#sojourn michael

[asmalltowngirl]

Guys he’s literally so attractive it hurts

[itsgrishaverse]

Asking him to be your fake date.

prompt : listen. your parents are coming over with the idea of meeting your “partner.” only that, you broke up with them months ago and you have nothing left, but to ask your favorite person a favor.

Characters : Michael Langdon x reader.

— grudge Michael.

( he’s over 19 here! )

— Hawthorne Michael.

— Sojourn Michael.

— Outpost Michael.

[heavymetalover]

Call Me Daddy (Michael Langdon x fem reader)

{i imagined scruffy sojourn michael w this one but i left the description kind of open so yall can imagine whichever teehee}

Summary: Michael is about to become your step dad and the two of you have an unusual relationship…

Warnings: DADDY KINK DUH, smut, dirty talk, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!michael, hickies, rough sex.

WC: 5.5k

A/N: ive done the unforgiven… omg.

this is a different format from my other stuff. i didnt see anyone doing this and yall know me and my daddy issues I HAD TO. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE anon me, message me, whatever, if you want more parts cuz im down.

~~~~

 You had an average run-of-the-mill life with your mom. The two of you lived in a sizable suburban Los Angeles estate; your mom worked for most of her waking hours to keep you comfortable and you worked your ass off to stay in your top college. You had a few friends that would pop into your life when your mom left town, a few boyfriends here and there, even your mom dated around. Everything felt normal until Michael came into the picture.

Your mom has been dating Michael for a few months now, but every time he’s around he brings an eerie feeling along with him. Despite being nearly half her age, he has the soul of somebody from the eighteen hundreds. The way he composes himself, how he speaks with the utmost confidence and how his stares linger too long; his glacial blue eyes always watch you like he can see right through your clothes. 

You’ve been skeptical of him since the day you met him. When you shook his hand and accidentally removed one of his large rings, he nonchalantly told you to keep it. You decided to sell the huge diamond-encrusted Cartier ring and use the twenty thousand dollars to help pay for college.

Since then you’ve avoided the two of them in protest of their relationship. You knew it was juvenile to evade them, but the man turned you on more than you’d like to admit. His soft-waved blonde hair, fluffy lips, jawline for days, prominent cheekbones, and how can you forget the eyes… Everything about him looked planned, like he was designed to be flawless.

On a mundane weekend morning, your mom calls you from downstairs. “Y/n!” her voice echoes through the halls.

You stop reading your favourite book and take out an earbud. “Yeah?!” you yell back, looking up from the pages for a moment and waiting for her to say something else, but the house is silent. You pretend to ignore her call and go back to the story.

“Y/n!” your mom yells again.

You sigh and drop your book, rolling off of your bed and skipping down the stairs to see what fresh hell awaits. As you approach your mom, who’s opening her mouth to call you again, you smell something unusual. Something you haven’t smelt since your dad left. Cologne.

“Honey, he’s here,” your mom whispers to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. You try turning away to run back to your room, but your mom stops you. “Can you be nice for once, please?” she begs, squeezing your shoulder.

“Whatever, let’s get this over with,” you groan and shimmy her hand off of your shoulder.  

Michael works at the dining table, setting up three plates and utensils. You’re planted to the ground in awe, you’ve never had to eat dinner with the two of them before. It crosses your mind that they must be confronting you about bypassing them these past few months, your fight or flight response is already kicking in.

Michael looks up at you, finally acknowledging you and capturing you in his ocean blue eyes with a nanosecond of contact. Your mom moves in between the two of you and takes some food out of a paper bag. “Michael and I wanted all of us to eat dinner together,” she skips to stand beside him. You widen your eyes at her and cross your arms in objection. She widens her eyes back, you can practically hear her nagging you to be polite.

Michael puts his arm around your mom. “Your mother and I thought it best for us to… start acting like a family,” he says.

Your eyebrows shoot up and you can’t hold back your smile. “A family?” you laugh. You purse your lips and start walking backwards, aching to escape Michael’s spell. “Mmm, I think I’ll pass,” you turn around to start walking away.

“Y/n,” your mom snaps. You stop in the middle of a step and twist back towards them, taking small, reluctant steps to approach their little function. “We have something to tell you,” she says and immediately after, vaults her hand out to you.

You take it hesitantly and look at her, still trying to figure them out and failing. “What?” you ask.

“No, honey, look at it,” she rolls her eyes, “look at my hand.”

You gawk at her hand, her third finger is dressed in a huge diamond ring. It looks big enough to pay off your whole house. You unintentionally let out a dramatic gasp and drop her hand, she continues to hold it up for you. “It’s the bloodiest diamond he could find in the LA area,” she explains, “We’re in love.” She smiles and places her hand on Michael’s chest, looking up at him with hearts in her eyes. He gifts a small kiss on her lips.

You scoff and shake your head. Any tension that you felt from Michael has dissolved. He’s been dating your mom for five months, five fucking months. Who does he think he is? Are they both nuts? “You’re joking, right?” you ask, completely stunned by how brash the whole situation is. “Are you guys pranking me?”

Michael grins at you, it makes you melt and you hate yourself for it. “Call me daddy,” he sneers.

----

It’s a quaint Wednesday evening when you decide to take a break from studying and grab a snack. You’re scrolling through Tumblr when you walk out of your room and smash your face against a sturdy chest. “Jesus!” you gasp, looking up at Michael standing in front of your door; one of his hands is in a fist, ready to knock on your door, while the other is behind his back. “You scared the shit out of me!” You playfully push his chest away from you, trying to shake off the sudden rush of adrenaline.

He drops his fist as he stumbles back slightly. It’s the first time you’ve talked to him since they announced their engagement. Michael moved in about a month ago and it’s been hard to ignore him since he sits, day in day out, typing away on his laptop in your living room.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “But I have to admit it’s nice to hear your voice again.”

You lean against your doorframe, trying to act casual as if he hadn’t just knocked the wind out of you completely. “Did my mom come home from work or something? She send you here?” you ask, declining his attempts to meet your eyes, instead you stare at his lapel.

“No, I got you something,” he explains, wiggling the surprise behind his back.

“Another Cartier ring?” you joke. “Oh, or is it a new girlfriend? Because that would be even better.” His eyes find the ceiling in annoyance and it feels rewarding, you were starting to think he couldn’t be cracked. “Did you get me an apartment, so I don’t have to live with another failed marriage?”

“No,” he snaps back, starting to sound impatient with your infantile attitude. You straighten up at his belligerent tone. He slides into your room, keeping the gift hidden behind his back. “It’s thoughtful, something I know you’d like, but… if you’re hellbent on loathing my existence, why should I be so kind?” he asks. He somehow manages to speak reserved, yet impossibly intimidating. Every word that leaves his lips demands to be heard, it sends chills down your spine. “Right?” he prompts.

