we already have enough angst comfort michael.. 💔 give us angry smut
fem!reader x michael olise
where he fucks you to forget.
a/n: more people voted h/c but i had more people telling me angry sex in my inbox sooooo… why not both [v1]
world cup 2026 series: semifinal 1 v2 ~
the silence was going to suffocate you.
you’d already taken your bath and changed up, wearing nothing at all except his kit. a cruel reminder of the night’s happenings.
the tv was off, you didn’t want to hear it again. you didn’t want to relive it.
you were deep in thought til you weren’t. the door slammed open and in came michael. michael who looked like he wanted to punch something.
after kicking the door shut and getting his shoes off, he stormed into the main room to find you, sitting cross-legged, in his jersey. only his jersey.
a new wave of a mix of something — anger, frustration, lust? — crashed over him.
“fucking hell,” he grunted, voice low and rough. like it was reserved for you. “i ghosted. again.”
well… not ghosted, per se. maybe he didn’t live up to his expectations but not ghosted.
“michael…” you said cautiously, getting up off the bed and getting a little closer to him.
before you knew it, michael’s arms were wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling you into him hard. you let out a soft gasp as you planted a hand onto his chest for support.
he unraveled one arm to cup your cheek, pulling you in for a rough, hungry kiss. it was angry. it was desperate. you could basically taste the fury on his tongue.
he pulled away, his hands now resting on your lower back as he buried his face into your neck, leaving marks (that people would definitely ask about in the morning) almost everywhere.
your head fell back as one of your arms instinctively braced yourself against the bed. he pushed you up against it, still leaving love bites wherever he wanted.
“let me… i’ll fuck you so hard we both forget about the game.”
michael’s hands slid under your shirt, resting on your bare waist as he breathed into your neck. you nodded, basically giving him the jurisdiction to do whatever he wanted now.
he flipped you around, leaving your ass up, before his hand came down and gave it a spank. you let out an unexpected gasp at that, squirming a little in the bed.
he then got on his knees, the carpet fabric rubbing against his sore knees. his hands grabbed your ass and spread you a little wider, to the point you could feel the cool air of the ac against you. but it was soon replaced by his warmth — his nose was almost inside you and so was his tongue.
“you’re so wet already,” he commented.
michael then licked a stripe before suddenly plunging his tongue into you. your eyes squeezed shut at the feeling while your hands gripped onto the bedsheet for support. you adjusted a little before you naturally fell into his rhythm, your hips rocking back against his face to feel more of him (and his nose).
before you could even fully process this, he pulled away. you clenched around nothing, feeling the loss of something inside you. your head craned back to look at him and now he was back on his feet. he fumbled with his france sweat shorts, pulling them down alongside his briefs and letting his cock spring free.
he roughly grabbed your hips again, pulling you up in the bed so it was an easier position.
he lined himself up, looking back at you to see whether you were still alright. you gave another nod when you felt his gaze on you.
without warning, he thrust himself into you in one deep stroke. he felt your warmth enveloping him and he swears he could come just from that.
meanwhile you — your eyes rolled back as your head buried deeper into the pillow. “fuck yes,” you whined into the pillow, hoping it muffled well.
michael didn’t give you any time to adjust before he started fucking into you. hard, brutal, punishing — yet not painful.
with every thrust was a soft, involuntary grunt that escaped from his throat.
“two-nil,” he groaned, pressing you further into the mattress. “i was shit out there. fuckin’ invisible.”
your hips instinctively rocked back to meet his, meeting his every thrust.
he groaned again, one of his hands sliding up your back and threading into your hair and pulling you closer as he drove deeper and harder.
you felt michael’s warmth yet again as he leaned down to be closer to you. despite his tangible anger, this was strangely intimate.
“you’re the only good thing ‘bout tonight.”
before you could even fully register his words, you felt your release pooling in your belly as you clenched around him.
“gonna come,” you exclaimed, your back arching as you felt your orgasm crash over you.
michael didn’t stop. he fucked you through it, his pace becoming noticeably frantic, chasing his own release.
with a final, loud and guttural moan, he buried himself deep inside you, his hips twitching slightly as his orgasm rocked him.
it was sticky. it was messy. but it helped him and that was what mattered.
the only sound in the room at that moment was both of your panting and heavy breaths.
slowly, he pulled out of you and watched as the mix of juices flowed out. he grabbed a box of tissues off the nightstand and wiped you off, before wiping himself off and disappearing into the bathroom.
he reemerged with a damp towel, using it to clean you and himself up quietly. he then collapsed onto the bed beside you, turning towards you and pulling you closer.
“sorry…” he mumbled, nuzzling into your marked-up neck. “didn’t mean to be that… rough.”
you let out a light chuckle, turning around to face him back. “‘s alright. you feel better now?”
he nodded. you could tell he was on the brink of falling asleep by the way his blinks turned slow.
“just… stay here. i don’t wanna be alone. not after that shitshow.”
you snuggled closer, your arms and legs intertwined with his. “sleep well, michael.”
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