I Fell out of Heaven to be with You in Hell Part 2
Sub!Michael x Reader
Summary: Reader experiences traumatic flashbacks of Michael’s past when they are intimate, so they consult his Ms. Mead. Little bits of humour in the beginning. The sex starts closer to the middle if you just wanna skip to that part. lol
First part can be found here.
Warnings: sub!Michael x Reader, young!Michael, fem!reader, smut, fingering, sexual intercourse, mention of post traumatic stress, mention of disassociation, talk of Christianity and demons, dirty talk, sexual tension, humour, fluff.
Word count: 4K.
Side note: I based the sex part off of my own personal experiences with boyfriends(two that is) I was in love with. Even the post traumatic stress part. My first boyfriend had an episode in the middle of us doing it and it really sucked... Anyways! *sigh* Can you tell I’ve been single for far too long? Cause I can lmao *I need help*
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One late night, in your room, you and Michael were in a pretty heavy make out session, when all of a sudden you were seeing flashes of a little blonde boy inside of your head. He was holding a bloodied, mangled cat and he was crying. An older lady, you assumed who was Constance, was scolding him but you couldn’t make out what she was saying. As if on cue, Michael abruptly pulled away, eyes wide with fear and shoulders tensed.
“I-I’m s-s-sorry! I didn’t know that was inside of me.”
You gaped. This never really happened before, you seeing intimate, hidden memories of his past. Memories he chose to bury deep. Memories he had long forgotten. You remember him telling you once, how his childhood was a blur, how it was too painful for him to deal with and how he somehow forced himself to forget most of it. This broke your heart. You loved Michael so much and couldn’t bare to imagine him in that much pain where he basically had to disassociate with it.
“Baby, it’s okay,” you soothed. You caressed the side of his face and lovingly took his hand into yours. It easily engulfed yours and you gave it a reassuring, affectionate squeeze. His shoulders relaxed.
“Why is this happening to me, (Y/N)?”
You paused. Ever since you two became sexually involved—which was months after you guys started dating, you would see instances of him when he was younger. They happened abrupt enough where you could only see flashes of his face and that was it. Never like this. This is was a full on scene and this was the first time you saw someone else, and Constance above all.
“Mmm, maybe it’s because—you know, that we’re intimate now?” You wondered out loud.
“But I don’t wanna remember those things,” he weakly spoke. His eyes started to water and his bottom lip quivered. Your heart sank. You scooted closer to him and wrapped both of your arms tightly around Michael, right away he buried his head into the crook of your neck and started to lightly sob. His body shaking against yours. You could feel his pain. It was too overwhelming. All you could do was to hold him close and tight. And you never wanted to let go. You absolutely hated seeing this beautiful young man of yours being rendered into a hopeless, broken little boy.
“Please make it stop,” his voice was muffled by your neck and it hitched as he sobbed harder. You felt so utterly helpless. He was in ruin.
“Shhh, it’s okay, Michael,” you kissed the top of his head and started to gently rock him back and forth. “We’re gonna figure this out, okay?” You felt his long arms hug you harder, as if he was holding onto you for dear life.
“I love you, (Y/N),” he was still sobbing into your neck, his tears soaking your sweater. You had to figure this out, whatever it took.
The next morning, the both of you sat nervously at Miriam’s kitchen table. Despite breakfast being his favourite, strawberry French toast, Michael didn’t touch his food. He coyishly played with his fork, knowing that he had to talk about something embarrassing with the one person he considered the closest thing to a mother.
Miriam sat down across the table and quizzically looked from you to Michael, who was clearly not scarfing his food down like usual. “What’s the matter? You love French toast, more than my first husband did.”
You apprehensively put your arms on the table and started playing with your fingers, not knowing where to start.
“Uh, we sort of have a problem...” you spoke hesitantly.
Miriam’s eyes bulged and she exclaimed, “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“What! No!” You and Michael both shouted in unison, quick to defend the obvious. You turned to Michael and he looked scared shitless. His face was pink. Clearly his dear Ms. Mead must of found out about the two of you having sex.
“Oh, dear Dark Lord!” she rolled her eyes and sighed heavily with relief, hand on chest in exasperation. “I know there’s supposed to be a backup, but that’s not for years, not until after you won the witches—”
“We keep seeing flashes of my past,” Michael cut her off. You could see him shifting in his seat, not wanting to say exactly how and when these flashes occurred. You took notice and cleared your throat.
“When we… er, are together-together,” you did air quotes, not wanting to say the dirty word in front of her. After all, she was your close friend and you were technically banging her adopted son. “We end up seeing memories of his childhood, the ones he forgot about...” You darted your eyes back down to your hands, closely examining the dark nail polish that was chipped.
