#MONTHS. Im so SORRY IF I ACCIDENTALLY IGNORED YOU THAT WAS TUMBLR SENDING ME TO THE SHADOW REALM

[rosedosed]

OH MY GOD IVE BEEN FUCKING SHADOWBANNED. THIS EXPLAINS EVERYTHING.

[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.

[scientifthicc]

You’re Gonna Catch a Cold

hello all! this is my valentine’s day exchange gift for the wonderful @shadowsofrainbows ily!! hello, i’m your valentine skdjskj. i really hope you enjoy the gift because i’m not sure if its any good or not so i’m sorry if it sucks. i really enjoyed writing it and its a tyrus fanfic so i hope you like it :)) by the way, im sorry this is posting so late, tungler dot com was being a butt and i couldn’t post it until now :(( sorry to keep you waiting so long hhh

also!! a big thank you and shout out to @swingsetboys for organizing this valentine’s day gift exchange!! these gift exchanges are so fun to do and without you we wouldn’t have them so thank you ilyy! and thanks for being so kind and helpful when tumblr’s a pain in the ass skdjsk

Cyrus tapped his foot impatiently as he anxiously waited for TJ to answer the call.

TJ’s voice comes from the phone, but it’s not him, it’s his voicemail. “It’s TJ. If you’re hearing this it’s probably because I don’t feel like answering the phone right now. Leave a message, if you want.” A beep comes from the phone, signaling the start of the voicemail.

Cyrus took a breath before starting to not sound as worried as he really was. “Hey TJ, it’s Cyrus. Again. Nobody’s heard from you in a couple days so please please please answer me as soon as you can.” Pressing the red End button, he turned to his friends with a downcast face.  Cyrus had been stressing out since Tuesday when TJ didn’t show up to school and didn’t answer what had come to be many texts and calls. None of the teachers TJ had seemed to know what was happening either, sending him into a whirlwind of thoughts. Is TJ okay? Is he hurt? Is he dying? No, he’s not dying. But what if he is dying?? Now it was Saturday, and the GHC was standing outside the Spoon, waiting to go in as Cyrus called TJ for the millionth time.

“No answer,” he said with a frown.

“Cyrus. Relax. He’s probably fine,” Buffy said, putting her hands on Cyrus’s shoulders and drawing out the word “relax”. She spun him around and ushered him into the Spoon.

“Yeah,” Andi scoffed, as they found a booth and sat down. “You’re probably just going through a TJ-withdraw.” Andi and Buffy chuckled while Cyrus scowled.

“Right,” he said, looking over the menu and pretending to ignore Andi’s comment. “He’s probably fine.” He paused to take his order when the waitress came over before continuing. “That doesn’t guarantee he’s okay. What if he needs our help?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “If you want to know so bad, why don’t you stop by his house and find out?”

“You’re right,” Cyrus said determinedly, putting both palms on the table and standing up.

“Wait- now? Your food hasn’t even arrived yet” Buffy said, but Cyrus was already out of his seat.

“Update us!!” Andi yelled as Cyrus was walking out the door, earning a thumbs up from him as he left to signal that he had heard them.

Andi and Buffy exchanged a knowing look, and Buffy rolled her eyes once again. “He left his coat,” Buffy giggled.

On his way there, the sound of Cyrus’s feet crunching in the snow was the only sound that could be heard, and he couldn’t help but think about what could have happened to TJ. Was he grounded? Cyrus doubted that. He wouldn’t be surprised if his parents took away his phone if he was in trouble, but it doesn’t make sense that they would keep him from coming to school. Did TJ get into trouble at school? He didn’t want to think of that as a possibility. He knew TJ was better than that. Did his family go on vacation? No way. TJ definitely would have told him beforehand.

Eventually, Cyrus ended up on TJ’s front porch that afternoon, pacing in front of the door as he waited, shivering, since he accidentally left his coat with Buffy and Andi in his rush to leave the Spoon. He let out a frosty breath, looking down at his feet as he stopped in front of the door, hands in his pockets, and waited.

“Hey,” said a congested-sounding voice, making Cyrus jump as he broke out of his thoughts.

