#switch!mike

While the sun dipped gently between pillowy white clouds, Michael andyou sat in your garage listening to side A of Songs in the Key of Life by Stevie Wonder. It was your first successful attempt at creating your own cassette tape, and you convinced your boyfriend to take the evening off away from record executives to listen to it and a few others. Of course, that meant you’d want to smoke some weed, so Michael basically forced you to leave the garage door open, not wanting to get s secondhand. Crickets chirped in conversation while the summer night’s breeze tickled across your skin, causing the hairs on them to stand rigid.

“God, he’s just got the most insane falsetto, doesn’t he?” Michael mused as the vocals dripped out of your boombox.

“Mm, yeah. ‘Specially with this,” you jumbled while you held smoke in your lungs, waving your half smoked joint at him. You blew out another puff, smiling up at the ceiling as you watched the greenish-grey smoke curl about the air up there. You could swear the visual of smoke was a perfect representation of how the music felt in your ears. A giggle escaped your throat before you could even register that you’d been staring up so long, your eyes starting to dry out.

“What’s so funny?” Michael asked as he looked at you somewhat cautiously. He’d been around while you’ve smoked a handful of times, but this time you seemed…different. More affected. Your head was lolling back on the couch every time you tried lifting it up to look at him.

“I see the music…It’s so…” you broke into another fit of giggles, finding your thoughts funny enough to bring thick teardrops to your eyes. “Bugs, this feeling…I can’t explain it, but everythin’ feels so picturesque and important right now. The music…so pretty.”

“Uh-huh…I think it’s all a mind game from the weed, girl. You just seem pretty high.” He shook his head softly, resting a hand on your thigh and caressing it to ground you.

“No, you don’t understand. Yes, it’s the weed, but it makes everything so much better. I need to smoke sativa more often,” you stated as you finally looked over at him, his big brown eyes boring into yours.

“I thought you smoked weed?” he questioned with a scrunch of his brows. You broke out into a chorus of laughter, his innocent response tickling you.

“That is weed, silly! They’re just different plants,” you responded, booping him on his nose.

“Oh, ha. What do you usually smoke?” he replied, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Indica. Sativa makes you more excited n’ hyperactive. Indica relaxes you n’ mellows you out.”

“Is that why you’re actin’ so different?”

“Yeah, I feel like a ball of cotton candy right now.” You turned around and leaned back, placing your head in his lap. “Before you say anythin’, I know that doesn’t make sense.” You took one last drag of your joint, holding the smoke in your lungs a little longer, tickling your insides as you exhaled it out.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry!“ you exclaimed, frantically waving your hands around to clear Michael’s personal space of the smoke. You blew it straight to his nose like an idiot.

“No, it’s fine. I was gonna ask…can I try it?” he asked with a soft grin on his face.

“You sure? You don’t feel the need to just ‘cause I am right? Did I accidentally peer pressure you? Shit, I’m such—”

“Baby, stop. I’m just curious, is all. I’m in my twenties n’ I haven’t even smoked a cigarette, just lemme try it?” he interrupted. You sat up and handed the joint to him cautiously, eyeing him to make sure he didn’t change his mind.

“‘Kay, but it’s a lil’ strong, so just take a tiny one. Your lungs are still virgins,” you joked as he followed your instructions—kinda. He pulled smoke into his mouth and blew it back out almost immediately, holding eye contact.

“Nothin’ happened,” he said, disappointed.

“That’s ‘cause you have to breathe it into your lungs, dumbass! Do it again,” you teased him.

“I knew that! Jus’ wanted you to tell me what to do,” he pouted, clearly lying. He attempted his second hit and followed your instructions properly this time, holding the air in his lungs a little longer than you thought he should’ve for his first time. Just as you were going to make him breathe, he blew the marijuana from his lungs with a lazy smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.

“Wow, it tastes weird. Like nature and…is that lemon?” He turned his head as he asked, coming a little too close to your lips in the process. “Oh, hi pretty.”

“Hi, gorgeous. How you feelin’?” you asked him as you took the joint from his long fingers. You dragged in another hit, realizing your high almost buzzed away as you took care of your boyfriend.

“I’m feelin’ great. You…Yeah, weed definitely makes things better. You’re so pretty,” he said as he stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time. You left his side to put the joint out in the ash tray on your coffee table, reaching down as you did so. Unbeknownst to you, Michael was eyeing your ass without a care in the world. Grabbing ahold of the garage door remote next to the tray, you hit the clicker to close it, as the sun was almost fully obscured by the horizon.

Michael was a bit too quiet during it all, so you hurried back to his side to make sure he didn’t green out.

“Still feelin’ good, baby? You’re so quiet,” you questioned, pecking him on his cheek.

“Yeah, ‘m just real into you. You get prettier the more I look at you…How’re you doin’ that?” he asked earnestly.

“It’s definitely the weed’s doing n’ not mine. Ugh, I’m so jealous! I wish I could experience bein’ high for the first time again,” you pouted.

“Can I kiss you?” Michael asked suddenly, seemingly too lost in his own head to have paid attention to what you were rambling on about.

“Of course. Y’know that’s better when you’re high, too?” you asked with a wiggle of your brow.

“Lemme try it out then.” He cradled your cheek in one hand and your waist in the other, crashing his lips into yours.

You’d never felt so high in your life. Your head was swimming with the marijuana and Michael’s presence. Every movement of his lips and his tongue felt like another hit of the joint—euphoric and heady.

The noises eliciting from his throat only added to the pleasure. Every whimper and whine came out like he was surprised that kissing could be this enjoyable. He bit your lower lip and then pulled away abruptly.

“My God. This is…I never wanna stop. How d’you you stay so calm when you smoke? I feel like an animal,” he expressed through labored breathing. His eyelids were heavy with want and the marijuana.

“I’m not always calm, just more experienced at hidin’ it.” You gave him a kiss on the neck, fully letting the unsheathed lust take over you now. “You feel like an animal, huh?” you questioned seductively.

“Y-yeah,” he squeaked out, sounding nervous. You separated your lips from his neck, looking him in his chocolate colored eyes.

“And why do you say that, Michael?”

“Because I wanna…” He gulped audibly, anticipating the feeling of your fingers slowly crawling up the length of his neck.

“You wanna what, pretty boy?” you teased, stopping your fingers right under his chin. “Speak up.”

“I wanna be all over you. Y’know, like in a sexual way. Is that okay?” he asked genuinely. You grabbed onto his jaw and brought his face closer to yours.

“Yeah? Wanna touch me, baby?”

“Please? Can we kiss ag—”

You interrupted him by colliding your face with his, throwing your leg over his lap and settling onto him. The force would’ve knocked the wind out of him if he wasn’t so calm. You slid your hand from his jaw and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your breasts against his upper chest and lower face in the process. Your mouth still tasted like the flower, and he felt consumed in the best way possible.

“Y-yes, jus’ like this,” he whimpered when you broke for breath. His hands groped everywhere he was coherent enough to; your thighs, the back of your head, your waist, and then your ass. The feeling of his hands there caused you to grind absentmindedly, your inhibitions basically nonexistent. He groaned heartily into your mouth.

