Do you think you could write a short one shot/blurb about wanting to ride michaels thighs but getting nervous to tell him, eventually you do and he cums in his pants because it's just so hot that you can get off on just his leg
wow i need
minors dni. this is an 18+ blog.
you're incredibly shy and michael knows it. that's why, when you're straddling his lap and blushing, avoiding eye contact, he grips your chin, forcing you to look at him.
"what's up, baby?" he coos, smirking at your red face.
"nothing. . .just thinkin' about you."
"oh yeah?" michael asks. "what about me?"
". . .it's embarassing," you whine, knowing he's getting a rise out of watch you blush and squirm. you can feel the tent building in his jeans. "it's nothing, really."
"hmmm," your boyfriend hums, surveying your body up and down and pausing when he notices you grinding not-so-subtly on his thigh, desperate for friction. "this doesn't seem like nothing." he says, tapping your hip.
you let out a frustrated little whine, knowing michael's going to make you say it in order to get what you want. that's just how he is. he loves to toy with you. "i wanna ride your thigh. . ." you whisper, turning even more red at saying it out loud.
"do you now?" michael chuckles, his eyes darkening with lust. "go ahead then, baby. ride my thigh."
despite your embarrassment, you don't need to be told twice. you start grinding against michael's plushy thigh, watching as he grows harder and more lustful under you. your core is already throbbing with impending orgasm to the point that it's nearly humiliating; you can get off on his thigh alone.
"fuck, mike." you whimper, feeling your own legs start to shake as michael's hard dick brushes against your leg.
"that'ssss it, honey. use me. it's so hot that all you need is my leg to get yourself off." michael moans, bucking his hips up to meet your body.
you cry out as you cum, your body shaking with how powerful the climax is. it isn't until you feel a warm, sticky substance against your bare shin that you look down, noticing michael with a white spot on the crotch of his jeans and an ashamed look on his face.
"did you just--cum? in your pants?" you squeak shyly, completely embarrassed that you just rode your boyfriend's thigh on the couch and came doing it.
warnings/authors note: smut! just a short cute morning sex
word count: 604
the morning light slipped through the cracks of the blind into the bedroom, bathing the room in a soft light and making you stir in ashton’s arms, he grumbles and tightens his hold on your waist, pulling you closer against his chest.
you shift waking up slowly as you rub your eyes, ashton’s shifts with you and you almost immediately feel his morning wood pressing against your ass, he didn’t seemed to mind at all, he just nuzzled the back of your neck and yawned a bit before murmuring “g’morning honey”
“morning dear” you murmur back and move your head to peck his lips gently before settling back into the pillow and sighing content, you normally cuddle in the morning before the hunger strikes and you get downstairs to make breakfast together, but this morning his hunger is different.
ashton starts to grind against you, it’s slow and subtle at first but then his hand that was caressing your stomach travels up to cup your breast under his t-shirt and you know there’s no stopping him — not that you wanted to anyway. “ash…” you whine grinding back against him, earning you a groan in response. his free hand works to push his boxers down just enough to free him, at that moment he’s extremely grateful you sleep in only t-shirt and panties ‘cause it makes his job much easier now, he just pulls it to the side and spreads you just enough to get his cock between your pussy lips.
a soft moan escapes your lips as he teases you both, humping your pussy and teasing your clit with the tip of his cock to get you wetter, his lips are on your neck kissing it gently as his fingers pinches and plays with your nipples making you arch your back slightly and grind back onto him.
“put it in please baby” you whine and he obliges, you hear him whimpering in your ear as he pushes inside way to slowly and you swear you could hear that sound for the rest of your life, he doesn’t rush, he takes his time with every thrust, it’s clear this is more lovemaking than fuck.
you moan quietly and holds onto his arm as he fucks you slowly but deeply, his kisses and nuzzles on your neck, his groans and breathy i love you’s on your ear, everything was making you clench and grip him tight as you move back against him, encouring his every move. he keeps thrusting up into you when you feel it getting more desperate, trying to get even deeper, when his hand that was holding your hip goes to your clit to rub and tug at it you know he’s close and wants to bring you there with him — and damn it works.
“ashton” you cry as your thighs shake and you hold his arm tighter as you cum, he follows you right after, filling you up to the brim and thrusting until he’s sure every single drop is deep inside you. you milk him dry and when he tries to pull out you whine, he chuckles “greedy” he nips your ear and slaps your ass gently as he pulls out and rolls to his back, you sigh and roll to your other side to finally face him.
you kiss him quickly before resting your head on his chest as you both catch your breaths, he holds you against him and kisses the top of your head “shower?” he suggests and you nod “you’re not gonna try round 2, right?” you ask and he chuckles shrugging his shoulders “not promising anything”
A/N: i’m back :)) hope you guys like this one, it took me soooo long.
Warnings: protected sex, dirty talk, cute emotional sex ya feel me?
You and the band were in South America now, second leg of the tour. Your camera hangs around your neck as you lean against the wall of the hotel interior. Your eyes are closed, hands at your sides, hair clipped back as sweat forms along your neck. Calum, Ashton, Michael, and Luke all stand close to check in with the hotel clerk, and you watch from afar. It was only the second leg but God you were tired. Even though it wasn’t new to you, you’d been doing this with them for years, it always felt like the first time.
Calum leaves the bunch to come find you. “You okay?” he asks, nudging your shoulder slightly. His shorts hang low on his hips, neck pillow around his neck still, and his eyes heavy as well. Nonetheless, his excitement is still evident about continuing the tour.
“Head hurts,” you mumble, smiling softly. Calum nods, shrugging, “I feel that. You’re not gonna come out to eat with us?” You shake your head no. “I’m sorry, can’t even think about food right now, just wanna put my head on that pillow…” he frowns a bit before reassuring you that it’s okay, heading back to everyone else.
You guys make way for the elevator, luggage taken from you by the hotel men. As you reach your floor, you bid the boys goodnight and let them know to be safe, that you’re calling it for today. They pout, but understand, as you shut the door to your room.
As you walk in, you’re immediately engulfed by the calmness and quietness of the room. You see your bags already by the door, and you change into a matching pair of tank tops and shorts before heading for the bathroom and getting ready for bed.
You close your eyes, hoping sleep will tame the headache and you’ll wake up as good as new tomorrow. The soft noise of the tv blurs in the background as you wait for sleep to lull over you.
You’re jolted awake by a knock at the door. Startled, you wait it out, before you hear ruffling that sounds like an unopened back of chips, and a voice you know all too well.
“Brought some snacks.. can I come in?” Luke’s familiar voice is quiet through the door. You shout out a yes, telling him it’s okay, as you get up and open the door for him, resuming your position on the bed shortly after.
He follows you over to the bed. “I know you’re not feeling that well, but you need to eat okay? Probably don’t have an appetite, I got nachos from the cafe downstairs… brought some extra chips.”
You smile shyly. “Thank you, but really didn’t have to.” He responds with a quiet, “I know. Do you need anything else? For… your headache?”
You shrug, “It’ll pass, it’s nothin…”
Luke doesn't push, but his gaze says he doesn't believe you. He sits there beside you in silence for a few moments, the only sound the steady rhythm of his breathing. It's a comfortable quiet, not awkward or filled with forced conversation. It's as if he's offering a silent promise: ‘I'm here if you need me.’
You realize then that this is what you like about Luke. He's not a follower— doesn’t care about what the rest of the crowd is doing. He's the steady presence in your life, the one who's always there when you need him.
“Here, come lay with me,” you reposition your body to the side so there’s room for him. “Only.. if you plan on staying. I don’t want to keep you if you don’t wanna stay.”
Luke hesitates, and for a moment, you can practically hear the gears turning in his head. He glances towards the door, thinking of the others waiting, then back at you.
"Okay," he says softly, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile. he stands up and kicks off his shoes, then carefully settles next to you. He's mindful of keeping the distance between you respectful, but close enough to offer comfort.
For a few moments, he's silent, his breaths steady and even against the fabric of your shirt. But then, it's like he can't help himself, his curiosity gets the better of him. His fingers reach out, tracing light, almost feather-like patterns on your back. The light touch sends a little shiver down your spine, but in a good way. It's soothing, sending a wave of warmth through you that seems to lessen the pain, if only for a moment.
You let out a breathy sigh, letting him now that he’s helping you, that it feels good. Encouraged by your response, Luke's touch becomes a little more firm. His fingers continue their exploration, dancing over your back in a rhythm. His touch is gentle, but filled with purpose. He seems to know where your muscles are tense, where the knots sit, and deftly applies pressure in those spots. You can feel some of the tightness start to ease as he works, the steady rhythm of his movements lulling you into a state of relaxation.
“T-thank you,” you stutter out, voice weakening because of his actions. "No problem," Luke whispers, his voice barely audible over the soft audio from the tv in the room. His fingers continue to move, kneading out the knots with a gentle touch. You can't help but lean back into his hands, the pain slowly fading as he continues his ministrations.
Time seems to stand still, your focus entirely on the steady rhythm of Luke's touch. The headache still lingers at the edge of your consciousness, but for the first time all day, it feels like an afterthought. You're lost in the moment, in the gentle ebb and flow of your shared silence. There's a sense of safety and acceptance here, a quiet understanding between the two of you that seems to transcend words.
“You’re my best friend, I think,” you whisper, only loud enough for him to hear. The simplicity of your statement is oddly moving. It’s a small confirmation of your relationship. Luke's hand stops for a moment, his fingers pausing mid-motion. He doesn't speak; his response is quieter, subtler. His hand resumes its path, but you can feel a tiny bit more weight behind it. It's a silent affirmation, a confirmation that your feelings are reciprocated. For all his words left unspoken, Luke communicates volumes through his touch. "You're mine too," he mumbles softly, his lips so close to your ear that the words are more felt than heard.
“And… and sometimes,” you whisper, “I don’t know if I want you as more.” Luke shifts slightly beside you, his body turning a few degrees as if to better face you. His touch, however, remains constant, the steady rhythm on your back the only tangible connection between you as he mulls over your meaning.
"It… it feels wrong, I know, but sometimes, I want it too," he admits, and in that moment, you feel the walls of your guarded hearts crumble. There's a shared vulnerability in those words, a mutual understanding from years of friendship that blossomed into something you’ve been too scared to admit. And in the quiet stillness of the hotel room, as Luke's touch continues across your back, you feel a shift—a turning point neither of you realized was coming.
You turn to face him now, his hands stopping briefly on your back as you move closer to him, fingers tracing over his palm. “Sometimes… I think about you kissing me.” You speak again, calmly.
The simple touch of your fingertips tracing patterns on his palm sends him reeling. Luke's breathing hitches for a moment, a subtle shift in the rhythm of his chest. His fingers continue their soothing movements on your back, but there's a new tension there, a palpable anticipation. He swallows before speaking, the words a bit husky. "Sometimes... I think about it too."
“C-can we kiss, Lu?” you ask, abruptly, waiting for his response. God you wanted him so bad.
There's a moment of silent anticipation before Luke answers, his voice soft but undeniably firm. "Yes."
His hand stills completely, now resting lightly on your side. It's a silent invitation, an offer for you to take the lead. His breathing quickens, his body seemingly poised on the edge of a precipice, waiting for your signal.
Time seems to slow as you lean in, drawn towards Luke. Your noses almost brush, a fraction of distance between your lips.
Luke's breath catches in his throat as you draw closer. The anticipation is almost electric, a tense, coiled energy that thrums between you. His eyes flutter closed, his long lashes casting feather-soft shadows on his cheeks. Then, with a shuddering exhale, his lips finally meet yours: tentative at first, a gentle, testing exploration.
Luke's lips are surprisingly soft, warm and gentle, as if he's afraid that any more pressure might shatter the fragile moment between you. There's a faint taste of something sweet, a lingering hint the chocolate bar you shared on the plane. His hand, still resting lightly against your side, trembles just the slightest.
For a few moments, you remain there, lips barely touching, breaths mingling. It's as if the world has narrowed down to just this: the taste of Luke's lips, the warmth radiating from his skin, the intoxicating blend of familiarity and desire that dances between you.
The unexpected sound of your giggle seems to catch him by surprise. Luke freezes for a moment, his lips still pressed lightly against yours. His eyes flutter open, a soft chuckle escaping his throat, the sound low and warm like honey. The tension that had filled the air melts away in that moment of shared laughter, replaced by a growing sense of ease and connection.
"You do that a lot, you know," Luke murmurs, his eyes still sparkling with amusement. "Laugh at the weirdest times."
You pull away, blushing, “Sorry! I- I just… can’t believe this is happening.”
Luke's expression softens at your words. "Don't be sorry," he whispers, his thumb moving to trace the curve of your cheek. "I love your laugh, it's contagious."
He pulls back slightly, just enough to look you fully in the eyes, his gaze filled with a burning intensity that leaves no room for doubt. He swallows, then continues, his voice low, almost a whisper. "And I can't believe it either, but in a good way. The best way. I... You have no idea how long I've wanted this." You nod, looking at him, “Me too.”
This simple admission seems to break something in Luke; a newfound boldness floods him. He suddenly surges forward, capturing your lips in a passionate, yearning kiss. There's an urgency there now, a clear indication of the barely contained desire that's been simmering beneath the surface. His hand moves up over your side, tracing a searing path up your chest and coming to rest lightly on your jaw.
You let out a moan at the new passion, lips molding with his as you suddenly become breathless. You whimper at the feel of his hand wandering.
At the sound of your whimper, Luke seems to become more confident. His hands become bolder, roaming over your body as if touching you is the only thing that matters. His grip is both firm and gentle, the perfect blend of dominance and tenderness. His mouth moves against yours, his kisses deep and hungry, as if he can’t get enough of the taste of you. His touch is everywhere, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, each point of contact setting your body ablaze.
With an abrupt movement, he rolls you onto your back, hovering over you, his body pressed closely against yours. The weight of him is a warm, reassuring presence, and you can feel his heart pounding against his chest, the rapid rhythm matching the one that’s now thundering in your ears. His hands continue their exploration, moving slowly over your body, leaving shivers in their wake. His fingertips trace over the curves of your face, your chest, your hips. It's like he’s mapping out the contours of your figure, committing it to memory with every light touch.
“You- you taste so good, Lu,” you whimper out. At the huskiness of your voice, Luke’s breath catches in his throat, the praise hitting him like a physical blow. “You… you do too,” he manages to reply, his words coming out soft and low.
Then, before either of you even realize it, his hands are moving beneath your shirt, skimming up over your stomach, his palms flattening against your skin. The heat of his touch is searing, leaving a trail of fire from the bottom of your ribs up to the curve of your breasts.
As he reaches the edge of your bra, his fingers hesitate for a brief moment before pressing gently against the fabric, his touch simultaneously teasing and insistent. His breath is shallow now, his hand moving in a slow, circular motion as if to gauge your reaction. You nod at him, granting him your approval.
The affirmation from you is all that he needs. His hand continues its journey, moving with newfound urgency, his palm coming to cup one of your breasts, his thumb brushing lightly over the lace-covered peak. “Feels good,” you gasp.
As you arch into his touch, a soft moan escapes Luke's lips, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “You’re so soft, so beautiful,” he murmurs, his words little more than a whisper against your ear. His thumb continues to tease over the lace, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body. His other hand continues to explore, his fingers now tracing lazy circles over your hip, each movement drawing a new sigh from your lips.
Then, a realization dawns over you. “Do you think we’re making a mistake, Luke?”
At your question, Luke finally pulls back, just enough so he can look you in the eyes. His expression is raw, his desire and hesitation equally evident in his gaze. “I don’t know,” he says, his voice husky, as if the words themselves are being pulled from deep within him. “But… I don’t care. Not right now.” And with that, he leans in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss.
You moan, surging forward to kiss him again. The heat between you is becoming unbearable now, a fever that seems to be consuming both of you whole. Luke’s hands move with newfound urgency, his fingers hooking under the hem of your shirt and pushing it up over your head, the action leaving you half-naked against him. He breaks the kiss to look at you, his eyes raking slowly over your body. His gaze is filled with a smoldering intensity, as if he wants to devour you whole.
His hands come to rest softly against your sides, his touch still tender despite the fire in his eyes. He leans in once more, his lips pressing against the column of your throat, his voice low and hushed between kisses. “Tell me...” he murmurs, “Is this… Okay?” His words carry a weight to them, the question laced with uncertainty and desire. “More than okay,” you nod, “Need you, so bad- please.”
At your breathy plea, Luke's resolve snaps. His hands become more insistent, his mouth moving with a new purpose as it trails down your body, leaving a path of fiery kisses in its wake. He whispers your name against your skin, his voice filled with an aching need that matches your own. "Need you too," he murmurs, the intensity in his voice almost overwhelming. "Need you… now."
As he reaches the waistband of your pants, his hands dip beneath the fabric, caressing the warm skin of your hips. His fingers work deftly, fumbling with the drawstring of your shorts. He seems to be moving solely by instinct now, the need to explore your body trumping all else. He slowly peels the shorts off your body before you mumble, “Why are you hiding from me baby? Wanna see you,” you tug at his shirt.
"Not hiding," he says, his voice a low rumble that's barely above a whisper as he pulls his shirt over his head, "Just... savoring this moment. Memorizing every inch of you. Everything." His hands come to rest on your waist once again, his fingers tracing along the elastic band of your panties. He's gentle, almost reverently, his gaze never leaving your face.
“See me, Lu,” you encourage him, letting him know it’s okay to take them off. With a final caress, his hand dips beneath the fabric. His fingers are warm, almost searing against your skin, his touch achingly light yet impossibly pleasurable. “I see you, baby,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a newfound raw honesty. “You’re perfect.” His eyes never leave your face, studying your reactions as he touches you. Every moan, every gasp, it all feeds his hunger for you, making him more insistent, more eager. Finally, he pulls your panties down your legs.
You stutter, “S-see how wet I am for you?” Luke lets out a low groan at your words, the sound raw and unapologetic. “Fuuuuck…” he curses, pressing his forehead against yours as if trying to ground himself. “I just… God… you’re…” He bites his lip, his breath coming in shallow pants as if he’s struggling to hold himself together.
You stare up at him, panting. “I want you…” Luke responds by capturing your lips in a heated kiss, as if he can't bear to be apart from you a moment longer. “I need you,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice almost a growl. “Now.”
His hands find yours, tangling your fingers together as he rolls you both over, pinning you beneath him. His kisses are possessive now, each one an insistent demand for more of you. “Do- do you have anything?”
You cringe as you hear yourself ask the question, scared you might be ruining the mood. A small smile plays at the corners of Luke's lips as he nods. He fumbles with his discarded jeans, pulling a condom from the back pocket with deft fingers. "Yes," he answers softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek, the gesture both reassuring and intimate.
You grin, feeling the sudden urge to tease him. “Prepared hm? Were you expecting this, lu? Planning on fuckin’ someone else?”
Luke gives a deep, hearty chuckle at your playful jab, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Absolutely not,” he replies, shaking his head, his voice filled both with amusement and a lingering sense of desire. “Just... Being prepared, y'know?”
His lips meet yours once more, the kiss slow and lingering, as if he's trying to convince himself that this is real. “Only you, baby,” he whispers against your mouth.
You moan against his mouth, “let me see you, see how big you are baby.”
At the huskiness of your voice, Luke shivers, his breath hitching for a moment. He rolls off onto his back, his hands moving to your hips to gently guide you to sit astride him. He watches you, the color high in his cheeks, his gaze unwavering.
He seems almost shy now, almost reverent. A small nod, a silent permission.
You peel off his boxers, eyes widening once you see him. His tip is red, swollen, and leaking. the rest of him stands tall. “Mmm, so big… so pretty.”