You take in a breath. “Right,” you force yourself to agree, mostly because you’re curious to see what the present is. Another part of you is getting bored of acting like a hermit and going days without social interaction. “Obviously it feels weird; I barely know you and you’re becoming my dad and you moved in, everything just seems so fast,” you explain yourself. You saunter back into your room to meet him. “I’ve been a bitch. I’m sorry, Michael. Seriously.”

He takes a step closer to you, you’re only inches apart. You can feel the heat radiating from his body and fight the urge to wrap your arms around him. “We’ll work on ‘Michael’ later,” he replies. You’re about to question what he means by that when he takes the present out from behind his back. He holds a black bag in between the two of you and you immediately recognize the store. “I heard you on the phone with your friend about something red, lacey, with a bow. I think I found it…”

You take the Victoria’s Secret bag from him without saying a word. You have no words to say. You don’t know if you should thank him or refuse the gift or slap him for listening to your personal conversations. Your mind races wondering if you’d gossiped about his good looks on the phone with your friend.

You silently pry open the bag and paw through the lingerie, mountains of cute panties and bras, digging through things you were never able to afford but always wanted. And, of course, Michael bought the red, lacey one piece you were talking about with your friend. There’s a stillness in the room as you look through the bag. “You bought all of this for me?”

“Yeah, I can’t see how your mom would fit into any of those.”

All of the pieces are just your size, it’s the perfect gift… just not from your stepdad. “How did you even know my size?” you stop looking at the bag and make the mistake of falling into his eyes.

“I went through your clothes,” he carelessly shrugs.

You drop the present by your side. “You went through my clothes, like, my lingerie?”

He slowly nods his head, acting as if it isn’t strange for him to invade your privacy how he did. You huff and he begins looking agitated with you again. “Would you like if I returned all this stuff? I thought you’d like it.”

“I do,” you mutter and kick the bag away from him, you’re not jeopardizing this gift with your uncontrollable sass.

“Good,” he spits back.

“Just… don’t think you can just buy yourself into the family,” you mock. You catch yourself subconsciously crossing your arms over your chest to give yourself a breast lift, but you don’t stop.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smirks. He looks down at your cleavage and it feels like all the air is sucked out of the room. “You have quite the collection of lingerie you keep hidden at the bottom of your drawers,” he observes, “like a dirty guilty pleasure.” You peer up at him, again trying to read him, and again failing. He uses one of his fingers to hook onto the thin fabric of your shirt, your tits are practically pouring out and begging to be the center of attention. He tugs at the fabric, looking under your shirt and inspecting your boobs suffocated in one of your intimate Victoria’s Secret pickups. “Kitten’s all dressed up?” he whispers, his fingertips graze the embroidered details.

You bite your lip, anticipating the second he’ll rip the bra off your chest. “It’s all for you,” you tease, pushing your tits together even more, “I’m always dressed up for you, Michael.”

He breathes in, groaning under his breath. “I thought I told you,” his voice is low and intimidating, “call me daddy.”

You’re drinking in a breath of his cologne, shifting onto the tips of your toes to give his soft lips a rugged kiss, when the sound of keys rattling downstairs takes you out of it. Michael still stares at you, his fingers continue to linger over your clothed tits. “Michael!” your mom calls from downstairs.

You look up at him with fear in your puppy dog eyes and Michael grins. He shoots you one last, knowing, glance before leaving your room. He leaves you without saying two words. “Yeah, babe,” he answers your mom, closing your bedroom door behind him.

What the fuck just happened?

----

Holding back your gags, you grasp your friend’s hair as she projectile vomits peach schnapps into an expensive toilet bowl. Her phone rings in her pocket and you huff, digging through the pockets of the leather jacket you lent her and pulling out a vibrating iPhone. You pick up the phone with an ill “hello”, answering too late and looking down at the screen. She must’ve ordered an Uber a while ago, there’s a ton of notifications that the driver’s outside. “Oh shit,” you mutter under your breath. “Your ride is here!” you yell at her, trying to pull her onto her feet.

“What?!” she yells into the toilet bowl.

You roll your eyes and lean down beside her ear, “I said, your ride is here!” you yell over the thumping music.

Your friend stumbles around, trying to stand up in her six-inch heels. You pull her onto you and her head rests on your shoulder, she goes limp against you. “Stop, come on!” you shout over the music. “You have to g-”

You’re cut off by your friend puking onto an expensive mini dress you bought for tonight’s party. This shindig was supposed to be a fun little escape from your school life, your home life, Michael, all your stress. You expected to make new friends, meet hot guys, but instead you came an hour late and have been nursing your friend the whole night. You’re seriously going to kick her ass tomorrow.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, her breath reeking of throw up.

You toss her arm over your shoulder and start walking her out of the bathroom. “I’m going to kill you tomorrow, you know that?” you say in her ear and she lets out a small, apologetic whimper.

A cute guy who was talking you up earlier approaches the two of you. He holds two red cups in his hands and shrugs when he sees you. “What the fuck, y/n? You disappeared on me!” he talks to you over the bass-y music. “I got our drinks!” he shakes the cups in his hands and hands one over to you, as if completely ignoring your drunken friend hanging off of your side.

Your friend staggers, nearly bringing you down with her. The cute guy helps you pick her back up and you sigh, annoyed at how much of a disaster your night has turned into. He knits his eyebrows at your sour attitude, then finding the vomit on your dress, he looks back up at you. You see his doe eyes grow apologetic when he mouths a weak “sorry” to you, stepping out of your way. You shake your head as if telling him it’s fine; you just wish you had more time to get to know him.

You continue dragging your friend along your side and hear someone call out your name from behind you. You whip your head around; your hair irritatingly sticks to your lip-gloss. “Hope to see you again!” he calls after you. You nod in his direction and resume walking your friend, who is nearly passed out on your shoulder, to the front door. When you walk out of the house, you’re assaulted with the smell of salt water. Despite this night turning into one of the most frustrating nights of your life, at least you got to visit a Malibu beach house.

A big, black SUV is parked outside of the house and you rush her to the door. Opening the backseat and stuffing her inside the seats in the back. “The app says where you’re taking her, right?” you ask the Uber driver, your voice sounds muted from being struck by loud music all night.

He nods and reads out her address. “Y/n,” your friend slurs, gripping onto your arm with all her strength, “you’re a really nice… you’re a… you’re a really good friend, you know that? Like, seriously,” she pauses to hiccup, “thank you for taking care of me tonight.” Her words are so slurred that it’s nearly impossible to make out her compliment, but you just nod in hopes it’ll get her to let go. She drops your arm and hands you your pricey leather jacket, bunched up in a ball, before shutting the van door.

You throw on your jacket, protecting yourself from the ocean’s breeze, and watch the van drive away when you notice a familiar car parked across the street. The SUV blocked a four-seater Maserati parked on the other side of the road. Michael’s sedentary in the driver’s seat with a cigarette hanging from his lips. You balance yourself on your ridiculously tall heels and stomp over to his car. He doesn’t even see you coming, he’s leaned back in the driver’s seat reading a book.

