5SOS Smut

Not My Type {Michael}

smut by : dibsonmikeybitch

: : :

[Virgin!Michael]

I impatiently drummed my fingers on the black table as the teacher droned on. I vaguely heard something about anions and cations, but my brain was working on overload to tune it all out. The boy beside me, Michael, was writing diligently and his eagerness to learn was more than agitating. The sound of his heavy hand scratching words out onto his notebook was annoying and I had the urge to snatch the pencil from his tightly gripped fingers.

I slightly pushed my seat away from the table, leaning forward and resting my head on my folded arms. Michael’s eyes flickered over to me for a fraction of a second before refocusing on the lecture. I lazily closed my eyelids, trying to push away everything that was happening around me.

“Wrong, again,” I heard the teacher sigh as she randomly called upon another student, who again got the question wrong. “Michael, please help out your classmates, who can’t seem to come up with the correct answer.”

I peaked at Michael through my eyelashes, watching him as he shifted nervously in his seat. His cheeks flushed, but not as brightly as his blood red hair. He gripped his pencil so tightly that he was shaking, his lips parted and at first no sound came out. “Positive 2 charge,” he quickly mumbled before his eyes fell to his trembling hands.

“Thank you,” the teacher spoke rather dramatically and I rolled my eyes at her. What a petty thing to get excited about. It was just some dumb chemical equation.

I wasn’t sure if I had fallen asleep but the next time I opened my eyes everyone was putting away their belongings. I let out a big yawn, stretched my arms into the air and collected my bag, not having anything to put away because I didn’t bother unpacking in the first place.

“(Y/N),” I looked up to see my teacher standing with both hands on her hips, looking at me disapprovingly. “May I speak with you please?”

Internally I groaned and began to fidget with my bag to make it look like I was doing something productive just for the sole purpose of stalling. Everyone had already filed out of the room except for Michael and I. He was carefully organizing his backpack, making sure that everything was in its proper place.

“You put a highlighter in with your pencils,” I lied, pointing to the neatly lined up utensils along the inside pouch.

Michael didn’t say anything, but his eyes widened as he checked to make sure that he hadn’t made a mistake. “I don’t–” he confusedly looked up at me and when he saw the smirk on my face he knew that I was teasing him. “Oh,” he mumbled, and his cheeks turned pink beneath his porcelain skin.