Michael Afton x Reader smut fic
this is super late but ive been meaning to post this here forever and havent bc i was lazy but since i have a little serotonin today, here it is
Pairing: Michael Afton x reader
Content: shameless smutty smut
Word count: 2021
The kiss started slow, tender, but unsure. Michael was the more experienced kisser and seemed to take the reins easily, his hot, heavy hands holding your hips. Your lips quivered and you tried to follow his movements, albeit clumsily, uncertainty rampant in your mind. You wanted this—of course you wanted this. You’ve wanted this for so long.
But now that you have it—have him—the reality of it all begins to set in.
You’ve never been with anyone else, much less kissed someone before; Michael was more experienced than you, although it wasn’t like he slept around. He’s only been with two other girls in the time you’ve known him.
So now you’re left to wonder how—how could Michael like you like that?—and why.
How could you amount up to the other girls he’s been with?
Michael sank onto the edge of his bed, pulling you forward to straddle his hips and leaving you barely hovering above the now-obvious tent under his denim pants. The kiss deepened; you found yourself reluctantly parting your lips to give him access to your mouth. His hands left your hips, humming as you gave a quiet moan into the kiss, and they slid down your back and over the round of your ass.
Adrenaline coursed through your body, the blood pounding in your ears.
Michael grabbed a fistful of flesh and denim; he used it as leverage to pull you down onto his erection, and you let out a gasp in surprise. Heat flooded your body.
”Fuck, babe,” Michael groaned, his usual grumpy-sounding voice now husky and lust-filled; the sound of his voice alone was enough to make your knees weak. “I want you so bad right now.”
Babe. The magic word you never thought you would hear him say—at least, not to you.
“Please, Michael,” you begged through flushed cheeks, and broken, open-mouthed kisses. “You can have me, right now.”
Michael groaned again at your words; he broke your heated kiss and he looked up at you, his pretty, blue eyes locked onto you like a predator ready to pounce—ready to rip you apart and eat you from the inside out.
“I hope you don’t regret saying that, baby girl.”
Oh. You felt heat pool between your legs.
“I won’t.”
Michael smirked, and fuck, everything about this boy made you weak in the legs. His hands were hot on your skin as they teased the edge of your t-shirt. “God, I wanna fucking wreck you.”
Without thinking, you blurted, “Do it.”
“Maybe next time,” he said with a thoughtful hum. “I'll make you feel good, baby girl, but I’m gonna have my fill first.”
“Huh—” Your question was interrupted with a gasp as Michael lifted you up easily by your waist and threw you back onto his bed like you were nothing more than a sack of potatoes. It was easy to forget that he worked out often, what with how lean he was.
And you kind of loved how easy he could throw you around.
Suddenly, Michael was on top of you, leaning over you and his hair framing his perfectly-structured face—those prominent, high cheekbones and his strong jaw (those quality Afton genes). He attacked your mouth again, hot breaths mingling together as he dominated your mouth. He began to work your clothes off, starting by unbuttoning your jeans and yanking them down your smooth legs.
He moved down your body, callouses—from days spent repairing his father’s machines—rough against smooth skin as he caressed your body. The feeling of his hands was everywhere, and the sound of your soft gasps and whimpers from his touch drove him further.
“Michael—” you whimpered; your stomach fluttered, leaving you feeling dizzy and even a little nauseated.
“Shh.” He knelt between your slightly parted legs at the edge of the bed, and his hands came to rest on your knees as he eased them further apart. His fingers kneaded the soft flesh of your inner thighs, almost teasing, and making you ache with want. You felt his eyes on you, but you were too nervous to look back at him, instead resting your forearm over your eyes.
“Michael,” you said again in a whisper, “Please—ah!”
Michael pushed your panties aside. His tongue darted out from between his lips, teasing your aching, swollen clit with the tip of his tongue. You panted, reaching down to thread your fingers in his mop of hair.
He continued expertly, licking and sucking and the lewd, wet sounds of his saliva mixing with your own wetness made your face unbelievably hot. You felt your wetness trickle down your thighs with arousal to be soaked up by the cotton bedsheets.
“F-fuck, Michael—” You cried softly, and he responded by moaning into your clit. “God—” Your legs began to tremble, and Michael used his strength to keep your legs spread open for him as they began to close in on him. He went faster—harder, and you couldn’t help but to buck into his mouth.
When you came, it felt like the snapping of a rubber band that had stretched on for miles, but he didn’t stop; he dove in further, as if he were desperate to overstimulate you. You pulled frantically at Michael’s hair, keening and crying and begging for him to slow down, but the words on your lips turned into sobs and incoherent babbles of his name, spoken over and over again like a broken record.
Finally, he stopped, coming up off of your clit with a pop of his lips. Cum covered his chin, stringy and partially still attached to your core even as he moved to stand up.
“Strip for me.”
You didn’t need him to tell you twice. You sat up, legs still weak and shaking, and he watched with hunger in his eyes as you shed yourself of your t-shirt. Reluctantly, your bra followed soon after, joining your shirt and your jeans on the floor in a pool at your feet.