“Can I put my face in them?” he asked suddenly, flitting his eyes between your own and your boobs peeking out the opening of your tank top. You very noticeably got wetter at that and looked down at him with stars in your eyes.

“Yeah…” You grabbed him by the back of his neck and pushed him in as he moaned into your chest, inhaling the scent of your body lotion and the weed coating your clothes. His hips jerked up into yours at the feeling of a giggle escaping you; your tits pushed into his face farther as your body responded to it.

“Mike, you’re so h-hard, fuck.” Your hips ground against his harder, desperate to relieve both of you in the process. You slid your arms from around his neck and gripped his face with both hands, yanking him away from your tits. “I wanna taste you, Michael.” His eyes widened comically at your admission.

Something was different about your behavior, though. You seemed…less assertive. You even pouted at him a bit, which he wasn’t expecting.

“P-please, can I?”

Was he hearing right? Did you ask for permission? He stared at you dumbfounded.

“Michael? Can I please suck you off?” you tried again, bucking your hips harder. You didn’t even have it in yourself to feel embarrassed by how desperate you were acting. Every fiber in your being wanted nothing other than to be on your knees for him in that moment. It’s funny, him being so submissive made you feel sort of submissive in turn.

“Yeah, mama. Just never heard ya ask before. You okay?” Michael eyed you as you sunk onto your knees on the plush carpet before him, bewildered by the change in power. You licked your lips hungrily as you unzipped his slacks before answering him.

“Mhm. I just wanna show you how good you can feel. Let me.” A hint of dominance seeped out at the end there, soothing his nerves. You stood up on your knees a bit higher as you rushed his pants and briefs down, impatiently ready to strip him nude. His heavy dick slapped against his abdomen with a thick pthck! He was leaking heavily and he was big. Instead of being intimidated by his size, you took it as a challenge.

“Your dick’s so pretty,” you complimented him, meeting his gaze through heavy lids and thick lashes. “Just wanna swallow you whole.”

“Mama…’M shy,” he whined, leaning his head back. You took him in both hands and stroked him teasingly slow.

“Look at me while I do this, baby. I wanna see if ‘m doin’ a good job.”

His eyes looked back into yours, then caught on to the sight of your hands stroking him. The contrast of your neat, clean, manicured fingers doing something so obscenely dirty made his dick spasm in your palms.

“You like when I do this to you, Mike?” you asked. At first he thought it was to tease, but he then realize you genuinely wanted praise, and something flipped in him.

“Yes. You’re so good at this, mama. Perfect,” he sighed out.

You let out a soft hum of contentment and brought his leaking tip to your mouth, sticking your tongue out to let a droplet of precum land on your tastebuds. As it sunk into the wet muscle, you groaned obscenely and took his tip into your mouth immediately, all while maintaining eye contact and stroking where your mouth didn’t touch.

“Oh! Yes. God yes, feels so…!” he babbled out. His hips bucked up a little. “Take more, pretty. Need more,” he instructed awkwardly, not used to the switch in dynamics. You obeyed anyway, shoving the thick length of him further into your mouth as you hollowed your cheeks, drooling onto his pelvis.

You took his order almost too literally, forcing yourself to swallow him as far into your throat as anatomically possible, still massaging the inches that couldn’t fit with your hands. You gagged as his hot tip nudged your uvula, causing tears to prick into your waterline.

You sniffled around him as you held it, enjoying the look of pure bliss on Michael’s face. His jaw was completely slack and his left hand was suspended in the air in between you two, seemingly wanting to grab onto something but being too far gone to complete the action. You flattened your tongue and dragged it up his base, as you bobbed your head up and released his dick from your mouth with a loud pop!

“Say somethin’,” you whined to your overwhelmed boyfriend. He snapped back into focus and used his suspended hand to thread his fingers into your thick hair and grip the back of your head.

“You got a real dirty mouth, mama.” He watched as you looked up at him for approval, precum and spit sliding down your chin and tears drying under your eyes. “Again?” he moreso suggested instead of directed. You nodded your head passionately and let his massive hands guide you back over his tip, this time placing your hands flat against his bare thighs as you focused on relaxing the muscles in your throat.

“Good job, baby. You’re takin’ me so well,” he cooed as he watched you work your mouth around his thick base. He could feel your throat constrict and then detract as you bobbed up and down precariously, trying not to trigger your gag reflex.

You pressed your hands into his lap as you pulled your head back up to his tip, letting your throat free up for some air. Another whine escaped his mouth at the crude sight of you, and his eyes caught sight of his precum sliding in between your breasts.

Before he could comment on it, you swirled your tongue in between the slit in his tip and began bobbing your head against his dick faster, milking his arousal between each slurp. You went further and further as the spit and his slick spread around his sex, lubricating enough to make him slide into your throat with ease.

“My goodness, baby. C-can see me in your throat,” he whimpered as he saw the prominent fullness in your neck every time you sucked him in further. That elicited a moan from you, causing the sound to vibrate from his dick to his lower stomach.

You dragged your hollowed mouth up his length and popped off of his dick once more, with a request.

“Cum on my face?”

He nodded in a trancelike state, completely hypnotized by your sweet voice, the marijuana, and the crackling of the boombox; now stopped, waiting for the cassette to be flipped to its B-side.

“Gonna paint a picture on you,” he whispered softly as he stood up, positioning his pelvis in front of your awaiting lips. “Stop me if it’s too much.”

You nodded your head as you reached up for his sex, pumping him a few times before taking him into your hot mouth once more.

Michael grabbed your head with more fervor, setting the pace by pushing and pulling your drooling mouth around him. His long thumb from his free hand came up and wiped a tear from your eye as he cooed at you gently.

“Wish you could see how p-pretty you look like this. Doin’ such a good job,” he complimented you, much to your own enthusiasm.

Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you coughed down a few gags when he hit the sensitive part of your throat again. Through teary eyes, you could see his own fighting to stop from rolling into his skull as his orgasm approached. You took one hand and jerked the size of him that couldn’t fit, then massaged his balls, coaxing him to his release. Your other hand was occupied scratching up and down his thigh, grounding him for his peak.

“I-I’m gon—” He yanked you back watching the drool that connected you to his sex snap and land on your chin, and fisted himself impatiently, on the brink of letting go.

“Give it to me,” you commanded before sticking your tongue out, and that was enough to get him to let go.

He came with an uncharacteristically high screech, painting your face, your collarbone, and your tits with his release. The vision beneath him compelled him to drag his orgasm out, not ready to let go of the sight. Everything about the way you sat waiting for him, mouth open, felt like a dream. Reluctantly, he slowed his pumping to a stop and sat down, growing sensitive and his wrist cramping.

As he let go of himself, you licked your lips and reached out and grabbed it to place a tender kiss to his tip, causing him to shiver at the overstimulation. You then took your thumb and swiped it over the droplets that covered your face, taking it into your mouth and sucking it clean as he watched in silent awe. When you were done, you looked up at him expectantly.

“How was it?” you asked him slightly coyly.