Looking up, Cyrus went to respond but stopped short at the sight in front of him, barely preventing himself from choking on the frigid air around him. Standing there in front of him, in the doorway, was TJ Kippen himself, but different. He clearly looked sick, and he was wearing gray sweatpants Cyrus had never seen on him before, but it got worse; he had no hair gel, making her hair a fluffy dirty-blonde mess, and was wearing glasses. Cyrus couldn’t help but be a teensy bit upset by the fact that TJ had never told him that he actually wore contacts. A little forewarning would’ve been nice — he was having trouble handling the sight in front him at that moment. It took him a while before Cyrus realized he was staring at him like an idiot.

“Uh- TJ! You’re okay!” Cyrus finally exclaimed before cringing, realizing TJ wasn’t exactly okay, considering he was sick and wishing he had kept his mouth shut. “I mean— you’re not dead, at least.” He facepalmed. “I— nevermind. Hi TJ.”

TJ started laughing before devolving into a coughing fit. Growing concerned, Cyrus let himself inside and shut the door to keep TJ out of the cold. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good. I’m a little sick. Just a little, though,” he answered with a heavily congested voice before sneezing multiple times.

They walked into the kitchen, where Cyrus immediately felt warm. The entire house gave off a welcoming, lived-in, and cozy feel, especially the kitchen with the warm beige walls, different variety of mugs in one of the see-through cabinets, and the pictures on the fridge that displayed upcoming events, drawings TJ made when he was about 7 or 8 maybe, and souvenir magnets. When he saw the old drawings, Cyrus smiled, admiring how cute they were, before turning back to TJ as they both sat down at the kitchen table. “Did your parents take away your phone or something?”

“I mean, technically.”

Cyrus gestured for TJ to continue.

“Well.” TJ paused to cough. “My parents are the — sniff — type of parents who don’t let you — sneeze — use your phone when you get sick, because they think using it will be bad for you and delay you from getting better,” he explained before grabbing a tissue from one of the boxes that were currently everywhere in the house and blowing his nose. “So, when I got sick and had to stay home, I couldn’t really let you know, which sucked.” He coughed a couple times.

Cyrus frowned. “That sucks.” TJ nodded his head in agreement. “ I was so stressed. I was worried you died or something. I must have called you at least 15 times.” Cyrus couldn’t help but cringe at how desperate he must’ve sounded, but TJ would’ve eventually seen the calls and texts when he got his phone back anyways, so he had nothing to lose.

TJ grinned and opened his mouth to say something, but before he could say anything, he started to cough. He was shivering a little as well, despite the fact that it was currently warm in the house.

Cyrus frowned again. “Where’s the blankets?” TJ vaguely gestured to a door under the stairs — while still coughing into his arm — that seemed to be a small closet. He fetched a pink blanket, with Dora, Diego, Backpack, and Boots with huge lettering that told you it was Dora the Explorer blanket — in case you weren’t sure before — and threw it on TJ before moving to the cabinets to hunt around for a tea kettle, a mug, and a tea bag. Once he finally found what he needed, he started preparing tea for TJ. The tea kettle was already filled with water and heating up on the stove before TJ finally spoke up.

“Uh, Cyrus?” TJ questioned, finally removing the blanket from over his head where it had been thrown on him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making you tea and taking care of you, duh,” Cyrus responded, now setting a pot on the stove and searching through the cabinets for ramen soup (every house had to have ramen, he thought) while he waited for the tea to be made. Cyrus, still facing the cabinets, kept going before TJ could say anything. “I don’t see anyone else around, so I’m gonna be the one to do it.” He was clearly in full-parent mode by now, and there was no going back. Putting the ramen packet he finally found down and turning to face TJ, he asked, “By the way, where are your parents?”

TJ rested his head on his arm. ”They’re gone for the weekend for a wedding. They didn’t want to leave me in the ’state I was in’, but they’d RSVP’d months before,” he answered, complete with air quotes, sniffs, and sneezes.

