── .✦ soft as a feather, hard as stone
⊱ you fall asleep on pervybsf!michael's lap. 18+ mdni, consensual somnophilia, reader wakes up but pretends she's still sleeping, michael is dirty, groping, nipple play/ball play, some descriptions of reader being thick/curvy, big dick mike, oral (m!receiving), face fucking, fingering, you cum at the same time, half swallow, half facial.
michael was in a sticky predicament.
it was a typical movie night for the two of you– but your job had worn you down so much that you'd fallen asleep within an hour of the first. in any other situation, that would be fine. really, it would have. in fact, he would have curled up beside you and went to sleep himself; or maybe even waited patiently for you to wake up, pretending like you hadn't fallen asleep in the first place.
but you were spread on your side across the couch, and instead of your head being on the armrest, it was perched right in his lap. and sure, michael could still just sleep this way; sitting upright, back against the couch cushion and head hanging to the side. he could even lift your head and shift over, freeing himself from the confinements of being your personal pillow.
but then he ran the risk of you waking up, inches from the semi-hard tent in his pants.
and he couldn't sleep anyway, because every so often you would shift and your cheek would nuzzle closer, deeper into the fabric of his pajama pants– and his dick would give a little twitch and throb. he'd have to throw his head back and take three deep breaths in an attempt to push the urge away, but then he'd raise his head and his eyes would instinctively drift back to you.
deep breaths be damned, because the sight of you was straight from a wet dream.
you wore a loose tank– so loose that if he tilted his head to the right even a little, he could see that you weren't wearing a bra; could see the beginnings of your dark brown areolas in the divot your tank top created. and if he blew air from his mouth over you, causing goosebumps to rise on your shoulders, he could see the hardened peaks forming through the thin fabric. but that was only if he tilted his head to the right. only if he blew air from his mouth. and who's to say he did?
because he didn't! he was a good best friend, focused purely on the movie, and only that.
at least until you pulled your knees closer to yourself, your hips shifting up and then down as you get comfortable; causing a slight ripple throughout the fatty flesh peaking from the bottom of your pajama shorts. he only looked for a few seconds before his eyes drifted further down– to the bare press of your thick thighs. with every inch of skin his gaze traced, he could feel the blood rushing straight south, raising the tent of his pants more and more.
yeah, michael was in a very sticky predicament.
he leaned his head back again, getting through two and a half deep breaths before his body jerked slightly at the feeling of something wet. when he leaned over your body slowly, peering at how your mouth was squished open from the way his hard dick dug into your cheek, he could see a string of drool trailing down the corner of your mouth and creating a puddle over the front of him. and when enough gathered, he watched your spit trail down and down, starting from just below the top of his covered length and to the base of him.
michael sits back again, with a soft "o-oh," as he squeezes his eyes shut– attempting to erase the visual from his mind. though he freezes when you shift once more...
and when you continue to move for longer than usual, he rests a hand on your side, hoping to stop you from the way you're rubbing against him again– but it's a mistake; because when you finally settle with a contented noise, he can feel the warm and smooth expanse of your bare stomach from where his long fingers sit.
that little taste is the switch he'd been trying his hardest to avoid.
eyes peeled, he trails his hand from your stomach and over the hill of your hip– then down to the curve of your ass. michael pauses here, eyes flickering to your face to check if you're still sleeping, before he begins to softly grope you; groaning when he spreads his fingers wide and grips, not even holding half of the fat of your ass in his big hands. he does the same to your other cheek before moving, pulling the waistband of your shorts up until your ass is swallowing most of the fabric– ignoring each pulse and throb and twitch coming from his dick.
he moves again, slowly, back over your hip and side and forward, until his palm is covering your breast. michael pauses again, watching the rise and fall of your chest and the way your eyes stay closed, plump lips still parted. when he feels he's in the clear, he continues his administrations on your breast– kneading and rubbing, thumb flicking over your nipple and watching in fascination as your thighs press together, even in your sleep.
well, in what he thinks is your sleep– because you're very awake; hiding behind closed eyes and parted lips. you'd been awake from the first twitch of dick against your cheek, from the moment your head was pushed further as he grew harder with each touch. you fought not to bite your lip, drool still spilling from your mouth at the way he pinches your nipple between two fingers and rolls.
and michael planned to stop there, really. he wasn't that much of a freak. but when he moves so that his hand is resting flat against your breast, you pretend as if you're shifting in your sleep again– letting a quiet moan fall from your lips as you slowly arch your back into his hand, as if you're stretching. he only had so much self control.
michael waits until you're finished repositioning before he moves himself, fingertips teasing the top of your tank top and pulling down, salivating as more of your bare skin is exposed. he keeps his eyes on your breast as it finally slips free from the restraint of your top. within seconds his hands are back on you– everything feeling ten times better now that there's no fabric blocking your skins from touching.
your eyes roll back behind your eyelids as you force your body to stay still, clenching your thighs as discreetly as you can. soon after, the faded lights from behind your eyes grow darker, and the smell of his cologne grows stronger. you peek one eye open –the one closest to his lap– to see him beginning to touch himself.
you deserve a fucking medal from the way you bite your moan back down. he's so turned on from playing with your tits that he's started to palm himself, and if you strain your ears hard enough, you can hear the staggered breaths he lets out. really, you don't know how much longer you can pretend, because the wet growing between your thighs is becoming excessive. uncomfortable.