Miriam was quiet. This made you nervous so you quickly looked up and she was deep in thought. She suddenly stood and walked around the table to her altar. You could hear books and trinkets being shuffled around until you heard what sounded like a heavy thud and something hefty being pulled out from underneath a heavier object. You turned and saw her holding a large, threadbare book that was titled in Latin. You only spoke English so you had no idea in hell what she was reading. She flipped through a few pages until she came across something that made her go, “Aha!”
Michael grabbed your hand under the table and squeezed hard, you gave him a reassuring look, hoping his Ms. Mead found the answer.
After she was reading, she explained how is father wanted him to remember his past. How it would fuel his powers and make him stronger, and the only way this were to happen was by being with you. When she said that you blushed. You knew Michael was special, but you? What’s so special about you?
She continued on about some Christian mumbo-jumbo that you had trouble following, but what you could get out of it, was that somehow you were the incarnation of Lilith or Awan or one of those demonesses; you were put here on Earth to shepherd Michael, the Antichrist towards full reign and terror of the Apocalypse.
You were stunned into silence. Michael was still holding your hand, albeit they were sweaty, he still held on tight. With the book still in hand, Miriam made her way back around the table and took a seat. Her head turned from you to Michael, then back to you, awaiting a response. She slapped her hands down on the table, startling you both.
“Well, I think that solves that there kiddos.”
Still nothing. Just shock.
Miriam heaved her chest, “C’mon, it’s not like I didn’t know what was going on!” Your cheeks flushed harder. “It was bound to happen, I just wasn’t sure when.” She laughed and you could feel Michael’s horror.
His mouth fell open, and shaking his head, he quickly said, “It’s not like that,” he suddenly stood up and you were forcefully yanked out of your seat as Michael still had a Terminator grip on your hand and you awkwardly stood up, trying to find your balance. “We love each other.” That last bit came out louder than he intended and his voice cracked mid-sentence.
You and Michael loved each other. You just never told anyone.
Miriam’s whole face beamed with joy at those words and before you could react she was hugging you both, her one hand in Michael’s hair as she playfully ruffled it. This was literally the most awkward sex conversation you ever had. You normally pride yourself on being comfortable with your promiscuity and sharing details with others, but this, this was weird and uncomfortable.
As soon as Miriam let go of the overly enthusiastic embrace, she grabbed her coffee mug and left the room, humming to herself. You and Michael—with his now messy hair, just stood there, gaping at each other. What the hell just happened?
It wasn’t until later that Miriam mentioned to you over coffee, how she found a condom pack in Michael’s jeans one day when she was doing laundry and how it made her smile. You spat out your coffee.
What the fuck.
You had to gently put it to her how yes, you two are close friends but discussing you and Michael’s sex life was off the table. She just laughed at this and said, it’s not like she bore him when he was a child. You had to sigh and just remind yourself to be, very, very vague about these things around her. The last thing you wanted was to picture Miriam standing in the corner of the room as you and Michael went at it. The thought of this made you shudder in horror. Why did you guys have to go to her? Why couldn’t you just pick one of the other Cardinals at the Church for advice? Ugh.
Unfortunately, this whole incident put sex off the table for a few days.
A few nights have passed and Michael was over watching Netflix with you. He was laying on the couch with his head in your lap and his hand conveniently resting on your thigh. You guys were watching The Omen 3, Michael had insisted on it. He was eager to devour every bit of pop culture that detained any reference to the Antichrist. You thought this was so adorable. He also insisted you do the same, after all, you were put on this earth to solely serve him. This gave you all sorts of warm fuzzies.
He was the Dark Prince and you were his companion. His partner in crime, as cheesy as it sounds.
And your dark prince was being mischievous. As he was slowly rubbing his hand on your thigh, it was gradually getting closer, and closer to in between your legs. You had no intention of stopping him, as this little abstinence period had you craving him more than ever. A dull ache had grown down there and you could feel your panties getting damp.
His pace was torturous so you moved his hand with yours up into the spot where you desperately wanted to be touched. With his head still facing the TV, he smiled.
“You’re such a little shit,” you teased and this only caused his smile to broaden.
You slightly parted your legs to make room for his large hand and he eagerly stroked you, lightly grazing the fabric of your underwear with his fingers. You tilted your head back and closed your eyes, stifling a moan. You swore you could just cum right then and there just by his simplest touch.
Michael continued to gently caress your heat, feeling it get hotter and more moist with each delicate stroke. He was reveling in this. Your eyes scanned his body and you could see a thick bulge form in his black jeans. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged. He was so good to you.
He suddenly stopped and you pouted. His head turned up towards you and with a breathy voice he said, “Take off your panties.”