“Oh. Uh, okay,” he said, turning around to continue making the soup and to hide his blush. They were gonna be alone for God knows how long and Cyrus didn’t know how to feel about it. Cyrus and TJ sat in comfortable silence for a couple minutes while Cyrus made the soup. He may not know shit about cooking, but he had learned to at least make soup for when his parents were out and there was nothing else to eat, so it had become a staple food for him. Cyrus assumed it was comfortable silence, at least; it was entirely possible that TJ could have fallen asleep and Cyrus wouldn’t have been surprised. In reality, though, although Cyrus was unaware, TJ couldn’t help but stare at Cyrus and appreciate what he was doing for TJ. He felt undeserving to have someone as lucky as Cyrus care for him, even though it wasn’t like he would ever tell him how he felt.

Eventually handing TJ the tea that had finally finished being made (“With honey and lemon to help your cold, of course,” Cyrus had told him), he broke the silence by asking how he had managed to get by at all so far in the state he was in.

“I haven’t,” TJ answered after a couple seconds of thought. “I was dying earlier. But I’m dying a little less now.”

“Thank God I’m here, I guess,” Cyrus said with a smile. Time stood still for a second as TJ and Cyrus simply stared at each other for a couple seconds, a blush creeping up on both of their faces, not that oblivious TJ noticed Cyrus’s blush, or vice versa. The awkward silence was clearly cutting through the room, though, so Cyrus cleared his throat before it could get worse, turning to check on the soup to find that it was ready.

Handing TJ the soup, Cyrus told him, “Okay, well, go to your room and lay down. I’ll be up in a couple minutes with something else and I’m gonna pick a movie for us to watch.”

TJ rolled his eyes. “I’m not that sick, Underdog,” he informs him before hacking and coughing once again. No matter how many times TJ says it, Cyrus’s heart skips a beat when TJ calls him “Underdog”, and he knew it always would.

“Go upstairs, TJ,” Cyrus said with half-seriousness.

Begrudgingly, TJ stood, soup in hand and Dora-themed blanket wrapped around him and held together with the other. “You’re being such a mom,” TJ grumbled under his breath, but loud enough to still be heard by Cyrus (which he totally did on purpose).

“What was that?” Cyrus called with raised eyebrows.

TJ flashed a cocky grin at him. “Nothing!” he answered with a cheeky (but stuffy) voice before sludging upstairs to obey Cyrus.

Cyrus’s eyes followed TJ  with a goofy grin as he trudged up the stairs. Never would Cyrus understand how TJ managed to be so charming, even when he was sick.

Once TJ was upstairs, he pulled out his phone and opened his notes to find the smoothie recipe he kept around for when somebody got sick. It was a random thing to keep on your phone, but in Cyrus’s defense, you never know when you need to make an emergency smoothie and it obviously it came in handy.

The smoothie turned out to be a greenish-brown color, giving Cyrus some serious doubts on how good the smoothie actually was — not to mention how it would taste — but Cyrus grabbed some straws and headed upstairs anyways. Walking through the hallway on his way to TJ’s room, he spotted lots of family pictures throughout the years, baby pictures of TJ, and school pictures, as well as baseball pictures, of TJ. Cyrus couldn’t help but gush over how adorable TJ was in all the pictures, and couldn’t resist from taking a few pictures from his phone of the multiple photos on wall for blackmail and future birthday posts.

Finally finding TJ’s room and walking into it, he found that TJ had already chosen and started some kind of action movie without Cyrus, and was laying down in bed. TJ sat up when Cyrus entered the room, though.

Cyrus pouted. “You already started without me?” he said with mock-sadness and betrayal in his voice. TJ just shrugged. “I forgive you. I know the sickness is getting to your head.” Cyrus handing him the smoothie and straws. “I made a smoothie. It’s not poison, I promise. I think.”

TJ laughed and took the smoothie. “Thanks, Underdog. You really didn’t have to do all of this for me. I don’t deserve it,” TJ said with a soft smile that made Cyrus want to kiss him on the spot, but when hearing that TJ thought he didn’t “deserve it”, he couldn’t help but go off on a tangent.