Luke’s cheeks flush at your words, his breath hitching in his chest. He seems to grow shy, as if your admiration is too much for him to handle. His hips reflexively buck up towards your touch, as if he can’t help himself. “It’s been a while,” he murmurs, his eyes fixed on your face. “So… be patient with me…”
You can’t help but smile at that, nodding. “Gimme the condom, let me put it on you..”
Luke fumbles for the condom, his hands shaking slightly as he hands it to you. His eyes are locked on your face, his expression a mix of desire and vulnerability. It's as if he's completely at your mercy, his body coiled tight and taut like a bowstring.
“Careful," he murmurs, his voice hoarse with need. "Don't... Don't tease me, baby. I'm so close already... Just the sound of your voice... The way your hands feel on me..."
You shake your head. “Need you to last for me, Lu, please?” You plead, tearing the foil of the condom and rolling it on his length.
As you roll the condom onto him, Luke sucks in a sharp breath, his hands clenching tightly into the sheets. "Ah... fuuucckkk," he curses, his hips bucking involuntarily upwards.
He looks at you, his eyes dark with desire, his chest heaving with each breath. He reaches for you, his hands grasping at your hips, tugging you closer. "I need you... now. Please baby... I can't take it anymore.”
“I know you do, I know,” You murmur, sucking along his neck as you make your way back up his body. “How do you want me?”
At your question, Luke shudders, his head tilting back to give you more access to his neck. His hands move to your waist, gently guiding you onto your back. "Like this," he responds, his voice heavy with need. His body hovers over yours, his weight resting on his forearms as he looks down at you.
Luke positions himself above you, his breathing ragged and shallow. He seems to be trying to still himself, to take a moment to savor the moment before sinking into you. He looks at you, his eyes dark and intense, his expression a silent question. Then, with gentleness, he presses forward to fill you.
You let out a quick gasp when you feel his tip press inside you. He presses into you inch by inch, his body trembling with the effort. His eyes are fixed on your face, his expression a mix of raw desire and tender concern, as if he's studying every tiny change in your expression.
His touch is gentle, his hands holding you steady as he pushes deeper into you. "You..okay?" he manages to rasp out, his voice thick with the effort it's taking not to lose himself entirely to the moment.
You nod, a whine tearing from your throat. “You- you feel so big,” you moan.
At your words, Luke lets out a low groan, the sound reverberating through his chest. "You’re so tight," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. "Take it... take me, baby"
His words are broken, as if he’s barely holding on to his control. He pushes in a little deeper, his body shuddering at the sensations coursing through him. His head drops forward, his cheek resting against your shoulder.
You moan, “I will… need a minute..”
Luke nods, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. He stills above you, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your shoulder. His hands grip your hips, steadying himself as he waits for you to adjust to him.
He presses feather-light kisses to your skin, gently nibbling and sucking at your collarbone as he does. He seems to be trying to distract himself from the overwhelming need to move, to lose himself in you completely.
“Tell me when,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. His touch is tender, his hands gently stroking along your sides, as if trying to soothe the tension that's coiled so tight within you. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
A few moments pass before you mumble, “‘m good… move, please.”
Luke lets out a ragged exhale, his body visibly relaxing as you give the signal. He starts to move, his hips rolling against yours in slow, gentle motions, each thrust measured and deliberate. He seems to be trying to prolong the moment, to savor every second of the connection between you.
He kisses your cheek, your brow, your jawline, all gentle, tender acts as he continues to move inside you. He keeps his pace slow, steady, his body close to yours, as if he can't quite bear to have any distance between you.
"You feel so good," he whispers, though his voice is barely above it, as if saying it too loud would shatter the moment. "So good. I want to... I want..." He seems to be struggling to find the words, his breath coming in ragged, labored gasps.
You moan out a response as continues to thrust. “W-want to what?”
Luke hesitates for a moment, his voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing. He leans in, his mouth close to your ear, his breath warm on your skin. "Want to cum," he whispers, the words barely more than a breath, the raw, unfiltered desire in his voice making your insides flutter. "But... I don't want this to end. Don't wanna... lose this feeling. You feel so good. I just want to stay like this forever..."
You whine, not close enough yet for him to cum. “Lu, please… hold out for me baby…”
Luke groans at your words, his body trembling with the effort it takes to hold back, to keep the slow, rhythmic movement of his hips steady. He nuzzles his face against your neck, his breathing labored.
"Trying... God, trying so hard for you," he manages to gasp out. "You feel... so good. Don't... Don't want this to end. Don't want... it to end." He repeats this like a mantra, as if the repetition will somehow make it more real or make it easier to hold back.
Luke angles his hips slightly different, prompting you to let out a squeak as he hits your g spot repeatedly. “A-ah! Lu!”
"Yeah?" he murmurs, his lips against your ear. "Feel good, baby?" He seems to adjust his angle again, his thrusts hitting against that same spot over and over, the sensation sending sparks across your skin. "Right there, baby. You like that? Hm?" His fingers dig into the skin of your hips, his touch urgent, as if he's trying to hold onto this moment for as long as he can, as if he's trying to memorize every small detail, every sound you make.
You nod your head and arch your body up, allowing his cock to go impossibly deeper. “W-wanna cum!”
At your words, Luke seems to lose a little bit of control. His movements become more erratic, his thrusts growing more urgent as he chases his own release. He's panting now, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he tries to hold back, to draw out this moment as long as possible.
"Yeah... Yeah, baby," he murmurs between ragged breaths. "Want you to cum for me." His voice is rough, almost guttural.
You whine as he trails his fingers down to your clit. “I-I’m gonna cum…”
Luke's fingers move in slow, tight circles, the touch firm and deliberate. He seems to know exactly how much pressure to apply, how fast to move, how to keep you just on the edge of that precipice without letting you fall. "Come for me," he whispers, his voice rough and hoarse with desperation. "Please, baby. I need.. need to feel you clench around my cock.." He kisses your neck, bites your ear, his touch possessive, his movements becoming more urgent as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.
Then, finally, you cum. Your pussy clamps around his cock like a vice grip. Your hips stutter and your vision blurs. Luke's breath catches in his throat as you clench around him, his whole body tensing as he fights to keep control. "Ah, oh fuuuck…!" he cries out, the words sharp and choppy, as if they're being torn from his very soul.
He keeps moving his fingers on your clit, his touch gentle and firm, bringing you through your release, guiding you through the waves of pleasure. His other hand drifts to your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh to keep you grounded.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whines in your ear. “You’re so good to me baby. ‘m gonna cum.”
Luke's body tenses as he finally lets go, his pleasure crashing through him like a wave, washing over him in overwhelming relief. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, his breathing ragged and harsh. "Oh god," he whispers.
He keeps moving inside you, his body trembling with the aftershocks, as if he can't bear to pull away, as if he needs to stay close to you, to prolong this moment for just a few more precious seconds.
You whine, not really sure what to say. “T-that was so good, Luke.”
Luke nods, his expression both tender and still tinged with a hint of desire. "Yeah," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "It was perfect."
He kisses your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin for a few moments, as if he can't bear to break the connection. He rolls off of you, flopping onto his back and pulling you close, his arms encircling you.
You let out a saddened whimper as he slips out of you, but you know the condom is uncomfortable for him. Luke carefully pulls off the condom and ties it off before making his way to the bathroom to dispose of it. He returns a moment later, his body still slightly flushed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
He climbs back into bed, tugging the sheets up around you both before once again pulling you into his arms. He holds you close, his body warm and solid against yours, his touch both possessive and protective. "You okay?" he murmurs, his voice soft and low.
You snuggle closer into him, curling in the hotel sheets. “‘m perfect. that felt so right.”
Luke nods, his expression fond and filled with an undeniable sense of contentment. "Yeah," he replies, his voice little more than a whisper. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, his arms tightening around you, as if he can't bear to let you go. "I don't want to move," he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin.
“S-so don’t. We’ll talk more in the morning, alright? But, for now… just… stay close.” You speak quietly, hoping he feels the same.
He hums contently in your ear, “Yeah. Jus’ gonna hold you tonight.”
⭑ summary: You’d follow Luke Hemmings anywhere. Even to Los Angeles.
⭑ tags: friends to lovers, fluff + smut (unprotected p in v, oral m and f receiving, making out), getting together, time jumps
⭑ word count: 5.4k
⭑ listen to: Start Over
⭑ a/n: This is a request fill! Thank you anon for your submission, I hope I did it justice! Thanks for reading. This is based on the song “Start Over”.
You were 8 when your first pet died, Sir Finsalot. It was a bright yellow beta fish who you swore had the capacity to love you back.
It was then, as you stood beside Luke over Sir Finsalot’s tiny grave in your backyard, that you felt a thread of your soul reach out and attach itself to a thread of his.
“No worries,” he said your name in a sweet, tender voice, “that little fish is in a better place now.”
His accent was so heavy back then.
Your tears fell hard and fat, and seeped into his shirt as you sobbed against his shoulder.
He rubbed your back with a chubby hand.
A singular small tear fell down his flushed cheek; a cheek that was plump with youth and slightly freckled.
He didn’t like watching that little fish die, but he couldn’t bear seeing, and feeling, you cry.
⏱︎ ˎˊ˗
You were 13 the first time he knocked on your window after dark.
He’d turn down your street, beat-up converse snuffing against the asphalt of the suburb. He lived on the next block over and committed every streetlight and crack in the road between your house and his to memory.
Even under the veil of night, he’d find his way over. He’d tap on your window in a rhythm you committed to memory.
Sometimes, he confessed at 14, on the particularly warm nights when you left your window ajar he’d wait to wake you with his tapping. Instead, he’d watch you and listen intently to your steady breathing and occasional rustling. He told you sometimes you snore. He implored you to not think him strange.
You didn’t; rather, you flushed.
But that first time, he crawled through your window and silently took a seat on the edge of your bed. You asked him if he was okay. He just shrugged, and the both of you stayed up for hours, sometimes in silence, sometimes playing a stupid game, sometimes spilling secrets in hushed tones.
Ever since then, on those late, warm summer nights, it became a pattern. The rhythmic tapping, then the growing together.
⏱︎ ˎˊ˗
You were 27 when you moved to Los Angeles, California.
You told yourself it was because the job opportunity was too good to refuse. You told yourself it was because getting out of Australia was something you always knew you wanted. However, as much as those are true, you’d follow Luke Hemmings anywhere; and that, even if it existed subliminally in the folds of your brain, was the soul, primordial reason.
Once his career took off, you held a resentment and a juvenile sense of betrayal toward his leaving. But as you grew, you understood. It was never about you, it was about him. And you were always the one telling him he needed to put himself first more often.
Over the years he’d kept in touch, your friendship ebbed and flowed. You, as well as he, tried to sever that thread just to ease the pain of distance. You both had tried relationships, had passions and goals that were purely your own, but that thread, that thread was made of something immortal.
And it pulled you to the other side of the world with him— for him.
However, once you were there, it wasn’t a divine togetherness you felt. Really, sometimes it felt like you were still miles away.
But slowly, you both learned how to fit each other into your new life. A person of the past you hold special, deep, shaping memories with isn’t so easy to realize once they’ve met the figure of Time.
When you first saw him again, he was a man. A broad, important human who was so unfamiliar yet still so himself. The little boy with chubby hands and slightly freckled cheeks.
⏱︎ ˎˊ˗
You were 28 when things felt normal. He was your friend and sometimes, when you saw him late at night, it really did feel like you were back in that suburb. But other times it was still hard, because there was so much unspoken between you two.
You'd have never admitted it to yourself then, but you're in love with him.
And the longer you stayed here, in this city, and had to experience him as something less than how you needed him, the harder it got to breathe. You knew he noticed that terrible, impending asphyxiation, but neither of you knew how to cross that threshold. You told yourself after all the life he’s lived, what would make him choose someone as mundane as you? His complacency had driven that notion.
One time Luke had told you: music dug around in his brain and pulled out everything he couldn’t articulate.
There was a certain week, a certain day, a certain slot in time in which you fully and finally digested his words.
Enter:
At the beginning of the week you return from a business trip, and by the end you open your phone to a notification.
[ 1 new voicemail ]
[ Lukeee 💌 ] :
The static of his voice on the other line: “Hey, I know you're probably busy today, but I’m gonna be in the studio tonight finishing up something I’ve been working on for the new album, and,” his voice sounds uncharacteristically nervous, considering he’s speaking to you, “I kinda wanted to show you. If you can make it, maybe come around 6? I sent you the address. Also, when I was babysitting that fucking cat of yours last week, it shit all over the foyer… I, like, tried to clean it up, but— I don’t know— just, if you see any stains on the rug, I’m sorry! It’s his fault, not mine!”
So,
you're pulling in and shutting off your car, throwing your keys into the cup holder and expecting a rather short visit. Which is unfortunate, because you love Luke and his band’s music; you're extremely excited to hear the new song, and, really, you just love being around Luke. Finding time to see each other is hard. That stands true even living in the same city, though it has made it significantly easier and possibly been one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. He’s one of your best friends. Friends. You mull over the word and shrug at the bitterness of it. You search for something to shove in its place, nothing quite feeling right.
. . .
The heavy door clicks behind you and, looking into the room, you see the stretching, vast span of Luke’s back sitting in front of a screen. He’s wearing bulky headphones over his ears that have a curled, thick wire plugging into the computer opposite. You smile to yourself, admiring his state of lonely peacefulness before you’re forced to pop the bubble enclosing him. Your heart lurches— his soft, bleached curls, the thin, worn cotton of his shirt, the way he sways to the music in his headphones— it’s enough to remind you of why you moved all those miles in the first place.
The room is bathed in an orange light, the hue reflecting off all specular surfaces and manifesting a warm, beckoning atmosphere.
The bubble bursts: you take a few steps and connect both your hands with his broad shoulders, shaking them lightly. He flinches and spins, neck bowing and shoulders rising in an inessential and endearing manner. As he turns, his hand pushes his headphones down and they slide to hang around his neck. His lustrous eyes meet yours; his bottom lip rests apart from his top.
“Hi,” you breathe, almost feeling as though loud words or haste movement might upset the particles making up the room.
He just smiles with closed lips, “you made it, hi.”
“Of course I did. I have to tell you if the songs shit or not,” you tease, to which he responds with a sarcastic huff that morphs into a wheezy laugh.
“You know, I appreciate that. Can always count on you,” he jokes, although there’s a deep truth there you both know exists.
You bare your teeth in a smirk.
His expression shifts into one more sincere, “okay, but, seriously, tell me about your day. I mean, you were gone for a week and… it’s been almost a week since then,” he trails off.
You beam at that, easily falling into a retelling of your trip and your day thus far.
He receives it with intent, head cocked to the side and eyes wondrous even when listening to the moments you almost don't mention because they seem so mundane.
. . .
Soon,
he’s standing up beside you, removing the headphone's chunky wire from where it’s inserted into the computer. He shifts from his left foot to his right. He seems tense, which is weird because this isn’t the first time he’s shown you unreleased music. It’s become sort of a habit, really, but something about this time feels different in a way you can’t explain.
You search for his eyes, but they're staring directly at the screen as he presses play.
The sound floods the room and your eardrums; it’s a pretty, calming resonance.
The first verse emerges and manifests in the beauty of Luke’s voice.
I know every light on your street…
I could find my way over with my eyes closed…
I know every sound when you sleep…
Watching you is the only thing that I know…
Your heart seems to lurch as you digest the lyrics and tone of reverence and nostalgia in which they’re sung.
A tear threatens to prick the corner of your eye.
The track bleeds into the chorus, and you sniff, not daring to look over at Luke.
Your tears falling hard on my shoulder…
Don’t leave, I don’t wanna start over…
Can’t you see? I’d do anything for you…
Don’t leave, I don’t wanna start over…
The tear falls in a pearly bead down your cheek. Luke sniffs and rubs at the back of his neck.
“It’s… really beautiful, Luke,” you breathe, wiping the uniform tear away, as the song continues on into the second verse,
Chasing things that I can’t replace…
You lean forward, hands bracing the desk; he shifts behind you, resting his balmy hand on your shoulder.
Wishing every face that I see was like you…
Tell me if it’s slipping away…
Might not see the reason to stay, but I do…
Alongside the melody, you can hear his breath as he leans in close. From his position behind you, his chin stoops to rest on your shoulder, “thank you.” His tone is bashful, and even though you can’t see his face, you know his eyes are flicking downwards and the words are pushing past a tiny grin.
A short burst of air leaves his mouth, pushing past his plump, flushing lips and playing against the side of your face. The hair on the back of your neck bristles, but you devour your nerves and melt into his form: lower back falling flush with his groin, head falling backwards to connect with his collarbone, the backs of your thighs press into the front of his, plushy and warm. It shouldn’t feel so natural, but it does. It does when you feel his quick, rhythmic heartbeat on your back. It does when his stubble grazes your temple.
The chorus repeats, the boys’ voices melting together in a practiced perfectness.
Your tears falling hard on my shoulder…
Don’t leave, I don’t wanna start over (start over)…
Can’t you see? I’d do anything for you (anything)…
Don’t leave, I don’t wanna start over…
A large, searing hand gingerly grasps your hip, offering a shaky squeeze full of question and an endearing apprehension that reminds you that this is still your Luke. His right hand mirrors his left, and he’s spinning you around slowly. You nod fervently, at nothing really, you just need him to know you want this, you want everything he has to offer you in any and whatever way; all those questions that rest in his touch and hide inside his eyes, you need him to know, are met with an indisputable yes. And you know where it’s all going; the inevitable seems obvious. The passion that’s always been there is finally coming to fruition, materializing into something tangible that can be heard, seen, but most importantly and pressingly, felt. You feel him trail his fingers over your flesh, massaging the skin at your hips that’s under his touch. You see his eyes and how they speak to you void of sound, you see how he takes a step backwards, sitting down with his hips pushed forward onto the chair behind him.
Oh, I don’t wanna start over…
Oh…
You feel yourself moving without a single thought: a step, another, and you're right in front of him. With haste and determination, a determination and rapidity that nurses clumsily, coarse movements and coats his features in a sheen of feralness, he places both hands on your ass and tugs you in. You aid him— silent albeit your shaky breaths and his own that slip from his jaw that’s hanging slack, emphasizing the poutiness of his bottom lip, and the squeak of the chair under the weight of both your bodies— knees pressing down beside both of his thighs and body lowing to straddle him.
He’s staring directly into your soul, eyes only ever leaving yours to take in your body from top to bottom as it moves to eclipse his own. His eyes are soft and gentle and so, so blue; however, that does nothing to negate the burning intensity and desire inside them that’s designated all for you. You blink deliberately, swallowing the nerves that come rushing back because what the fuck? Luke, your Luke, your childhood best friend since forever is underneath you and panting like a dog all for you. Finally.
Just as your eyes open again and you're met with his unmoving, dilated pupils the song slides into a quieter melody. You focus back in on the music, Luke’s voice on the track goes quiet and soft…
Your tears falling hard on my shoulder…
Don’t leave I don’t wanna start over…
As the lyrics float around the room and ghost over your ears you hear Luke’s voice accompany them in perfect harmony, starting as a hum and escaping as a low, perfect symphony— the only thing missing: a sweet Cherub with its golden harp and nimble fingers to strum over the thin strings. He stops almost as soon as he starts but what you heard drowned the room in intimacy and spurred the butterflies in your stomach to motion.
You bring your hand up from where it rests on his chest and clutch the side of his face, palm pressed against his stubble-chad cheek and fingers near his ear, slightly brushing his soft bleach-blond curls. You offer a tow, drawing his eyes back to yours, and once your senses are filled with nothing but him, you lean in and press your forehead against his as if it's magnetic. You yearn to press your lips against his and finally feel his touch, sedating the curiosity you’ve always carried with you and easing the hot-white pressure and tension in your chest, so much so that your hips rock forward on their own volition. However, you have to know, “Lu…,” your voice sounds foreign to your own ears, it's breathy and choked yet reverent, “please, say it, tell me,” you watch the corners of his mouth perk up ever so slightly, “tell me what it's about.”
