#someone need to give him a surname so i can tag it right aaaa

[madwomansapologist]

Hi! I love your Good place story’s and headcannons! Sorry that this is long, but can I request a Sadist Michael x Masochist GenNeu Reader (smut)? Maybe they met Michael when he was still working for The Bad Place?? Idk where you cross the line, but can it can include bondage, derogation, biting, foreplay, etc?

Write whoever, honestly! I haven’t seen any yet, but thank you if you do my request! <3

a match made in hell | Michael (The Good Place)

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synopsis: when Michael found someone who also was praying for making something different, he couldn't help himself. [2K]

warnings: cursing. very kinky. masochism and sadism, bondage, derogation and some evil schems to torture our loved Soul Squad.

ps: you simply wouldn't be able to understand how much I love that request!!!! Really, that story was perfecly formed on my mind! Sorry for making you wait, I am not so confident in my english and use some time editing. Also, this is my third time writing a smut more detailed, so... Thanks for requesting, I really do hope you like it!

Tedious.

When did you start feeling like this? Maybe two centuries ago? Eventually, everything becomes a blur. All memomies meet and it's hard to say from what moment they are. But you know for sure that, a long time ago, you didn't feel that way. No. It was exciting. It was funny. It was challenging. You desire it. You felt smat, important, talented. And now...

Design the project, build the new neighborhood, deal with Bad Janet, welcome the shitty humans. Do it all over again. Forever and evermore. Maybe try a different coffee, add vanilla on it. Or change the color of your pants, try a new kinda of suit. What about, instead of designing on a white sheet, use a blue one? At the end of the day, nothing ever changes. Ever.

So, yes, boring.

It was supossed to be your dream. And it was, for a really great time. But now, it is just a obligation. Something you have to do because... well, someone has to. And you are great, awarded so many times, an inspiration. How can you be so important, Shaw's right hand, and still feel like that?

When the new architect start his presentation, you we're almost sleeping. Part of it because your work is to irritate anyone that need do to something important, made them deal with a little patient test, but also because what would change if you pay attention? Everything will still the same, so why bother?

What you couldn't imagine, what made you lean your elbows on the table and look at the presentation board carefully, is that you heard something new. Not only something new, but something not fucking stupid. At least not entirely.

"Psychological torture?" You licked your lips, holding the presentation clipboard and reading his name. You knew what his name was, but you pretend to forget so those new demons can be put it in their places. You talked before Shaw, what was normal. You scare the newbies, he watches and have fun. "Michael, thats riscky."

"As it should." His smile was something. You could smeel his nervousness, literally. He is surrounded by experienced demons, by people that torture for way more time than he is alive. Shaw is the most important person down there. A leader. And you are his favorite. You worked for that. And yet stinking of fear, he didn't stopped smiling. Michael was proud. "We should like that job. It should be marvellous. Yes, this is riscky, but if it works our entire way to deal with humans will change for better. Better for us, obviously."

Shaw silenced some laughs when he threw the clipboard on the table. "And who said we don't like it?"

Even tho you love how nervous Shaw can make anyone feel, that wasn't an ideia that you could just discard. Something on your chest said that to you. Something screamed that it was more than just an attempt.

"I don't."

All demons around the table looked at you. They didn't even say anything, to surprised to use their mouths. What would they say? They are just a group of yes-man without something special to say. The only cruel demon whos oppinion matter to you was Shaw.

"You don't like to hurt them?" Shaw didn't blink. You don't think he ever did that.

"I love to," you reaffirmed to him. "But don't you feel tedious? Like if you closed your eyes for more than three seconds you could just sleep? Yesterday I heard a men screaming because I shoved some spiders up to his asshole and all I could think about was if I had turned off the gas."

At this point you had already stood up, exposing your oppinion as you walked. You approached Michael, the creative novice, but ignored him. With your back to him, you read the million-step plan for the new neighborhood. "The Good Place". You could feel the eyes on your back, but you just stared at the troubled blonde on the sheet.

"Remember when we realized that humans hate when we use their nails to rip out their eyes?" Now you we're looking at Shaw. His faced we're emotionless, as always. "When we started using divorced couples to hurt one another? Or when we finally understood why their vocal cords we're so sensitive?"

"Nostalgia," Shaw said, hating the sound of his own voice. "Thats your argument?"

"Thats the only argument I need," you smiled. "I would do anything to feel that again. Wouldn't you?"