“But I did have to! And I wanted to, too. You most definitely deserved it and I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving you here by yourself when you were sick and if I wasn’t here then there would’ve been no one here to take of you and who knows what would’ve happened if I didn’t do anything about it and I didn’t have had any contact with you because you don’t have your phone so I wouldn’t have been able to check up on you to see how you’re doing and you’re already sick so you need to feel comfortable and have company and get better and what if you got worse and—”

“Cyrus! Cy- Underdog! Listen to me Cyrus. It’s okay,” TJ said, cutting him off and trying to calm him down. “Look at me. I’m fine. Okay, I’m not fine, but I’m not dying and I’m not going to die. You really don’t have to go full parent mode on me. I’ll be okay,” he said with a soft smile. “Now,” he said, once Cyrus has realized he had gotten too worked up and had calmed down a little. “Come sit down and watch this stupid movie with me.” TJ grinned and patted the bed.

Cyrus let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry. When I really care about someone I get super caring and protecting, I guess,” he answered, smiling sheepishly. Cyrus was beginning to feel embarrassed about his tiny outburst, but knowing TJ wasn’t judging him, he was able to relax.

TJ blushed at the thought the Cyrus cared about him so much. “It’s okay. I honestly really appreciate it, Cy.” Without thinking, Tj decided to be bold. “It’s pretty cute, to be honest,” TJ said, before taking a sip of the smoothie handed him. But before Cyrus could choke about what TJ just said (and before TJ could freak out about what had come out of his mouth before he could think about it), TJ coughed and made a fake gagging noise. “Ugh! This is disgusting. What’s in it?” he asked with a disgusted tone, gesturing to the smoothie in his hand.

“Well, there’s spinach, orange juice, basil, beets, carrots… all of which is supposed to help you heal more quickly!” Cyrus said, realizing how gross the combination sounded when he said it out loud.

TJ fake gagged again, making a “blech” noise and pretending to stick a finger near his mouth at the thought of the mixture. “It’s horrible. Taste it with me?” he suggested with a smirk, offering Cyrus a straw.

Cyrus accepted the straw, acting like he was extending his hand at a royal ball. “Gladly,” he responded with mock formality, taking a seat next to TJ on his bed and sticking his straw into the smoothie.

“On the count of three?” TJ asked, to which Cyrus nodded. “No chickening out!” he announced it advance.

“I won’t!” Cyrus promised.

TJ took a deep breath. “Okay. One…” Cyrus took a deep breath and braced himself as much as he could. “Two....” TJ grimaced, not prepared to take another sip. “And…. three!” Cyrus quickly took and swallowed a decent sip to keep his promise, but TJ only pretended to take a sip.

Immediately, Cyrus turned away and gagged. “Why do I even try to do anything related to cooking?” Cyrus rasped, disgusted, while TJ laughed his head off. Hearing his laughter, Cyrus whipped head back towards TJ. “You didn’t drink it?” he yelped. TJ shook his head no. “The betrayal!” he gasped, putting a hand over his heart. Then, he scowled. “Okay, this time we both have to try it. No fake outs, TJ, and I mean it.” Cyrus attempted to say this in a threatening voice, which wasn’t very successful, although TJ agreed anyways.

“On my count this time,” Cyrus stated. Just before the countdown, Cyrus heard his phone go off multiple times next to him, most definitely texts from Buffy and Andi asking him to update them. They can be patient for a couple hours, he thought to himself, fumbling around for his phone without moving from his position, and shutting it off so they wouldn’t distract him. I might do something daring in a couple seconds, and now is not the time “One…” They both leaned into the horrid smoothie. “Two…” Cyrus’s eyes flickered up to meet TJ’s, causing them both to realize how close they were. “Three,” Cyrus announced in a breathless voice, and a second later, instead of lips meeting their straws, Cyrus leaned in before he could second-guess himself, TJ’s lips meeting Cyrus’s as he leaned in that the same time to close the distance as well.

It was as if they had both planned it, as if they were on the same wavelength. The kiss was a short but meaningful one, saying so many things neither of them had dared to say before and confirming their feelings towards each other. It felt like two pieces of puzzle fitting together, the perfect match.