You crouch down and knock on the glass of his window. His eyes meet yours for a second and he slowly rolls down the window. A mob of cigarette smoke escapes the car and he chucks the stick onto the pavement. You’re both quiet for a few moments, the crashing ocean waves fills up the silence.  “How did you know I was here?” you ask.

He finally puts down his book and looks at you. “Just trying to be a good dad,” he responds.

“Ugh, ew,” you groan. “You’re my step dad.”

He adjusts his seat to start driving, his eyes looking you up and down as he does. “Looks like your night went a little… rough,” he jokes and nods towards the puke on your dress. “You need a ride?”

You look back at the party. As much as you wanted to live up the night, you’re already in too much of a bad mood to go back in there. It doesn’t help that your new dress is covered in puke, too. You turn back around to Michael, he awaits your answer with a cocked brow. “You can’t tell mom,” you sigh, walking around the car to get into the passenger’s seat. The luxury car’s butterfly doors obnoxiously open up for your entry. “Not a word,” you assure him as you slide into the leather seat.

He starts up the car and one of his Led Zeppelin albums begins to play. “I picked you up at the library,” he quips.

He starts driving along the empty coast and you decide to skip the seatbelt, you don’t want to dirty his car with your friend’s retch. His eyes glance over to your seat for a moment, he notices you second guessing the seatbelt and puts a hand on your thigh. You look up at him and intuitively try to tempt him, biting your bottom lip and batting your lashes. “I’ll protect you if we crash,” he whispers, his fingers lightly caress your thighs.

You put your hand on his and slide him further up your leg. He keeps one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road, but when his eyes do meet yours, it makes all the nerves in your core feel like a wave pool. Your dress is short enough for him to reach your panties without any hassle. Your hand is on his when his fingers begin to rub your pussy, still dressed in a pair of panties he bought you. “Baby’s already wet for daddy,” he says under his breath, kneading your clit in small circles.

You feel your stomach erupt with butterflies, you’ve never felt a nervousness so intense before. A rush of thoughts suddenly violates your mind, you try to shut them up but they keep coming. This is wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this. You’re disgusting for enjoying this. His fingers have been in your mom before.

You dig your nails into his skin and pull his hand away from you; bending over in your seat and clutching onto your stomach. You only had one drink tonight, you shouldn’t be feeling this sick.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, “are you okay?”

“I think I need air,” you grumble through the sudden sickness. “Can you pull over?”

Michael only takes a minute to find an empty parking lot on the beach and pull into it. You get out of the car without saying a word to him and take off your heels, throwing them into the backseat of his car. You’re already starting to feel your anxiety subside as you shuffle through the cool sand and pace towards the erratic waves crashing on shore. This is one of the reasons you loved LA, the tons of tiny, empty beaches. The ocean at night, and how it constantly smelt like salt water, how it relaxed you.

The breeze blew through your hair, a part of you felt like running into the crashing waves, but a voice took you out of it. “Y/n!” Michael called behind you, over the sound of the whistling wind. He trudges in the sand to get to you; you faintly snicker at his dedication. “Are you okay?” he asks once he’s closer to you.

When you see him, face glowing in the moon light, golden locks blowing in the ocean breeze, face twisted with concern, it all settles. Everything feels like it’s in the right place. Your stomach, although still turning with butterflies, no longer feels sick.

There’s a pause between the two of you; both of you deciding to admire each other instead of the beautiful ocean view beside you. Then, it feels like everything clicks. Like the two of you mentally communicate your longing for each other, your desire. Both shutting your eyes and diving in for a kiss at the same time.

His lips smash against yours, sucking your face, and his tongue quickly invades your mouth. He kisses you like he’s craved your lips for years, passionately cleaning up your mouth with his eager tongue.

Michael works your jacket off of your shoulders and you shimmy it to the ground. He unzips your dress, the zip running along your naked back sends a shiver crawling down your spine. He abandons your lips for a moment to pull down your dress, exposing your bare chest and expensive panties. You’re too lost in lust to even realize you’re half naked on a public beach.

You’re both panting and releasing all of the built-up sexual tension. He stands back up and kisses you again, his hands cup your ass and he gives an echoed smack; his fingers creep down your legs. He grabs onto the back of your thighs and hoists you up, you lightly yelp into his mouth and wrap your legs around him. His large hands hold you up and he leans down, resting you onto the jacket you’ve thrown onto the sand.

Once you’re laid down, he begins rubbing your pussy again. His cold rings adding a different sense of pleasure as he rubs you into entropy. He slides your feeble panties to the side and spits down on your cunt, shoving his finger inside you. You moan at the sudden intrusion, taking in a breath of the salt-scented air. “That’s it, baby girl,” he whispers, adding in another finger, “I want to hear you moan for daddy.”

You take in a breath and whimper as he curves his fingers inside of you, slowly pulsing against your g-spot. He touches you as if he already knows which parts make you crumble. “Ooh yeah, daddy,” you cry and grind on his fingers, pushing him deeper inside you, “right there.”

“You’re my dirty little slut, huh?” he asks, gliding in another finger. Your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Little girl likes to get fucked by her daddy?” He adds another finger, completely stretching you out. Your breath gets caught in your throat and you can’t reply. “I asked you a question.”

You meet his cold eyes for a second, before you throw your head back in pleasure. “Yes!” you breathe out, feeling the heat rise in your body. Your sensitive cunt throbs under his gluttonous fingers, persistently fucking you and begging for more. “Yes, oh, keep fucking me just like that, daddy!”

His fingers find a rhythm inside of you, constantly bringing you to the brink of climax and slowing down. “Such a dirty little girl,” he teases and spits on your soaking cunt. He pulls out his fingers and holds them to your lips. You grab his hand and suck on his long fingers, tasting the cool metal rings mixed with the sweet taste of your pussy.

You sit up and lock your lips with his again. Both, you and Michael, unbutton his shirt; you want to feel his flesh against yours as soon as possible. When you get to the bottom, you slide your hands up his body and square the shirt off of his shoulders. His perfect, porcelain skin shines in the moonlight. You want to appreciate it for a moment, but he’s already unbuckling his belt.

He’s propped on his knees, unzipping his black pants and bringing them down to pull his erection out of his briefs. It springs out when you start grabbing for it, he moves back and clicks his tongue. “My greedy little girl,” he mocks, “you don’t get a taste until daddy says you do.”

He pushes you down with one of his hands. His touch is so delicate, yet so commanding. Everything he does is done with conviction and a power that only you could dream of, he is inherently dominant over you. He strokes his long, girthy length over you, you’re practically drooling at the sight. He spits on himself and rubs it into the head. “Spit on it,” he orders.

You sit up and weakly spit on the tip of his cock; it’s too late when you notice your mouth is dry from nervousness. He shakes his head. “You’re so pathetic, you can’t even spit on me right,” he sneers, divorced from the nasty words leaving his lips. He presses his dick against your folds and your fingers curl into your jacket, awaiting the moment he plunges into you. “Say the word, baby girl, say you want me,” he’s lingering at your entrance.