And besides being a cunt on every situation, you knew that he was dying to do something new. "Fine," Shaw said, almost like he didn't want it. Probably he didn't, at least not as politely. "You can mentor him. Have your fun. I bet it on last six months."

"It's a bet."

Exciting with the tought of working on something new, and a little bit worried about making something that Shaw would approve, you didn't realize the eyes observing you. Analysing those four assholes whos lifes you would help turn into hell, you simply didn't pay attention to the man behind you.

Michael wasn't able to use his words.

You defended him. You supported him. You agreed. You felt the same. More than anything, you convinced Shaw that it was a valid idea. Michael didn't expect that from you. Maybe another architect dreaming about something new would act that way, but you? Someone so important, talented, awarded? His inspiration?

Michael was not prepared for this. For you to look at him. To talk to him. To agree with what he said. Michael was not prepared to have you so closed to him, paying attention to his work, believing on him.

And Michael was definitely not prepared for you to mentor him.

Your experience was something that he could only dream to have. Michael lived millennia and was nothing compared to you. And while you mentor him, teaching him what your live had teached you, Michael was responsible for creating the soul of the neighborhood.

"So..." You swallowed. It wasn't what you expected. Walking along the colorful alleys, a strangeness shivered your back. This was so anormal. So different from anything you've ever done. "Frozen yogurt?"

"What do humans thinks that they love but they actually hate?" Michael asked, and even tho it seens obvious, that didn't look like the right asnwer for you. "They took something they love with their whole souls and made it worse so they would have it more. Frozen yogurt."

You agreed, not so sure about that. "It looks just friendly to me. Don't see how that would make their lives something unbeareble."

"It will," Michael smiled, jumping on his pretty suit. "You gonna see it."

The night lit you both. Among the empty alleys, but colored as if they were used every day, you both walked to make sure the neighborhood worked. After so much work, all that remained was to ensure that there was no problem caused by a Janet's mistake and to receive the four little shits. So far, there were no errors. She worked well. Really well.

"I could never have imagined that you were bored," Michael said, walking beside you. "I thought if anyone among us knew what they were doing, it would be you."

"I love this job, but we deserve better. They make mistakes, they hurt others, and it's our job to make sure they're punished the way they weren't while they were alive. But why should that be a penance for us? Those Good Place assholes like what they do. We deserve the same."

Michael couldn't agree more.

"Now that the neighborhood is ready, are you going to move away?" He asked, hoping the answer would be no. "Everyone who will act are ready for work, but you still haven't said what you want."

"I don't think acting is for me. I'll keep causing pain."

"I think you'd do well," Michael was sincere.

When you saw another Frozen Yogurt, you sat in one of the chairs exposed on the porch. Sitting facing each other, you shook your head. "I'm not subtle. It would spoil everything."

"I don't think it would. On the contrary." Michael's smile was... something

"Michael, Michael, Michael. I'm starting to think you don't want me away. Do you like my company or do you just prefer that I am the one addressing Shaw during meetings?"

"You discovered me," he teased. "Now I have to find someone else to do the hard part."

When the silence took a while to break, he spoke again. "Or maybe I enjoy your company."

You just stared at him for a moment, letting the fake moon shine on you. Something in you wished you could touch his hair. It looked so soft. The other wanted to rip that stupid tie.

""Still, I can't see how that would work. I'm sure that on the first problem I would lose my mind and jump on someone's neck. I bet the first one would be the Florida guy. It would ruin everything."

Michael's eyes gleamed. That was a sight that made his chest shudder. He might have shut up, but Michael was never a coward. "You just need to learn to be more patient. I can teach you that."

You leaned your elbows on the table, watching him more closely. The phrase could be understood in an innocent way, but you were too smart for that. A defiant smile appeared on your face. "You think you can teach me something?"

"I know I can try."

You could have stopped that conversation there. Said you was joking, that you needed to get back to work, that you both were co-workers. It was just saying that you didn't want to. No. You just thought: What bad could happen? And that was enough to make any doubts disappear.

"Feel free to try as much as you like. I doubt you'll get anything."

Michael stood up, which surprised you. Thought he wouldn't know what to do. Michael sat on the table, next to his body, and crossed his arms. "I like a challenge," he said.

No.

He promissed.

