move to the left of him as he discerns you with impressive haste, pushing himself back so his legs wonât dangle out of the mattress anymore.
propping your knees to either side of him, you hover your sopping cunt above his waiting dick as tenderly, he kneads the side of the small of your backâmore so for himself. and when he finally regards what youâre about to do, his object is cut short by his tip prodding your entrance, and your whimpers mingle with the burning aroma of the space.
gradually, sorely, you sink down into him, both of his hands flying to your lower back, nails digging divots into your skin as his cock twitches inside of you, forcing a whine from your throat. heâs filling you up, head falling low as whimpers leave you in strings. your hands head for his shoulders as gently, he brings you in until you embrace, tilting his head and whispering tenderly in your ear. âyâr doinâ so well, ma⊠jusâ a littleâ m-ore,â he coos, sighing barely through the latter, unable to mask the garbled moans that escape his mouth.
âo-oh myâmike,â you choke out, shaking with each inch you descend as your grip on his shoulders grow firm, then weak again. his arms tremble as they assist you in falling into him, whining dulcet in your ear as the feeling of being stuffed overwhelms your system before youâre to the hilt. you pant against his chest as he does your head, his hand tracing leisure, consoling circles to your skin.
the moment you finally pull off him, the sweat coating his torso clings to your shirt before you fully asunder. the hold you have on his shoulders linger as you begin to move, his breaths coming ragged and in a medley of bursts and drags. âhoh, youâŠâ he swallows deeply, âyâfeel sâ warm, so tight⊠oh, youâre sâtightâdidnât know it felt like this, oh,â he cries, and when your head lifts, tears are threatening to fall and lacquer a watery line down his cheeks. the sight alone makes you clench down on him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest and sending searing flurries of heat through his veins as you find your rhythm.
his hands work to guide your hips, bucking his up with every pummel he ushers from you, clit brutally bumping against his pelvis with each. his name falls from you, breathy and mingled with his plethora of babbles as your nails bore crescents in his shoulders, your eyelids fluttering shut and back open just to see the blissed out expression adorned on his comely face. his thumb caressing your inner hip falters when you roll your hips on him without his guidance, his hands tightening around you and rocking you down, and with it, a tear that was stilled in his eyes finally founders and leaves a line of salty liquid as it falls, then anotherâbut that one mixes in his sweat. the feeling of your walls suffocating him leaves him delirious, but the notion of you exhausting yourself up there pains him, and oh, he doesnât know how much longer he can keep still. and it doesnât at all take long for him to act.
his hands grasp stiff and unyielding to your hips, flipping you both and stealing you of your breath as he snaps his hips and rips a lewd sound that lands somewhere between a mewl and a cry from your achy throat. he grabs firm to your shirt and briskly pulls it up and over your head and off to somewhere in the room as swiftly as he had flipped you.
he gapes at you from this newfound angle of being on top of you, and it knocks a strained grunt out of his parted lips as he begins to move. âmikey, w-whatâah! mh, ke-keep going, pleaseâŠâ you sob as his dick drags in your gummied walls, melding each ridge and vein of him into you and stretching you impossibly more than you already have been. eyes ripping from yours, his burning stare is pulled to where you two join, and michael ogles at how his cock continuously buries and disappears into the warmth of your sweet cunt. each thrust forms a frothy ring of his precum and your arousal at his base, his eyes eagerly drinking up the sight before his fixation moves just slightly up.
his pupils blow wide when they land on the swell outline of his dick in your tummy, and from the sight alone he chokes out a strangled moan. âamâŠâ he pants as his hands move near your navel, âam i doinâ that?â he presses lightly on your abdomen as he bucks his hips a tad harsher than intended, and your body quivers, back arching off the sheets as his tip dotingly kisses your cervix, letting his head fall as well as his jaw.
with the shift in your positions, the feverish newfound angle has his cock hitting deep into the sponge tissue of your sex, and your mouth gapes. âth-there! right there, mikey, pleaseâŠâ your whimpers are drowned by the lewd noises of his pelvis slamming against your moist skin as his pace grows relentless at your spur.