“Please,” you whine, your pussy is beating against his hard cock, “please dad.”

He pushes his head inside you and you grab his arms for support, digging your nails into his skin. He’s so thick, you’ve never felt something so large obtruding your tight cunt. He moves in slowly, reading your stunned facial expressions to see if he should continue stuffing himself inside of you. You let out tiny weeps as he digs deeper into your hole, but you can’t manage much more.

Michael thrusts himself into you until he’s balls deep, even he can’t help but groan. “My little girl is so fucking tight,” he grunts under his breath. He starts to hammer himself into you, going so deep that you feel like pushing him back, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. His cock is so thick that it hits every nerve you could imagine; it’s hard to gather a single word.

He lets out a small chuckle at your reticence. “My innocent baby’s never felt a real cock before, huh?” he taunts, still pounding his length into you. You open your mouth to speak, but settle on shaking your head. One distinct tear runs down the side of your face while stifled cries pass your trembling lips with each time his balls smack into your ass. “You’re taking me like a good fucking girl,” he admires, “my good little slut.”

He lifts up your leg and rests your foot on his shoulder. You’re twisted onto your side, trying to look over your shoulder to see how vigorously he pounds into your cunt. Michael’s new positioning hits exactly in your g-spot, you feel your leg shaking under his grip. “H-holy shit,” your voice trembles, you let out a built-up breath. “Keep going, daddy! Right there, right there, I’m so close,” you’re begging, voice is flooded with desperation. You don’t care how childish you sound, you want nothing more than to come all over Michael’s big dick. “Don’t move, please, please,” you grab onto his arm again.

Tears overflow your eyes when you look into his. Just seeing his determined light blue eyes peering back at you makes you unravel even more. He has no remorse for how weak he’s making you, how vulnerable you’ve become, his unmistakable dominion turns you on.

He listens to your wails, finally granting you the satisfaction you’ve been begging for and plows into your g-spot. Your grip on him gets tighter as he thrusts harder, you’re almost certain he’s going to leave some swelling deep inside your cunt. “Your dick is so, fucking, good,” you breathe in between thrusts.

Michael doesn’t give up, keeping up the same pace and fucking you exactly how you want him to. You’re about to praise his long cock some more when you’re thrown into climax. You try looking back up at him, but you can’t say a word; your mouth hangs wide open with nothing but small chokes croaking out. He can see how dazed he’s made you and shoves your face into the ground, pushing your nose against the leather of your jacket. “You’re going to take daddy’s cock like a good little girl,” he seethes, suffocating your head into your jacket. “Don’t come,” he demands.

He continues punching your g-spot with his huge cock, you feel your pussy spasming under his rough thrusts. He holds both of your arms back, shifting you into doggy-style. His balls slap against your sore clit and you feel yourself starting to ejaculate. “Fuck!” you scream into the breeze of the empty beach. Your cunt twitches and gushes its balmy juices all over Michael’s hard cock.

He slows down his pace and pulls your arms up towards him, you feel his heaving chest against your back. “What did I just fucking say?” he fumes, tugging your arms even closer to him. “Answer me.”

“You told me not to come,” you answer in a syrupy, naïve voice.

He grabs both of your tits to push you flush against him, maintaining his rough thrusts into your cunt. “That’s right,” he whispers in your ear, “baby didn’t fucking listen.” He smacks your tits with both of his hands, striking you hard. You jump at how ruthless he hits you, it makes your stomach flutter again. His full lips lug along your neck. “Remember who you belong to,” he speaks into your neck, sending an iciness throughout your entire body.

Michael digs his teeth into your skin, sucking up your flesh while he continues massaging your breasts, pinching at the hard peaks your nipples have formed. He sucks so hard it stings, you wonder how that would feel on your pussy. His love bite begins to hurt and you shift your head away from him, he snickers. “Who do you belong to?” he whispers, lips chafing the shell of your ear.

He pinches your nipples even harder and you sob in pleasure. “Mmm, you,” you respond, looking over your shoulder to give his lips a frail kiss. “I belong to you, daddy.”

He takes in a deep breath as if shaking off your spell and regaining his confidence. He pushes you onto the ground again and goes back to fucking you like a ragdoll. “You better remember that,” he breathes, mercilessly pummeling himself into you again.

He holds both of your arms back once more, driving himself into you so hard that you’re concerned about cervix bruising. His pace slows down a bit and you look back at him, his mouth drapes open and he stares down at the back of your head. He pushes you away as he orgasms, savagely shoving your face back into the ground, as you feel his warm seed spilling inside your wet cunt. Michael groans from deep within his chest, letting out a long sigh when he’s done. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, “fuck, you sexy bitch.”

You let out a little giggle at this and he joins. He hauls himself out of you and you feel all of your muscles relax. You shift onto your back, looking up at Michael in disbelief. You’re too caught up in euphoria to comprehend what just happened. All you can think of in this moment is how fucking good he was. Even Michael has a dumbfounded look on his face.

He shakes his head and liberates a nervous laugh, “We’re so fucked up.”

You can say that again.

[prophecy-is-inevitable]

How would you imagine each of Michael's Phases would react to finding you asleep, while you waited for him to finish his daily antichrist things and come back home to you? 😇😈 Fluff/Smut? Whatever you find fitting! 🖤

Thank you so much for sending this in! I hope you like what I’ve come up with! I’m not exactly sure where Grunge!Michael fits in, so I did skip that one.

* There’s one little section of smut for flavor. But it’s been a while so I apologize if it’s shit! *

Hawthorne!Michael

The fires were burning low in the academy as Michael made his way through the sleek halls to his bedroom. He knew it was late, and he paused with a wince when his door creaked on its hinges as he pushed it open. Michael peeked his head around the edge of the door to try and find where you were. Soft light from a low-burning candle illuminated your face resting on his pillow, your lashes dusting your cheeks as you slept, and he smiled softly. 

The book you had been reading on advanced magical techniques and incantations had fallen from your hand and laid open on the bed next to you. He carefully picked it up and moved your bookmark--a balck satin neck ribbon from one of his uniforms--to the page you had been reading. Descensum. Of course. Even with his powers growing stronger and his confidence in his ascension as Alpha, he had still asked for your help in making sure he was as prepared as possible. He needed this. He needed to prove himself, and you wanted nothing more to see him succeed. You’d be lying if you said you had been particularly worried about the final task after hearing of the previous failures by others. But Michael wasn’t like the others.

The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge of his bed and stroked the curve of your cheekbone with his thumb. Michael leaned over and pressed a kiss to your temple. He didn’t bother changing. He simply loosened the ribbon at his neck, removed his jacket, and slipped under the covers to pull you close. His arm wrapped around your waist, and he tucked his head against your neck. As powerful as he was, he felt stronger with you wrapped in his arms. 