Can’t you see? I’d do anything for you…
He blinks, his lashes brushing his cheekbone for a moment, “you,” he responds faintly, cementing your notion. “I wrote it about you. I, I don’t want anyone else. I don’t think I could ever feel this way— or have anything like this— with anyone else. I think it’s always been you, even when we both try to move past it or forget… you feel it too, don’t you?”
You nod frantically before he’s finished rambling, he’s speaking everything you're thinking into existence.
You begin to reply, but he shushes you, bumping his nose against yours in a delicate nudge.
“I’d never give up— that’s why I’m still here, in this city,” is the last thing you're able to exhale before he cuts you off and swallows your words in a kiss.
Don’t leave I don’t wanna start over (over)…
When the distance finally dissipates, you pour everything you have into the movement of your lips against his; you're trying to wordlessly convey your feelings for him because they’re just too much, too overwhelming, to articulate. It’s always been Luke, and you can tell by his lips it’s always been you, too. Everything but the feeling of his passion stroking yours ostensibly softens, the world physically melting away from your senses. That is, everything but the beauty of Luke’s voice still streaming through the computer as the track replays. The synths and airy quality of the sound facilitates the background falling into nothingness; there’s a cloudy, dream-like haze in the studio that intensifies your sole focus on the man beneath you. Your hands make their home on the splay of his broad shoulders that strain against the vintage fabric of his t-shirt.
The kiss starts slow and tentative, solely due to the way you memorize each other and the shock of touching something that seemed just out of reach for so long. Your lips close around his and his close around yours gently; his hands clutches your hips one last time before they shift lower, groping your ass and squeezing, the flesh filling out the gaps between his long fingers. When he does, your mouth drops open in an involuntary moan, allowing his tongue to dip into the wet, warm space and meet the velvet muscle of your tongue. Feeling the intrusion makes you shudder with want and a release of pent-up crave. You accept it graciously and easily, the slide of your tongues abetted by saliva. Despite the nerves and waves of incredulity rolling through you, you can’t deny the level of comfortability you feel in his presence.
You take your tongue across his teeth, feeling the ridges and stoops that form delicious ivory valleys. He hums, impatiently flicking his own muscle into your mouth, your teeth clacking in the process.
The kiss works you both into a frenzy within short minutes, the once tender and exploratory press releasing into a fiery, punishing pull and push of tongue and spit.
Your tears falling hard on my shoulder…
Don’t leave, I don’t wanna start over…
Your core begs for him and you let it beg. It weeps, slick seeping into your underwear. The sensation drives the push of your hips; through your clothes, you feel his chubbed up cock. You nuzzle his bulge with your own burning heat, warm melting into warm and forging a furnace, flames lapping at your spine.
A choked noise claws around in his throat. He places a hand on your thigh, settling your form, “are—“ he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth then releases it with a wet pop, its spit-slick and red and swollen and makes you grin evilly, “are you sure? I’m really,” you shift in his lap again, and he groans around his words, “I’m really fuckin’ dying here.”
“Yes, I’m sure, it’s long over due—I need you to fuck me, mm, now.”
“Here? I mean, fuck, I want to, God I want to, but I want it maybe a bit more—“ Special? Overrated. You cut him off with a searing kiss and all his inhibitions melt away.
“I want it now, Luke, please?”
He nods fervently, stopping to peck your lips repeatedly. It makes you giggle and blooms a confidence in your chest; you sit up, Luke positioned eye-level to your chest, and pull your shirt off over your head slowly. His blue, shiny eyes drop to devour you. His hands stir on their position on top of your thighs, you tell him: “take it off.” And he does, he unclasps your bra expeditiously and it tumbles to the floor. The change in temperature peaks your nipples; you gasp, bottom lip hanging slack and eyes flicking up to meet Luke’s blue. He shares the same visage, and his fingers trail up your sides and eventually grasp your tits, massaging and groping. Little moans fall from your lips.
“You sound so pretty, look so pretty, so pretty…” he murmurs, seeming as if he’s in his own world with you as the center of its universe.
“Luke, can I—?” You ask, voice thick and needy as you slide from the chair onto the floor in front of him. Your knees press into the floor hard enough to bruise.
Can’t you see? I’d do anything for you…
Don’t leave, I don't wanna start over (over)…
“Anything, anything you want, baby,” he pants.
Oh, I don’t wanna start over…
The post chorus bleeds out into nothing, then, after a beat, the song clicks to repeat once again. It’s set off by a hum, and the newly familiar melody rouses.
You stare up at him as if his body is an alter. Your hands inch up his thighs, and your face follows. His bulge looks heavy and mouth-watering through the cloth encasing it. With a hot, open mouth, you lean forward and press into it. Your lips close around his cock through the fabric, drool leaking and changing the material a shade deeper. You shift to pressing kisses over his hard-on for the sake of hearing more of those shaky inhales and exhales he releases from his open mouth. He twitches his hips and you can feel him stir inside his pants.
Feeling as though you’ve teased him enough, you hook your fingers into the waistband of his pants and boxers, offering a tug. He lifts up, allowing them to be pulled down his thighs. His dick springs out, jutting out proudly from his pelvis. Your eyes widen— there’s a pretty vein running along the bottom that meets with his pink, flushing tip and frenulum.
“Such a nice dick… all hard for me, baby,” you blink up at him, eyelashes fluttering, “and you’re fucking leaking.”
He full on whines in response, bucking his hips, cock swaying slightly with the movement. You palm him tenderly and begin working him, wrist twisting everytime you pull downwards. Your efforts are aided by the pre-cum seeping from his slit; a bead rolls down the side, dripping onto your hand as it continues to jerk him off. He sucks in a breath through closed teeth when you direct the head of his cock to your lips, closing the plushy lines of flesh around it and sucking.
You need the way you worship him physically to reflect how you’ve worshipped him emotionally for years. You have to be good for him; it’s as if he reads your mind, “holy shit, your mouth, feels so good… your lips,” he babbles.
The corners of your mouth perk up around his length, looking so damn pleased. Spit froths where your lips are connected to him, and you begin to bob your head up and down; you take him as far as you can manage down your throat. It’s sloppy as your throat and lips close around him like a vise and your hand twists around the base, sometimes dipping down to grope at his balls. Listening to his perfect, melodic whimpers sends pleasureable, intoxicating waves throughout your body, core yearning for him so fiercely it seems to ache.
You finally come up for air, sucking in a short breath, before jamming his thick cock down your throat over and over again.
In divergence from his otherwise yielding demeanour, his fingers card through your hair fiercely, hauling you up from your position between his legs, demanding: “if you kept that up for much longer, I would’ve came down your throat, baby,” he places a kiss on the corner of your mouth as you lean over him, then your cheek, “I need to be inside you, fucking now.” That has you reeling, pliant under his fingers as he stands, and spins you around as if you're weightless.
He murmurs, mere inches away from your ear, “bend over,” but before you can even move on your own volition, he presses his palm to your lower back and folds your body over the desk. Your cheek and chest press against the cool wood; his hand on your back keeps your ass positioned in the air. He digs his pointer and middle finger into the waistband of your pants, giving a tiny pull of inquiry. You grind your hips backwards impatiently in response, making your want and allowance tangible.
He peels the last of your clothes off, beautiful bare skin on display and cast amber under the orange hue of the room.
His husky voice fills your senses: “You don’t know how many times I’ve pictured this— your ass out just like this, just for me, you’re fucking,” he moves a leg in the space between yours and pushes them apart, “pussy spread— for me. Oh my God.” His tone reflects a deep-seated desire and adoration; your heart swells with knowing and surety that, after all these years, is the most important thing imaginationable. However, you can’t fight the embarrassment filling your chest that forms under his so blatant and genuine reverence.
“L—Lu, stop,” your mumble, cheeks coloring deeply, to which he replies with a small laugh.
“Mmm’no,” he says, a smirk touching his lips. Your face only turns a deeper shade of red when he uses his fingers to delicately pinch then spread your labia. “M’fuckin’ obsessed with you.” That swell returns in full force.
His vast palms and long fingers run up and down your back, creating goosebumps in their wake. At that moment, his whisper ghosts over the shell of your ear and chills run down your spine: “I’m sorry I waited.” Simultaneously, without warning, the blunt head of his cock breaches your entrance; the stretch is foreign but delicious, so much so it wrenches a whine from your throat.
“It's okay, it’s okay, baby,” you ramble, hushing him and breathing deeply. “This is— fuck, you’re so big.”
You hear a noise scramble then die in his throat.
Then, he bottoms out and feels your clenching around him. He takes a grounding breath; he asks if you're okay, if he can move. You nod quickly, knuckles balled up and blooming white.
He sets a slow, steady pace, pulling all the way out until the head of his cock has your hole taut, then pressing back and stroking past your g-spot.
Once your moans set a constant pace at the thrust of his hips and your ass pushes back to greet his every drive, his thrust turns punishing.
Your legs tremble and knees threaten to buckle under the force of him, the weight of his dick landing inside of you.
Your song is still making its home in the room, lapping at your eardrums until you can only focus on the tranquil, lovely sound; it numbs your brain into a concentration set on the hounding of his cock. Your eyes flutter shut, crossing intensely beneath your eyelids, and tongue lolls out from your parted, glossy lips. You pant and so does the man looming behind you, fucking you seneless.
“Ah— I’m so, so close, Lu. I don’t—i can’t…” you babble.
“Touch yourself, let me watch you cum.” Despite his tone matching yours in the way it’s wrecked and scratchy, his words are grounding.
The sound of skin meeting skin acts as a backtrack to the song floating around the room as it starts to repeat once more. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve heard the intro by now, really.
Obediently, your arm lodges itself underneath your form and your fingers find your clit with ease. You rub in perfect circles, the dual stimulation releasing a stream of ecstasy into your veins that whites out your vision and rips a recurrent shake and silent moan from your abdomen.
You might be imagining the way he hums along to your song.
“Oh, oh. Yea, I’m right there, prettybaby, right there.”
A few more strokes, a few more rubs, and you unleash a particular squeaky moan, then cum. You cum all over his dick and continue to rub and rub, drawing out every last quiver and contraction of your clit. The force of your orgasm coerces him to follow: one of his hands is splayed across the groove between your shoulder and neck, the other pressing your back further into its arch. He uses his vise-like grip on your flesh to haul your form back onto his dick as he cums deep inside you, milking every last drop. His body, shiny and salty with a sheen of beaded exhaustion, folds over yours. He shed his shirt at sometime you never even registered; you feel his damp skin slide against your own. He kisses the back of your neck and all across your shoulder blades, breathing out sweet praises over the span. A single thrust, a fleeting groan from both your chests, and he slips out with lewd squelch, softening. Your liquids mixed with his cum drip from your core, coating your inner thighs and folds.
Right beside your ear his voice comforts you. How he manages to be so right for you, you’ll never know.
“You were perfect, baby, I… I love you. I’m so in love with you. I wish I had the fucking balls to go about this differently, but I— you,” “shh, I know, I know, we can talk about it, but I kinda feel gross right now,” you beam, even though he can’t see it, and wish you could look upon his face. As if reading your mind, he scoops you up in his arms and flips you over. As he does so, his fingernails dance over your sides in a practiced manner, eliciting rapid giggles to fall from your mouth at his tickling, “Luke, stop,” a laugh, “shit!” You bat his hands away playfully and he relents.
Once his gorgeous, sharp features come back into your view, everything eases. You both share a personal, intimate smile; it kinda makes you wanna cry. Again. You notice his attention flick down to your still-naked body and where you're all sloppy, a product of shared affection. He stoops down, knees meeting the floor and face falling level with your pussy.
You look down at him, blue meeting your eyes and blinking slowly as he swipes his tongue across your clit.
“Fuck— m’so sensitive.”
He hums, committing his focus to the mess he left behind. He licks you clean of his cum and your remaining slick, being gentle around your ball of nerves. You watch him with a lazily, lopsided smile, “come here,” you demand.
And he does.
He comes close and captures your lips in a kiss; it tastes salty and of something supremely Luke. The hunger wanes, but the passion remains.
He locates your clothes, pulling your panties up your legs as you lay on the desk, spent. Next, he tenderly dresses you in your pants and hoodie, then he does himself. It's done silently, comfortably; finally, you reply to his earlier prattling, “I’m so in love with you, too. You knew that.” His eyes sing.
Shortly, he’s sitting in the plushy chair with you nestled on top of his lap.
After a beat, he breaks the silence, finally digging up the old ghosts you’ve always buried to ignore.
“When I left— I felt like I left you behind, you know that.” You nod, carding your fingers through his silky curls, scratching at his scalp. “I guess, in the song, I imagined you speaking to me. But also, please stay— stay in LA with me. I know it’s been weird… but this has to work with you…,” he trails off.
“Luke, I know why you did. You had to leave. That place suffocated you. Please,”
He cuts you off, needing you to know: “you were my air.”
You give him a devoted look, “It wasn’t enough, baby. And that’s okay. Besides, I knew the boys would take care of you.”
“I fucking love you,” he says, placing kisses anywhere he can find purchase on the side of your face, “quit it!” you laugh, “m’serious, you’re perfect, you’re—“ “I love you, too.”
⏱︎ ˎˊ˗
You’re 29 when you move in with Luke Hemmings, and have everything you’ve ever wanted.
current era, luke and reader in a vacation trip, a bit of domesticity bc i love that shit. very clingy and cute let's say, beach theme, just a cute relax break. you can also add that reader went with a camera and is mockingly taking a video or photo of anything, including luke of course. after sun is hiding and the couple goes back to their cabin is where smutty part starts. i'll let that part up to you, just make it very erotical, that's good shit. afab! just in case. thanks for reading, have a nice day!
Thank you so much for this! I wrote this all in one day so it might be a tad shit but I hope you enjoy it! 🫶🏻
Sun-kissed
MDNI!!
Pairing: Luke Hemmings x afab!reader
Summary: You and Luke on your honeymoon :)
Warnings: unprotected-sex, kissing, mentions of having kids (i think that’s it)
Word count: 1883
Author’s note: I think I got a bit awkward with the smutty part in this one, wasn’t really sure what to do but oh well, I literally started this right after I submitted my final uni assignment for this year! Wooooo she’s free now until mid-January.
———
The high-pitched laughter of children runs across the warm atmosphere, accompanied by the crashing waves just a few feet away.
You and Luke lounge quietly under the relieving shade of your bright, patterned beach umbrella, his arms resting lazily around your middle as you lay your back against his chest, book in hand. The heated sand feels soft under your feet as you sigh.
Loving kisses are peppered across your shoulder and he mumbles against your skin “are we gonna be able to handle the screams when we have our own?”
You set your book down in your lap, your page saved with a blue and white bookmark that you came across in a market not far from the hotel and rest your hands over his on your bare stomach. “You’re thinking of having them already?” There’s a hint of surprise in your voice as you gently rub the back of his hand.
A small smile graces his lips as he lifts his head slightly, murmuring into your ear softly “of course I am. We’re on our honeymoon, plenty of time to practice.”
You gasp and playfully swat his hand, earning a chuckle from him, “what? It’s true!”
“All that bleach has gotten to your head if you think I’m getting pregnant on our honeymoon,” you laugh, turning your head to look at him properly.
“You never know when it’s gonna happen, sweetheart,” he grins, pressing a sweet kiss to the tip of your nose, “I think we’d make cute babies.”
“I don’t doubt that we will, but you’ve got tour stuff going on soon,” you lift one hand to rub against his jaw softly “barely enough time to prepare for a child.”
He groans playfully, “fine, whatever.”
Pulling you tighter to his chest, he whispers with a smirk, “we can still practice though.”
You roll your eyes in response and with no truth to your words, you mutter “you are not getting tickets to that show, but I love the enthusiasm.”
“You wound me,” he laughs heartily.
Removing your hand from his jaw, you reach beside you both and clamp your fingers around the chunky digital camera that Luke had bought for you as a wedding gift. You absolutely adored the idea of documenting your trip, this being your first proper break together in a while.
Lifting the camera up to face you both, you press your index finger against the record button, causing a red dot to flash in the corner of the screen on the other side. “Hello future children, your father here is holding me hostage and is begging me to have you right now.”
He gasps dramatically, “that’s your first message to them? Do you want them to think their dad is some villain?”
“If its true then it must be told,” you smile smugly, staring straight into the camera lens.
“I love your mother with everything in me. I would never hold her hostage, I swear!” He pleads to the camera with a large smile.
“Says the guy holding onto me so tightly I might suffocate,” you shove the camera into his face, turning around in his arms “look at that guilty face!”
He suddenly steals the camera from your grip, releasing you from his strong arms and flipping the camera onto you, “and look at that beautiful face, even better view,” the camera catches his quiet giggles as he watches your smile widen. The sun casts an ethereal glow over your skin and Luke couldn’t feel more grateful for his life than he does in this moment.
“Stopppp, you’re making me blush,” you bite your freshly manicured nail between your teeth, a huge grin gracing your lips as you stare at your husband.
“My favourite thing to do,” he beams, stopping the video and practically dragging you into his lap. He rests his hands carelessly on your thighs, the cold silver of his wedding ring pressing against your skin. “Wanna go for a swim?”
“Sure,” you smile.
——
The sky is illuminated with pink and orange hues as you flip through the day's pictures on your camera, the corners of your lips turning upward as you rest against the headboard of your shared hotel bed.
A few pictures stand out to you, particularly ones where Luke is attached to you, like he needs to be touching you in any way in order to survive. One displays him planting a deep kiss on your cheek as you stand in front of a secluded café, his eyes squeezed shut. Another where his hand is clasped tightly in yours as you read your novel peacefully on the beach.
The sound of quick running water echoes around the room as Luke washes the left-over sand from his body. He had offered you to join him, but you had been insistent on scrolling through your photos before you started anything else.
After a while, the water stops and your husband steps out of the bathroom with a white towel hung low on his hips, water droplets running down his toned chest. Your attention is immediately pulled from your digital camera and forced onto the glorious sight before you.
“Hey, sexy,” you grin as he makes his way over to the other side of the bed, his feet padding against the hardwood floor.
He giggles like a schoolgirl, glancing at you briefly before kneeling down to his suitcase, “hey.”
“Why don’t you come and join me up here?” You pat the spot beside you on the bed, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.
He slides a clean pair of underwear over his hips, narrowing his eyes with a playful glint in them. “Oh no, she’s got that look again, I’m about to die,” he laughs before dramatically dropping himself onto the soft sheets.
“Oh shush, I just wanted a kiss,” you said flirtatiously, leaning your head down so that your face hovered just inches above his.
“How disappointing,” his eyelids droop with a soft kind of love before closing the distance between you. A happy hum leaves his pink lips, and they twist into a smile, “is that a new lip balm?”
“Yes, thank you for noticing,” you respond before eagerly connecting your lips once again.
His brows drew together as the kiss deepens, your tongue running along his bottom lip as his hand comes up to rest in your hair.
You suddenly feel the soft press of the mattress beneath you as Luke moves above you, your lips still attached. “God, I love you so much,” his voice is husky with need as he breaks the kiss to trail kisses along your neck.
You whine softly, running your fingers through his blonde hair, still damp from his shower, “I love you more.”
“Not possible at all,” he mutters against your skin, pressing his lips firmly against you as he grows hungrier. His lips travel further down your body, softly nipping at your collarbone as his hands run over your thighs, determined to get between them.
Your breathing quickens as he makes his way down your body, keeping your eyes glued to him whilst he begins to remove your bikini bottoms. Frantically, he unfastens the ties on your hips and tosses the pair across the room, climbing back up your body with an intense need to kiss you.
“You’re so, so beautiful… I could kiss you all day,” he rasps against your lips, kissing you with all the passion and love that he could muster. One of his hands cups the curve of your waist whilst the other skilfully parts your legs, sliding himself between them.