all that consumes him is how your hot cunt sucks him in and the filthy squelch that comes with it. his dewy eyes dart between your disheveled face and the curve of his dick bulging from your stomach, and when your walls clamp down on him again, he shuts his eyes, the salty droplets that had settled in the rim of his eyes rolling down his rouge tinted cheeks and falling from his chin. âyouâre⊠yâr squeezinâ meâhoh,â he moans, head reeling as his hands hastily shrithe to envelope your torso, slogging to refrain from collapsing on you as he lowers until youâre wholly flush against his clammy chest. he strains a throaty mix of a huff and a whine against your cheek before smashing his lips onto yours in a searing kiss, his hand caressing your side and leaving heat where it was once placed.
each snap of his hips have him continuously ramming into and abusing the sweet dip in the inlay of your womb. the bedframe gashing the paint off the wall with every rock accompanies the wet plaps of skin slapping skin and the descants of your fused moansâsounds that send tingles through michaelâs bodyâsounds heâs eager to devour. his swollen lips trails wet kisses down to your lower lip, your chin, and to your jaw, and you let your head fall back only for michael to capture your lips in his again, your raised head only deepening the sloppy motions of your mouth against his, and you squirm as you struggle to keep up, for each buck of his hips swirls your head absurdly further.
his head falls into the dip of your neck, panting against your skin, your pussy pulsing around his length as your abdomen twists. âmh, mikey, hoh! âm s-sssso close,â you choke, hands clutching at his shoulders and the flesh of his upper arms as you clamp around him, suctioning his girth deliciously as he brings a hand to return to your belly, the pressure from his wring reducing your mind to a haze of nothing but him.
âi-iâm close too, ohmyâoh, wh-where should i⊠do i do itââ heâs cut short by his own cry and swallow, âinside? wanâ me to pull out?â
you claw at his back, only mustering a frantic shake of your head, holding him firm in place, his large hand once on your belly trembling as he takes a soft hold to your cheek. the rhythmic pace of his thrusts grow sloppy, overbrimming with primal need, to which your sight distorts âtil youâre convinced the whites clouding your vision are clusters of stars.
the hot coil in your lower abdomen snaps when he fills you to the hilt again, your body falling limp, cunt throbbing around him as ripples of pleasure glut your being, creaming his dick and gushing on the sheets as he helps you ride out your orgasm. michaelâs mouth hangs open, slurring a series of moans and incohesive blabs as he soaks in every contortion of your face, the bucking of his hips turning desperate. he buries himself in you wholly when his warm seed spills and earnestly coats your velvety walls in white, filling you so full with his release it shows with a mere glance at your tummy.
the both of you stay like this for a little whileâpanting against each otherâs skin as he stills inside of you, the dripping of cum spilling out your sopping cunt and droplets running down his length eliciting quivers out of you two until he slowly drags his leaking cock out of the warmth of your sex. âare⊠are you okay?â he breathes before raising his head from the comfort of the curve of your neck, meeting your dazed eyes as his thumb grazes your cheekbone.Â
his curls cling to the clammy skin of his forehead, eyes hazy and pupils blown wide, lips red and swollen. âmhm,â you hum, nodding your head as a smile adorns his elated face. with one last peck to your lips, he heaves himself up and off the mattress, heading to his restroom and back with a cloth before he settles himself between your aching thighs again. his cheeks flush a deep red upon the sight, shyly swiping the cloth to wipe away the mingled essences of the both of you, and as he progresses closer to your core, your body flinches and some of his seed seeps further out of you, and his teeth tug on his lower lip as he canât seem to pull his eyes away.
when he finishes up, he plants a tender kiss to your inner thigh. he then waits outside the door of the restroom as you use the toilet shortly thereafter. by now, you two are slunk back up, although hodieral in pyjama attire.
the moment he hears the twist of the doorknob and feels the wind prompted by the swinging of the door, heâs already on youâlips crashing onto yours in an untrained, yet gentle kiss as he devours each of your laughs, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips as he backs you into the bed and sends the both of you collapsing onto the plush pillows.
the last thing youâre able to recall is how his lips travel to your cheek, leaving sweet pecks in between âthank youâs before your eyelids give out on you.
đRISâĄáź â â áŻâ â this took me a little to write cause this is my debut fic on mjblrâŠ. i wanted to make certain i didnât get anything wrong golly. thank you SOSOSOSO much for reading and if you enjoyed it make sure to SMASH that reblog button