~~~~~~~~

Sojourn!Michael

He had been lost. Mentally, physically, emotionally. Spiritually even. His father had abandoned him--just like everyone else. Except you. Michael smiled tiredly when he spotted your figure wrapped in a knitted throw blanket on the porch swing. You always waited for him to stumble back home, leaving the porch light lit for him. He was sure he’d find a cold meal still sitting at his spot on the table, too. A lump rose in his throat as he watched the gentle breeze rustle through your hair. You deserved better. You deserved someone strong and confident in their abilities. 

You wrapped the blanket tighter around you in your sleep, resulting in a soft and deep chuckle from your lover. He made his way to you, gently scooped you up in his arms, and opened the door with the slight kick of his shoes. You whimpered softly at the disturbance, but didn’t wake, and buried your face against his neck. The dusting of stubble on his jaw tickled your cheek the closer you snuggled into him. His warmth was a nice contrast to the chilled outdoors, and the heady smell of his skin lulled you back into your slumber.

Michael sat on the sofa with your head in his lap, carding his fingers through your hair, and trying to get the wild beating of his heart under control. He was always like this after a day of “work”. His mind ran at miles a minute with questions and concerns, and his blood rushed through his veins at the restrained panic. The gentle feeling of your chest rising and falling against him helped as he focused on mimicking your steady breaths. Before he knew it, his head was resting against the back of the couch and your breaths had synched in peaceful sleep. No matter how lost he was, he always found his way back home to the one who kept him grounded. To you. He would become the man you deserved, the man that demanded the respect and fear of others, the man that kept you safe.

~~~~~~~~

*Fire&Reign!Michael (Smutty Smut Smut Smut) 

Michael’s gloves creaked as he tightened his fists at the memory of the day’s successful meeting. He’s held the entire room, each person eating out of his palm, as he addressed the Cooperative. They practically held their breaths for him. This was what purpose felt like. It flowed through him stronger than anything he had ever felt. Well...almost. Desire consumed him so quickly and completely when in your presence that he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to (which he never did). Michael embraced his urges now, and he’d never felt more alive. Just the thought of you waiting in your room for him was stirring his arousal. Pleasure and pride often went hand in hand, after all.

A smirk tugged at his lips as his eyes landed on your form asleep on the sofa. What a beautiful sight to celebrate the end of his glorious day. With an elegant twist of his wrist, the flames in the fireplace burned brighter to light the room. The satin night dress he had given you had ridden up and gave him a tantalizing view. His fingers, still clad in vibrant red leather, trailed lazily over your bare legs, up your exposed thighs, and danced over the silky fabric at your hip. He knelt between your legs, placing one around his waist, and kissed along your neck and collarbone. A practiced swipe relieved you of the lace covering your core, and his fingers quickly slipped along your folds. The sleepy moan from your lips encouraged him further, and his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin on your neck.

“Michael…” The murmur of his name made him chuckle in satisfaction against your skin, and his gloved fingers easily pushed into you when your hips shifted.

“You know I fucking love it when you say my name.” Your eyes fluttered open at the husky whisper. It was even better to wake up to the real thing. Michael was skilled at playing your body. He knew just the right angle to make you arch and writhe against him. Before long, he removed his fingers and pressed the wet digits against your lips. “Come on. You know what to do.” Your lips parted obediently, and you hummed at the taste of your own arousal and warm leather on your tongue.

The long day and earlier thoughts of how exactly he wanted to ravage you when he returned left him impatient. The sound of his belt and zipper made your eyes sparkle in excitement, and you eagerly parted your legs to give him more room to settle against your hips. With one sharp thrust, he seated himself fully inside of you. He groaned into your neck but didn’t pause long before setting a pace driven by sheer carnal need. Michael knew what he wanted, and he was going to chase it with pure abandon. Your hands reached behind you to hold the arm of the sofa, the deep and rapid thrusts of his cock forcing you across the piece of furniture until his hands gripped your hips roughly to hold you in place. The pressure of his fingers on your skin, his teeth on your collarbone, the sound of skin on skin and his groans of pleasure filled you with more sensations than your sleep-addled brain had been prepared for. His face was slick with sweat and your back was starting to stick to the black leather sofa. Gasps and moans fell heavily from the pair of you amidst the erotic symphony echoing in the room.

Your hands reached up into his soft, blond curls and tugged. The action earned you a string of curses and a sharp thrust that perfectly reached the spot inside you that left you seeing stars. Michael did it again upon hearing your gasp and relentlessly targeted your g-spot, even as his hips began to falter. One of your hands remained in his hair while the other ventured downward to drag your nails lightly along his clothed back. A shiver ran through his body, his cock twitching within your trembling walls, and he growled in your ear. The possessive sound coupled with the feeling of him perfectly filling you was the tipping point. You came around him with a cry, your pulsing core drawing him deeper still, and he roughly jerked your hips up to fuck you through your orgasm. He was so close, and your release only drew him closer. Your legs locked behind his back to urge him on, needing to feel him fill you completely. A chorus of moans continued to fall from your lips, each one praising his name, and he buried himself as far as he could before granting your own desires. You moaned in satisfaction as pulse after pulse of his seed filled you, his teeth sinking into your collarbone to muffle his groan as he claimed you as his in every way.

“Today went well, then?” you panted. Your fingers stroked his damp curls from his face as he held himself over you.

“Oh yes.Though I was very much looking forward to the end.”