They broke apart after a few seconds, foreheads touching and their eyes gleaming, saying things that neither of them seemed to be capable of saying with their own mouths. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of just staring at each and blushing, both started to giggle.

“If you don’t be careful Cyrus, you’re gonna catch a cold,” TJ said, smiling so wide he could hardly contain it.

Cyrus grinned. “Too bad,” he shrugged, leaning in to close the gap once more.

Four Days Later

“I told you that you were gonna get sick!” TJ chuckled.

Cyrus blew his nose and pouted. “Yeah, but I hoped that my immune system would prove you otherwise!” Cyrus sighed. “Clearly, it let me down,” he said, barely able to finish his sentence before sneezing. “Why can’t I see you right now?” he said with a frown, wanting to reach through the screen to see TJ in real life.

“Hm. Bless you, by the way,” TJ pretended to think for a second. “Maybe it’s because I had to come to school and you’re bedridden with a cold?” He suggested, smirking.

“Oh,” Cyrus said with a downcast face. “I guess that’s true.” Cyrus went to continue the conversation, but when Cyrus opened his mouth the speak again, he heard the bell signaling the final warning to get to class go off.

“As much as I hate to say it, I gotta get to class, Underdog,” TJ announced sadly, causing Cyrus to pout once again and make him want to stubbornly insist that TJ stay, but he accepted defeat instead, deciding to sleep in to make the school day go by as quickly as possible. “See you after school, boyfriend!” TJ exclaimed with the biggest, goofiest grin on his face, blowing him a kiss through the screen.

Cyrus pretended to catch it and put it on his heart, an equally big and goofy grin on his face. “You too, boyfriend. It’s my turn to choose the movie, by the way. Bring soup!”

[kinksvt]

→ pairing: wonwoo x reader

♕ summary: you and wonwoo had been friends for a while but after some unknown tension, that changes.

✱ genre/warnings: friends to lovers!au, talks about sex/smut related themes, nothing too explicit

✱ word count: 3k+

part 2

a/n: theres going to be a few parts bc i didnt know tumblr had a block limit or w/e its called so it stops at a random point, im sorry!

you went over to seungcheol's house where he and the rest of the twelve boys were hanging out—courtesy of your friend dropping you off. they said that they were bored and you were the only person that could hype them up and make it not so boring. you weren't exactly close to each one of them. joshua was shy around you, jun was always awkward and never knew what to say, same goes with seungkwan and dino. but you were closest with cheol, jeonghan, minghao, wonwoo and mingyu—knowing wonwoo for the longest. the rest were kind of your friends, still kind of like acquaintances. "what did you bring this time, y/n?" cheol asked, getting up from the couch where jeonghan and wonwoo also sat.

"i brought alcohol of course, and pizza." you replied, already feeling a bit tipsy after drinking a few beers before arriving.

"no alcohol for me but i'll take some pizza." dino said, standing and helping you with everything.

"i knew that you wouldn't want any so i brought backup soda." you carried a liter of pepsi and set it on cheol's kitchen countertop. all the boys got up and gathered in the kitchen, it was clear that they haven't ate yet so it was good you brought enough for them each. you smiled a bit when you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder. "you're too kind to us, y/n." a deep voice whispered, dangerously close to your ear which sent shivers down your spine.

you turned and saw wonwoo smirking. "you scared me." playfully hitting his chest, you got pizza with the rest of the boys and headed back into seungcheol's huge living room. there was a large flatscreen tv, a decent sized coffee table, two couch chairs and three long couches. although there was plenty of room for everyone to be seated, jihoon, soonyoung, joshua and dino sat on the floor, closer to the tv. you sat on the couch between cheol and jeonghan with the pizza in your lap and another beer in your hand. wonwoo came shortly afterwards and sat right in front of you.

cheol ended up putting a scary movie on, which he knew was one your favorites. every now and then you'd feel wonwoo's hair slightly brush your leg, causing you to get goosebumps. you couldn't lie and say that you never thought of him in a, not very appropriate sort of way before. he was extremely attractive—to say the least—with a deep voice, amazing talent, a caring yet dominant personality. and not to mention he's always around you and wanting to become closer to you. texting you, hanging out with you when he can, inviting you over to his house, parties, etc. he was sweet and kind in general but for some reason, when it was with you, it felt different. you weren't the only person who noticed either.