Your hands travel down his torso, running along his abs to tug at the hem of his underwear, “want these off…” you whisper with a quiet desperation.
He nods, opening his eyes so he could bore them into yours, “y-yeah, yeah, I’ll take them off for you…” he hesitates as he leans back, almost as if it pains him to be apart from you even for a second, “anything for you, my love.” He pulls them down helplessly and immediately attaches himself to you again, his hands resting on your hips and his forehead pressed against yours as he breathes deeply. “I can’t wait, I’m sorry… I need to be inside you, baby, please…”
It’s your turn to nod, placing your hands at both sides of his neck as you place a sweet kiss to his lips.
With a gentle thrust, he pushes into you slowly, only stopping when his hips are finally flush against yours. You will never get used to the stretch, no matter how long you have been with him.
You let out a soft moan into his mouth, causing a groan to come from him as he peppers your face with kisses. Your nose, your cheeks, and your forehead all receiving his attention.
Once he’s sure you’re comfortable, he begins to move, drawing his hips back before pushing forward again. Soft whimpers leave him, his pupils blown wide with lust, but more importantly, love. He wants to please you; wants to make you feel good.
“Faster, honey…” you breathe out, “please…”
He nods once again and adjusts his position, holding your soft thighs down against the bed as he increases his pace, setting a delicious rhythm. The sounds of skin against skin and your shared moans fill the room, creating a cacophony of love.
He leans down to connect your lips for what feels like the hundredth time that night, needing to express how deeply he feels for you. “My wife… my beautiful wife…”
Your mouth curves into a smile against his plump lips as he continues his frantic pace, running your fingers through his bleached hair, “your wife…”
He delivers a particularly harsh thrust, causing you to gasp and arch into him, his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly. “Oh my god…” you moan with your head thrown back against the plush pillows.
“That good?” He laughs breathlessly, proud of himself for making you feel good.
You nod frantically as you look at him again, the hungry look in his eyes causing you to melt, becoming putty in his grasp.
Releasing one of your thighs, he brings a finger to your sensitive bundle of nerves, beginning to rub it in tight circles. “Come on baby, cum for me…” he whines.
You release a desperate whimper, your nails clawing at his back as he drives deeper and deeper into you, your walls tugging him in. His finger increases its pace, driving you over the edge.
A loud moan fills the room as you come undone around him, causing him to follow not long after. He lets out a deep groan, pushing as deep as he can inside you as white-hot spurts of his release floods your insides. “Fuck… I love you…” he mutters before collapsing on top of you.
“I love you too,” you pant into his ear.
He stays buried inside of you as you both catch your breath, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms. You run your nails soothingly over his back as he relaxes in your hold, wrapping his toned arms around your middle.
You look down at him with an adoring smile, your pupils fully dilated as you admire his soft features.
a while ago you went to a club, you just wanted a nice night out drinking and dancing with your friends, but your eyes met his in the middle of the dance floor and he approached you. that night you left the club with him, with luke, and now you’re both celebrating your first anniversary.
he wanted to make it special so he was taking you out for dinner in a quite expensive place, he was dressed in nice clothes, wearing a white button up shirt, a tie and a black leather jacket — ‘cause he literally can’t live without it.
luke couldn’t take his eyes off you the whole night, the reason was simple, your damn dress. so simple but elegant, hugging your curves perfectly in a way that was making his mouth water. the jewelry, the heels, the make up even your hairstyle was driving him insane. he couldn’t wait to ruin that perfect look.
the dinner went on smoothly, nice wine and your favorite food, you even shared a dessert later just to be cheesy. he paid for everything and led you back to his car, opened the door for you like the gentleman he is and then got in the driver's seat, he made sure you were settled and comfortable before turning the engine on and driving to his place, one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, caressing it through the silk fabric of your dress.
“ya know…” he said looking at the road, breaking the silence and making you look at him “that dessert wasn’t sweet enough to me” you raise your eyebrows a bit suspicious but before you can say anything he speaks up “need my favorite dessert” he squeezes your thigh and glances at you with hungry eyes making you shiver in anticipation.
you spent the whole drive thinking about what’ll happen when you finally arrive, his hand constantly on your thigh doesn’t help you calm down. he eventually parks in the driveway, the soft hum of the engine dies and he gets out first, coming to your side to open the door for you — once again, a gentleman. you thank him as you get out and grab his arm as you both walk to the front door.
the moment you step inside the energy shifts, the door closing and locking behind you as you place your purse on the table, he takes off his jacket and folds it in half before placing it in the armchair, then he laces your fingers together and walks you to the bedroom.
“those heels must feel uncomfortable by now” he says softly guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed, they don’t feel uncomfortable yet but you let him do his thing anyway “let me take it off for you, my love” he says as he loosens his tie and takes it off, placing it aside in bed.
he gets on his knees in front of you and carefully take off your heels, you thank him quietly what makes him smile, his hands gently lift your dress as he caresses your legs up your thighs, then before you can think his lips touch your skin as he gently parts your legs — just enough to nip the inside of your thighs. you gasp softly and open up more, looking down at him, he’s so soft as he kisses and nips your thighs.
once you open up enough he kisses you over your panties, nuzzles your fucking pussy like it’s something precious — and it is to him — you moan his name softly as your fingers run through his curls, he looks over at you and hooks his fingers on the side of your panties, a silent question that you answer lifting your hips so he can pull them off you and toss it aside.
when he sees you so aroused his dick twitches “you’re so beautiful my love” he says as he gives it a gentle peck before spreading your wetness around, making you even more aroused “so gorgeous” he’s in awe, it’s a beautiful sight you have, your rockstar boyfriend on his knees treating you like a goddess. he gently circles your clit making you gasp softly.
“luke…” you whine and that’s enough for him to put his tongue to work, he gives your pussy a long lick before sucking your clit. you moan loudly, head thrown back, back arched, eyes closed in pleasure and fingers gripping his hair to pull him closer and he happily obliges.
luke’s always been an eater — a damn good one — he loves giving you all the pleasure he can, either using just his tongue or bringing his fingers in to help, he doesn’t care he just wants to taste you. he gets lost in the act and you know he’s feeling just as much pleasure as you, he’s hard rock now and bucking his hips slightly, you feel him pulling you closer to bury his face in your pussy, that’s his personal heaven right there.
you’re moaning loudly now, breathing heavily as you tug and twirl his curls, he’s been eating you out like he’s starving for a good few minutes. you feel that coil on your stomach and whimper to warn him, he doesn’t care, he keeps going, you look down at him again and his eyes are closed and he’s fucking whining, that does it for you. your orgasm crashes your body in powerful waves, you’re shaking and crying out his name as your legs close, trapping him between them.
luke’s not embarrassed to moan as he keeps working you through your orgasm, only when the both of you had enough he pulls back gasping for air, chin and swollen lips shiny and he looks so fucking needy. you pull him up for a kiss and he obliges “you taste so sweet” he says against your lips in that needy tone of his that you’ve grown to love — makes you feel needed and loved. he presses himself against you, both moaning at the contact. “i need to be inside you baby, please” he whines peppering your face with kisses.
you nod and with trembling hands he undoes his pants just enough to free his length, the tip already leaking a huge amount of pre cum that definitely got a wet spot on his boxers. he doesn’t give you a warning as he pushes inside you with one rough thrust, a broken moan leaves his lips and you hold him against you. his pace is desperate, he’s going as deep as he can, his hands holding your legs to keep them around him, he’s fucking you like he wants to merge your bodies together.
his face is buried on your neck kissing and marking it up as he whimpers against it, your hands are gripping his hair and back tight, you’re gasping and moaning his name like a prayer as your eyes close so you just feel it. the bed is creaking and you’re both sweaty and extremely needy for each other, his thrusts never fails they just get quicker and quicker ‘till you feel his body tensing and without warning he buries himself deep inside you and comes with a shuddering cry of your name, his hips bucking and breath ragged against your skin.
your orgasm hits you hard too, seeing him losing like this will never fail to make you lose it too. he stays on top of you catching his breath, you hold him there rubbing his back and stroking his hair as you catch your breath too. when he’s slightly better he slips out of you and rolls to lay on his back, his cum starts to leak out of you but neither of you mind that right now. you turn your head to the side to see him.
“i love you”
he turns his head to look at you too, his beautiful face is flushed but he looks so satisfied and content, the smile that grows on his face makes your heart skip a beat. his voice is soft as he replies.
“i love you more”
you shift to your side so you can kiss him slowly, he shifts too to kiss you back, his hand comes up to caress your cheek gently, in that moment it’s just you two that matter, in your own little world in his bed, celebrating the most important thing for you both, your love.
He'd come over without much thought, the way he always did.
Luke had texted you earlier that afternoon, nothing dramatic, just a "You busy?" and now the two of you were sprawled across the bed, the TV on the stand playing something neither of you were really watching. The room felt quieter than usual, stripped of the constant movement that followed him everywhere else.
He looked at you then. "I don't want it perfect, you know?" he said, his voice quieter now. "I just want to see how it feels to do it myself."
He trusted you. Just by putting himself in a position like this with you, in a vulnerable manner, exposing his own masculinity, he felt almost naked. He was back to making music by himself again and had decided to start experimenting with makeup once more. He'd told you he had this idea in mind, making it his signature look for this era. He'd spent years treating the way he looked like something instinctive, handled with almost no thought. He knew how it worked, had seen it done enough times. But lately, he'd found himself wanting to understand it differently. To put his own hands into it. To do something that felt closer to the source, a less fabricated version of himself.
His gaze wandered over the multiple palettes you had scattered along your bed, while you observed him in detail, seeing if any of them captured his attention. "I like this shimmery blue," he pointed.
"You know how to do it right? I can do one eye to show you."
He hummed in agreement to your offer. "Just try not to poke my eyeball." He warned, eyes tightly shut and legs crossed as he perched at the edge of your bed. He instinctively frowned, which prompted a soft smile on your face.
"The brush isn't even near your eye yet, dude."
His eyelids relaxed, letting you dab properly into them. It was simple, really.
"This feels weird," you said lightly, glancing around, as if expecting someone to burst in and take over. It was like you were waiting to get caught.
Weird because it's private. Because no one's watching, he thought to himself.
You got a tingly feeling, having Luke like this; you could take your time to appreciate his features, like the shape of his lips and the scar from his once-lipring.
"Look up for a bit, please," you said, and gave the finishing touches under his eye. You handed him a mirror.
His face lit up, but he quickly shut it down by saying, "Better than I expected." He knew perfectly how to annoy you.
"Gosh! You're such a diva." You laid back on the bed with fake exasperation.
Luke shifted from his position and moved closer to you, his blue eyes meeting yours. The eyeshadow definitely favored him, and you could see how confident he acted with it.
"Thanks, seems I came to the perfect person."
You blushed. It was nothing, but somehow it still affected you.
...
"Okay," you said, shifting closer, reaching for his wrist before he could pull away. "Not like that. Do it looser. You're gripping it like it's gonna fight you back."
You were obnoxiously close to him, not that it was the first time, but it felt uniquely intimate right now. He huffed out a quiet laugh, adjusting his hold as you guided his hand. It felt strange, letting someone show him something so small, so tactile.
"Be gentle, Luke."
His breath hitched.
He was doing such a mediocre job that you couldn't help but laugh. "Look, I'm sorry, but how are you failing at this? You're like, extremely tense. Maybe you should try doing it with your finger?"
He looked puzzled at first, but decided to take your advice, and he dabbed his index finger into the eyeshadow and started putting it on, the mirror in his left hand.
"They're not the same," he said.
You shrugged. "They don't have to be."
He considered that longer than the comment deserved. "Need to clean my finger." He huffed.
"Oh yeah, that one's actually hard to—"
He didn't let you complete your sentence. Before you knew it, he was reaching for you instead, dragging his thumb lightly across your cheek, depositing the leftover shimmer there like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You stared at him. He grinned sheepishly. "You were closer."
You snorted.
His thumb lingered a second too long, brushing over the shimmer he'd left behind. Not wiping it away. He ended up caressing your face. You quickly melted into his warm touch, leaning your weight into his palm. Your eyes flickered to meet his gaze, and he wet his lower lip. He held your face with his index and thumb, smiling while leaning in, like he hadn't fully decided whether this was actually happening or not.
The TV murmured on in the background, forgotten. Outside, a car passed.
"Is this okay?" he asked, barely. You'd kissed him before—quick pecks, nothing as intimate as this situation.
"Yeah."
Your breath hitched. The room seemed to hold its breath with you, and your heart was beating so fast, you were sure you could have died that instant. His lips brushed yours, light enough to almost miss, before pressing in properly. The kiss itself was gentle, almost tentative, like he was waiting for you to change your mind, but you didn't.
He then broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. Gently, he started exploring the hem of your shirt. He pulled a couple of inches away from you, catching a glimpse of your reaction, making sure you were still comfortable with this.
A million thoughts were crossing your mind, but you acted instinctively, giving yourself in. His hands roamed through your upper half. When they found your chest, he started toying with your nipples while leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that made their way up to your neck.
"Luke..." You called his name, stammering.
"Yes?" He returned with a hint of fear.
"I needed this badly, and I didn't even know."
Fuck. There, you said it. You might regret the sudden emotional vulnerability, but it just felt appropriate right now.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I think… I know what you mean."
You earned a small laugh from him. He pressed a quick kiss to your mouth, a lighter touch. His hands slid lower, meeting the waistband of your sweatpants.
"We don't need these."
He slid them down, and you shrugged them off, parting your thighs as wide as you could to expose yourself completely to him, revealing your already soaked underwear, which he quickly slid aside. He licked his lips at the sight of your core.
"You're so wet," he murmured, running a finger along your slit, collecting your slick heat, while his free hand gently caressed your thigh.
"I need you, I really do, Luke."
You whimpered, and he stopped holding himself back. He leaned into your sex, his tongue parting your folds and delving into your wetness. He groaned, and he flicked his tongue against your sensitive clit. You gasped at the suddenness. His hands tightened at your hips, digging into your soft flesh, grounding you.
"Easy, babe," he murmured in a soft, low, sweet voice.
You squirmed under his touch, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. You were in heaven. Every movement got you closer and closer as his cock throbbed and twitched inside his underwear, growing harder with every sound you made. He could feel it straining against the fabric of his jeans, desperate for release. Luke felt your body tensing, your inner walls tightening around his plunging tongue as your climax neared. He doubled his efforts in that same instant, sucking and thrusting, determined to push you over the edge.
"Luke, I'm— Luke."
He thrust his tongue faster. Your thighs trembled, and you came undone. He looked up at you as your back arched and your head was thrown back in ecstasy. The sight of you reaching your climax was too much for him. He shifted and kneeled, fumbling with the button of his jeans, lowering them down just enough to free his aching member.
"Can't believe I made you that wet," he panted, wrapping one of his large hands around his shaft, pumping up and down as he watched you come down from your high. "I can feel your cum dripping down my chin..."
The more he thought of what just happened, the more it overwhelmed him. He wouldn't last long. His brows furrowed, his pumping quickly became fast and erratic. He groaned and finally came, his shaft erupting ropes of cum, coating your lower half. After coming down from his own high, he leaned in, his face a couple of inches from yours, and he gazed at you with a tender expression.
"You're one of the most beautiful things I've witnessed." He placed a peck on your forehead before settling next to you.
Idk if your still taking fic suggestions but a muke x reader vibe (their most recent era) would feed me.
muke x reader
warnings: smut, emotionally cheating if you squint, threesome, barely any plot
word count: 3,718 words
pairing: michael clifford/reader, luke hemmings/reader, muke/reader
a/n: titled tba. I kinda got carried away also recently watched skins so luke is accidentally tony kinda
WARNING! RPF CONTENT DONT LIKE DONT READ
You were curled against Luke's side on the couch, knees tucked beneath you, while his arm hung lazily across the cushions behind your shoulders. He'd pulled you there a while after you started greeting your guests, settling you against him while he talked with a few of his friends, including Michael, who sat across from you in an armchair, fidgeting with a pick from the show from earlier that night.
The venue had been tiny, but impressive in a way that made your chest ache with pride every time you looked at Luke. The music rattled through the floorboards hard enough for it to feel in your ribs. The band had only been together for a little over a year, yet somehow people already knew the lyrics.
They’d shouted the band’s name afterward while Luke stood sweaty and breathless beneath the stage lights, curls sticking damply to his forehead.
The party afterward in Luke's apartment was mostly for networking, according to him. Producers, other musicians, friends-of-friends crammed in with drinks balanced carelessly in their hands. Luke had dragged you along with him the second somebody invited the band over, fingers hooked through yours as he disappeared easily into conversation after conversation. You mostly stayed put next to him while people talked about gigs and recording sessions and people you’d never met or even heard of, smiling politely and giving you two cents despite feeling a little lost.
You decided to get some air eventually, more out of boredom than anything else.
Luke noticed the second you started untucking yourself from his side, his hand sliding from your thigh while he glanced up at you through heavy-lidded eyes.
“Where you goin’?” he asked
“Outside for a minute,” you murmured.
His fingers caught briefly around your wrist before letting go again. “Don’t disappear.”
Michael seemed to notice your state.
He leaned back deeper into the armchair across from you, boot nudging lightly against the leg of the coffee table while he still rolled the guitar pick between his fingers, his eyes followed your movement and watched you disappear.
The chill hit immediately. It felt good after being packed inside warm bodies all night. You sat down on the metal steps with your drink between your hands, elbows resting on your knees, while the noise from inside dulled, and the smell of cigarettes drifted to your nostrils.
The fire escape window opened again a minute later.
“Knew this wasn’t really your thing,”
Michael stepped outside, the apartment light spilling briefly across the stairwell behind him before closing it once again.
“Figured I’d come keep you company.” he said after a moment
You looked down toward the drink balanced between your hands instead of directly at him. “That obvious?”
“A little.”
There was amusement sitting quietly underneath his words, though not enough to make it feel mean. He stepped down onto the stair beside yours, close enough that your knees could brush if either of you moved wrong.
Michael was somewhere in that strange space between acquaintance and friend. You saw him often enough because of Luke and spent enough late nights around him after rehearsals and shitty diner trips, yet the two of you had never really been alone together before.
There was something easy about him. Familiar, you would say. You trusted him instinctively, in the way you trust somebody who’s seen you half-asleep in the backseat at three in the morning or listened to you ramble tipsily on somebody’s kitchen floor without ever making you feel stupid for it.
And maybe that was part of the problem lately.
The last few weeks had felt off, you had no other word for it, in a way, you were trying very hard not to examine too closely. Nothing obvious. Nothing bad. Just little things that had started to linger longer than they should have.
Michael looking at you across rehearsal rooms a second too long. Your stomach flipping stupidly whenever he brushed past you in cramped hallways. The kind of tension you could still pretend wasn’t there if you never faced it.
“I think Luke forgets these things are actually boring if you’re not in a band.”
Yeah,” he murmured. “You kinda need to care at least a little.”
“I tried caring.”
“I’m sure you did.”
You glanced sideways at him finally, catching the faint grin sitting at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t mocking. If anything, he looked entertained by you in a way that made heat creep faintly into your face.
“You liked the show though?” He asked.
Your expression softened automatically. “Obviously.”
“You looked proud.”
“I was proud.” You smiled a little to yourself. “You're all getting the recognition you deserve, you're even getting invited to places like these.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Still feels kinda weird.”
“We were playing to like,” he laughed quietly, “fifteen people six months ago.”
“And now random girls know your lyrics.”
“That’s mostly Luke’s fault,” Michael said easily. “People like looking at him.”
You snorted softly into your drink. “You say that like people weren’t staring at you too.”
His mouth pulled slightly at the corner afterward, he muttered. “Were you?”
You were shocked because the answer should be obvious? Luke.