~~~~~~~~

Outpost!Michael

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose after closing his laptop. More bad news. R&D was having difficulties with virtually every project they needed to accomplish for the Sanctuary to flourish. While the people at Outpost 3 were insignificant and of no concern for the future, he wasn’t alone. He wanted this to work for the both of you. You were his future, and the both of you together were the future of this world. If nothing functioned to help you survive, what kind of future was that? He couldn’t broach the subject of a family with such uncertainty looking ahead.

Michael ran a hand through his hair and sat back in his chair. That was enough for one day. He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and straightened the shoulder to make sure his immaculate presence reamined. He tucked his laptop under his arm and began climbing the spiral staircase to his rooms. Michael passed a few of the Outpost residents in the hall and remained aloof to their gestures and acknowledgements. Any show of interest would only encourage, and he was more than done with his interviewees for the day. 

The air in your shared room was warm and humid, and he spotted your laptop closed on the table. The door to the bathroom was mostly shut except for an inch that let a sliver of light stream from the room. Thick air carried a familiar smell that made Michael smile--your favorite bath soap. He tossed his coat across a chair in the corner of the bedroom and unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves. Michael rolled his shirt up to the elbows and entered the bathroom. It must have been some time since you’d started your bath from how far the candles had burned down. Bubbles still covered the surface of the water, though, some still stuck to the skin of your shoulders and chest as your head rested against the back of the tub. You must have read the emails, too...

Michael knelt beside the tub and swirled his fingers in the water. It was still warm, but he could feel the surface beginning to grow tepid. His powers leached into the water and increased the temperature back to a pleasant heat that released some steam into the air. His long fingers caressed your arm until you woke enough to blink up at him.

“May I join you?” Michael whispered. He rested his head on one arm bent across the edge of the tub while the other continued to raise goosebumps over your skin.

“Of course.”

Michael needed no further invitation. He stripped himself from his formal attire, kicking his cropped pants into the corner and tossing his shoes away. You slide back to give him room to step into the tub and sit in front of you. He moaned softly as he sank into the warm water, his tense muscles slowly beginning to uncoil as the water soothed his stress. Well, the water and the gentle circles your thumbs began to make along his spine and shoulders.

“How did the interviews go today?” you asked quietly.

“About as well as expected. Every one of them believes they deserve to be saved,” he muttered, waving his hands dismissively as if they were talking about something as inconsequential as the weather.

“Do you think they have any idea they won’t be leaving this place?” Your lips danced over his neck and shoulders, and he tipped his head back to rest on your shoulder to look into your eyes. The smirk on his lips said it all.

“Not a fucking clue.” You chuckled together and cupped your hands in the water to wet his hair while his head was still tipped back. He’d grown it out over the last year, giving him the look of maturity that matched his behavior. Everything was smooth and calculated now, from the application of the dramatic scarlet eyeshadow he wore, to his fashion, to each word he used to trigger the responses he needed in interviews. He had grown into his power and wielded it with his beauty as a dazzling weapon.

After sufficiently soaking his hair, you ran your fingers through the long silken strands and used your nails to massage his scalp. Michael sank against you more with a sigh and pressed a kiss to your lips. You happily returned it and pulled away to trail your lips along the tendon of his neck. He reached up to cup your face and bring your lips back to his in a deeper embrace. Perhaps the future was a bit uncertain, but this one aspect would always be clear.

[xavierplym]

Sojourn

[icyharrington]

Although nobody will truly ever be able to live up to the pure sex appeal and charisma as our king and antichrist Michael Langdon, there is still a version of Michael that resonates with each and every one of us mere mortals... so ladies... which one is it?

LADIESSSS, i spent like 2 hours last night making this quiz (w some help from @wroteclassicaly 💕) to find out which version of michael you are... yes i know i could have spent this time writing a fic, but i’m honestly not in the head space for that rn so i thought i’d make something fun that didn’t take as much brain power lol. 

y’all should definitely take this quiz because i wanna see who y’all get!!!!! if u take it, reblog w ur result ;) 

[sxnnimoon]

First for Everything

**** I’m going to be making in two parts maybe three I don’t know yet. But this is actually pretty good and I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did writing it!***

Part 1.

Michael Langdon x Reader

Summary- You’re aunt Madelyn brings home this boy who you take a liking to and things escalate but he wants more than just a one time thing. Will you stay with him or will you run off and help him with what is to be planned for the future?

Warning- SMUT

__________________________________________

I remember the first encounter I had with Michael, I’d been packing because I was due to go down to Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies, seeing as my powers were progressing even more. Anyways my aunt Madelyn had brought him home from Black Mass which was strange she rarely did that, he was scary good looking though, looked about my age but the innocent act he possessed seemed too good to be true. 

“Make yourself comfortable now. I’ve just got to fetch my niece.” Madelyn said. “Y/n! Come down we’ve got a guest!”

“And what celebrity have you brought over this time.” you trailed off.

“This is Michael. Michael this is my niece Y/n.” she nodded. 

“I am Michael, Michael Langdon. The chosen one.” he said proudly.

“Is that right.” you chuckled.

“Don’t believe me?” he questioned. “See me.”

He then pulled his hair aside and placed behind his ear was the mark of the beast. 

“It’s you.” Both of us shocked. 