“Baby, I…That was perfect. You did such a good job,” he praised enthusiastically as you stood up. He kicked his pants and briefs off his ankles completely and tilted his head at you.

“C’mere,” he said, grabbing you by the the hand and leading you down into a kiss. You kissed back noticeably needily, causing him to realize just how much of your own physical pleasure you pushed aside to accommodate his. He snaked his free hand down your waist and onto your ass, placing it into your jean pocket possessively.

“Can I take your jeans off?” he asked you lowly, resting his forehead against yours.

“Aren’t you tired?” you asked him with a frown.

“Didn’t your jaw hurt? Wasn’t I makin’ you gag n’ tear up?” he retorted.

“Yes, but—”

“But nothin’. Lemme return the favor. Please,” he begged.

“Okay…Here.” You stood up more erect and guided his hand from your pocket to the zipper of your jeans. He took the hint and undid it, smiling at you gratefully, and pulled your jeans down your soft legs. He made eye contact with the patch of moisture on the crotch of your baby blue panties and sucked in a breath.

“Oh, you’re so—Did I make you this wet?” he asked, voice full of surprise.

“Yes. You always make me this wet, pretty boy. Feel it.”

He took his thumb and grazed it against your clit, making you whine at the contact.

“You need me, mama?”

Jesus, his delicate voice was gonna be the absolute death of you.

“S-so bad, Mikey. Need you so bad,” you whined pathetically.

He hooked his index and middle fingers into the hem of your soaked underwear, dragging them down the expanse of your thighs while you watched him in utter lust. If he didn’t have the weed in his system to aid any nerves, Michael would’ve gotten self-conscious by your heavy gaze.

A feeling of pure hunger was starting to envelop you as he helped you step out of your garments and pulled your bare lower half toward his mouth. As much as you loved when he ate you out, your body was craving something else. You wanted him in you.

“N-no. I want you to fuck me,” you stumbled out. “From the back.”

His eyes nearly lodged themselves from their sockets at the admission. If he weren’t already half hard, his dick would’ve flown straight up from your words.

You watched your words dawn across his face with your bottom lip lodged between your teeth, and sat on your hands and knees in the space behind him on the couch, waiting.

“Hurry up baby, I’m drippin’.”

Dazed, he got on his knees and positioned himself behind you, stroking his dick to harden it some more. You could hear the slippery sound behind you and looked back, clenching around nothing at the pure erotica.

“Mm, love it when you touch yourself like that for me,” you remarked, voice laced with desire.

He scrunched his brows together and squeezed his eyes shut, steadying himself on the arm of the couch in front of you with his free hand.

“I’m gonna push in. Just lemme know if it hurts,” he whispered into your ear above you. You could feel the heat radiating from his crotch as he hovered over you. Restlessly, you pushed your ass onto him, wordlessly telling him to hurry the fuck up. He obliged immediately.

The stretch was pure rapture, pain and bliss all in one engulfing motion. Your entrance cried for him as he slowly willed himself deeper and deeper, tugging him to your g-spot in one agonizingly slow thrust.

Cries of pleasure and overwhelm filled the stuffy garage, and the small amount of trapped smoke circulated through both of your lungs and back out as carbon dioxide, creating a heady feeling that pushed you both towards the brink of otherworldliness. Everything felt so unreal, yet so present at the same time. There were no accurate words.

Michael retracted his hips after a moment of stillness and kissed your shoulder in an action of devoted love. You shivered at the touch.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ huge,” you hiccuped out, grabbing onto his forearm.

“You’re so warm. I didn’t know it could feel like this,” he sighed as he unsheathed himself halfway. Feeling your walls squeeze for him, he stuttered his hips forward again, this time faster and harsher, and the slap of your ass against his thighs made him see stars.

You cried out and arched your back, dipping your chest lower onto the cushions as you felt your strength wavering. The new position made you both react in wonderment and he picked up his pace, digging his fingers into the soft skin of your waist and pounding into you harder.

“Ple-ase. Need you closer. Please, please,” you begged, reaching back in an attempt to pull him on top of you as you slowly sunk your legs down.

Michael, still keeping up his brutal rhythm, trailed his hand from your waist, wrapped it under your shoulder, and curled his arm around it, as he slumped onto your back. His hips rutted into yours sloppily, like he was learning how to fuck for the first time, but his tip kissed your g-spot expertly with each jut. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge by the second.

“I love you s-so much. Am I doing good?” he asked you in between a poorly covered sob.

“Shh, shh. You’re doing so well, my love. Feels so—fuck! I’m so close, baby,” you cooed to the best of your abilities. You could feel your mind slipping into oblivion, your subconscious taking over as you felt yourself near your peak.

He dropped his hand from the armrest of the couch and trailed it down your side, pushing down on the couch cushion by your hip to make enough space to reach under your stomach. He used that limited space to squeeze his hand between your clenched thighs, searching for your sensitive clit, never easing up on his thrusts.

You turned your head on its side and bit his arm, while he mumbled out unintelligible praises and thank yous.

At one particularly synced thrust to your g-spot and rub of your clit, you tore your mouth away from his arm and shouted out, squeezing your core around him and and spilling your release onto his thighs and the cushions underneath you. His torso was sticky in a mix of both of your sweat, and you could hear him pant and whine into your ear as he picked up his speed, trembling on top of you.

“Michael!” you moaned as you felt him speed up impossibly faster.

“A-almost there, baby. Lemme cum inside. Please?” he sobbed, and you could feel hot tear slide into the crevice of your neck. “Please, wanna give—”

“Fill me up, Michael,” you coaxed him alluringly.

“Yes, o-okay. I’m gonna—”

He shoved himself unrealistically deep, and you could feel the bulge form in your lower stomach from the welcome intrusion. A hot, thick spurt of liquid shot into your throbbing core as he came around you with a cry that sounded like something between a confession and a prayer, your name continuously flying from his lips.

You peppered kisses to his shoulder as he shivered on top of you, attempting to steady himself from the overstimulation of two profound orgasms back to back. You felt higher than ever, despite the high from the weed having worn off somewhere between the loss of clothing.

“I love you, Michael. Did you enjoy yourself?” you asked him timidly, hoping you didn’t overwhelm him in a negative way as you chased for your own release.

Taking a deep breath, he unwrapped his arm from your shoulder and heaved himself away from your spent sex, pulling out with a whine from the both of you. He stood up and grabbed his underwear from the fluffy carpet, sliding them on with a content smile and shaky legs. He found your damp undies and helped you sit up on the couch to put yours on as well, before sitting down next to you.

“That was…Everything felt enhanced? I more than enjoyed myself,” he mused.

“Told ya! It was the weed,” you retired with a grin.

“Can you smoke some more n’, like…blow it in my face? I didn’t like the taste or how it burned my throat, but I kinda liked how it made me feel.”

“What the hell? How you gon’ make me do all the work for the both of us?” You shook your head with a soft smile on your lips. “Fine, but let’s clean up and shower. I’m doing it in my room this time.”

“I love you,” he teased, placing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“I love you too, poser.”