luckily, it doesn't take long for him to shift his hips forward, and slouch his back slightly further down the couch cushion so that your head falls towards his stomach– revealing the button on the crotch of his pajamas. one hand works to unbutton it in seconds before he's reaching inside and pulling himself out.
this time, you have to bite your lip to keep the sounds and saliva in as you peer at the perfection in front of you. from where your head rests, you can only see a little more than half of his length, and can only see glimpses of velvety brown and veins as he pumps himself slowly.
you shift again, unconsciously, because the hand at your breast is still working overtime –switching between nipples, pinching, rubbing, flicking– and the feeling is so overwhelming. a whimper leaves your lips.
michael freezes again– stopping both of his hands as his heart pounds, thinking of ways he can explain his way out of this. he almost can't believe his eyes as he watches your mouth part again, pink tongue darting out to lick at the base of him.
you're both silent, waiting for the others' next move. and when michael stays still, you figure the ball must still be in your court.
raising your head slightly, your tongue leaves your mouth again– this time licking a trail from where his fingers still grip to the ridge of his tip, swirling around it before you take his whole head into your mouth and suck; still giving kitten licks as you do.
michael's hand leaves his dick, shooting straight for the back of your head as he throws his head back and moans. the hand on your breast tightens with the pleasure he feels, trapping your nipple between his ring and pinky fingers– which in turn, makes you whine around the head of his dick. it's a non-stop chain reaction, because the vibrations has his hand pushing your head down to take him deeper.
you're unprepared, choking sounds ringing throughout the air and tears filling your waterline as his tip hits the back of your throat– but you recover quickly, tongue cupping the underside of him as you suction your cheeks and move up, then back down, creating a rhythm.
"ohh… oh, god…" he cries out, fingers gripping the strands of your hair. your hand flies up to cover the inches of his length that your mouth can't take, twisting and following the wet trail you leave with every bob. you watch through lidded eyes as michael's legs straighten, toes curling each time you reach his tip and give a harsher suck. he moves to plant one foot on the floor as his hand pushes down at the same time as his hips shift up, pushing himself deeper into your throat again. "m'sorry— too good—" he moans as you sputter, a pool of spit sliding down his balls when he pushes holds you down at the base of him, bringing the hand from your breast to wrap around your throat; feeling the bulge through the thin skin of your neck. "—breathe, baby, breathe… doin' so good for me."
when he finally lets you go, you pull your mouth from him– gulping down air as you work him with your hand. "so good, so good…" he sighs when he feels the wet heat of your mouth again, the vibration of your moan as he moves one hand back down your body, dragging your useless shorts down– just far enough for him to reach that sweet spot between your thighs. "don't worry your pretty little head, your best friend is — mmmm, just like that — gonna take care of you, okay?"
michael cups you from behind, all four fingers pulling away with a string of your arousal attached. "god, you love this just as much as me… you're s-so dirty, mama…"
he trails a finger through your folds, collecting your juices before probing at your hole at the same time as you bob your head up, licking at the sensitive skin where his head meets his shaft. his hips jerk up and his finger slips inside of you. you pull away from his dick to moan when another finger follows immediately, but he stops you with the hand planted on the back of your head– gently urging you back to him with a "shhh".
you continue like this for minutes more, your mouth filled with his heavy weight and his two fingers switching between shallow and deep pumps. but michael grows frustrated with the angle quickly, ignoring your whimper as he removes his fingers and grips the thigh resting on top, pulling it up until your legs are spread like a 'v'.
the upper half of your body stays the same, still sideways in his lap, but with your ass now against the couch cushion michael can sneak his hand over your stomach and right between your legs– wasting no time returning his fingers to where you need him the most. his palm presses firm against your clit as his fingers curl inside you, satisfied now that he can easily hit that spot that makes your whole body tense. you mewl around his dick, the vibration making him hiss through his teeth as you start grinding against his hand in pure desperation.
it doesn't take long for that knot to tighten deep in your belly– and wanting so badly to bring him there with you, you drop your hand to his balls and fondle them. you cup your hand around them and bring your mouth down to suck them in quickly, before going back to bobbing along his length, making sure your tongue licks at his balls with each drop.
"f-fuck yes— m'close," he groans, muscles of his stomach tightening at that familiar feeling. "this s'what our friendship needed, h-huh, mama? —be so much closer after."
you can't answer with words, only with a muffled moan as your grinding becomes more urgent– and when michael adds one last finger and presses his palm against your clit harder, the knot in your belly snaps, wave after wave crashing over you as your pussy clenches around his fingers. the squelching grows louder as he fingers you through your release.
"g-gonna," is the only warning he can give you as you feel the first pulse of his seed on your tongue. you swallow around him, taking what you can, but there's almost too much. you pull him from your mouth with a 'pop!', stroking him with your hand as the last few spurts cover your face. his cum drips down your cheek, across your chin, and you keep your mouth open– tongue hanging out to catch what you can.
michael's fighting to keep his eyes open, whines falling from his lips and chest heaving, as he watches his release paint your face.
if he thought the sight of you earlier was a wet dream– then the sight of you now was heaven on earth; shorts pushed all the way down to your ankles and his fingers still buried deep inside you, pussy lips glistening, bare breasts spilling out of the top of your tank, and your face flushed and covered in him as you meet his eyes.
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tags: @king-mila @deytimestar