When his fingers began to undo the knot that held the tie around his neck, a part of you lit up. It was as if he had read your mind. Slowly, he released the fabric and stretched it between his fingers, smoothing out what was previously wrinkled.

"Get up."

You remained seated, arms crossed.

Michael approached. His fingers latched onto the back of your neck, gripping your hair and forcing you to look him straight in the eye. He could even control your head, but not your eyes. You looked down, consciously choosing to make sure he didn't get what he wanted, little knowing it was a sight that made Michael never want to walk away from you again.

"Are you going to make your life difficult, sweetie?" Sweetie. It wasn't an endearing nickname, but rather a harsh word. He released your hair abruptly, causing your body to sway in the chair. "As you wish."

Michael took your hands. With the surprise, you ended up being lifted from the chair. He deftly placed your hands behind your body, bringing them together at the small of your back, and used his tie to secure them. You squirmed, getting in his way, but your intention wasn't to stop him. You just wanted to piss him off a little bit. He knotted it tightly, the fabric brushing against your skin hard enough to mark. You will survive. Better: you liked it

"You don't have to pretend you don't want this," Michael practically purred against your ear. His body was pressed against yours, your back against his torso. When one of his hands pulled your hair back, the other grabbed the knot that held you and played with the battered skin. "Don't act like a saint. That doesn't suit you, sweetie."

The words, the velvety way they came out of Michael's mouth, it made your insides turn. You wouldn't need much more to be ready for him.

"What will you do?" Your voice was husky, as if you hadn't used it in a long time. "I've seen that you can talk, but I don't think you have anything but a foul mouth."

Michael's laugh chills you.

Without warning, Michael forced your spine against the table. Lying on top of it, helpless against the cold metal and with your lower body exposed, there wasn't much to do but wait. Quickly, Michael got rid of your clothes. He just ripped them from your body, not worrying about the future.

The empty neighborhood didn't stop you from feeling like you were being seen by the whole world. Maybe you were. And that was delicious. To think that maybe there was someone lurking in the shadows enjoying the little experiment.

Michael's hands touched you body, grabbing everything he could. He touched you like it was the last time, like he would never feel your soft skin again. He was possessive, brutish, relentless: maybe it wouldn't be the last time.

"I want to hear you beg for me."

"In your dreams." He didn't see it, but he knew you were smiling. It made his cock throb.

He bent down, biting the thin, cool skin of your ass. It would leave marks. A little more force and maybe blood would come out. It wasn't an idea that disgusted you. To think of his mouth wet with whatever liquid your body could produce. Michael hungry for you.

"Is that all you know how to do?"

Michael licked the sensitive skin. His fingers crept up your thighs, tingling, until he reached your core. He pulled his fingers away, brought them to his tongue and moistened them, and without warning he penetrated you. Your body nearly convulsed with the brute act. That muffled sound was so perverted. It almost made you ashamed. Almost.

"Michael," you moaned, knowing full well it would cheer him up. "Oh, Michael."

You felt him spit into you, only to re-enter with force. A few thrusts later, you noticed something crawling on your skin. Something big and thick. Without warning, he started fucking you for real. And Michael had no pity for your trembling body.

"Tell me what you want." His voice was so raw it drew a groan from her. "I thought you liked talking. Come on, I want to hear it."

You wish you could touch him. Pull him close to you and devour his mouth. You hadn't kissed and it was so lewd. You wanted to touch his dick. You wanted to put it in his mouth and choke. You wanted to be seen. You wanted to be heard. You wanted to feel pain. You wanted a lot.

"I want," his hoarse groan stopped you from talking. Michael went harder, laughing at how pathetic you were.

"Speak up, my dirty little whore. I don't bite." Michael sighed, feeling the sweat trickle down his body. "Oh, that's a lie. But you like it."

The more he talked, the more he cursed you, the more you wanted him. Ah, if only you could control the situation. It would make him cry with exhaustion

A slap crackled against your skin. Your ass burned. And more slaps burned your skin. Each stronger. "I fucking want to hear you."

"I want to come." You could barely open your mouth to do anything but moan. "Michael, make me come on your dick."

Michael tapped your thigh again.

"As you wish."

And without mercy, he violated your body until you couldn't breathe. And he didn't stop. Even when it was uncomfortable. He kept going until he was good again and, without saying a single word, he came after your second peak.

"More patient?" Michael mocked.

"Not at all," you replied, barely breathing.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

THE GOOD PLACE TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

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