Tags: @simp4eshal @urbanfunkchild @slugstarzz @cndybliss @yenvixx @plumppies @lil6uapa @etherealmikeyj @saiki-enthusiast @kottonkanditits @gyuuchuuu @ggformike @cherubae111 @strangerexee @softchaosdiary505 @devynrulesboisdrool @applehead444 @screammv @ilyliberiangrl @thrillerpilled @loveposiie @deletedkisses @freakinme @melaninswift

The room is steeped in that sort of thick, velvety darkness that only exists after the late nights, when the rest of the world has finally settled down and gone quiet. The only light visible was the thin silver line of moonlight leaking through your half-drawn curtains, painting a pale stripe across the rumpled sheets and the curve of your hip. Your bedroom smells faintly of the cocoa butter lotion you put on earlier and the warmer, sleepier scent of your own skin.

You’re lying on your side, then your back, then your side again, unable to settle in the comfort of your own room. The sheets are chilly up against your bare legs; the nightgown you pulled on has ridden up your waist, leaving the soft skin of your lower stomach and the lace edge of your panties exposed to the night air. One arm is stretched above your head, fingers loosely tangled in your pillowcase. The other rests low on your belly, thumb absently tracing slow circles just above your waistband.

Outside, the street is almost silent except for the occasional distant car or the soft creaks and pops of the house settling under you. Inside, every small sound feels incredibly amplified–the quiet thrum of the ceiling fan, the soft tick of the clock on your wooden nightstand, the faint rustling of fabric every time you shift.

It was the year 1979, and your bedroom surrounding your presence was ideal in a time like this. The wood-paneled walls are the color of warm honey, a painting of two angels hung above your headboard, and that exclusive smell of patchouli mixed with the last traces of your peach Lip Smacker. The lava lamp to the other side of you was a bright amber glow, its slow blobs leaving lazy pink shadows on the panels of your walls.

You’re still waiting, lying on your back in anticipation, your panties already grown damp. You were restless, and you were hoping that the night would just stay quiet.

Then you hear it.

That soft, hesitant knock at your back screen door. Not the usual, careful, practiced sound of someone who planned this. This knock was almost shy.

You slip out of bed, bare feet quiet on the cool floor, and ease the bedroom door open just enough to peek down the hall. Through the screen you can make out the tall silhouette on the porch steps. When he speaks, his voice is low and tedious, the kind of deep, comfy tone that never raises itself above a respectful murmur.

“It’s me,” Michael says, almost apologetic. “I know I shouldn’t be here this late… I just… I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you, baby.” He admits, fiddling with the length of his fingers. His face glows under the moonlight, his makeup-less skin shiny and moisturized. You loved seeing him this vulnerable, and you thought he was rather beautiful like this, no matter how many times you had to try and convince him.

“Michael, it’s late. What if somebody saw you?” You start to speak, talking to him through the screen door.

“Please. If you don’t want me to stay, I’ll go right now.”

“But if you let me in… I promise I’ll be quiet. I’ll be good to you.”

There was no demand in it, only an earnest plea. You unlock the screen. He steps inside like he’s entering church–his loafers already left on the porch so he won’t track anything in, his denim jacket folded neatly over one arm. In the soft light you finally see him clearly, his brown skin, his short curly hair, and those kind dark eyes that search your face first for permission before they ever wander lower. He smells of clean soap and expensive cologne–and the smallest bit of the night air he just escaped from.

“Thank you, beautiful,” he whispers in a voice full of genuine gratitude. “You didn’t have to open the door. I mean that.”

He follows you back to the bedroom without rushing, closing the door behind him with the softest click. When you sit on the edge of your bed he kneels in front of you–not to take, but to look up at you like he’s asking again.

“Can I touch you?” His hands rest lightly on your knees, thumbs stroking the delicate skin there. “Only if you want it. I’ll stop the second you say.”

You nod. He gives a shy smile. He leans to press a slow kiss to the inside of your thigh. Then another, higher. He eases your nightgown up with careful fingers, waiting for any sign you want him to slow down. When the fabric is bunched beneath your chin he simply looks at you for a moment, his eyes genuine.

“You always lookin’ so pretty,” he murmurs, and the way he says it feels like a compliment he means with his whole chest.

He hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties and draws them down your legs with the same unhurried care, setting them aside instead of tossing them. Then he settles between your thighs, broad shoulders spreading you open, and the first touch of his mouth is almost reverent. A long, gentle lick from the bottom of your slit all the way up, tasting you like something precious. He hums softly against you–approval, pleasure, gratitude all mixed together–and the vibration leaves your hips twitching.

He takes his time. Flat, slow strokes of his tongue, then lighter flicks over your clit, always watching your face for what makes you breathe harder. When two slender fingers slide inside you they’re careful, curling just enough to find the spot that makes your back arch. He keeps his free hand splayed across your lower stomach to ground you, while his mouth works with patient focus–soft suction on your clit, long languid laps, and his occasional quiet moans against your skin.

“Mmgh.. so fuckin’ close, Mikey. Right there.” You cry out, and when you cum, it’s with his name caught behind your teeth and one of his hands laced with yours, holding on while the waves roll through you. He stays right there through every tremor, licking you through it with soft, soothing strokes until the oversensitivity makes you gently push at his shoulder. He lifts his head immediately, lips shiny, eyes checking yours.

“You stop cussin’ at me girl.” He chuckles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You okay?” He asks, voice low and compassionate. “Want me to keep goin’, or you want me to just hold you, baby?”

You pull him up. He rises onto the bed, still fully dressed except for the open fly of his jeans, and lets you guide him onto his back. You straddle him in reverse, knees sinking into your mattress on either side of his hips. He helps steady you with both hands on your waist–large, nurturing, careful–while you reach between your legs and sink down onto him.

The stretch is slow. Michael watches the place where your body takes him, breath catching, but his hands never tighten too hard. “Easy, mama… take what you need,” he moans, thumbs stroking the small of your back in gentle circles. “You feel s’ good… so perfect on me.”

You start to move–rising and rolling your hips in a steady rhythm that makes the bedframe sway. From this angle he can see everything… the way your ass settles against the slick shine of you stretched around his dick, the soft bounce of your body with every downstroke. He keeps one hand low on your hip, guiding without forcing, and the other slides around to the front so his fingers can find your still-sensitive clit. He rubs those slow, matching circles, making sure he’s never too rough.

“That’s it… use me however you want, baby… shit.” He says, voice thick with affection and a tinge of restraint. “I’ve got you, y’know this.”

The dual sensation builds again–deep, rolling pressure inside and the steady attention on your clit. When the second orgasm gathers he feels it in the way you tighten around him and whispers encouragement the whole time, one hand still holding yours against his thigh so you stay connected. He follows you over the edge only after you’re finished, hips lifting in a few final, careful thrusts while he spills inside you with a low, grateful sound against your spine.

Afterward he doesn’t pull away right away. He eases you off gently, gathers you against his chest, and presses a quiet kiss to the top of your shoulder.