“You can stay in one of our guest rooms tonight, you must be exhausted.” your aunt said. “Y/n show him to the one on your side of the house and then give him a short tour.”

“Yes aunt Madelyn.” you replied.

“She must be a real handful isn’t she?” he asked.

“You have no idea, from her being severely devoted to you, your father and the black mass yeah, you could say that.” you chuckled.

“And you're not as devoted?” he said. “What too much to handle?”

“Ha. Ha. Funny, but no, I've got my own business to handle.” you responded. 

“And what “business” is it you have to handle.” Michael asked.

“Witchcraft.” you said bluntly.

You’d both made it to his room for the night.

“This is it.” you pointed, entering after him.

“You seriously are a witch?” he said curiously.

With the swift movement of your hand you closed the door behind you, then fire came out of the palm of your hand.

“I’ve never been more serious.” you smirked.

“I’m gonna more than a door slam and fire.” his cockiness was showing.

You hadn’t realized just how close he got to you. The dimness of the room made him look on to a god. He’d be yours whether he knew it or not. But little did you know he felt the same way. You needed to gain his attention so, with one look you had him pinned up on the wall. 

“Is that enough for you.” smirking at him. 

“I’d say so,” he said now in front of you. “Didn’t know I possessed powers of my own? I am the antichrist after all.”

“I never doubted you for one second.” closing the gap between you both.

The tension between you both was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You both just stared at each other, not knowing who was gonna make the first move. So you took one for the team. You leaned in taking him by surprise as your lips touch, moving in sync as he kissed back. The kiss deepened, not realizing you guys had begun ripping off each other's clothes, one by one the floor being covered in articles of clothing. You broke away from each other, basking in each other's naked form. You couldn’t help but stare at how hung he was.

“Like what you see?” he asked, his cockiness vanishing.

“Nervous are we?” you questioned.

“I-I I’ve never actually.. you know.” he stuttered.

“You mean to tell me. You, the antichrist are a virgin?” you were shocked. 

“Yeah.” he said nervously. 

“Don’t worry I’ll be gentle, if you want me to be that is.” a smug look on your face. 

He shivered as you trailed open mouth kisses down his body. You stopped just as you got to his member. You looked up as if to ask for his permission, he gave you a nod of okay. You then took him into your mouth bobbing up and down occasionally looking up at him, his head back trying his best to contain his moans. 

“You can moan, you know, aunt Madelyn won’t mind.” you said reassuring.

He complied, releasing the most beautiful sound known to man. 

“Y/n.” he moaned.

Lord was he hot. He clearly knew what I was thinking because he pulled me off with a pop causing him to moan one last time.

“Bed.” he demanded.

That is all I needed to hear. I needed him so bad. I laid down propping myself on my elbows looking at him at the end of the bed. He crawled slowly on to the bed leaving kisses as he went. Stopping just as he got to where I needed him most. Feeling his breath there made your need for him stronger. 

“Michael.” you groaned. “I need you.”

“Relax princess all in good time.” he said.

Before you could speak again he devoured you. Licking up the arousal from your dripping cunt. He may have been the devils son but boy was he in heaven. He loved the way you tasted, the way you’d buck your hips as he flicked our clit from time to time or how your moans sounded like music to his ears. You couldn’t believe the things he was doing to you, hell the way he was making you feel. There was no way he was a virgin. He had stopped, looking down at you come undone.

“How is it you are a virgin?” you said breathless.

He had crawled up kissing your stomach, then your breast taking one into his mouth releasing a yelp from you. 

“Hard to believe I know but I guess you could say it just comes naturally.” he said kissing your neck, nibbling occasionally. 

He had hovered over you, studying every feature, every flaw you may possess. He loved your curves, how they were made for you, how your breasts we’re just the right size and your ass, the most round and curvy feature of all. You were perfect to him and he intended to keep you. 

“You sure you want to keep going?” you questioned, noticing him staring you down.

“I’ve never been more sure in my life.” he replied.

And with that he lined himself up with your entrance with the help of you of course and slid in with ease. You didn’t know you’d been holding in a moan until he entered you. It was like he was made for you, you had to adjust a bit but after that you gave him the okay and he started with slow thrusts to get the hang of things. His movements may have been small and slow but for how big he was you felt all of him with each thrust. He’d finally picked up a good enough pace and noticed how into it you were, the expression you made fueled him more. He began pounding into you. 

“Michael!” you screamed. Clawing at his back. He hissed but moaned at the feeling. 

“I’m almost there.” he moaned out.

“Me too.” you moaned. “Me too.” 

You both came at the same time, both panting. Him collapsing on top of you. 

“That was amazing.” he panted out. 

“It really was.” you said gathering your clothes.

“We should do it again sometime.” he said.

“I would love to but I leave tomorrow.” you said looking away.

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” he said.

“I’m headed to New Orleans tomorrow.” you could tell he was upset. “I’ve been accepted into this school for witches.”

“The one ran by Coredelia?” he asked.

“Yes?” you questioned. “Why do you ask?”

“You can’t go there,” he said firmly.

“Why?” you were scared but curious.

“They are the reason I have nowhere to go, they are the ones that took away my Ms.Mead.” he started to tear up.

“Is it because of who you are?” you asked.

“It is because I am the one who can take them down, I am more powerful than they are combined.” he stated. “Stay with me and help me avenge what is mine.”

[ahs-requests]

y/n having sex in the back of fuckboy!Michael's car pls 🙏🏼

Pairing: Fuckboy!Michael x Fem!Reader

Warnings: nsfw, fingering, oral (male receiving), vaginal sex, edging.

WC: 1.6k

The songs playing in Michael’s four-seater sedan are muted after hearing thumping house party music all night. Generally, you wouldn’t run off with a guy you just met, but Michael somehow schmoozed his way into getting you into his car. He’s parked in an abandoned parking lot of a department store that’s closed hours ago, casually draping himself in the backseat next to you and feeling the high kick in.

You hold a lighter to the bowl of his pipe and suck in the heavy smoke, already getting hit by how strong it is. You cough out the fumes, handing him his pipe back. He snickers at how you choke, as if mocking you for being too amateur. “Your weed tastes like shit,” you spit back at him, subtly trying to hide your coughs. The reality is that you don’t really know if it tastes bad; you rarely ever smoke weed, but it always tastes like shit to you anyways.

“My uncle grows it,” he mutters with the pipe between his lips.