Luke, your boyfriend, all sweet and pretty smiles and endless love.
But maybe Michael, too.
Michael, with his guitar hanging low against his hips, head tipped down while he played. who barely seemed aware when people looked at him, which somehow made it more endearing.
The realization made the feeling of guilt twist softly in your chest.
Still, your eyes flicked briefly down toward Michael’s mouth before you could even stop yourself.
“Both.” you admitted quietly, and regretted instantly. What the fuck.
You felt it immediately, awfully in your chest, like you’d said something you weren’t supposed to out loud.
Michael noticed too. You could tell by the way his expression shifted slightly, the corner of his mouth pulling faintly like he was trying not to smile too much at your obvious panic.
You stood up too fast, nearly spilling your drink down the front of yourself in the process. “We should probably go back inside.” you said quickly.
Michael got up a second later, slower than you, hands slipping into the pockets of his jacket while he watched you carefully for a moment. He didn’t push you further, and that somehow worsened it all.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “okay.”
You suddenly felt too aware of your surroundings inside, after the quiet, warmer outside.
Luke was across the room, laughing at something while he leaned back against the counter.
His eyes found yours when you came back in. Then shifted briefly toward Michael, climbing in after you.
Something unreadable flickered across his face for half a second, you could tell, but it went as fast as it came.
The rest of the party blurred a little after that. You mostly pretended to listen to conversations while your brain replayed the fire escape over and over again in humiliating detail. And every now and then, you caught Michael looking at you from across the room, while Luke's hand rested on your waist.
Eventually, the apartment thinned into just the three of you.
Michael stayed. He always did. Which was unfortunate for your current situation, considering his presence in your apartment felt almost as familiar as your own by now.
By the time the place finally quieted down, it was almost three in the morning, and the three of you had fallen into cleaning without really talking about it, drinking more halfway through. Luke moved around the apartment gathering empty bottles into trash bags while you stood at the sink rinsing sticky alcohol from cups. Michael dried them beside you with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder.
Luke moved around easily behind the two of you, and every so often, he’d pass by and drag his hand absentmindedly over your hip or the small of your back like he needed to touch you on instinct alone. Casual.
Still, every single time he did it, you became painfully aware of Michael standing right there.
The last bag of trash was tied off. The final glass sat drying on the rack. The silence that settled over the clean-ish apartment..
“Can we not move for a second?” You groaned, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter.
“Please,” Michael mumbled.
Luke pushed off the counter immediately, a small smile dedicated to you. “Come on.” He caught your hand and pulled you towards the living room.
He fell onto the cushions first, landing with a soft oof, and pulled you to rest on his chest. your body molded to his with the ease of a year's habit.
He smelled like beer, and home. His arm came around you, heavy.
Michael followed behind, dropping onto the seat next to you.
The three of you lay there in a comfortable, drunk silence for a few minutes.
The streetlight outside cast long, lazy shadows across the room. Your mind drifted, floating hazily on the feeling of Luke’s heartbeat under your ear and the solid, quiet presence of Michael beside you.
Luke’s hand, which had been resting on your hip, began to move. It was absently-minded stroking you, his thumb tracing idle circles through the fabric of your dress. It was the same casual, instinctive touch from the kitchen, but here in the dark quiet, it felt amplified.
And each pass of his thumb sent a little spark through the pleasant fog in your head.
You tilted your face up toward his, and he was already looking down at you, his eyes dark and soft in the shadows. A slow, lazy smile touched his lips. He bent his head and kissed you.
It was a tired, beer-flavored kiss at first—soft, closed-mouthed, a simple love you. But then his hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pressing you a little more firmly against him, and the kiss deepened. His tongue slid against yours, seekingly so, and a low hum of pleasure vibrated in his chest.
You kissed him back, the familiar taste and feel of him a comforting anchor in the sleepy, spinning room. Your hand came up to curl in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. The world narrowed to the soft sound of your mouths moving together, the scratch of his stubble, the heat of his body under yours.
Michael had turned his head on the cushion.
He was watching you, not with shock or jealousy, but with a kind of hungry fascination. His eyes were glassy from drink and tiredness, but they were fixed on Luke’s mouth, then on yours.
He quickly looked away when he saw you’d noticed, a faint flush visible even in the dim light, his throat working as he swallowed.
Luke followed your gaze. He didn’t seem surprised. He looked from Michael’s averted face back to yours, his expression thoughtful.
His hand resumed its slow stroking on your back.
“Comfy, Mikey?” Luke asked, his voice a low rumble.
“Yeah” Michael muttered
“Good.”
Luke kissed you again, but this time it was different. More deliberate somehow, like he was showing off.
He angled his head deeper against yours, making a soft, pleased sound into the kiss while one of his hands slid up to cradle your jaw. It was the kind of kiss that normally would’ve melted you instantly, but through the lingering haze in your head,
“The whole night,” he continued softly, thumb dragging once along your jaw. “The way he looks at you. The way you look back.”
Heat flooded your face so fast it almost hurt.
“Luke,” you whispered, horrified. “I didn’t mean—”
Michael let out a quiet strained laugh from next to you, more nervous than amused. “Dude—”
“Relax.” Luke cut in easily, though his eyes stayed on yours the entire time.
There was still something unfairly calm about him. He had no jealousy or anger. If anything, he looked too focused, like watching the two of you together had flipped some switch in his head that he hadn’t expected.
His hand slid from your jaw to your throat, loosely.
“It’s kinda hard not to notice,” he said quietly. “You get all shy around him lately.”
Your pulse jumped.
“And he looks at you like he wants to eat you alive.” Luke huffed out the faintest laugh through his nose after that, almost disbelieving. “Think I’d have to be blind to miss it.”
Luke shifted beneath you, his arm extending past your shoulder to grip Michael’s wrist where it rested on the armrest, pulling his hand forward until his fingers splayed warm and heavy against your hip alongside Luke’s own. "Touch her" Luke murmured, his voice wrecked against your ear, his thumb stroking the inside of Michael’s wrist where the pulse hammered wild.
Michael made a broken sound, his fingers flexing hard into your waist, and then he was surging across the narrow space between you, his hand coming up to grip your jaw, fingers sliding into your hair.
Michael kissed you like he’d been starving for it, months of sidelong glances and yearning finally breaking surface. His hand came up to grip your jaw, fingers sliding into your hair, and when he pulled back barely an inch his breathing was ragged against your lips.
“This okay?” he whispered, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. “’Cause I can—”
“Don’t stop,” you said, your voice sounding foreign, thick. “Please. Just don’t stop.”
You felt Luke shift behind you on the couch, his chest pressing harder against your back. His hand didn’t leave your waist—his fingers dug in possessively as he watched over your shoulder. Then his mouth was on your neck grazing the tendon there and you were trapped between them, gasping.
“You sure?” Luke murmured against your skin, his hand sliding up to cover Michael’s where it gripped your jaw. He laced their fingers together, a silent question passing between them. “We can just—”
“I want you both.” you said, the words tumbling out before you could catch them. You felt your face burn, but Luke groaned, low and wrecked, right against your ear.
“Fuck,” Michael breathed. “Okay. Yeah.”
Luke’s hand slid up roughly, pushing the strap of your dress off your shoulder. The fabric loosened, and Michael’s hand immediately slid inside, his calloused palm cupping your breast. His thumb found your nipple, rolling it until it hardened. You gasped, arching into it, your head falling back against Luke’s shoulder.
“You’re shaking,” Michael observed, his voice unsteady. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “We can slow down.”
“No,” you said, reaching out to fist your hand in his shirt, pulling him closer. “I’m not scared. I just—God, I’ve wanted this. I didn’t know how to say it.”
Luke’s other hand worked the back of your dress, zipper grinding down. He pushed it down your hips, his knuckles dragging against your skin. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “We know. We’ve known.”
The dress pooled on the floor. Michael broke away just long enough to pull his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside, and you reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle. Your fingers were clumsy, trembling.
“Here.” Luke said, his hand covering yours. Together they worked the leather free, the metal clinking softly in the quiet room. Michael’s jeans unzipped, and his cock sprang out, thick and flushed. You reached for him, wrapping your hand around the baseand he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.
“Your mouth,” he managed, his hand coming up to cup your face. “Can you—?”
“Yeah,” you whispered, and Luke was already guiding you forward with a gentle hand between your shoulder blades, bending you over Michael’s lap.
You took Michael into your mouth, tasting salt and heat, and he groaned above you, his hands threading into your hair—not pushing, just holding, his fingers trembling against your scalp. “Fuck, that’s—” he cut off, his head dropping back.
Then Luke was moving, kneeling on the floor between your spread knees. He shoved your underwear down your thighs, leaving them tangled, and pushed your legs wider with his shoulders. “Lift up a little,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your inner thighs. “There. Just like that.”
His mouth found you immediately—hot, wet, filthy. His tongue dragged up from your entrance to your clit, then he sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth. You moaned around Michael’s cock, the vibration making him curse and jerk his hips.
“Feel good?” Luke asked, pulling back just enough for you to feel the words against your thigh. He pushed two fingers into you, curling them, and you bucked against his hand.
“Yes,” you gasped, pulling off Michael with a wet sound. “Luke, don’t—don’t stop.”
“Wasn’t planning to,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. He went back to work, his tongue circling your clit while his fingers fucked you slow and deep.
Michael’s hand slid down from your hair, his thumb tracing your swollen lips. “Come up here,” he said softly. “Wanna see you.”
Luke’s hands gripped your hips, helping you turn, guiding you up and around. You settled back onto Luke’s lap, facing Michael now, your knees bracketing Luke’s hips. Luke’s cock was hard and hot against your lower back, and he reached down, grabbing himself, aligning himself with your entrance.
“Slow,” he breathed against your neck. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
You sank down onto him, inch by inch, the stretch burning perfect. You both groaned—low and guttural—as you took him to the base. “Not too much,” you panted, your head falling back against his shoulder. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
Luke’s hands came up to grip your waist, his thumbs pressing into your hip bones. “Ride me,” he said, his voice wrecked.
You started to move, rolling your hips, grinding down. Michael watched from the couch beside you, his hand wrapped around his own cock, stroking slow. His eyes were dark, fixed on where Luke entered you.
“Come here.” you said to him, reaching out. “I want you closer.”
Michael moved immediately, shifting up onto his knees on the couch beside Luke’s head. You leaned forward, taking him into your mouth again, and the angle was different now—deeper.
Michael groaned, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head, not guiding but feeling.
Luke thrusted up into you from below, meeting your downward grinds, his hands tightening on your waist. “Look at you,” he rasped. “Taking us both. You’re so beautiful like this.”
You pulled off Michael with a gasp, your hand replacing your mouth, stroking him firm and wet. “Switch.” you managed, looking back over your shoulder at Luke. “I want—can I?”
Luke understood immediately. He slowed his thrusts, his hands guiding you up until he slipped free, wet and hard against his stomach. “Turn around,” he said softly. “Get on your knees.”
You turned, facing away from him now, on your hands and knees on the couch. Luke sat back against the arm, positioning himself in front of you, his cock upright and glistening. Michael moved behind you, his hands gripping your hips, his chest against your back.
“You good?” Michael asked, his lips at your ear. His cock was pressing against your entrance, not entering yet, just teasing through the wetness there.
“Yes,” you whispered, pushing back against him. “Please, Michael. I need you inside.”
He pushed forward in one slow steady thrust, filling you completely. You gasped, your forehead dropping to Luke’s thigh. The feeling was different from Luke—and it sent a sharp spark of pleasure up your spine.
“Fuck,” Michael breathed, his forehead dropping to your shoulder blade. “You’re so tight. So wet.”
“Okay?” Luke asked, his hand coming under your chin, lifting your face. His eyes searched yours in the dim light.
“Better than okay,” you said, and you meant it. You leaned forward and took Luke’s cock into your mouth again, the taste of yourself mixed with his pre-cum, and the position was perfect—you impaled on Michael from behind, your mouth full of Luke, the two of them filling you from both ends.
They found a rhythm together, natural and unspoken. When Michael thrust forward, you rocked onto Luke’s cock. Michael’s hands gripped your ass, his fingers digging in, while Luke’s hands were gentle in your hair, his hips making small, shallow thrusts into your mouth.
“Touch her,” Luke said to Michael, his voice strained. He reached down with one hand, finding Michael’s where it gripped your hip, and guided it between your legs. “Rub her clit. She’s close.”
Michael’s fingers slid between your legs from behind, finding your clit, rubbing tight, hard circles while he fucked you. The dual sensation was overwhelming—his cock hitting deep, his fingers on your clit, Luke’s cock sliding over your tongue.
“Is that good?” Michael asked, his voice breaking. “You gonna come for us?”
You couldn’t answer, you just moaned around Luke, the vibration making him groan and tighten his grip in your hair.
You were babbling incoherent, the pleasure building sharply, coiling tight in your belly.
“I’m close,” Michael choked out, his thrusts stuttering. “Fuck, I can’t—”
“Come in her,” Luke said, his voice a rough command softened by the way he was looking at you, his eyes dark. “fill her up. Let me see.”
Michael’s hips jerked hard, and he buried himself deep with a ragged cry, his cock pulsing as he came inside you, hot and thick. The feeling of him coming, the squeeze of his fingers on your clit, sent you over. You came with a moan around Luke’s cock, your body convulsing, your pussy milking Michael’s cock as he groaned above you, his weight pressing you forward.
The tight clenching of your orgasm and the sight of you falling apart sent Luke over the edge. He pulled your head back slightly, his hand gentle in your hair, and came spilling over your tongue and lips, his hips bucking up, his hand gripping the couch cushion white-knuckled.
You collapsed forward onto Luke’s chest, Michael’s weight heavy and perfect against your back for a moment before he carefully pulled out, falling sideways onto the couch with a groan.
You lay there, a panting mess.
Luke’s cock softening against your stomach while Michael’s hand lingered on your thigh.
pairing: dom!michael x reader ( afab; fem leaning. )
content warning and author's note: if you don't heed the warning now you have no right to be upset about what is present in the fic. boundary pushing, heavy humiliation, and toxic dynamics will be present.
summary: you broke up with michael a week ago. he catches you with calum and isn't too happy about it. ultimately, he decides to remind you who you belong to.
word count: 3,724.
your ex-boyfriend is calling. it’s three in the morning, but pictures got around of you and your new ‘fling’— at least, that’s what you’re calling it— making out at some party and he’s blowing up your phone.
“what the fuck is your problem?” you answer because you didn’t have the chance to read the twenty or so texts he sent.
“oh, now you answer!” michael says, every word punctuated with frustration and rage. “why don’t you start by telling me who that guy was?” he demands
“who the hell are you talking about?” you ask because you’re still dazed and confused from waking up to this.
“don’t play dumb. i know there’s not a lot going on in that pretty little head of yours, but it was only a few hours ago,” he tells you and you find his words hurtful, but you don’t raise your voice in response or come up with a rebuttal before you answer him
“are you talking about calum?” you pause. “what i do is none of your business,” you add, to which he scoffs in response. before he can yell at you some more, you decide you’re not doing this with him and hang up the call. he can be mad all he wants, but he’s not going to control you.
you lie back down and decide that, if there’s going to be more fallout over this, you’ll deal with it when you wake back up in a few hours. that’s where you’re wrong, however, because michael is at your door about thirty minutes later and the knocks are so loud that it sounds like he’s about to break into the place. you get out of bed and rush to the door before someone files a complaint or calls the cops and there’s nothing stopping him from shoving past you to get inside once it’s opened.
“is he here?” michael asks and he helps himself around the place to see if calum is hiding anywhere. you follow him around.
“get out,” you tell him, but he doesn’t listen. you don’t know what to do. he doesn’t stop. not until he’s sure he’s searched every niche in the place and turns up empty handed.
“i swear to god, if he’s hiding out in a room somewhere—” he pauses, then looks you over to see that you’re half dressed. nothing he hasn’t seen before, but definitely an opportunity you don’t share with him anymore now that the two of you have split. it’s distracting for him. “you fuck ‘em yet?” michael queries, like the sight of your body is enough to remind him of what he’s missing out on.
“wha— i— michael—” when you stumble over your words to give him everything but an answer, he presses the matter. meanwhile, you’re red in the face from him prying into your personal life that he’s no longer a part of. it’s a dead giveaway.
“what, are you fucking kidding me? you don’t know how to answer a simple question now?” he snaps. “i bet you did. you know, you’re a god damn slut for opening your legs to the first guy that takes you out to dinner while we haven’t even been on break for a week.”
“it’s not a break,” you remind him. “we’re not teenagers anymore, we’re too old to keep doing all this back and forth. i’m done,” you stop, then bite your lip. “not to mention, with everything you do, the relationship is starting to feel one sided. it feels unhealthy,” you really put your foot down on the matter. it sends michael reeling through a storm of emotion, which ultimately makes you nervous because he’s nothing if not unpredictable.
“you’re breaking up with me?” he asks, like he needs the confirmation. you were clear in your wording, but you nod slowly and cross your arms over your chest, then shrink in on yourself as if you’ve done something wrong. “give me one good reason, and don’t start by listing off a bunch of shit that’s actually your fault,” he retorts and you crack under the pressure of it all by lashing out at him.
“you’re fucking— you’re just mean! okay? you’re plain mean, michael. i hate you,” you cry.
“hate me?” he repeats after you, then laughs as if it’s a ridiculous statement. “yeah, you hate me real bad. that’s why you’re walking around half dressed in front of me,” he says, then gestures to your lack of clothes and it’s an accusatory statement, of course; he’s implying you want his attention. regardless of the fact that it’s far from true, it still makes your face light up because he’s half right. you don’t hate him, even though you should. he’s cruel at times, but you just find him frustrating and that’s not mutually exclusive with hatred. see, michael might be having a meltdown now, but when he’s charming he is so charming. he only seeks to prove it by stepping closer, grasping at your hips, and backing you into the nearest wall to get you cornered. there’s this lingering tension as he ghosts his lips over the shell of your ear.
“michael,” you say to stop him, but he shushes you.
“yeah, let’s walk that back. you’re not hiding anything from me. it’s written all over your face. i don’t just mean now, either. i mean every time you look at me. it’s pathetic,” michael says to you. “that’s why we worked so well together, isn’t it?” he continues and his hands start to feel over your body. they’re harsh and demanding, manhandling you like he always does and you love every second of it. he’s right, you are pathetic. always have been. “we work because you like getting used by me and only me. tell me i’m wrong, sweetheart,” he speaks and the term of endearment comes out like an insult. in the meantime, michael stops just shy of your hips and grabs you by the waist, then lifts you over his shoulder and spanks your ass in the process. you kick your feet and slam your fists into his back.
“put me down!” you demand, but he doesn’t. he carries you to the bedroom, where he tosses you onto the bed like a rag doll and pulls your legs apart, only to rip your underwear off of you. you’d ask what brought this on, but you know he’s got a point to prove. you grab at his wrists too late to save your underwear and he just shoves you off, insistent on getting his hands between your thighs to spread you open with his fingers so he can see if you’re wet or not. to no one’s surprise, you are pretty fucking wet right now.
you whine his name out, along with a ‘please’ — as in ‘please don’t humiliate me like this.’
“see what i mean? proof is right fucking there,” he barks, then lets the saliva build up in his mouth before he spits it onto your pussy and rubs it in just to degrade you. you can’t feel your face at this point. you opt for trying to close your legs again, but it’s hopeless. he’s not letting you hide from him.
michael drags you to the edge of the bed, then drops to his knees in front of you, until he’s eye level with your cunt and staring right at it. your legs get pulled over his shoulders and he dips his head down to give your pussy a lick, then pulls back to speak before really getting into the swing of things.