“Thank you for lettin’ me in,” he whispers into the dark, one broad hand stroking soothing lines up and down your back. “I’ll leave before anyone wakes… but for right now, just rest. I got you.”

The lava lamp keeps bubbling. Your mattress rocks both of you in silence. Outside, the night stays quiet a little while longer.

freakinme ©, all rights reserved! (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑), i hope you enjoyed!

taglist — ⋮ ⌗ ୭ ᵎᵎ 🧁 ┆ @angelcrescent @smoothcriminalgf @kiwikisses20 @savagenctzen @plan3tch1ld @platanita @iluhbiceps @mikesbian @angelofmikes @j3nnyluvscupc4k3s @jackiesbambi @mikesbian-side

Mike stared at the huge bear animatronic that was walking closer to him. He had picked up a chair in an attempt to hit the bear animatronic…or at the very least, keep some space between them…He desperately didn’t want to die by the animatronics tonight. All he wanted was to finish this shift and get the heck out of there. 

“Mike!” He heard, running from the animatronics up to her brother. “They wouldn’t stop tickling me. I thought I was gonna die!” Abby explained. 

Mike was too busy staring at the orange-coloured eyes of the bear animatronic. It was not only huge, but the thing was growling at him suspiciously. He was too busy focusing on that, to realize Abby’s choice of words at first. 

“Freddy…this is my brother, Mike.” Abby told the bear. 

The bear looked Mike up and down, still suspicious of the adult in front of it. Mike didn’t know what to say…or even what to do. The only thing keeping him safe was the wooden chair in his hands. According to Abby, these huge machines weren’t really hurting her…well, not technically. They were tickling her, but not really causing any other harm to her. But he didn’t care if they were harmless right now…the animatronics were still hella terrifying…

Freddy’s eyebrows dropped their ferocious scowl and raised into a more ‘happy’ facial expression. Mike was a little taken aback by this. Was Freddy…not angry at him anymore? Then, the bunny animatronic started making its way up to Mike next. Still scared of the other animatronics, Mike quickly aimed the chair towards the bunny, making sure to keep some distance between them. “Stay there.” He warned. “Abby, get behind me.” he attempted to order.

Abby looked at her brother with worry. “They’re not gonna hurt you. You’re with me.” She told him. 

Mike was still unsure though. He'd rather risk losing their trust and keep the chair up, than lower the chair and let his guard down. As much as he trusted his sister…he was too scared to do anything that risked getting him killed. But…if he’s with Abby…and Abby gained the trust of the animatronics…then maybe…

“This is Freddy, Bonnie, Foxy and Chica.” Abby told him, pointing to every animatronic as she said the names.

He started to lower the chair. The chicken and the fox animatronics made their way closer to Mike as well, soon surrounding Mike in somewhat of a rough circle. Mike looked a little more nervous now…cause it seemed that no matter where he looked, an animatronic would be staring right at him. Though Freddy and Bonnie’s eyebrows had calmed down and showed its trust, the others hadn’t yet. They still looked as suspicious as ever.

But right as Mike felt like he finally had some control and comfort…he felt a single poke to his side. 

“-?!” Mike jumped, barely making a sound as he contorted his body to look at the animatronic that had poked him. “Who did that?!” He asked, staring at both the chicken and the fox. 

Abby giggled. “Chica did!” She told him. 

“W-which one? The…yellow one?” Mike asked. 

“Yup! Chica, as in chicken.” Abby replied. 

Though he would never admit it, Abby’s wordplay…was actually a good strategy to help him remember the name. 

“W-what…” Mike attempted to ask Chica as it got slightly closer. “What are you…” 

Another poke hit him right in the ribs, surprising Mike enough to let out something. “aAh-?!” His voice wobbled, a strained, tiny smile appearing on his face for only a moment. “No.” Mike warned the fox, who was staring at Mike and holding its index finger up in frozen shock. 

Abby smirked. “Uh oh~” she teased. 

“Abby, no.” Mike warned his sister. 

“It’s too late~” Abby teased evilly, letting out a giggle.

“Abby- GaAha-!” He jumped again, curling in a little bit and temporarily losing his footing. 

“Go for the ribs and armpits!” Abby declared. 

Mike looked over at Abby with panic and betrayal. “ABBY!” He reacted. 

“His feet are ticklish too! Hehehe!” Abby giggled. 

Mike shot Abby a fearful glare. “Shut it!” He ordered. Then he looked at the animatronics, which were all staring at Mike just inches away from him. “Sh-she’s lying!” He told them desperately, hoping and praying they don’t try anything. 

But this lie didn’t do anything…in fact, all it did was encourage Abby to run up and squeeze his sides! Mike gasped and hugged himself, curling up a bit and trying to keep his laughter in. “aAH- ST-Stop- stOP!” He ordered in desperation. Though they weren’t the most ticklish spot, they were still bad enough to render him somewhat helpless. 

“See?” Abby told the animatronics with a proud, shit-eating grin. 

The animatronics looked back and forth amongst each other, showing contentment in their robot faces. Mike didn’t know whether he wanted to strangle his sister, or run away. He loved his sister, but my god…the girl loved to test the waters and make him question it. And if this week wasn’t evidence enough of that…then I don’t know what was. 

On top of that, Mike could feel his knees beginning to buckle due to his sister’s tickles. He was curling into the sides and fighting every instinct to flee as he felt his legs weaken further and further. He knew he was going down slowly…but he was not going down without a vigorous fight. But his arms could only protect so much at once, especially when you’re trying to prove to the animatronics just how not ticklish he was. The truth was…Abby was right. He’s very ticklish, and wouldn’t be able to last much longer. 

The man wasn’t sure if he should continue to fight on, or just give up and laugh. 

…And then Abby pulled a brutal move on him…by squeezing his lower ribs. 

“aAAHA!” Mike dropped to his knees and hugged his ribs. “A-ABBYHYHY-!” Mike shouted, flopping onto his side and kicking his legs as Abby playfully dug further into his ribs. Mike had closed his eyes…which meant he couldn’t see the animatronics’ reactions and movements. Dammit, Abby! Why must she do this to him!? 

Mike’s panic only exacerbated the moment he felt a pair of large, metal, blue hands grab his waist and lift him up. Yes…I am not kidding. The animatronic lifted him up like a toddler, not even phased by the size and weight of this security guard. “AAH! NO! LET ME GO!” Mike shouted, now squirming and kicking his feet wildly. But to no one’s surprise, not even a body shift could compromise the animatronic’s undeniable strength. Whoever thought making scarily strong animatronics like this was a good idea…was unbelievably insane. 

“Wow! Bonnie’s really strong!” Abby reacted, somehow unphased by this huge feat. 

But Mike’s squirming halted for only a moment when he felt skitters and squeezes on his upper ribs. Mike gasped and started squirming for a completely different reason, as a wobbly, stupid little smile began to fill his lips. “Ohno- NONONO-!” Mike opened his eyes and screeched as he felt the fat skittering fingers of the bear animatronic, moving up and down his lower front ribs. Finally, Mike burst out in surprised laughter as he tried and failed to get out of their strong grip. “OHGOD NOHOHOHOhohooo! aaAAHAHAAA-!? NOHOHO! Thihis isn’t fahahairrr!” He laughed. 