“Well, your uncle’s weed tastes like shit,” you joke a little too aggressively, sinking into your seat. The high is already making everything feel like it’s been thrown into slow motion.

He sits up in his seat and you get a whiff of his intoxicating body spray. “I didn’t bring you here just so you can shit on my weed, okay?” he’s starting to sound a little impatient.

“Bring me here?” you laugh. “The empty parking lot of a department store. So romantic.”

He leans over, a puff of the grim marijuana smoke blows into your face. This time the smell doesn’t bother you; with how delicately it leaves his lips and hits yours, it’s almost arousing. “That’s the thing, baby,” he whispers close to your ear, “I don’t do romance.”

You’ve pegged yourself as the monogamous type and always viewed one night stands as too dirty for your blood, but something is different with Michael. As soon as you laid eyes on him, you wanted to know what he smells like, what he feels like, what he tastes like. He’s so obviously just another jock, keeping score of how many pussies he’s fucked, but there’s something undeniably irresistible about the man.

His lips are inches from yours, still parted from releasing the smoke from his lungs. You take the opportunity to kiss him. His soft lips suck yours, his hand already laying on your cheek to guide your face towards his. He wastes no time, introducing his tongue into your mouth and flicking it around. You wonder what that would feel like on your core.

Michael’s skillful fingers run up your thighs and press against the moist area between your legs. You draw in a breath, your lips still against his. He kisses down your neck, his big lips running along your goose-pimpled skin. He shifts your panties to the side and struggles to stuff a finger inside. “Mmm, baby,” he moans, “you’re so tight.”

“Yeah,” you croak. You try hiding your gasps as he pulses his finger inside of you. “Thanks,” you reply awkwardly, unaware what to tell this stranger who’s inside you. He smiles against your neck.  

You convince yourself to blame the weed on your ineptitude and escalate the situation, putting your hand on his thigh. You rub in the denim, slowly moving up his leg until you reach his crotch. Your hand brushes over his bulge, feeling how rock hard he’s gotten under your charm. He takes in a deep breath when you touch him.

You tug at the zipper of his blue jeans, trying to take your mind off of the hex his fingers have over you. He takes his finger out of you and leaves your throbbing cunt to help slip off his jeans. Of course, he just wants to get inside you as soon as possible. But you have to admit, you want the same.

He shimmies his pants off and you graze over his cock, eagerly pulling at the elastic waistband of his boxers and dragging out his thick length. He groans onto your skin, his voice sending a vibration against your vocal cords. Michael grabs a fistful of your hair and drives you down, pushing your head towards his cock. You follow his commands without question, lowering your head down to his bulbus pink tip and beginning to suck on it. You sit on the floor of his car as he continues gripping your hair and ushering you further down his length.

He throws his back and groans when you make contact, sucking his veiny cock and tasting the bitter precum dripping from his hole. You bob your head, pushing him as far as you can into your throat before you start choking, but he mercilessly pushes you further. His round tip tickles the back of your throat and you gag, pulling him out of your mouth and coughing, tears rolling down your cheeks. You wipe them away, hoping he didn’t notice.

You still feel a numbness in your cunt since he’s left you unfinished, so you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. You sit back on the seat next to him, slightly rubbing against it to alleviate some of the tension. He yanks your hair, hard. “Why did you stop?” he asks, visibly annoyed.

You begin rubbing your clit in circles, opening your legs wide enough for him to watch. “Because you did the same to me,” you reply sweetly, then spit down on your wet cunt, dripping onto the backseat of his car.

He bites his bottom lip, watching your juicy cunt dribble all over his car. He leans into you, kissing you again, this time his kiss almost feels like it’s battling your lips. “Oh, yeah?” he breathes into your mouth. “What if I just stuffed you up right now? Fucked your tight little pussy and filled you with my cum? Huh? Is that what you want?” his voice is low, intimidating. It sends chills down your spine.

You just nod. A weak “yes” spills from your lips when he’s already climbing on top of you, pushing you to lay down in the back seat. He spits on the head of his cock and holds it to your entrance. He presses himself into you, filling you up in a matter of seconds. You gasp, grabbing at his arm for support and burying your nails into his car seats.

He pushes further inside you and your cunt writhes in pain. Your muscles twitch as he begins pumping his thick cock. “You’re so fucking tight,” he starts up his mantra again, “you’re taking me so well.”

He pushes even deeper, rocking his hips into your wet cunt. You feel your hole accepting more and more of him with each plunge, your pain subsiding and pleasure rising. His cock grinds against your g-spot, it feels as if he hits every important nerve. At first you couldn’t speak from pain, now it’s from unadulterated satisfaction.

You roll your eyes and throw your head back, hitting the window of his car. “Oh, fuck,” is all you can bring yourself to pant. He fucks you so hard that you keep smacking your back against the door with each thrust. “Just… like… that,” you encourage between thrusts.

He leans over you, his sweaty hand rams into the window, leaving behind an ominous print on the glass. “You feel so good, baby,” he praises, bending down to give your lips another peck.

He pummels himself into you so hard that the whole car is rocking against his thrusts and the air becomes thick, dirty. The two of you relentlessly pant, exchanging grimaces and letting out small groans. You sit up, feeling yourself approach climax, and he grabs onto you, pushing your body flush against his. The pace of his thrusts are faster than before. “Fuck,” he keeps breathing, “fuckfuckfuck.”

Michael pulls you into a hug against him, digging his long cock into you a few more times. His last thrusts getting harder and harder until you feel something warm release inside of you and he lets out a shaky groan. “Oh yeah, baby,” he sighs, flopping back on the seat of his car and taking himself out of you. He wipes some sweat from his brow.

You’re still panting, your cunt aches from edging climax. “Uuh, hello?” you hit him as he pulls out his phone, scrolling on the bright screen.

“Hm?” he replies, not even looking at you. You’re already kicking yourself for letting him convince you into this.

“I didn’t finish,” you say bitterly.

Michael lays his phone flat on his chest; his face twists in discomfort. He sighs deeply, as if you were interrupting something crucial on his cell screen. “Look, um…” he trails off, using his hands to gesture at you.

“Y/n,” you answer for him.

“Yes. Listen, y/n, I’m so sorry to do this, but I have to go back to my dorm,” he explains, you’re already rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “I have practice in the morning. Y’know I’d love to finish you off, but I really have to get going. You think you can do the rest?”

Fucking asshole.