“this is all fucking mine, by the way,” he says and makes a claim over you by biting into your thigh so hard that a bruise forms on the spot. you yelp and he ignores your cry by doing it again in another spot. you squirm and jerk away on impulse alone, but he doesn’t let you get very far before he’s pulling you back and leaning forward to kiss at and bury his face in your cunt. his tongue is buried deep inside you, nose pressed to your clit and taking in your scent while rubbing against it as he steadily licks you open. his tongue flicks in and out of you and your hands go for his hair, tugging hard to bring him forward so you can leverage yourself to move your hips in sync with each thrust of his tongue and you ride his face for a few seconds before he grabs you by the hips to hold you down. as much as he’d love for you to use his face to get off, he’s not letting you have your way with him right now. he’s in charge.
michael pulls back with a laugh and his face is covered in your wetness. he tugs his shirt over his head and uses it to wipe himself clean, then climbs over top of you. he’s tempted to make you ride his fingers until you cum and not give you anything else, but he’s got other plans. he wants to fuck you.
“say it,” comes a demand and he grabs you by your jaw to get your attention. his thumb brushes over your lower lip, then tugs it down and he leans in to almost kiss you, but stops just short of making that contact. “tell me it’s mine.”
you huff and shake your head as much as you can, but he’s not giving you a choice. if you want this to continue, you’re going to have to admit it.
“it’s yours…” you whine all bratty and mumble under your breath. apparently it’s not good enough because he doesn’t look satisfied.
“you can do better than that and, if you can’t, i’m gonna flip you over and spank you, ‘til you’re begging me to stop,” he says and it’s a promise more than it is a threat. you’d rather not go back to calum with more bruises on you than you already have because you’re going to have to either avoid him or explain this and michael’s making a game out of which one you’ll do first.
“go fuck yourself,” you snap… that’s when he flips you over.
“it’s yours! i-it’s all yours, it’s always been yours!” you stammer.
your hands grip the sheets and eyes squeeze shut, waiting on the impact of his hand, but it never comes. instead, he’s getting his pants undone and shoving them down just enough to leave himself exposed.
“what’s the matter, don’t want calum to see my marks all over you?” he asks and you hide your face away in the bedsheets because that’s exactly it and you’re not willing to give him the gratification of knowing it. he ends up spanking you, anyway; hard enough that it’ll leave a nice, red hand print for days. you yelp in response and tears sting at your eyes. he doesn’t quit, either. he keeps going until his hand hurts and he has to shake the pain out of it. the skin on both cheeks turns dark with bruises and you’re trembling, crying into a pillow you’ve decided to cling to so you can ground yourself.
you’re so lightheaded that you miss the part where he’s reached for your phone.
“i dunno,” michael begins and his voice is daunting. there’s an underlying threat to it. you turn your head to reveal reddened eyes and tear stained cheeks and sniffle before you get a view of what he’s doing.
“michael…” you say lowly to get his attention, but he’s already facetiming calum. he shoves your head down and makes sure your hips stay raised, then kicks your legs apart with his knee and waits. “since it’s all mine, you won’t have a problem proving it. we’re gonna nip this in the bud right here and now.”
“hey,” calum answers and you freeze. there’s no explaining this away. you’re beyond embarrassed. “is this— what’s going on?” he asks, and you can hear partying in the background. some of his friends peak into the frame and michael grins, deciding a little publicity is the perfect way to humiliate you.
“go on,” michael says, then flips the camera around so the sight of you with your face down and ass up is all calum can see. you hear an angry and confused sounding ‘what the fuck’ from calum and a few gasps from his friends who are turning away from the phone to provide you with some shame.
michael turns your head and puts the camera in your face now, insisting that you’ve got something to tell calum and you have no idea why you do it when there’s this building guilt in the pit of your stomach, but you do.
“calum,” you breathe and michael glares at you, signaling that you should hurry this up. “my pussy belongs to michael.”
he’s too stunned to speak and, unfortunately, michael is the one who fills the silence, apart from the conversation going on in the background of where all of calum’s friends are discussing what a slut you are for going back to your sleazy ex just for some dick and how they’re embarrassed for you.
“wasn’t so hard, was it?” michael says to you, then hangs up the phone when calum threatens to kick his ass. he can tell he’s taken things a step too far, but he doesn’t care because if you really thought so you’d be putting a stop to all of this, yet you’re not. you’re still lying there with your cunt on display and you’re practically dripping from the little humiliation ritual that just happened. “look on the bright side. i believe you now, and i’m gonna fuck you so good you forget about him.”
with that out of the way, he tosses the phone to the side and gets himself positioned behind you so he can line himself up with your entrance and press right in.
“so fucking tight,” he says when he finally bottoms out inside of you. he fills you up and stretches you out around his thickness, shoving every inch into you. michael’s big, too. it takes some push and pull, but he finally gets those last couple inches in and you feel like you’re on fire. flashes of heat spread through your body and you’re making a mess around his cock already, coating it with your wetness and clenching up tight around it. there’s an instinctive whine and you shift in an attempt to adjust. your legs spread further apart and your toes curl from the sensation of having him pressed against your sweet spot. he starts to fuck you with skilled thrusts, searching for something inside of you and ramming into it when he finds it. this is the part where he doesn’t let up. his hips glide forward and he thrusts deeper with every movement, until he’s shoving unfathomably hard into your cervix. he’s taking his frustration out on you and you love every second of it.
your hips stutter forward, your head lulls, and your body can’t help itself from trying to arch away from the way he abuses your hole. you just force yourself back onto his cock and ride out each thrust in tune with every movement he makes. you make yourself take it. looks like michael has the same idea because he’s pulling you back at the same time and shoving you down on his cock while looking between the two of you to watch where your hips meet with every thrust forward and he just stays like that and listens to the way the walls echo with your moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin.
“you’re taking me so fucking good— like you were made for me. i could fuck you all night, just like this, and you’d let it happen ‘cause you fucking love it,” michael grunts. you can feel yourself throbbing around him in response to every word and your jaw drops open, spit coating your lower lip, and you’re drooling. it drips down your chin and he pulls your hair back, then presses down on your lower back so that it arches and your hips raise nice and pretty for him to get a better view of everything.
a few minutes later, he gets you repositioned. he turns you over and slots himself between your thighs, rubbing his dick all over your pussy for the sake of being a tease, then shoves right back in. his pace is getting sloppier because he’s getting closer, but you don’t care because you are, too. you’re out of breath, panting heavily, sweat covering your skin, and you’re stuck in a daze. you hope this never ends.
“now, say it again,” he says, tongue licking over his lips as he stares down at you before getting up close and personal so he can leave marks all over your chest, collar bone, shoulders, throat, and neck. he sucks and bites wherever he can and you struggle to think up the words.
“i-it belongs to you,” you stutter, like you’re just some sort of object for his personal use. he shudders and his dick throbs inside of you from how you’re squeezing him in all the right places, and his hand finally reaches between your thighs to get you off. he’d been holding out on you, but not anymore. now, fingers are rubbing circles around your clit and that’s all it takes for you to reach the edge. you cum hot and heavy, just from getting fucked, degraded, and used and he smacks his hand against your cunt a few times, then keeps circling your clit to help guide you through it. a wave of heat runs through you and a tightness builds up in your stomach and you spill all over him, meeting your release with a loud, sinful moan. it’s hot and sticky, covering his stomach and layering his skin with a thin sheet of your juices. not what he was expecting or even aiming for, but he takes credit for it regardless.
“uh huh. that’s right, nobody’s ever gonna fuck you as good as i do,” he taunts you, then pushes your legs up to your chest and starts pounding into you with deep, shallow thrusts and you bet he feels like he’s the fucking man for getting you to this point where you’re not even fighting him because you’re so fucked stupid that your body has gone limp.
he keeps going, until you can’t shout anymore; until you’re nothing more than a pathetic mess of whimpers and broken sobs, then pushes all the way in and unloads inside of you when he finally reaches his orgasm. you both shiver, and you realize he’s shooting ropes into you. hips start off again, but every push forward is slow and torturous as he rides out his climax inside of you.
michael collapses on top of you and you both lay there catching your breath. after a few moments, he gets up and pats your cheek.
“you alive?” michael queries, head canted curiously to the side. he waits for you to hum out a response, then presses a kiss to your lips. you don’t reciprocate at first, still too out of it. you just let it happen. it’s okay, he doesn’t take it the wrong way. he thinks it’s cute that you’re so disoriented right now.
his mouth moves from your lips, up your jawline. he presses even more kisses to your skin, over every bruise he’s left, and admires his handiwork.
“you know, you look so pretty like this,” he tells you and it gives you butterflies. the tenderness is short-lived before he heads into the bathroom to clean himself up. he comes back out ten minutes later and it’s clear that he did little more than towel off. most of his focus is on you right now. he’s lifting you into his arms and taking you into the bathroom next, then dipping you into the bathtub and turning off the water that’s been running since he first came in here. it’s nice and hot, just the way you like it. too hot for him, which is why he refuses to get in with you, but he kneels down next to the tub and tilts your head back to get your hair wet, then begins to work shampoo into it. “feeling alright?” he asks, and this is the part where you remember why it’s so hard to leave him. no matter what, he takes care of you. even with all of his flaws, he makes sure you’re okay in the sweetest of ways.
you nod quietly. you’re still too lightheaded to talk.
“good,” he says, then lathers up the shampoo in your hair and works his hands through it. he notices the way you lean into his touches and gives you a reassuring squeeze to your shoulders before he rinses the shampoo out of your hair and moves onto the next task: your body. “did so good for me,” michael tells you and he says it like he means it because he does. you did good and you deserve to know it. he even presses a loving kiss to your temple, then your cheek and your jawline. your lips meet soon enough and you return the affection slowly, then all at once. you kiss him like you’re lovesick. he only breaks away because he doesn’t want the water turning cold on you before he finishes.
the two of you finish up in the bathroom eventually and he showers you in even more kisses by pressing them all over your face once he’s got you dressed in one of the shirts you’d stolen from him previously and nothing else. you’re going to be sore tomorrow, but it’s okay because this makes it all worth it.
now, he’s got you all wrapped up in a blanket on the couch and he’s in the kitchen grabbing your favorite snacks. he brings them out, puts on your favorite movie, and pulls you into his lap so he can hold you against his chest for the rest of the night. he tells you that he’ll make you breakfast in a couple hours and you decide to let him stay… that you’ll deal with calum later.
summary: your best friend hasn’t got laid in a while so you give him a helping hand
warnings/authors note: smut! masturbation and fingering only.
word count: 808
you and michael have been friends since forever, always there for each other, giving endless support and love, and always helping when needed — in every way possible.
michael was over at your place, said he needed a place to relax and unwind and there’s no better place than yours for that. you both just drinking a bit when he starts to complain about not having time to get laid while rehearsing for tour.
“i just don’t have time to search for someone i’d like on a random dating app-“
“you can’t even get on a random dating app” you cut him off chuckling.
“exactly! see how hard it is?!” he takes a swing of his beer “plus, you know i’m picky”
“you should stop being picky then”
he looks at you like you had suggested something outrageous.
“me being picky should make you feel special babe”
“oh cause you keep picking me over and over again?”
“yeah”
you both look at each other, you lick your lips before placing your beer bottle on the coffee table. you’re so used to dating other people but breaking up for stupid reason and running back to each other. it’s just so easy and comfortable when you just know each other so well.
“c’mere” you murmur.
in a second he has you pressed against him, kissing you fiercely as his hands roam your body, tracing the curves and places he’s so familiar with. one of your hands tug his hair while the other slips beneath his shirt to caress his bare skin, then moves down to his crotch. you both make out for minutes till your lips are red and swollen, you’re soaking wet and he’s painfully hard, just then you both rip your clothes off each other and sit side by side on the couch.
“fuck, just like that” he groans as you move your hand up and down his shaft, slick with spit and his precum that you catched from his tip. two of his fingers are circling your clit, both of you with legs spread and head thrown back.
“mikey” you moan needy, pussy wet and clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled by his experienced fingers you’ve loved since the first time he slipped them inside you years ago. when he circles your entrance you grip his cock tighter making him groan even louder and slip two fingers in at once stretching you.
a gasp escapes your mouth and you arch your back, he looks at you, his mouth agape as little groans escape him, he then looks down at where his fingers go knuckles deep inside you, moving back and forth and curling to make you feel good.
“you’re always so tight babe” he says, voice low, then he leans towards you, you open your eyes as he kisses your neck, your free hand coming to play with his red hair as your brain slowly turns to mush and all that comes out of you is little whimpers and his name.
he nips and marks your neck possessively, you feel it coming and cry softly to warn him, you feel him immediately throb in your hand as you do. he shifts to finger you faster and harder, his free hand rubbing your clit furiously.
“come on baby, let go for me”
and you do, your legs tremble and you call out his name as you come all over his fingers, he keeps moving them to draw out your orgasm making you arch your back and close your legs keeping his hands trapped there as you lean closer to him, the pleasure so much you struggle to keep jerking him off, luckily he doesn’t need much to come too, just the sight of you looking so beautiful and blissed out as you come it’s enough for him.
hot cum falls in your hand, you both kiss messily while milking out each others orgasms, then you pull back breathing hard, eyes closed and foreheads resting on his, he’s the same way. after a while your hands let go of each other’s private parts and come to each others lips, you suck his fingers eagerly, tasting yourself in them as he tastes himself in yours. when they’re clean you kiss again to share the taste.
“you’re the best friend a guy could ask for” he whispers breathless against your lips making you smile,
“just helping you out baby” you reply, stealing another kiss, he lifts his hand to caress your cheek gently.
you both recompose yourselves and dress up again, when the pack of beers is over michael gets up to go. you kiss goodbye and decide to hang out again next week, maybe take things further next time. when he’s out and you clean the mess of bottles you smile to yourself. being michael’s best friend is fucking amazing.
tags/warnings: jealous roommate! michael, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, SO CLICHEEEEE omg, confession, fluff, no warnings!
first oneshot back at it thank uuuu feel free to leave some hate in the chat - i might wind up rewriting this later on, could always do the same scenario with the different boys as well so you might be seeing more of this trope!!! (it's my favvv) thank you and enjoy!!
song suggestion: take her to the moon by parx
word count: 2.6k
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the date could've been going better, really. you had met this guy at a bar a couple weeks ago — let him buy you a few drinks, gave him your number. you had told yourself you needed to get out more. that didn't stop the nerves you'd felt pulling up to the restaurant despite the fact that this was your fourth or fifth date in recent weeks. "putting yourself out there", your friends had said.
it was a nice place, he had obviously put some thought into it. dimly lit, intimate, cocktails costing more than they should. he sat across from you, a tall and commanding presence, and began talking as soon as you sat down. and didn't stop. you could count on one hand how many times you had been asked a question about yourself. you had no idea how he didn't notice your eyes glazing over as he continued to talk about his business endeavours, who he met in his line of work, how he just adored the steak tartare at this place. it felt rehearsed, ingenuine, and you almost felt bad for how desperately you wanted to go back home to your flat and curl into your blankets.
you were nearly home now, his car thrumming under your body as you stared blankly out the window. you were playing with your own thumbs, already resenting the thought of having to reject any advances this guy threw your way after the absolute disaster of a night you had. you were sure that he thought it had been great, though. he must've thought you were so attentive.
"this is me" you huffed, quickly unbuckling and moving to get out of the car. he insisted on walking you to the door, his broad chest and shoulders caging you in against the doorframe as he leaned over you, his breath across your forehead.
"well it was great seeing you again, babe", he flashed a toothy smile, and you nodded, shoving the key into the door. "we'll have to do this again sometime."
"yeah, sure" you waved your hand noncommittally. the smile plastered onto your face was faltering as you ducked under his arm and scrambled into the flat. "goodnight!"
you didn't miss how he sighed and chuckled as the door closed behind you. you were not looking forward to the onslaught of texts that awaited you after he got home and decided you absolutely had to know that he wanted to kiss you goodnight, and that he would be sure to do so the next time he saw you. a sigh of relief escaped your own lips as you kicked off your shoes, soles aching from being shoved into short heels for the past couple of hours.
a familiar smell came from the kitchen; your entire flat smelled like pasta and cologne. it was obvious your flatmate had been enjoying his time alone. he was humming along to the music playing on the speaker that sat on the kitchen counter when you walked in, drumming on the countertops with the wooden spoon he was using.
though your situation wasn't necessarily conventional, you and michael had gotten close. it was hard not to, living in a small flat, but it helped that you had some things in common, and soon after moving in you were hosting movie nights with him and his friends, going out for coffee, cooking dinner together. he had become a comfort to come home to, someone you could talk to about anything without fear of judgement, and you hated to admit you had developed the smallest crush on him. you couldn't help it, the way his hair stuck up when he first woke up, the way he spoke to you so kindly, the way he joked and flirted with you so easily. the dates were meant to distract you from him, knowing that he had brought girls home after nights out and that the two of you ever dating was an absolute fantasy. you convinced yourself it was helping.
"hey player, how was this one?" he teased softly. you knew you looked exhausted, probably pissed, and gave a groan in response. he was quiet after that, studying you as you sat down and laid your head on the counter.
"i know it hasn't been that long, mikey, but i really think i'm giving up". the countertop was cool under your forehead, and it took some strength to not let any tears slip from the corners of your eyes. it felt silly, but in the moment you were just so exhausted. "it was just so awful." you sighed out, turning to rest your cheek on the cold granite.
he remained quiet, stirring the pot on the stove. you watched as his back tensed and flexed with the movement, and felt like crying even more. "what did this one do?" he whispered, tilting his head slightly towards you, soft green eyes flicking up through his lashes. you complained about the lack of questions, the arrogant nature, the attempt at a kiss. with each sentence michael seemed to be listening less and less. it hurt to acknowledge, so you didn't. you assumed he was sick of hearing it all.
"i don't know, it just makes me feel like there's something wrong with me". you said finally, airing out what had been going through your mind the whole night, since before you had even left the flat. you missed how his hand clenched around the pot handle as he scooped out a portion of pasta into a bowl for himself, back turned to you. this was the most quiet you had seen him after one of your dates, and you were missing the validation, the support that usually came in the form of michael loudly saying how stupid the guy was and how you needed to move onto the next. but it never came. you were met with silence as he turned and went to sit on the couch, bowl in hand, eyes not meeting yours. he shook his head as he sat and started to eat.
you turned around on the barstool, a bit hurt at his lack of interest, but realising that you really just wanted him to care. it was unlike him to be so nonverbal no matter how many times he had heard the same complaints before. "hey, i'm sorry for complaining about this shit again. i'm just gonna go to bed." you forced yourself off of the barstool, hot tears pricking the corners of your eyes. did he finally get sick of you talking about yourself? was he having the same experience as you on your date earlier? you would've preferred if he had screamed at you, yelled loud enough to make the walls of the flat shake and the dishes rattle in the cupboards. the silence was devastating.
you were halfway down the hall when his voice sounded for the first time in what felt like hours; small, tired.
"i just don't think i can do this anymore."
"what did you say?" you turned, stalking back into the living room. michael was leaned over, head in his hands, tugging at the roots of his hair. his knee was bouncing so hard the couch shook. you were frustrated now, feeling as though you'd lost someone who you once could tell anything to. to think that he had gotten sick of you this easily made your stomach drop, and a pool of familiarity spread in your chest; was he just like the rest of them?
he dragged his long, ringed fingers through the front of his red-dyed hair and down his face, rubbing at his eyes slowly. when he finally looked at you his face was pink from the motion, his plush lips parted. your chest heaved as you tried to take grounding breaths, getting increasingly upset by the second. his lack of both explanation and urgency tugged at your heartstrings and threatened to lurch into your stomach, wondering if this is where the friendship ended.
you didn't know that he was worried about the exact same thing.
"spit it out already, clifford. can't do what anymore?" you forced out, obsessing over the silence that had been dragging on since you had got home. you tried to steady your voice but it wasn't working.