Abby was giggling like mad, loving every second of this. “Hahaha! How’s it feel being tickled by robot tickle monsters?” Abby asked with a grin. 

“Thihihis ihis INSAHAHAHANE!” He hung his head and shook in Bonnie’s grasp. “C-Cohohome ohon-” He jumped and lost his composure yet again, when he felt the blue fingers going up his ribs slightly to the 4th or 5th rib. “NAHAHAHAhahahaha! W-WAHAIT- GAHAHAhahaha!” Mike yelled. 

Abby smiled brightly. “Go for the armpits! His armpits are bad too! They make him all squeaky!” Abby told Freddy. 

Mike groaned through his laughter. “Abs plehehease stohohohop!” He pleaded. “Yohohohou’re nohohot- NO!” Mike screeched and yelled as Bonnie scooted its hands slightly lower on his ribs, presumably so Freddy had more access to his underarms…

Why Abby keeps telling Freddy and the animatronics his ticklish secrets, he could not tell you. But man, he was tempted to tickle his sister to tears the moment he got free. 

“F-FREDDYWAIT-” Mike stared at the thick fingers that were subtly threatening to tickle his now-vulnerable armpits. When Freddy had placed the fingers mere millimeters away from his armpits, Mike knew he was doomed. But still…he tried one last attempt to ask for freedom. He gulped. “Uh….m-mercy?” He asked rather anxiously. 

Freddy’s ears wiggled slightly before the fingers finally touched down on his armpits. Just the touch down was ticklish enough! But when the fingers started MOVING?! HOLY CRAP, IT TICKLED LIKE MAD! Any amount of laughter that filled his lungs, came out in an uncharacteristic, high-pitched squeal. “aaaAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! AAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHO! NaAaAAH! NAHAHAHEHEHEHE!” Mike squeaked and squealed through his laughter. 

Abby just laughed as she watched. “Isn’t Mike’s laugh funny?” Abby asked. 

Freddy then stopped his tickle attack for a moment, to let the man breathe. Mike treated the break like a trophy, and happily took advantage. It was like he hadn’t taken a breath in years! The feeling of a simple breath made him overwhelmed with gratitude. He cleared his throat a little bit as he tried to pull himself together. 

Once Mike felt calm enough to properly think, he tried to get himself free from Bonnie’s grip. “Okay…You had your fun. Can you please let me go now?” Mike asked. 

Abby looked at the other animatronics and watched as they…almost conversed with each other. Mike watched them with both confusion, and fear in his eyes. He lowered himself slightly to talk to Abby. “What’s happening? What are they talking about?” Mike asked. 

She giggled. “They’re talking about what tickle spot to go for next.” She told him outright. 

Mike bit his lip. Oh no…Not good. 

Wait…How does she know?! Can she- Can she TALK TO THEM?! 

Mike widened his eyes and turned to Abby with fear visible in his eyes. “Can you tell them to stop?” Mike asked. 

Abby tilted her head. “Why? They just want to play.” She told him. 

“I…I don’t have time to play. I’m supposed to be working.” Mike told him. 

The animatronics stopped their ‘conversation’ and looked over at Mike and Abby. Mike tensed up slightly as he stared at the animatronic bear’s eyes again. Something about those eyes looked dead inside, yet…their eyes glowed in a human-kind of way that made a shiver move up his spine. It was nerve-wracking, and he wasn’t sure he liked it all that much.  

But Freddy looked over at Chica, and…started waving for Chica to come over. Mike widened his eyes and started squirming all over again. No no no, that chicken thing had better not be getting closer to him. Abby had gasped and covered her mouth, letting out an excited squeal. Oh no! What in the world were they planning that was so exciting to her?! 

“Abby?! What are they planning?!” Mike asked. 

Abby looked at Mike, and giggled menacingly. For the love of-WHY WON’T SHE TELL HIM?!

Mike looked at the chicken animatronic and prepared himself. “Chick-Chica NO.” Mike lifted his right foot up and started pushing against Chica’s middle chest. “Stay back. I’m warning you.” He ordered before pushing with his other foot as well, in an attempt to get the animatronic away from him. 

But to both Mike AND Abby’s surprise, Chica grabbed his ankles, and gave him a bit of a tug. And to Mike’s horror, Bonnie let go of him and let him fly upside down! “WhooOOHNO-” 

Abby gasped and held her stomach as she bursted out laughing. 

Mike felt his bangs fall above his head as he struggled to come to terms with being upside down. Great…Looks like the animatronics were just toying with him at this point. 

“Abs, please…” Mike said, looking at her upside down. “What are they doing?” He asked, confused and worried. But his attention switched over to the fiddling and adjusting he felt against his shoe. “What-” Mike muttered as he curled himself up, attempting to see how his feet were being toyed with. “Hey! Stop that!” He ordered. 

But Mike widened his eyes in horror the second he felt his shoe being slipped off his foot. SHIT! 

“OHNO-?!” Mike started to panic as he heard the shoe fall to the ground. “Abby help!” Mike yelled as he pulled on his ankles and struggled to get himself right side up. “ABBY!” Mike held his arms out desperately. 

Abby only giggled. “You are all gonna love this! His feet are so ticklish!” Abby told them excitedly. 

Mike groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. “Abbyyyy…” Mike groaned. 

“And don’t forget his piggies!” Abby teased. 

“Abby-” Mike was growing somewhat impatient with his sister by this point. 

“Though be careful with his toes. He might die if he’s tickled too much there.” She warned. 

Heh…‘Be careful’...Hearing that was funny enough in its own right. At least she has the right of mind to tell them to at least be careful…

His breath hitched the moment he felt a fat finger on the arch of his socked left foot. He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his mouth with his hands. NO. They are NOT getting away with tickling him again. Nuh uh, no way. They can fight with him all they want to, but they will NEVER get a laugh out of him! Not now, not ever again. 

Or so he thought…

Only one little flutter…right under his toes…was enough to make every bit of laughter burst out of him. The poor man threw his arms against his chest and leaned his head back slightly as every laugh he had bunched up in his lungs, had finally let themselves free. “GAHAHAHAHAhahahaha! Ohohokahay, okahahahayyyyy!” Mike yelled. 

“YAY!” Abby declared, laughing alongside him. 

Mike put his hands in praying position. “Yohohou got mehehehee! P-Plehehehease stohohop! Ihihihi’m lahahaughihihing ehenohohough!” He pleaded. 

“Okay, let’s stop.” Abby told Chica. 

Chica moved its fingers away, and looked at Abby for her next instruction. 

Abby waited a few seconds, while listening to his brother breathe somewhat heavily from exhaustion. “You okay?” Abby asked. 

Mike huffed and puffed a few more times. “Ihihi…Ihi’m okay…I’m good.” 

“Do you need a break?” Abby asked. 

“Thahat…would be nihice.” Mike admitted. 