a few months ago, jihoon and some of the other guys mentioned the situation saying how he treated you differently than how he treated them and other girls. wonwoo was obviously appealing so he did have numerous girls trying to get with him around school. either trying to get with him, or in his pants. jihoon said that he'd always turn them down, ignore or just walk the other way, clearly uninterested. jun agreed and said that before you came into the picture and got close, wonwoo used to accept girls and have loads of them in his bedroom every night. he never tried to have a relationship, just a one night stand or a hookup every once a while. you clearly thought it was weird and a bit suspicious, but you never were the kind of person to draw conclusions and assumptions to stimulate your own fantasies of having the infamous jeon wonwoo as your own. he and you always talked and were closer than anyone else. sometimes he would flirt with you on the down low, but you always thought it was just friendship humor between the two of you. so you played along. you two would flirt and be suggestive around one another, compliment, call each other "babe" and say "i love you," but you never really thought of it being serious until that point. you had hoped your feelings weren’t one sided..

but even before that, that didn't stop you or your imaginations of being with him. innocently, or sinfully. you had to be honest, you did find yourself a bit turned on while thinking about his slender, long fingers inside you or tangled in your hair while you sucked him off. or how his skillful tongue would feel flicking against your clit and eating you out until you saw stars. or, how his length would stretch and fill you up.

in midst of your thoughts, a weight hit and landed on your shoulder, making you silently wince in pain. you quickly looked to your left and saw that jeonghan had fallen asleep and tipped over onto you. quietly thinking, you gently held his head and moved up to let him lay down. while doing that, you accidentally bumped wonwoo in the back with your legs, quietly apologizing in return. wonwoo turned around instantly and saw you, he smiled. you continued moving jeonghan slightly so he wouldn't wake up in pain. you knew how badly it sucked when that happened after sleeping wrong. when your work was done, you smiled to yourself and felt a tap on your back. "do you want to sit down here with me?" wonwoo whispered when you turned around. you nodded but motioned for him to wait a minute. you got up and grabbed two blankets, one for you and one for jeonghan. you covered him up and then sat on the ground against the couch next to wonwoo. "are you cold?" you asked him, genuinely concerned.

"uh, yeah actually, a bit." wonwoo replied quietly that only you could hear. smiling, you moved the blanket so it covered both you and wonwoo, but it was too small, wonwoo’s left knee was still exposed and part of his thigh. wonwoo silently groaned, then scooted closer to you, rubbing against your arm and knee. "there." he smiled as he fixed the blanket on his side, covering his legs.

you gulped. you felt so close to wonwoo. you could feel the temperature of his skin against yours. you didn't know what to do. you could practically hear your heart beating fast and hard against your chest—you were surprised that wonwoo, or the others weren't able to either. the rest of the boys were awake and still watching the movie, for the most part. some were dozing off, some were going to head home, telling cheol goodbye.

at the end of the movie, only jeonghan, seungcheol, jihoon, wonwoo, minghao, vernon and seungkwan remained in the living room.

cheol chose the next movie which, to your luck, was 50 shades of grey.

"ah, hyung why this movie?" the second youngest in the room complained.

"yeah, do you know how awkward we'll all feel? 'specially y/n!" seungkwan agreed with vernon.

seungcheol gave them both a look and turned his head over to you. "y/n, do you mind if we watch this?"

you swallowed dryly, your heart still continuing to beat rapidly. "uhm, i mean, i guess not? whatever you all want.." you silently cursed seungcheol for putting you on the spot.

seungcheol innocently smiled, "then i take that as a no, you don't mind." he put on the movie and headed back to the recliner he occupied.

suddenly wonwoo whispered in your ear, "why did you agree to this, y/n?" his breath fanned your ear, sending another round of chills through your body and heat to your core.

you weren't sure if he knew what he was doing to you. your heart still continued pounding, "i-i don't know, i didn't want to rain on anyone's parade." that technically wasn't a total lie.