"i can't keep hearing about you going on dates, y/n." he said finally, refusing to meet your gaze. the room felt warm, like the walls were going to start closing in at any second. you were right. you had annoyed him until he couldn't take it anymore, taken advantage of his friendship until it broke. you nodded, even though he still wasn't looking at you.
"it's just frustrating." he stood then, taking a step towards you, eyes still on the floor. "it's frustrating hearing about these guys you deal with, who treat you this way." he breathed, closer still. your body had gone rigid when he stood up, tense under the pressure of his words, the clench of his fists at his sides. you reached up to grab your own elbows in any sort of comfort that would maybe make you feel better than the shivers running hot down your spine.
instinctively, you took a step back. "i'm sorry, mikey, i didn't realise it bothered you so much." the words hung heavy over your heads as you rubbed your own arms, praying this would be the end of it and you'd go back to being the close friends you were. it didn't have to change anything. "i'll stop talking about them, okay?"
he shook his head and finally met your gaze before turning away, an exasperated hand back through his hair. "that's not the point, y/n," he nearly whined, voice getting louder. angry. his childish tone was the breaking point for you.
"then what is the point?" you near shouted, and you didn't miss the way his shoulders tensed. "you tell me you don't want to hear me talking about my dates, so i say i won't, but that's not the point?" your voice cracked unfaithfully, revealing how close you were to breaking. you swallowed hard, eyes boring into the back of his head, and you hoped he could feel their heat. your body was on fire now, between dealing with the bullshit at dinner and now this.
he whirled around to face you, pretty green eyes turned to something darker, possessive. he was standing over you now, and you didn't know how you had missed him closing the distance between you. the electricity radiating off of both of you was like a live wire. close to snapping.
"i don't want you to go on them anymore, okay?" you were stunned into silence, mouth dropping open, then tightening shut into a thin line. his voice was calm, a stark contrast with your obvious anger, radiating off you in waves. "i can't keep hearing about all these guys who think that they can treat you the way they do when you show up looking like that, i don't want to hear about how they tried to kiss you, i just can't fucking take it." he tilted his head, fingers trailing up your wrist to rest above your elbow, not holding you in place, but it kept you planted nonetheless. the spots where his fingers rested felt unbearably hot.
"and what about that bothers you, mikey?" you dared, so close you could feel his heart hammering in his chest as you looked up at him through your lashes. your heart thumped in time with his, hoping, wishing, praying he would cross the boundary that you had told yourself you never would.
his head turned to the side and his eyes squeezed shut quickly before looking up at the ceiling, no longer emanating confidence. his eyes dropped to yours, and you felt your heart stutter.
"because it's not me, alright? fuck!" he turned quickly and moved to lean against the counter, head hanging, breath heavy as if he had just run a mile. blood rushed so loudly in your ears it felt like drowning; you were certain your face was bright red. your feet moved behind him before you could even think, coming to lean down next to him, elbows on the countertop in line with where his palms were planted. you stared up at him, wondering what the right thing to say next was. that you'd been waiting for this for months? that you had started going on dates to get over him in the first place? that you wanted him to kiss you stupid?
"just forget about it, y/n, i didn't-"
"you mean it?"
you spoke at the same time, hope tinging the soft, frayed edges of your question, unfiltered. vulnerability was always easy with your best friend, and this was no different. it felt like a weight lifted.
he nodded, bottom lip caught in his teeth where he chewed on it fervently. his hands were shaking against the countertop, and his eyes were glassy with fresh tears that threatened to spill over down his pretty, blushed cheeks. he kept nodding as you placed a hand up to his face, thumb pad brushing under his eye where the tears were starting to collect. he looked up through his thick lashes, eyes catching yours as he leaned into your palm affectionately, as if he belonged there. as far as he was concerned, he did. only now did it register how he was looking at you; as if you were everything good in the world, could do no wrong, with the playful sparkle he always had in his eyes. he looked like a man in love, with a soft smile playing on his pink, bitten lips as if he knew the answer already.
you nodded back. that was enough.
his hands flew to your waist, forehead leaning down to press against yours. his eyes flitted back and forth down to your lips, silently begging for permission. his name escaped your lips in a quiet breath, and his lips were on yours. a warm hand found the small of your lower back, the other staking claim on the nape of your neck, tangled in your hair, as your teeth and tongues clashed in the breaking of something sacred. he was smiling into the kiss, eyes scrunched closed, and you squeezed his back under your hands, making him laugh softly before breaking the kiss to pull you into a soul-crushing hug, head buried in your neck as your fingers trailed up and down his shoulder blades. he pressed a few sweet, open-mouthed kisses up your jawline before stealing another lingering kiss to your still-parted lips, hands on either side of your face to pull you into him as close as possible. he trapped you against the counter, arms on either side of your body, and you leaned back to look up at him happily, teeth flashing, chest heaving, skin hot.
"should've done that before i had to deal with all those awful dates, mikey." you laughed, cocking your head to the side as you stared up at him with sickly sweet reverence that you hoped he could feel. he took your hand in his, playing with your fingers as he grinned goofily at you, nerves finally dissipated.
✦ summary: Where you’re getting another migraine and refuse to ask for help; Where the boys go get Ash anyways
✦ warning: Fluff, reader being in pain, migraines, the boys call her “Bug” a childhood nickname.
✦ author’s note: Heyyyyy!! So first fic, feel free to tell me thoughts or if you think it’s bad hahaha. First time writing ab the boys so i’m nervous. Also it’s final exams week and i wrote this when i needed a break so again if it’s bad im sorry and tell me what i should fix.
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE give me all the writing ideas and suggestions you think of or want to see !! I’ll try my best !!!
You knew when it was coming, you always did. It always started the same, a dull throb forming behind your eyes, the feeling of nausea out of nowhere, hands beginning to shake.
Then, like always, it bloomed it to something more.
The dull throbbing became an intense pounding sensation, as if Ashton was playing the drums on your brain and eyeballs. The shaking grew stronger, the urge to puke more insistent. All of a sudden the corners of your eyes started to blur and fill with dots in your vision. And as usual, they chose to come at the absolute worst times ever.
Like right now, you were in the studio with all the boys with the promise that you would help them with a few different songs and recordings they wanted to try out for the new album.
You had know all of them for years since you and Calum had grow up together since kids, eventually leading to you becoming friends with Luke and Michael, and falling in love with Ashton. With growing up with them, they always tried to include you into the band in different ways, even trying to get you to be an actually singer. To which you said absolutely not, so eventually they settled for you being a master behind the scenes. You had written and helped write so many of their songs, assisted in harmonies, told them when something was missing, ect, so much so that they always named you as their 5th member.
Which led you to where you were right now, pursuing your “5th member” duties while praying the migraine forming would slowly disappear.
However, of course you weren’t that lucky.
As the pain intensified your eyes began to gloss over as every sound felt like an earthquake in your skull. Bile began to rise in your throat as you bit your lip to stop it from quivering and hopefully subside the nausea. Again, it did nothing for you as everything seemed to be intensifying by the minute, and Ashton going crazy on the drums was not helping. Taking shaky breath, you ran your hands down your legs before standing up and muttering something about using the bathroom, before exiting the main studio.
The nice thing about this studio was that it was huge and came with four extra rooms besides the main recording studio. Down the hallway consisted of one main room, the biggest one, that the boys had nominated the “break room”. It had a huge comfy couch, a big tv, different arcade games against the back wall, bean bags, a mini kitchen, the whole 9 yards. The second room was smaller but still a decent size that a wall lined with different vanities, leading to it being the “dressing room”. Which is where we kept back up clothes, old costumes from music videos, backup music gear, all that. Then at the end of the hallway had two much smaller rooms that were just cozy with little couches and blankets, often times if someone had to take a nap, or one of the guys partners and kids were here, that’s where they’d end up. Which explains why one is filled with little girl toys.
You rushed past all of these rooms to get to the very end which held the bathroom. You shoved the door open with force as the tears began streaming down your face, before dropping to the ground and dry heaving into the toilet.
As Ashton came out of the recording room and into the control room his eyes scanned for you, eyebrows scrunching when you weren’t anywhere in there.
“Where’d she go?” He asked the boys.
Calum was the first to answer, “She said she had to use the bathroom, but she looked a little pale.”
Luke nodded, “Yeah, she’s been really quiet the last 45 minutes.”
Ashton tilted his head in thought, you had been so happy all day. Bouncing around ideas, throwing jokes around, he couldn’t tell if anything was wrong.
“Why don’t we take a break and chill for a bit. We’ve been at this for hours, maybe she just got tired.”
All the boys nodded in agreement as they headed to the break room. Ashton wondering from them a bit, checking the back two rooms to see if you had gone to take a nap. When both rooms were empty he walked to the bathroom to check that you were there, and upon seeing the light on he headed back to the break room to wait for you, sending you a quick text.
| Ash 🐢🫶 : Hi baby, you okay?
You let out a small whimper as you heard your phone ding, even the smallest noise causing your body to shudder. You rested you head on your arm, blinking a few times to try and get the sudden blurred dots invading your vision to fade away .
Fuck. It was Ashton.
A few more tears ran down warm cheeks as you forced your shaking hands to type out a quick reassurance. Not wanting him to be worried when he was already stressed out with the album.
| Angel 💋🫶: All good!
You thought about leaving for a minute, taking Ashton’s car, telling him you just didn’t feel good and to have one of the guys drive him home. However, the continued blurring around your vision made that plan impossible. After about five minutes of convincing, you moved to push yourself up, knowing if you stayed in here any longer, someone would eventually come busting down the door.
You paused at the sink, slapping your hand over your mouth in attempts to stifle the sob that came out at the sight of your reflection. Your eyes burned red, hair was a mess from running your fingers through it while gagging, your face was pale and tear stains imprinted on your cheeks. You looked a mess, you felt so disoriented and filled with discomfort, you hated the way migraines affected you so harshly.
You knew you could go get Ashton, or really any of the boys for that matter. Tell him it was happening again and he would know exactly what to do and how to help you. But again, he was already stressed with getting this album out, it felt selfish to tell him to stop right now just because of you.
All you needed to do was find your water bottle and go lay down in one of the back rooms, and no one would suspect a thing. You could just text Ashton that you needed a nap and all would be fine.
Taking one last shaky breath you pushed the bathroom door open to exit. Keeping your head down incase any of the boys were in the hallway, making your way to the dressing room where you last remembered having your water bottle. You heard all the guys laughing in the break room, making you pick up the pep in your step, not wanting to get caught.
However, just your luck, as you stepped into the dressing room you were met with your blonde best friend, also looking for his water bottle.
“Hey, there you are—What’s wrong.” Luke asked worriedly as soon as he saw your face.
You froze like a deer in headlights, tears streaming down your face. Quickly sucking in a breath, you brought your hands up to your face, desperately and delusionally trying to wipe any evidence of upset off your face.
Of course, that didn’t stop the tears from flowing, your lip quivered at you tried to talk but just ended up shaking your head side to side.
Luke quickly made his way over to you, resting his big hands on either side of your shoulders, rubbing them up and down for some sort of comfort.
“Bug, what happened, what’s wrong?” He spoke carefully bending down to your level, trying not to trigger you even more.
You just let out another sob as you dragged your sleeve across your face. “I - I’m okay.” You spoke rather pitifully in the elbow of your Ashton’s hoodie.
Luke carefully wrapped and arm around you, leading you to the couch in the room.
“You’re shaking and sobbing, I don’t think that means okay, kid.” Luke spoke worriedly, scanning your face.
“I just- just need,” you sucked in a rapid breath due to your cries before finishing, “my water bottle.”
Luke quickly looked around the room, spotting your sticker covered water bottle on the corner of one of the vanities. He quickly opened it for you handing it to you before speaking again,
“Here, drink it slowly. I’m gonna go get Ash, okay?”
You shook your head, grabbing Luke’s arm before he could leave. “No, i’m oh- okay. Don’t wanna bother him.”
Luke gave you a sad look, “Don’t say that, you don’t bother Ash or any of us okay? And you clearly need help so I’m gonna grab him and then we’ll be right back okay?”
You searched his face before nodding slowly, watching as Luke carefully left the room before folding into yourself again, the pain only intensifying because of your insistent cries. You had wrapped your arms around yourself as some sort of comfort from what you felt like was a never ending torture.
Luke quickly walked into the break room to find Ashton, whose eyes had been in the door since he got in there, waiting for you. When his eyes met Luke’s instead he just felt more worry, especially considering the look on his face.
“What?” Ashton asked, his voice laced with concern.
Luke matched his expression, “Something’s wrong.”
That was all Luke had to say for Ashton to immediately storm out of the room looking for you. Luke followed quickly behind him, while trying to explain what’s happening, “She walked in and was just sobbing and I don’t know what to do.”
Although, Ash barely heard what he said, his sole focus being finding you. Once he spotted you in the couch curled into yourself, sobbing and violently shaking, his heart immediately broke. He quickly walked over to you, crouching before you as he scanned your body.
“Hey, hey, hey,” He spoke carefully, “What happened, baby? Tell me what’s wrong.”
Ashton had brought his hands to each of your own, gently trying to pull them away from your face so he could continue to analyze what may have been wrong.
You hadn’t even heard him come in. Head to occupied with the splintering agony, and ears to full of your labored breathing and sobs. However the minute you felt his touch on you, along with his voice filling your ears you lurched forward, throwing yourself at him. Wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, as he caught you like it was nothing. He returned your hold, one tight arm around your waist, his opposite hand protectively holding the base of your head against his neck. Ashton stood up rocking you back and forth carefully, periodically trying to shush your cries. He held you with worry, not wanting to rush you but still clueless as to what would have you having such a visceral reaction.
Ashton slowly turned around, lowering to the couch you had previously been on with you still in his arms. Gently, he brought both his hands to the sides of your head, trying to pull your head out of his neck. You however found no interest in this as you just held on tighter.
Ashton gave you another second, lightly pressing soft kisses to the side of your head. “Angel, you gotta tell me what’s wrong so I can help you, okay?”
You slowly pulled your face out of his neck, finally meeting his hazel eyes for the first time. The minute you saw the concern that was imbedded in his face you were immediately filled with guilt,
“I’m sorry” you spoke with a quiet shame that only broke Ashton’s heart more.
“What are you sorry for, Hm?” He spoke with that softness he only used when talking to you, almost causing you to let out another weep. Sucking in a deep breath you let him wipe the tears off your face with his delicate touch.
“Didn’t want to bother you.”
Ashton just shook his head as he moved your hair out of your face before moving his hands to hold your face, thumbs softly caressing your jaw.
“Baby, you never bother me,” He spoke before placing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Never ever, do ya hear me?”
You just nodded and your lip quivered, letting your head fall back in his chest as your sobbing subsides to just small hiccups.
“I’m serious, never think like that. Not with me, and especially not when you’re upset or hurting.” He spoke gently as your occasional whimpers broke him,
“I want you to always come to me, no matter when, no matter what. Do ya hear me, Angel?”
You responded with one small nod, but it was enough for the moment.
Ashton gave you your time, not wanted to start up another episode, just held you in the way that had always made you feel so safe, so protected. Once Ashton noticed your water bottle beside him, he opened it and slowly brought it to your mouth.
“Take a few sips for me, Sweetheart.”
He placed a few more loving kisses across your hairline as you followed his orders, “You’re doing so good, baby.”
Once you finished he held your face before you could curl back into him, “Can you tell me what happen-“
He was cut off by a loud crash coming from the other room. The sound felt like a knife in your head causing you to physically flinch and let out a soft whimper as you shoved your head back into Ashton’s neck, as if that would put an end to the immense pain.
Ashton quickly caught on the minute he saw your reaction. Part of him relieved that that was all it was, the other part aching because he knew how horrible these migraines episodes were for you. You used to get them all the time, to the point Ashton knew it was coming as soon at you did, but you hadn’t had one in so long and him being in the recording studio he hadn’t been able to catch it, which filled him with a bit of guilt.
He rested his head on top of yours, bringing one hand to to base of your neck to massage right at the pressure point for some kind of relief, as his other rubbed up and down your back comfortingly.
“Is it your head?” He whispered carefully in your ear.
You nodded against his neck. Ashton let out a small sigh as he just continued to comfort you for a minute, sorting a few remedies in his head while feeling your hiccups and eyes fluttering shut against his warm skin.
After a few minutes he stood up with you still wrapped tightly around him. Knowing the lights from the other rooms as well as any loud talking would only make it worse, he didn’t utter a word, just moved steadily while using one hand to keep your head tucked into him.
Ashton walked into the break room and held a finger to his lips to tell the boys to keep quiet. Luckily, to his surprise, the room had already been dark and quiet. Luke and Michael sat on the couch, Calum on one of the bean bags, each tucked into a blanket as a movie quietly played. Most likely everyone was tired as well and wanted a break before they had finished the last song they had been working on.
The boys all looked at you worriedly as Ashton walked to the mini kitchen with you.
“I’m gonna set you down for a sec,” He whispered gently as he placed you on the counter.
You brought your knees to your chest, head resting on top as you kept your eyes on Ash. You watched as he dug through his bag before letting out a quiet, frustrated, “Fuck.”
Unbeknownst to either of you, Calum had been watching the whole time and knew exactly what Ashton had been looking for.
Without a word Calum walked over to his bag and pulled out a small sealed baggie that had a few white pills in them. It was your migraine medication. When you had been getting them so often both Ashton and Calum had offered to keep some in their bags for you just in case, and you had completely forgotten Cal had any of them.
Calum walked over to Ashton handing them to him, to which Ash silently faced him with utter relief before walking back in front of you. Calum followed reaching in the fridge to grab you a diet coke, knowing the caffeine would help.
You smiled weakly at the kind gesture as you took the opened drink from Calum’s hands. Ashton opened the small baggie, taking out two pills before handing the rest back to Calum so he could shove them back in his bag.
“Here, Baby. Take these.”
You obeyed silently, the cold drink sending a soothing sensation down your throat. Ashton watched you swallow carefully before leaning forward, pressing his lips to you forehead.
“Good job,” He muttered against your skin.
You just leaned into it, utterly exhausted and rundown from this migraine episode. You could hear the tv playing in the background, luckily not loud enough to bother you much.
“Look at me, Sweetheart,” Ashton spoke quietly.
Your big doe eyes met his hazel ones as he gave you a light reassuring smile. “Is your vision blurred yet?”
You nodded, lip quivering but no crying broke through, just utter exhaustion. Ash nodded before reaching into the freezer to grab something, “Let’s go lay down for a bit, yeah?”
You nodded in response, tired eyes blinking slowly,
“Here” you spoke quietly.
Ash raised his brows at you, “You wanna stay here? The tv isn’t bothering you, baby?”
The boys were quiet, probably all about to take a nap too, and the tv wasn’t loud, just enough to help lull you to sleep. You just shook your head, wrapping your arms back around his neck as he picked you up again.
Ashton carried you guys over to the L section of the couch, lying down and letting you settle on top of him.
Once you found your place, tucked into the space between the couch and Ashton, wrapped around him tightly, he grabbed a blanket off the top of the couch to wrap around you. Once he was sure you were comfortable, he took the ice cold migraine cap he had just taken out of the freeze and gently placed it around your head.
The minute you felt the ice cold compression you immediately sighed with relief. “Good ?”
You just nodded against him, unable to form a response or even keep your eyes open. Ashton just smiled, placing a kiss on top of your nose as you drifted off.
Summary ⁎ You're asleep in Ashton's hotel bed. He's making the best of the situation by practising a confession on your sleeping self.
Content ⁎ Fluff
First time posting anything 5sos related, hope it's not too bad, upcoming works will probably be more exciting lol. Comments and reblogs and tags and asks get all my loooooove 💖
You know that Ashton doesn't expect you to be awake when he gets back to the hotel. You'd tried — you really had — but having just flown in to see him on tour, a long travel day, the time difference, all of it had knocked you flat off your feet the second he ushered you into the hotel room and you laid eyes on what might have been the most comfortable and cozy bed you had ever seen.