“Okay.” Abby replied. “How about…in a few more minutes?” Abby asked, looking at the animatronics. Mike nodded his head. A break sounded amazing right about now. Especially if…wait, did she say ‘in a few minutes’? 

“Okay go!” Abby suddenly told Chica. 

Mike’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Wait WHA-” 

Mike shrieked as the fat fingers started tickling him all over again. He couldn’t even hold in his laughter this time, instead just letting it fall out of him. “BAAAHAHAHAhahAHAhahaha!” Mike cackled, shocked by the sudden tickles against the ball of his foot. When he finished his fit, Mike took in a breath and squealed in a rather high-pitched voice before falling into another fit of cackles. “Plehehehehehease! HAHahahaha! Ihihit’s toohoohoohoo ticklihihish!” He told Abby. 

“So ticklish you can’t remember your right from left?” 

“HEHEhehehehe- Yehehehehesss!” He replied. 

Abby walked closer to Mike and started poking and tickling his sides. “How about now?” 

Mike jumped and grunted, grasping at his sister’s hands, laughing slightly harder. This is the most Abby has touched him, let alone tickled him, in quite a long time. And though he was technically in a very vulnerable position right now, there were much worse scenarios to be stuck in. 

“Alright. Let’s stop for real this time.” Abby told Chica. 

Chica stopped its fingers. 

“Can you flip him the right way, Chica?” Abby asked. 

Chica lowered its body down and placed its hands under Mike to help pick him up. “ooOKAY…” Mike felt as Chica grabbed under his arms and nodded to Bonnie. With that nod, Bonnie let go of Mike’s feet and let them drop. “Okay- OW.” He yelped as his foot inevitably hit Bonnie’s leg. “Ohokay.” He muttered. Chica lowered Mike down till his feet were touching the ground. “Thank you…” He huffed and attempted to pull himself together. “Not…sure how I feel about you being able to lift me so easily…” Mike admitted. Chica removed his fingers, accidentally tickling his armpit one more time. This made Mike jump snicker one last time. 

Abby shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Abby asked. 

Mike turned to his sister…and slowly gave her a devious smile. “Get over here, you ticklish tattle-tale!” He declared, picking her up and skittering his fingers all over her ribs and belly. “Tick-a-tick-a-tick-a-tick-a-tickle~!” He teased, using toddler-like teases so he could further torment her. 

“MIHIHIKE- HAHAhahahaha! NAHAHA- SOHOHORRYYYY!” She shouted. 

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it, Abs.” He teased. “You understood exactly what they were doing, and didn’t bother to tell me all of it.” He moved his fingers to her belly button, earning him a high-pitched squeal. “AND you couldn’t keep your mouth shut about how ticklish I am!” He added. “You’re a little menace who deserves to laugh just as much as I did.” He told her. 

“NAAAAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOT MY BEHEHELLY BUTTOHOHOHON!” She pleaded. 

“What belly button?” He asked innocently. “I didn’t know you had a belly button! Let me see!” Mike picked her up bridal style and blew a raspberry onto her belly button. 

Abby squealed and screamed with laughter as the raspberry filled her belly, before stopping. He lowered her sister down, and continued to hold her bridal style. Abby was still a bit of a giggly mess despite not being tickled for nearly as long. He put her down onto her feet. “There. Should we make it a tie?” He asked, holding his hand up. 

Abby nodded her head and gave him a high five. With that set in motion, Mike started to collect his stuff and take Abby out to the car. Funnily enough, the animatronics had tickled him up until his shift had ended. 

“If I have to tell you this again, then I will—it won’t work on me as much anymore, bro!” Mike exclaimed, crossing his arms as he walked to the living room with his brother.

His smug attitude had gotten Steven feeling suspicious of his words, and whether it was true or not, he knew that not everyone randomly stops being ticklish. Despite this, Mike still attempted to convince him.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t easily buy it.

“Sure, feel free to prove it whenever you want… by flailing like a Magikarp once I get close to a real bad spot of yours.” Steven snickers at the memory he mentioned.

The older brother dramatically gasps. “How dare you! I don’t do that anymore either, you doofus!” He replied in a jokingly insulted tone, giving his younger brother a poke on the side.

“Ay! Yohou’re the doofus.” The long-haired man returns the favor.

“I am nohot!”

“Whatever you say, Mikey.”

Once the two came near the soft crimson red couch in front of them, Steven looks down at the brown-haired trainer with a smirk as if he predicted he would begin hesitating, knowing whatever his brother has in store might unveil his lies.

Mike glances at him before lying down, his head now resting on the left arm. “So what’re we doing, exactly?”

“Just a question before we start,” he stares with a hidden mischievous look as he walks over to where Mike’s head laid, “you remember when we were like… young or somethin’, we used to play this game when one of us tells a lie and has to face ‘punishment’ if they don’t admit it?”

The memory was vague, but he did recall the one time when he ate some of Steven’s food from the refrigerator without realizing it belonged to him, and tried to make up a lie after he found out. However, that only resulted in being tickled during a game as said ‘punishment’.

A blush covered Mike’s face as he became embarrassed by the reminiscence, but he quickly shook it off to look determined. “Oh yeah, I think I do. You were soho mean for no reason when I only took a bite of the sandwich that… proobably belonged to you.” He chuckled.

“I was mean for a reason, and you’d know peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were my favorite!” The long-haired man booped his nose.

“No booping! Also, maybe you should’ve thought about putting a label on the bag to keep me reminded.” The short-haired explained, swatting away the finger before Steven booped his nose again just for the laughs.

…Okay, maybe he was right about that. Still shouldn’t have eaten his sandwich, though.

“Enough talk,” the brief sound of cracking fingers emits, “let’s get this started.”

Mike takes a small breath in and out as he prepares himself for the big challenge. If he wants to trick Steven into believing his false words, he’ll have to put in more effort to his plan than normal.

“But first, just in case you forgot; the rules are to keep your arms up for 2 minutes while I tickle you. If you tell the truth, I’ll stop.” Steven explained.

The brown-haired man scoffed. “Easy enough for me. I can take it.”

“There’s a twist, however…”

Mike raises his eyebrow. Since when was there a twist to the game rules?

“This time, you have to hold your laughter in until time runs out. If you fail to do that… well, you‘ll see.” The long-haired chuckled with a playful glint in his eye.

“…O-oh,” the brown-haired stutters. At this point, he regrets expressing his overconfidence.

“Alright, arms up.” Steven told.

Mike nods before raising his arms above his head, waiting for the inevitable as his brother sets the timer on his phone. Once he pushed the Start button, Steven now begins with gentle tickling, tracing shapes on the armpits.

Even though it wasn’t much, the flinching boy could feel giggles bubbling in his chest. Gentle tickles have never failed to make him let out a storm of giggles with a possible side of snorting, and this made it difficult for him to keep a straight face like nothing had any effect.

“What’s with the look on your face? You think even smiling can make you lose?” Steven chuckled, his fingers now scratching. “C’moon, lemme’ see it~!”

Mike’s breath hitched as he struggled to hold in the laughter like keeping a dam from bursting. If only his brother wasn’t so good at seeing through lies would he be able to get revenge without him tickling back.