Although you were nervous to bare yourself fully to him, he had already seen your most intimate parts.
Michael followed suit, pulling his shirt up and over his head. He cleaned his chin with his shirt before it joined the other clothes on the floor. Then his jeans, and you found yourself eyeing the tent in his briefs with want, yet apprehension.
The briefs came down over his hips and his erection sprang to life. It wasn’t big, about average girth and length, although to your virgin mind, it appeared awfully big, and you had to wonder just how that thing was going to fit inside you.
Fully presented, Michael proceeded by digging through his bedside drawer. Inside was a few packets of condoms he always kept handy, for one reason or another.
He rolled the condom down his shaft with near-expert ease, and gave his dick a few pumps with his hand. “You ready, baby girl?”
You didn't know. You were beginning to doubt yourself, but you didn't want to back down now.
What if he didn't like being with you as much as the other girls he's been with? The insecurity would eat at you, knowing you weren't enough—weren't good enough.
Slowly and with uncertainty, you nodded your head. "I'm ready."
Michael settled himself above you and kissed your lips again, his cock stiff and hot against your slick folds. “Mm, you feel that?” He slid his cock against you, coating himself in the essence from your orgasm. “So wet, just for me—” You felt the tip of his cock press against your entrance.
Holy shit, this was really happening—
“Ah-!”
Michael pressed against you, his cock stretched you open until he reached the hilt, fully sheathing inside of you. It wasn’t painful like you had expected it to be—uncomfortable, at the most. But that uncomfortable feeling was quickly replaced with pleasure as he rocked against you, slow and shallow.
He let out a low, gutteral growl as he drew his hips back, slowly, letting you feel every dip and ridge of his cock until he reached the tip. He thrust back into you harder, his hips slapping obscenely against yours. “That’s it, baby.” Your cunt clenched around his cock at the sound of his voice rasping into your ear.
“O-oh my God,” you keened, grasping eagerly at his shoulders. You screwed your eyes shut.
You were so glad Mr. Afton wasn’t home.
Michael chuckled at you, a deep, masculine sound that made your heart flutter. “You like that, y/n?”
You bit back a moan and nodded your head. You still weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to do, or even how to moan and talk without it sounding ridiculous. Michael did it so effortlessly, the sound of his breaths and your name said into your ear making your whole body shudder.
Michael’s big hand seized your jaw; it was careful and gentle, as if he were holding fragile porcelain in his hands, clashing with the way he fucked into you forcefully and drawing filthy whines from your lips. “You like having my cock stretching that tight pussy of yours, don’t you?”
Your face grew warm; how could he speak that way while looking you in the eye? Too embarrassed to respond, you merely nodded your head, again.
“C’mon baby, talk to me—” He pressed your cheeks together, pursing your lips. “Maybe, ‘Oh, Mikey,’” He said, speaking in a mockingly high-pitched voice. “’Your cock feels so good inside of me!’”
"Michaewe," you tried to say, your cheeks burning hotter. "Stawppit."
"Awe, what's the matter, baby?" He teased with a laugh. "C'mon, say it. I wanna hear it from that cute little voice of yours—'Oh, Mikey'!"
He was really going to make you do this. The shame made your body feel hot, yet the way he spoke to you also excited you.
"Mikey," you started to speak, to the best of your ability with your cheeks pressed together. "Your… c-cock... feews... so good… inside of me."
"Mm, that's it, baby. Good girl." He looked at you smugly, and he stood to full height for a moment, pulling you close by the plush of your thighs.
You were in a sex-induced daze, watching him with hazy eyes as he forced your legs up, pushing your thighs together and back down into your stomach. He leaned over you again, forcing his weight onto your legs to hold them in place.
And then he entered you again hard and fast, and you cried in pleasure, your nails digging into his forearms.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Michael babbled; his handsome face contorted as he chased released. “You’ve wanted this too, haven’t you, baby?”
Yes.
Michael was getting close, beginning to fall out of rhythm and his moans broken.
“I’m gonna love fucking this pussy every weekend, just like I’ve always wanted to do. All those nights spent jacking my own dick when all I wanted to do was fuck you senseless.”
Please.
“And you’re gonna take it, aren’t you? I know you will—you’re such a good girl for me. Fuck, aah—!” His hips stuttered and he slammed against you, slowing with a few shallow, staggered thrusts as he spilled his seed into the reservoir.
For a few moments, all that was left was each other’s ragged breaths before he pulled out of you, leaving you feeling cold and empty while he discarded the used condom by his bedside. You laid with each other, simply basking in the afterglow of sex; he offered you his arm, allowing you to cuddle up next to him on his chest. His hand caressed your body again, up and down your waist and your hip.
“So… wanna go take a shower?”
“Like… together?” You asked breathlessly.
Michael’s chest shook with quiet laughter. “That’s what I meant.”
Your eyes slipped closed as you allowed yourself to catch your breath. You weren’t sweaty, but a shower wouldn’t hurt, at least to clean up before Mr. Afton got home.
“Yeah, sure.”
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