You had complained about missing the show that night for about two seconds. Then he had reminded you that you'd get to see them for the remainder of their European tour and you'd grow sick of it sooner than you'd realise (which you insisted was a straight-up lie) and your eyes succumbed to the promise of sleep.
You don't immediately know how much times passes.
Your brain brings you into semi-consciousness when you hear the door open, slowly, quietly, but you're tuned into it all the same. Your back is turned towards it but you know it's Ashton. He's your best friend. His movements, his noises, his presence are ingrained into every fibre of your being. He's shuffling around your room, bumping into furniture, yet apparently refuses to turn on the lights.
You turn, ever so slightly, your hand blindly reaching for him in the dark. "Ash."
It turns quiet for a moment, as if he's straining to hear whether you just spoke or not.
"C'mere."
He doesn't hesitate, then. Within seconds, the bed dips behind you, his body heavily falling next to yours, a sigh falling from his lips. You want to turn around, watch him, see the post-concert glow on his face, in his muscles that are somewhere between tense and relaxed, but the exhaustion clings to your bones and your skin and your mind isn't quite awake.
Still, there's just enough energy left in your system to grab onto his thick, strong arm, and pull on him until he's spooning you. Not that you ever would have managed without his participation. If anything, you're hyperaware of how much of a hunk he's become over the years. Especially for someone who calls themselves his best friend.
Best friends aren't supposed to get butterflies when they feel each other's hands on their bodies. But his palm settles against your stomach, his chest perfectly molds against your back, and you're praying he won't notice your quickening heartbeat.
"I didn't want to wake you," he whispers against your neck and you can feel the goosebumps appearing where his breath hits, travelling over your skin until they seem to encompass your whole body.
"I don't mind. Tell me about the show."
So he does. His voice is low and familiar, he chuckles in between the stories he recalls. It showers you in comfort, having him close, hearing him talk. You don't want to think about the way his fingers are absent-mindedly trailing up and down your belly. How you can feel every muscle in his arm as he squeezes you closer. The way his strong body feels like a warm wall behind you, a wall you've been running into headfirst for weeks or months, you're not quite sure anymore.
All you're sure of is that the need to have more of him, or have all of him, is eating you up inside. You're not about to do anything about it.
"…and then Michael missed the elevator down when the show ended and almost bust his face jumping in," Ashton laughs. You smile to yourself, perfectly able to imagine Michael, out of all people, missing his cue. Ashton pulls you closer once more. "Ok, I know you're too tired when you're not even laughing out loud at that. Time to go back to sleep."
There's a hint of a kiss at the back of your neck and you want to turn around, grab his face, hold onto him, forever, and kiss him, properly, until neither of you can breathe.
You don't.
You painfully remind yourself of the years of friendship between the two of you and how you couldn't bear to lose him completely and how you need him in your life, how you need his laughter, his strong presence, how you need him to have your back, always. You can't risk it. You can't.
Ashton moves to get out of the bed, probably aiming to get back to his own room, but the thought alone fills you with sudden dread.
"Don't," you whisper into the dark as you catch his hand before it can leave you. "Stay over."
"Are you—"
"Yes, Ash," you chuckle. "It's not like we've never done this before."
Still, it's different every time. Because it gets a little harder every time.
He gets out of bed briefly and it takes everything in you not to turn around when you hear the rustling of clothes being removed. Then he's back, under the covers this time, and you almost sigh contentedly. His body is warmer against yours now, bare chest pressing against the thin fabric of your top, and suddenly you want to ruin it all, tell him everything you ever thought about him, let every drop of truth spill out.
But then your eyes start falling closed again, the exhaustion gnawing at you, your mind unable to string together proper sentences, and you're drifting away.
"…and I just don't know what to do about it. It's just… I just can't do that to you, you know?"
You're not entirely sure if you're awake or still dreaming. Ashton's voice is low and quiet, almost indiscernible, but it's enough to stir something in you into consciousness. Your eyelids are too heavy to open, so your mind is tuning in on what you're hearing.
"You don't even know how often I've thought about it. Almost told you when I picked you up from the airport."
He's… talking to you? You weren't sure when you woke up, unable to decipher if he was on the phone to someone or not, but to your best of knowledge, you're the only one that got the airport-pick-up treatment from Ashton Irwin today. But why— he must know you're asleep.
"Maybe I just need to practice before I do it for real."
You're so tempted to open your eyes, but there's that nagging feeling, that sudden realisation that he doesn't mean for you to hear this. You don't want to abuse his trust, half of you screaming to let him know that you're listening, but the part of you that is craving to know what he's been keeping from you wins.
"So here goes nothing."
You almost freeze. You're glad it's still dark in the room because you've shuffled around during the night to face Ashton and you don't know how well you're concealing the curiosity on your face. Then his fingers trace down your cheek and it takes everything not to flinch.
But you need to listen.
"I… I think I'm in love with you."
Your eyes fly open. And Ashton notices immediately.
Gripped by a sudden panic, he scrambles away from you, limbs getting tangled in the sheets as he tries to put distance between the two of you.
"Why are you awake!"
"Why am I awake?" you gasp, sitting up so quickly your head spins for a second. "Why are you talking to me in my sleep?!"
"Because I wanted to talk to you without you hearing me!"
"That makes no fucking sense, Ashton!"
You stare at each other for a heartbeat, both of you breathing hard. Your eyes flicker down his body, his naked chest, the chest hair, the tattoos— You need to focus.
You need to say something.
"I'm in love with you, too."
"What?"
"What?"
You don't know if the drowsiness is making you lose your sense of reality or if Ashton is genuinely as confused as you, but he keeps staring at you, eyes flicking between your own and your lips, as if he's trying to make sense of the words that just left them.
"Did you just tell me you're in love with me?" he repeats, slowly, as if it's only just reaching his brain. He's shuffling closer again, slowly, subtly, but closer all the same and it's the exact moment panic manifests in your body.
"I think I did," you admit, pulse quickening. Your breathing is uneaven, on the verge of choking you. You did hear him correctly. Right? You didn't imagine him professing his love for you. It's not like you were still asleep. Or dreaming. Or—
Ashton's mouth is on yours. It's clumsy and unexpected and new but Ashton's mouth is on yours.
It only takes a split second for your brain to kick into gear. Then you're climbing into his lap, the blanket stuck somewhere between you, your fingers buried in his soft hair, your soft chest colliding with his hard one. You can't get enough of him. His lips find a rhythm against yours as he deepens the kiss, his arms slung around you, keeping you close.
You inhale each other, take each other in, the feeling of finally getting everything you wanted all-encompassing. He's perfect, underneath you, a solid between confused feelings, and you never want to leave. Goosebumps travel up and down your body with each of his movements, his hand slipping underneath your top, his skin hot against yours.
You break apart when you're convinced you're about to pass out and even then, you're almost tempted to risk it.
"So, that was kinda unexpected," Ashton breaks the silence, a giggle in his voice, his arms comfortably wrapped around you.
"Sorry for ruining your plans of telling me in literally any other way."
He laughs, openly, pressing a kiss to your neck and you're immediately willing to forfeit all talking as long as continues putting his mouth on you.
"Fuck knows how long that would have taken me," he mumbles into your skin before pulling back again.
"Probably not as long as me."
Ashton turns serious. One of his hands comes to rest on your cheek and you find yourself leaning in. As if his touch is completely different than it has ever been before. As if you've never quite felt him before.
"This thing…" he drifts off. "We're going to figure it out, right?"
The anxiety in you evaporates as quickly as it rises, leaving nothing but love and certainty in its wake. And you know. You simply know.
summary: you clean up bottles with your boyfriend on new year’s day
authors note: fluff! the very first thing i ever wrote about luke, it’s pretty short, inspired by the song new year’s day by taylor swift
word count: 637
“remind me to never host a party ever again” you complain as you grab another empty beer bottle from the counter to throw in the sack you hold in your free hand. you hear luke chuckle
“don’t be so dramatic darlin’, it was fun”
you roll your eyes at his words.
you had decided to host a new year’s party at your house thinking it would be cool and fun to be with your friends celebrating this new beginning but you had forgotten that being at your place the mess would be left for you to clean afterwards — and that’s exactly what you’re doing the right now, cleaning everything up with your boyfriend.
“those bottles are multiplying! I swear we didn’t drink that much last night” you kneel to grab the bottles from the floor as you speak.
“did we drink that much last night?” you ask thinking about it.
“of course we did, well at least michael did” they both chuckle
“poor man saw an opportunity to escape dad duties and took advantage of it” you get up and place the sack down to tie it up “can’t blame him though”
you look at luke, he’s cleaning the living room that was full of bottles and pizza boxes.
“me neither, he barely gets time to do anything, but it’s worth it for him, his kids are his world”
“they’re cuties” you say, resting your elbows on the counter. a moment of silence passes before you break it.
“maybe we should have kids, it would be a damn good excuse for us to not host any crazy gatherings like this one”
there’s a smirk on your face and he finally looks at you with a raised eyebrow, stopping what he’s doing and tilting his head a bit as he chuckles.
“you want babies just for that?”
you hold your laugh shrugging your shoulders
“maybe”
“you’re unbelievable” he says shaking his head
“you’re not seeing my vision lu!” you protest laughing a bit.
“oh i see it clearly love” he laughs with you, the laugh you grew to love so damn much and makes you smile like a fool.
“whatever, you clearly don’t think like i do”
there’s a moment where you just look at each other, his blue eyes lighting with affection and his smile telling you how much he adores you, — you’ve learned to read luke enough to know what all his expressions means — the look of his tired face from partying last night it’s soft and adoring.
“you know, cleaning up bottles with you after a party isn’t that bad”
“no it isn’t” you say softly “nothing’s bad with you”
his smile widens and eyes shine.
“i love you”
your eyes twinkle with affection.
“i love you too, thanks for helping me”
he shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“just being a good boyfriend, plus, i wanna show you i’m a good roommate so you can move in with me”
you raise an eyebrow “are you asking me to move in with you babe?”
he smirks “maybe”
you walk out the kitchen and go towards him.
“who’s unbelievable now huh?” you tease, he grabs your waist the moment he can reach it.
“shush, just say yes so i can clean bottles with you forever”
you wrap your arms around his neck
“is that a threat or a promise?”
he rubs your waist gently
“whatever you want it to be”
your heart fills with love, your smile never leaving your face and your fingers gently playing with his blonde curls. you tiptoe to kiss him and he leans down to meet you halfway in a slow tender kiss, you both know this is a moment you’ll hold onto forever and cherish in the future, the simple act of cleaning up bottles together on new year’s day.
summary: ashton takes matters into his own hands about you staring at his biceps.
warnings: 18+, minors dni! explicit content ahead. bicep choking, p in v, dom!ashton, sub!reader. afab!reader, lowercase intended.
a/n: eek my first smut so pls be easy on me!! hope you all enjoy 💌
⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆
ashton knew you more than you knew yourself. he knew what makes you happy, what makes you mad, how you like your hair at a certain length, your starbucks order, but most importantly, he knew your moods better than yourself.
ashton asked you to join him for the everyone’s a star tour, which meant getting to see him all sweaty and pumped up after each show.
you were awfully quiet today.
he can see it on your face and your body language you wanted something — or someone throughout the day. he knew that someone was him. he can tell just by the way your eyes would travel to his biceps when he stood in front you talking to you or someone else, or the way you would tense up under his arms when he hugged you before he went on stage for rehearsal.
truth be told, you guys haven’t fucked in a week. to make things worse, you were ovulating. of course you couldn’t not think about taking your big biceped boyfriend from behind with his arm around your neck or him throwing you around like a ragdoll pounding into you mercilessly.
it began to make you frustrated. since the moment you woke up in whatever city you were in, you had that feeling in your lower belly that needed to be taken care of, and you were going to make sure it was going to get taken care of tonight.
the two of you were in the dressing room waiting for him to go on stage. the rest of the 5sos boys were in the halls doing god knows what, laugher and footsteps can be heard, adrenaline getting higher and higher when the time gets closer to show time. you sat on the couch staring at your boyfriend, more specifically his arms, while he was warming up using two stools as his drums.
“y/n!”
“huh?” you said snapping out of your daydream. “i said, are you okay babe?” ashton repeated with a look on his face you couldn’t recognize. he looked almost smug —like he knew what you were zoning out about.
“just a little tired, i think the jet lag’s starting to catch up now,” you said while stretching your arms up, your back arching off the couch. ashton watched you with an intense gaze while your (his) sweatshirt riled up showing your stomach a little bit.
“you sure it’s the jet lag?” he asked with a smirk on his face, getting up from his spot across the room, slowly walking towards you. he looked like a predator waiting to make a move on his prey. he had a look in his eye, hunger. he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him.
“…yea,” you replied with nervousness being heard in your voice. he got closer to you, towering over you. the smirk on his face becoming more visible. both his arms on each side of your head like a cave. he had you trapped under his body, eye contact not breaking. you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little wet down there.
“i think we both know you’re lying baby,” ashton stated, his voice low and husky, his lips hovering right over yours. of course you were lying. the fly on the wall knew you were lying. you began squirming under his intense gaze waiting for him to do something, anything.
you didn’t know how to answer him. you’re eyes looking right into his, throat gone completely dry. legs pressed together trying to get some friction. god, you looked so fucking pretty to ashton. the way the lightbulbs from the vanity in the room made you look like an angel. lips slightly parted while looking at him with your eyes getting wider, pupils dilating with each passing second, silently begging him to touch you.
you couldn’t take it anymore. your lips immediately pressing against his with hunger, need, want. you needed to consume him. ashton kissed back almost immediately. he moved to sit on the couch, picking you up by the waist to sit on his lap, both your guys’ lips not breaking. it was getting hot and heavy in the room. his large, big hands go under your sweatshirt, running his hands up and down your back, resting on the sides of your waist. desperately wanting him to do anything, you began grinding your hips against his clothed dick. you can feel him getting harder with each grind.
breaths were getting harder and shorter from the both of you. ashton’s hands run up your body to your breast, you thank yourself mentally for not wearing a bra. his hands cup both of your breast, rubbing your nipples between his fingers. your head throws back with a gasp as ashton’s lips go from your lips to your jawline all the way down to your neck, slightly biting and licking, leaving marks that you know will be a pain to cover up the next day.
you started grinding down harder on him desperately trying to get some sort of release. “fuck baby, didn’t know you wanted me this bad,” ashton said as his breaths started staggering. he grabbed both your hips, guiding you back and forth on his dick, his eyes never leaving yours. “want you so bad ash,” you whined with your eyes slightly closing. your body felt like you were on fire. “show me how bad you want me baby, go ahead,” he said as he layed his arms on the couch. you immediately put your hands on his shoulders, whining as you clench around nothing, while grinding your hips up and down, going in circles. his hard felt so good on your clothed cunt.
ashton started bucking his hips upwards, his stomach touching your covered clit with each buck, creating such a delicious feeling. you were getting close. he was getting close. the coil in your lower belly was getting tighter and tighter each minute. “i’m g-gonna c-cuumm,” you whined out, lips between your teeth, pants began leaving your mouth. “cum f’me baby,”ashton said as his hands went to your hips again, tighter this time leaving a mark for sure. his hips started stuttering, breath becoming shorter and rapid, his lips going between his lips with his eyes never leaving your face. taking in each second of your face scrunching up from the intense pleasure you were feeling.
“uh, uh, uh, uh,” you whined out as you felt your legs begin to shake. the pleasure becoming too much. “fuuuuck yea just like that baby, keep going,” ashton moaned out. your climax getting closer and closer until —
“ASHTON!” a voice shouted from outside the room.
both of you stop what you’re doing. annoyance washed over ashton as he groaned out in anger, throwing his head back. “what?” he snapped looking at the door. “twenty more minutes until show starts, are you almost ready?” the voice sound like luke’s, maybe michael’s? you couldn’t tell with the way your head was spinning. “yea, give me a couple minutes,” ashton replied with anger prominent in his voice. footsteps from the outside sound become to sound distance until both of you were sure there was nobody there.
you two sat there in silence looking at each other, lust and hunger in both of your guys’ eyes. “better make this count then,” ashton said with a smirk and eagerness in his voice. you barely had time to register what he said until you were layed out on the couch on your stomach, ass up. he pulled down your pants and underwear at the same time, the cold air hitting your wet cunt making you take a sharp breath in. you hear metal clanking behind you and clothes being pulled down.
ashton gets behind you, his cock full, hard, and heavy in his hands, red tip angry with pre cum slipping out. he slides his dick up and down your folds, teasing when it gets to your entrance. you clench at the feeling, whining when he pulls away. “you’ve been watching me all day baby, tell me what you want, use your words,” ashton says, his mouth close to your ear. he knows exactly what you want. “want your cock and…” you whine out, too embarrassed to say what you’ve been dying to say. “and what honey?” he taunted. he wanted to hear you say it.
“choke me please. your arms,” you finally admitted. it was like it woke something up in ashton. he slipped in so easily from behind. he brought your body up, your back against his chest, your chest up against the cushion of the couch. his body trapping you between him and the couch. ashton’s right arm goes around your neck as his left goes to your belly. both your hands grip the couch to steady yourself.
immediately he starts pounding into you. your breath being cut from your throat as your moans and whines becoming louder and louder with each pound of ashton’s cock. skin slapping against skin. it’s filthy. it’s disgusting, it’s what you’ve been craving. time didnt even matter to the both of you anymore. all you cared about was your orgasm that was quickly approaching.
“f-fuuuckkk take it, baby. doing so fucking good for me. taking this dick so good, y’pussy was made just for me,” ashton moaned out. his arm around your neck slighting choking you to the point where you felt slightly lightheaded. you didn’t care. the pleasure you were feeling had your toes curling and back arching. at this point you were seeing stars.
“uuuuh, f-fuck a-asssh i’m gonna c-uum,” you manage to barely moan out. his cock was kissing your cervix with every trust, hitting your g-spot so fucking good. he was so deep you could feel him in your stomach. “not yet babe, hold it,” ashton demanded. he wanted you both to cum at the same time. you whined out as your legs began to shake. it was becoming too much to handle, you needed to cum soon.
ashton pounded faster and harder making you scream out. you didn’t care if someone could hear you. ashton took pride in knowing he was the one making you feel this good. “that’s it baby, you ready? cum for me,” he breathed out. his left hand slid downward to your clit, rubbing it in fast circles.
“oh fuck, fuck, fuuuckkk!!” you screamed out. your vision going white as your head threw back with your eyes rolled back. “mmmm fuuckkk yeaaa,” ashton moaned out, filling you up with his thick warm seed. you were milking him dry as your body shook around him, cunt clenching down on him like a vice. heavy breathing was the only thing that was heard in the silent room as you came down from your high.
ashton pull out with a hiss and carefully let you down on the coach. his lips gently finding yours. “did so good baby, fuck i love you,” he said with such gentleness and love in his voice. you smiled sleepily as your eyes started feeling heavy. ashton cleaned you up and pulled your pants and underwear up for you, then dressing himself.
a knock was heard at the door. “SHOWTIME BABYY,” a voice shouted from the outside. it sounded like calum maybe? you were beginning to feel drowsy, sleep being the only thing on your mind. ashton noticed and pulled a blanket over your body.
“sleep well honey, i’ll come get you after the show,” he said just above a whisper. he kissed your forehead and then your lips, “i love you,” he said. “i love you too,” you replied as sleep was consuming over you. ashton watched as you fell asleep smiling to himself.
another knock was heard. “i’m coming,” ashton said with annoyance. “i know you are,” calum replied with a teasing smirk on his lips.
everyone heard you two.
ashton closed the door gently walking away with calum thinking how lucky he was to have you in his life. a lucky man, he was.
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