While still sitting down, you hitched up your skirt and slide them off in one fluid motion, not wanting to waste any time. Michael sat up and just as they were off, he scooted himself next to you and his hand was back on your thigh. His soft, cushiony lips crashed into yours and it was like the first time all over again.
The same zap of electricity washed over your body, and you could literally feel the chemicals inside of your head crashing in waves. It was ethereal.
You pulled away slightly, your parted lips grazing his as the heat radiated between you. Catching each other’s breath in your own, you hovered your lips over his, taking him in. You let a hand rest on his upper arm, feeling how long and lean it was, how the veins seemed to protrude. It never ceased to amaze you just how hot Michael was.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Michael breathed. This sent shivers down your spine. He always made sure to never let you forget just how beautiful and hot he thought you were.
You moaned at those words and sank your lips into his in a passionate exchange. His hand roughly squeezed your thigh, marveling at your softness. He started to stroke your leg, inching closer to that certain spot. All of a sudden you could feel his fingers slide delicately in between your folds, revering in your hot wetness. You let out a long moan into his mouth. Michael was always so eager to please you. When the two of you first started having sex, he was so eager it was almost aggressive. You had to stop and chide him, telling him to slow down and how his eagerness was hurting you. You had to teach him, which was expected since you were his first (and by the sounds of it, his last), how to pleasure you properly. He was a fast learner . His eyes would go big and hungry like, earnestly drinking up every ounce of criticism you offered.
Now he was such a good boy to you, you didn’t even have to tell him. Also mind you, he started to develop his telepathy around this time so he was obviously using that to his advantage. You didn’t mind this, since it served you well. You’ve had a number of sexual partners in the past, but they all paled in comparison to Michael.
Michael was phenomenal in bed and partly because you were madly in love with each other. You knew that being in love always amplified sex to a whole new level. You’ve been in love a couple of times, but never like this. Michael was your twin flame. He was your person.
The kissing started to become more wet and sloppy, and fast as he quickened the pace down below with his fingers. He was fondling your clit and you could feel your arousal heightening. Not wanting to climax so soon, you put your hand over his to stop him and pulled your face away.
His mouth was still parted, his lips slick with saliva, red and swollen with lust. He slowly opened his eyes and they were so dilated they almost looked black. Without saying a word to each other, you both went upstairs. You took his hand and guided him to your room. All the lights were off except for a string of pink Halloween lights that strung above your bed. You laid your hand on his chest and softly pushed him onto the mattress. He moved to where he was sitting with his back against the headboard. He knew too well that this was your favourite position.
You suddenly straddled his lap, lowering yourself onto his still clothed erection. A pulse of energy shot between your legs and up into your core. You aggressively moaned and you could feel his whole body shudder with pleasure. Michael wrapped his strong arms around your waist and up around your shoulders, greedily burrowing his face into your chest. You gently rocked your hips and you could feel him sigh with ecstasy into you.
Arching your back, you pressed yourself deeper into him, letting his hard length stroke you through his jeans. His breathing hitched. The friction was making you so wet, you could feel the fabric of his pants become soaked with your juices. Michael gently lifted your sweater above your head and removed it, leaving you only in a thin t-shirt. He nipped at your breasts through the fabric and the tender area around your nipples, eliciting a cry of pleasure from you. Your hands found his hair and you affectionately pulled on his curls, letting him know how good of a job he was doing. He softly growled, you were all his and he wanted nothing more than to be suffocated by you.
In between nibbles he would look up towards you for approval and you would reward him with a deep, lustful kiss, your hips still humping him with an intoxicating pace. You could feel his member start to twitch. You stopped and removed the last upper article of clothing, exposing your tender breasts to him. He aggressively cupped them with his mouth, obscenely moaning with hunger for you.
The only sounds in the room was of the bed squeaking and two of you panting heavily, with the occasional sound of a wet, sloppy kiss.
You sunk your lips into Michael’s when all of a sudden you saw a flash of red, then you saw a beautiful, older lady—sprawled lifelessly on a couch, with a scotch glass loosely in her hand and a cigarette in the other. Then you saw what looked like Michael, but he was dressed much differently, he wore khakis and a colourful striped shirt. He was holding the older lady and crying for her to come back, how he was sorry. Constance?
You stopped and opened your eyes. Michael’s eyes were still closed and tears were spilling down. He didn’t open them and with such vigor that you never experienced with him before, he pulled you in closely. He kissed you with such tenderness it made your head start swimming again with chemicals. You felt this pain but you also felt this enormous gratitude he had for you. Even though he was suppose to be the antichrist, the amount of incredible warmth and love that was radiating out of him was absolutely divine.
Michael never kissed you like this before. No one ever kissed you like this before. It was on such a different level, the gulf between you and reality was palpable. You felt like your whole being was levitating into the heavens and Michael was right there with you. Or more like hell, if you may.
