Michael Clifford Smuts

Not a chance

Michael Clifford is infuriating.

You’re trying your hardest to give him a chance, but he’s been absolutely terrible to you since the day you started tutoring him afterschool. His bad behavior ranged anywhere from making crude, out of line comments about your body (that typically made you blush), to showing up late to your sessions (you’d be waiting for at least a half hour), to snapping at you every time you tried to correct his mistakes (when he didn’t understand the material, he took his frustrations out on you).

But enough is enough.

There is no way you’re taking shit from a guy with pink hair. You did in fact care about Michael, but if he wasn’t willing to harness his potential, what else could you do? At this point, the kid is a lost cause.

Michael gives you plenty of time to build up your anger so when he finally strolls into the abandoned library, exactly forty three minutes late, you’re seething.

"Sorry I’m la—" He begins in that stupidly cute accent of his, running his fingers through his stupid pink hair, and showcasing that stupid "to the moon," tattoo.

"Fuck you," You hiss, nearly knocking over your chair as you stand up. You’re glaring daggers at the slacker and for once, he’s taken aback by you and your sudden outburst. You cross your arms over your chest.

"Excuse me?" You’re probably the most unthreatening creature in the world to Michael Clifford, who towers over your tiny frame. His shock fades into amusement as you continue your little rant. You’re kinda cute when you’re mad. You’re kinda cute, anyway. To be honest, tutoring always bummed Michael out because he knew you weren’t all that into him. His teasing was mostly harmless; he just wanted to get a rise out of you. It’s childish, yes, but he’s liked you for a while and he’s run out of ideas. For fuck’s sake, he doesn’t even need the tutoring anymore. He’s been passing chem for weeks.

"You heard me. All I’m trying to do is help you, but you treat me like crap. You’re wasting my time, Michael. I have a life too. So fuck you for taking me away from it." You go to gather your things but a sharp tug at your wrist brings you face to face with Michael’s band tee. You make a sound of protest as he lifts you up to set you on the table.

"Gladly," His green eyes light up mischeaviously as you try to mask your blush. Your dress rides up and Michael holds you in place with a firm grip on either of your exposed thighs. He squeezes gently, almost making you forget your frustration. Almost.

"W-what are you on about, Clifford?" You try to regain your composure, but it’s hard with Michael breathing down your neck and drawing shapes on your thighs. He inches his fingers further up your skirt with each sketch until he reaches your panties. That’s when his lips descend upon the column of your throat, lips feather soft against your skin. He purposefully avoids your mouth and kisses that special spot right under your ear instead. You quiver beneath him.

"Fuck you," His breath is cool against your sensitive skin. "I’d love to." He removes one hand from underneath your skirt so he can caress your cheek as he kisses you hungrily. There’s no hesitation, no awkwardness; it’s like your lips were made for each other. Michael explores your mouth feverishly, attempting to memorize everything about you in case this is just a spur of the moment thing for you.

"Wish you would’ve told me sooner," He says pulling away breathlessly, his chest heaving. He peels off his tee shirt and kisses you again with the same intensity, but to your disappointment he cuts it short to resume his mindless banter.  "Would’ve taken you out to dinner first." Michael abruptly hitches your dress higher, completely exposing your boyshorts to him. With a gentle hand on your throat, Michael guides you backwards until you’re resting on the tabletop. You feel his hand between your knees again and then he’s biting at your collarbone, making you gasp and arch beneath him, your nails scratching down his milky white back.

Then, your panties are around your ankles and Michael is spreading your legs nice and wide, looking up at you with lust filled eyes as he licked and sucked his fingers before thrusting them into you. Your back arches off the table and Michael forces you back down by slamming your bucking hips into the surface, causing its legs to wobble. You cry out.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked, fingers still pounding into you relentlessly. “When I’m rough with you?” Michael takes the fact that you’re still screaming as a “yes”. He chuckles darkly. The next thing you know, his face is buried between your thighs.

This was complete ecstacy. Michael’s tongue flicks against your clit like a pro, before he thrusting inside you with it, making you squirm once again. His grip on your hipbones becomes bruising, as to remind you to keep still. You let him work his magic for fear he might stop.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train. It starts as a tingling sensation in your toes and rips through you, a string of curses escaping your lips in its wake. You lace your fingers into his bright pink hair, making damn sure he’s still there as you ride it out. When the euphoria finally passes, you just lay there, stunned.

Michael stands up and quickly slides his jeans down just enough for him to free himself from his boxers. His naked cock presses against your entrance, thick, warm, and aching with desire. He enters you, hard and fast and you instantly wrap your legs around his waist, desperate for him to fulfill your needs.

He doesn’t disappoint.

Moans spilled from your mouth and Michael growls every time your hips collide. The table wobbles beneath you, squeaking, sounding like it was about to break. That, and the sound of skin slapping together fills the entire room.

“Michael, I-I’m so close,” You choke out as if your walls clenching around him wasn’t an indication. Within seconds, you’re on Cloud Nine again, your body flooding with heat. Your body goes into overdrive, clawing at his chest because he’s still pounding away.

"Fuck!"

Finally, his thrusts become sloppier and his teeth clamp down onto your shoulder and he spills inside of you and his breath is labored against your skin.

He leans in for one last kiss, sighing dreamily when you pulled away. He looks absolutely smitten with you and you aren’t sure if it’s because you just fucked on a library table.

You quickly make yourselves presentable again and there’s a bit awkward silence because Michael’s just standing there, giving you a stupid grin.

You roll your eyes. “What is it, Michael?”

"You just made all my dreams come true."

You scoff, hopping down from the table to grab your bag. “I’m so sure.” You start for the exit, leaving a dazed Michael behind. You curse yourself for getting caught in the heat of the moment. What if someone had walked in?

Michael catches up with you, desperately trying to convince you to stay. “Seriously! I like you. A lot. And I want to do this again. Every night.”

You whirl around to face him, scrutinizing his pleading eyes. “Not a chance,” You whisper coldly, shrugging out of his grasp. You just want to go home and scrub any remains of Michael Clifford away. You feel used… violated, because you know Michael isn’t one to fall in love with a girl like you. Regret washes over every fiber of your being. If anything, he just wants you for your body. You continue your walk of shame on shaking legs, continue to create a distance between you and Michael, continue to shatter his heart into pieces; the first of many times he’d see you walk away.

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Credit to : frondswithbenefits on tumblr x

I found this sexy af

i may or may not add some muke in to this cx

MUKE AF