wonwoo laughed slightly by your ear, "how thoughtful of you."

you turned your head, his face inches apart from yours. "thank you." you replied as calmly as you possibly could.

his eyes studied your face, then dropped down to your lips for a split second. wonwoo smirked slightly and licked his own, then nodded.

as he was about to turn his attention to the movie, you quietly said his name. "wonwoo.."

he looked at you with a raised eyebrow, "yes?"

your heart felt like it was going to burst at any moment. you wanted to kiss him. you wanted to grab his face and taste him, feel his soft tongue against yours. you wanted to feel his lips against your neck, his hands at your throat. everything. you wanted him so badly. "i..i’m going to make popcorn," you quickly got up and stumbled to the kitchen. you needed to get out of there. you could barely breathe, you needed to collect yourself and calm down. searching for the box of popcorn, you tried to slow down your breathing. you opened the bag and put it in the microwave, then set the time. you sat at the island waiting for it to finish. mentally slapping yourself, you couldn't get his lips out of your mind. you were so close to just leaning in and kissing the hell out of that boy. you rested your head against the cool marble top, gently banging your head against it, wishing that jeon wonwoo wasn't such a fucking god that you just wanted to pounce on every time you see him.

"you okay?" a voice said from in front of you.

you sighed before responding, “yeah i'm okay.” it was minghao, the red haired boy examined you closely, "you sure?"

"yeah, it’s just.." you sighed once more, laying your head on the table. the microwave began to beep, signaling the popcorn was done. minghao walked briskly over and got it out, setting it near you. "hao?" you asked, head still down.

"yes y/n?" you heard the chair next to you scrape gently on the wood floor.

lifting your head up, you leaned in closer to him, just so that wonwoo—or any of the other awoken boys—wouldn't have a chance of hearing. “what do you do if you like someone but you're just too afraid of ruining what you already have with them?" you were ready to spill.

minghao puffed his cheeks and furrowed his eyebrows, a look of confusion taking over his soft features. "oh, uh,” he paused for a second. “hmm, well, i don't really know."

"i don't know if i'm in love with him or if it's just a little infatuation."

"oh wow, who is it? if you don't mind telling me." you could tell minghao was genuinely interested and curious.

you glanced over to the living room, making sure wonwoo hadn't popped up and peeping on you two.

"WAIT." minghao said, a little too loudly.

"shh!" you hushed, quickly covering his mouth. "please, don't tell and keep it down." he mumbled an "okay" into your hand. his own reaching to your wrist to take it away. you grabbed his shoulder and put your lips near his ear, "it's wonwoo." you quickly moved away and hid your face.

"oh, psh, i knew that."

"how did you-" he cut you off by rolling his eyes.

"oh come on. i've seen the way you look at him, the way you act with him, the way you get when you're next to him."

"b-but it's just friendly things though! we-"

"what's friendly about calling each other babe, saying i love you, flirting, smiling at each other as if you two were the only ones in the world, and falling asleep on each other?"

you glared at him while he smiled, showing his teeth like a child. "shut up, i just don't know if i like him, love him, or lust over him."

"well, maybe it's not just a crush? to me it seems like its not. besides, i've seen the way you act around him. it's completely different than when you're with the others."

"oh whatever. it's not that obvious."

"y/n. come on. you stare at him with total heart eyes, you always giggle around him, you look at him up and down, you have that shine in your eyes. i bet your pupils grow a thousand times bigger by just thinking of him."

"stopppp." you said, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

"see? you're blushing! you're so adorable." minghao laughed and put his hands on both of your shoulders.

"if you don't stop teasing me i swear to god xu minghao i will-“

"y/n?"

you and minghao faced the living room to see wonwoo standing there, confused.

minghao moved his hands off your shoulder and held back a smile. "good luck," he whispered in your ear and got up to leave the kitchen.

you punched him playfully while he laughed and you gave him a look. "hey wonwoo. what's up?"

"i was just, wondering where you were. you were taking a while and then minghao left and came here so.." wonwoo stood there awkwardly.

why was he being like this? it's as if he were nervous, anxious.