“Thank you,” he whimpered into your lips, his voice sounded different. It was needy and wounded and grateful all at the same time. You could feel his body shaking with emotion. Despite all of this, neither of you wanted to stop. You and Michael were too far gone and wrapped up in the moment.
Still having your legs around Michael, he shifted your bodies where he was laying on top of you in the missionary position. Your second favourite position.
In between heated kisses, Michael removed his shirt. You slid a hand down his smooth chest, across his abdomen and onto his now soaking wet jeans. Despite the emotional turmoil, he was still rock hard. You squeezed the shaft of his member through his pants and his jaw slackened as a loud moan erupted from him. He buried his face into the side of your neck and started softly gnawing on your skin, leaving the faintest of bruises. He nipped and kissed his way up to your ear, where he nibbled the earlobe. You squirmed under him. He knew all of your weak spots down to a T. You could loudly hear his heady breath in your ear and it only made you want him more. You couldn’t take it.
“I want you inside of me, Michael,” you exhaled. With that he gave you a long, profound kiss before he slid off his jeans and boxer briefs. His erection sprung out and was drenched in a combination of your wetness and his pre-ejaculate. He dug into his jeans and pulled out a condom. Without breaking eye contact with you, he slipped it on. He lined himself up at your sultry, swollen entrance, gently pressing into your opening just the way you like it. Your head fell back onto the bed, mouth opening and closing. Michael cradled your head in his arm and pressed his forehead into yours. While looking deep into yours, his eyes bore those same holes as they did when you first met him, down right into your soul. His hips bucked forward and he slid into you, filling you right up with a burst of sensation.
“Michael!” You loudly gasped, no matter how many times he entered you, you were always taken aback by the severe amount of pleasure and how he seemed to fill you up just perfectly. As if you were made for each other. Two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together.
With unwavering eye contact, he slowly pumped himself into you, making sure to feel every inch of your innermost walls. He began to pant and whine with each thrust. Your hands wrapped around his smooth, soft back. You could feel how his body temperature was rising. Sweat slicked his hairline and a bead of moisture fell onto your face. You opened your mouth, letting yourself taste him. The taste and smell of his pheromones inebriating you.
The tip of him hit your cervix and you yelped with delight, your fingernails digging into his porcelain skin. You dragged them down his back, making sure to leave scratches. Michael arched his back and obscenely groaned. He loved it when you marked him, it always gave him loving reminders how he belonged to you.
Michael pressed his mouth into the side of your face and panted, his voice hitched with ecstasy, “Can I go faster, baby?” You nodded and as he quickened his pace, you let your hands slide down to his ass and you clutched his cheeks, wanting to feel his hips buck in and out of you with each push.
Your bodies were entangled with each other in perfect harmony. Each breath, each kiss, each stroke of his penis sent you closer over the edge. Now all you could hear were the wet, pounding sounds of your bodies, laboured breathing, and the smell of each other’s sweat. His moans turned into blissful whines as he was nearing his climax. There was not a sweeter sound in the world.
“You’re such good boy, Michael. I want you to cum for me,” you exhaled. Your voice heavy with lust.
Just as you spoke those words, your whole body tensed and your vision blurred, you were seeing stars. Your whole body was on fire and you could feel this thunderous wave of energy course through your being. You tightly wrapped your legs around Michael and squeezed your inner, spongy walls around him. Feeling this enormous amount of energy being released from your core and into Michael, your orgasm was so intense, not a sound was to be heard, despite having your mouth wide opened. All you could do was hold onto Michael and ride out this high with the man you love.
Right as he felt you clench around his length, Michael’s jaw slackened and his lips parted further, making a perfect O. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and you could feel the vibration of his groans inside of your body. Both your bodies tensed with rapid concessions of pleasure.
“(Y/N),” he whined as the last wave of his orgasm washed over him. He went limp in your arms and rested his face on your chest. Both of you panting and trying to catch your breath. You could feel his heartbeat race a mile a minute through his chest, like gears of a clock. You ran his hands through his soaking wet curls and kissed his damp forehead.
“That was incredible!” Michael gasped after he finally caught his breath. His arms were loosely wrapped around you and he just basked in the glory that was you.
After several silent minutes of lying in a tangled mess of sweaty limbs and crumpled sheets, the two of you properly got under the covers for the night. Michael was worn out and had his back to you, already fast asleep and snoring softly. Usually he never got this tired after sex, but considering the traumatic recollection of the night, him crashing out completely was a given. You snuggled up to him, wrapping an arm tenderly over his waist. You kissed his shoulder.
With a smile you said, “Goodnight, my antichrist.”