But not everyone is also given the title of a lying master.

“D’aww~! Too ticklish for you, Mikey?” The long-haired champion teased.

Mike shook his head, his eyes shut tight as he resisted the sensation—he couldn’t let himself show any signs of nearly breaking, but the scribbling fingers had him show a squiggly smile for a split-second before reverting back to the face of desperation. “I think I saw a smile~”

The brown-haired shook his head in disagreement, but quivering movement from his arms say otherwise.

“You’re doing pretty well, Mike. You’ve only got…” He thinks before stopping his tickling to check the ongoing timer, allowing Mike to take the opportunity to catch a few breaths. A faint *click* sounded as the long-haired turned on his phone, watching the screen instantly change from pitch-black. “…One and twenty-two minutes.”

It didn’t sound too bad, but the brown-haired felt unsure if he was going to last that long enough to win, seeing that his brother might have a few tricks up his sleeve. His mouth opens to say something, until…

“Sneak attack!”

Those were the two words he heard before hysterical laughter suddenly came flowing out of his mouth as ticklish shocks went through his nerves. “Wh- EEEYAHahAHaHAHaA-! STEHEVEN, YOhoU *snort* TRihiHICKSTAHAHAHA!”

“‘Trickstah’? Is that a new Pokémon or something? Cause’ I ain’t one.” The long-haired champion snickered, his fingers clawing at his brother’s armpits before moving down to the ribs.

“THaHaT DOhOSEN’T- EYAHAHAHAHAA!” The brown-haired kicked his legs as he cackled, now unable to say anything else other than just laugh. Steven usually doesn’t check the timer because, well, that would give Mike a slight chance of succeeding.

His short-lasting suspicion was seemingly correct, but making an attempt to speak was not what he meant to do. But that’s what Steven probably expected to happen—he waited for him to drop his guard.

The former champion ceases his tickling, letting Mike breathe for a few minutes. “You alright?”

He nods, some leftover giggles still remaining due to the phantom tickles. “Ihi guess nohot everyone cahan be a good liar in one try or two.”

“So, you admit it?” Steven asked, stepping to the front of the couch. His older brother—hesitant on answering—stretches his arms for a second before moving his legs off to leave more room for him to sit.

The room went quiet as the long-haired trainer patiently awaited for a response. Mike wasn’t sure if he should say ‘yes’ or not, but the realization of what he said earlier made him reconsider his choice before he could screw something up again.

“…Yes,” he answers, “but I only lied because I thought pretending to not be ticklish would give me a chance to get you back.”

Oh, so that’s why! From all the times he’s won against his brother in tickle fights, he’s been planning his revenge by putting in effort into resisting his attacks—but alas, he had forgotten about his sneaky tricks that finally cracked him up.

An idea comes to mind when Steven had begun thinking of ways to make up for it as an apology.

“Tell you what,” he began, “I’ll let you have your little revenge for once.”

“Waitwait, huh?!” This caught the brown-haired brother by surprise. Was he actually giving him a chance, or did he hear him wrong? If his hearing wasn’t so good, then maybe so—but he wasn’t expecting this moment to occur.

Steven wheezed at his reaction. “Ihi mean, people sometimes have to be victorious at least once, and I’ve forgotten about that till now. Sorry if I was being unfair, Mikey.”

“No, it’s alright! You were just that good is all—plus, I even almost had you a few times.” He grinned, prodding at his younger brother’s side with his elbow.

“Whoahahaho, hehey! Well, yohohou’ve got mehe now,” he laughs before striking back with a clawed hand to Mike’s stomach, “but that doesn’t mean you’re free to get away without punishment!”

“*snort* SteheHEEvehen, nOhoho!” Mike squealed as he gets caught off guard by the sudden tickling.

“Steven, yeHEhehes-! Ohohoh, noho you dOHOHON’T-!” The feeling of ticklish vibration took over the nerves of his ribs when the brown-haired brother took the chance to strike, causing him to nearly collapse onto the cushions.

Without a second to waste, Mike continues his revenge, digging into his younger brother’s lower ribcage with a victorious grin on his face. “Mwahahahaa!” He evilly laughed. “Gotcha’ now, lil’ bro~!”

“Ahahahalright, ahalrihihight, IHI gihive- MIHIHIKE!” Steven yelped.

The former champion grabs Mike’s arms in an attempt to move his hands away—however, this resulted in leaving his underarms unprotected for him to go for next.

Noticing this, the brown haired smirked, letting Steven do his thing as if he listened to his pleas before swiftly lunging his hands at the underarms the second he let go to begin scribbling. “You give? Oh, but Steven, I’ve only just started~!”

The long-haired threw his head back as he howled with laughter, slowly becoming incapable of saying any more begs. It almost seemed like his skills were brought over to Mike, because he was surprisingly good at this already!

…Or perhaps it’s just his mischievous side finally showing itself once he decided to let him tickle him as an apology.

Actually, at this point, it’s more than just an apology gift.

It’s a gift of brotherly love—letting Mike get his deserved revenge made things a bit more fair for him. Steven didn’t really see how playful he could be anyway.

The ticklish sensation comes to a halt as Mike stopped to let his taller brother breathe for air, thinking he’s had enough for now. Steven hugs his own sides while his residual giggling took the time to eventually stop.

“You okay, Steven? I must’ve gotten you real good.” Mike asked, chuckling before helping Steven back up from the cushions.

“Mhm. I ain’t dead.” He nods, ensuring him that he didn’t go overboard. “Didn’t expect you to go all out though.”

“You should’ve, because when I see an opportunity, I take it and don’t hold back on it! Kinda like what happened with me and Gold,” the short-haired explains.

The long-haired could only imagine whatever sneaky surprises he pulled on Gold that day, but they’d be somewhat embarrassing to think about due to Mike having to be so teasy.

“..Sooo, wanna watch some TV?” His thoughts were interrupted once Mike spoke as he grabbed the remote that was next to the lamp and his phone on the tall stool table.

Steven moves back up from the cushions. “Sure, but I’m choosing what we’re watching since you still lost the game.”

Mike’s face went from nothing but a blank expression to a flabbergasted look upon hearing those words, his head slowly turning to the former champion before exclaiming: “You never mentioned anything about that!”

The long-haired wheezes at the reaction before reaching for the held remote. But Mike moves it farther enough to where he couldn’t snatch it whilst complaining about his suspected lie.

“I can’t believe you have the gall to say that you’re choosing what to watch after I lose, even though you said I’d be punished if I didn’t tell the truth!”

“Ihihi’m sohorry, buhut we’ve both had enough tickles for today! I promise I’ll give it back, though!”

Mike takes a moment to think about what he said before coming to his decision. “…I guess I’ll believe you. We do need a small break anyway,” he says, giving the remote to the former champion.

With a push on the red power button, the TV turned on. Steven begins going through different sorts of channels to find the one he’s looking for with the old shows while his arm was put around Mike, who—with a mischievous smile—looked like he was gonna be getting it back one way or another.

Brothers will be brothers, like always.

~