"aw, that's sweet wonwoo, i was just talking with minghao and lost track of time."

"oh,” was all that he replied with.

you grabbed the bag of popcorn and walked to him. "come on," smiling, you put your hand on his back and guided him back to the living room.

"guys, want any popcorn?" wonwoo asked the boys, but they were all too interested in the raunchy movie. "guess it'll be just for us." he sat in his previous spot while you did the same.

time passed and the movie began to get a bit more dirty. seungkwan was right, you did feel awkward. especially being next to wonwoo, who couldn't stop moving around. "is something wrong, wonwoo?" you said quietly into his ear.

"what? oh, uhm-" he coughed lightly, "yeah i'm fine, why?"

you giggled, "you keep moving and clearing your throat. are you sure you're alright?"

he visibly swallowed and smirked the slightest. he leaned over to your ear, "i'm sure y/n. i'm fine." he smiled sweetly, assuring you he was indeed fine. "what about you? are you alright?" you felt his hand touch your inner thigh, subconciously making you clench them together. you shuddered and nodded. he hummed, "mm, you sure?" he innocently began squeezing your thigh, a habit he developed long ago into letting you know he's there for you.

you swallowed back a moan and grabbed his hand, then moved him closer, "i'm sure."

neither of you were sure.

as the different sex scenes came up and you couldn't help but imagine that wonwoo was christian and you were anastasia.

before, you thought that this kind of relationship was extremely weird. being tied up, spanked, overstimulated, etc. it all seemed so..not ordinary. but one day, you were bored and your mind lingered over to the kink and researched more about it. now, you're pretty sure it wouldn't be all that bad, hot and arousing, even.

you glanced over at wonwoo who was clearly more into it than you, including the other boys. you looked around, seeing how all of them were focused on the movie, the brightness shining their eyes. moans and slaps from the movie erupted and made your ears grow warm. you looked at wonwoo, seeing his adam's apple in his throat bob. you obviously couldn't be the only one who had been affected by the movie's vulgar scenes. you felt like you needed a high power fan on your face. you weren't only turned on, but embarrassed watching this with all the other guys. how was anyone else not moving around like wonwoo? he has clearly bothered. the poor boy couldn't stay still, and the bulge in his sweatpants didn't seem so comfortable either.. you were lucky that no one could be able to read your thoughts, or who knows how they would react.

wonwoo felt the exact same way though. he couldn't stop moving around, his dick wanting nothing but friction and release. wonwoo, like you had thought as well, couldn't help but wish you two were in the movie's positions rather than christian and anastasia. he's only imagined how your moans would sound during the countless times he's gotten off to that scenario.

"finally the movie's over!" seungkwan yelled after what seemed like forever.

seungcheol got up, heading to switch the lights back on.

"what happened?" jeonghan said suddenly, voice laced with sleep as he sat up and yawned.

"and by 'head to bed' you mean beat your meat for a bit," vernon chuckled.

the rest of the guys laughed as seungcheol looked at him, "you're not wrong." vernon looked back at him with an dramatic shocked expression while seungcheol raised his eyebrows and headed upstairs. vernon looked back at him with an dramatic shocked expression while seungcheol raised his eyebrows and headed upstairs.

"i'm going home, see ya." seungkwan sat up, grabbing his jacket.

"me too, give me a ride?" vernon asked the older, also grabbing his jacket.

"sure." the two youngest said their goodbyes and headed out the door. other members followed suit and left back home as well. with you, jeonghan, jihoon, wonwoo and minghao left, everyone tried to brainstorm ideas on what to do next. "how about truth or dare?" jihoon suggested.

"what are we, eighth graders?" jeonghan complained, rolling his eyes.

"got a better idea?" jihoon snapped back.

"yeah, actually," jeonghan paused, "anything but that."

"you're just scared that someone will give you a dare that you don't wanna do." jihoon pressed at jeonghan, wanting him to give in.

he scoffed in return, "scared? no way, i just don't wanna play that dumb game."

"then suggest a better one, yoon." minghao butted in, stopping the two from fighting.

“how about spin the bottle?"

“how's that any better than truth or dare?"