Zero's corner

She/her- 21 welcome to my corner of the internet!

[tanknaka]

hey

hey friend

dont kill yourself tonight ok

you have a really pretty smile and i know its not always easy to manage one but itd be a bummer if we never had the chance to see it ever again

youre really important and you matter a lot so stay safe and try and have a nice sleep

[the-grace-of-fallen-angels]

I would like a moment to thank the people who reblog post like this so that it eventually shows on my dash.

It is keeping me alive

[lavendertears]

I actually really needed this tonight, thank you

[my-valntyne]

A Hell Of A Ride

Word Count ⁎ 1.5k

Summary ⁎ Luke can't get his eyeshadow right. You help out in more ways than one.

Content ⁎ Smut

Note ⁎ Shoutout to the anon that suggested it, hope you enjoy it! 💖

Also on ao3 soon.

"For fuck's sake."

Luke's muttered exclamation is followed by the clatter of something thrown onto the table, making you look up in surprise as the silence of the dressing room is broken. He looks equal amounts exhausted and riled up, has been all day, but now frustration has quite obviously been added into the mix.

"You alright?"

"No," he grumbles, letting his head drop onto his arms as he all but collapses over the table, his dark curls falling all over the place. His body heaves with a sigh. You can't help but smile at how dramatic he gets.

"What is it, then?"

You walk over to him, burying a hand in his hair to scratch lightly at his scalp, and he sighs again. It sounds more appreciative this time. He says something, but his head is still buried in the fabric of his shirt, and you can't make out a single word. Carefully pulling at his hair, you make him pick his head up, an unreadable expression on his face. He gulps, audibly, before repeating himself.

"Can't get my eyeshadow right. Won't blend."

"Aw," you coo at him, lifting his face up higher with your finger under his chin. You study the make up on his face, immediately seeing where he was struggling. "Want me to help?"

His doe eyes speak for themselves.

You grab the eyeshadow pallette he'd been handling and the brush that would probably be a little more helpful than the one he'd been attempting to use, before motioning for him for sit up straighter. You just watch him, blinking up at you, for a moment, taking in his absolute beauty, his charm, everything about him that makes it so hard to concentrate on the task at hand. Then you try to get to work.

It's awkward. The angle is weird and the light doesn't quite work. You've never done someone else's make up before. You try to bend down to get more eye-level with the issue but then it's just his baby blue eyes staring right back at you and somehow that just makes it worse. So you make him tip his head back a little more but then everything just seems weird. You huff out a breath of annoyance.

Luke puts a stop to it.

In one swift motion, he grabs onto your hips, pulling you down onto his lap, making you straddle him, his hands coming to rest on your waist then. It takes your breath away, just for a moment, how close you are. His thighs against your ass. His arms lazily resting on top of your legs. His face right in front of you. You want to move in, smash your chests together until there's no breathing space left, but you resist.

Instead, you go back to the task at hand. It's easier this way; you're at the right angle, you're close enough. You're still blocking the light from the mirror behind you, but you make do. Nothing could get you to get back up again now. You blend his eyeshadow until you know he'd be satisfied with it, then go over with glitter, more than he would usually use, but you love the way his eyes sparkle in tandem with it and you can't hold back.

You're so focused on the task at hand that it takes you finishing it to realise a number of things.

Your heart is beating out of your chest. His breathing has become unsteady. You have move closer and closer, bit by bit, his face almost against yours. His hands are digging into your skin so harshly it might leave a bruise.

"All done," you whisper. "Pretty boy."

Luke gasps, his hands dragging you even closer on his lap.

"I think…" His eyes trail down your face until they settle on your mouth. "I think I want to try some lipgloss."

The invitation is clear enough that you don't hesitate. But you take your time all the same. Your eyes drift over his features, beautiful under the partially obstructed light, baby blues following your every move, lips slightly parted as your hand comes to rest on the side of his neck. You lean in, slowly, cautiously, until he grows restless underneath you. Then you put your lips on his, firmly, but just once, before pulling back. His lips now coated in your gloss.

Luke looks up at you with such innocent eyes, with such need for more, that you simply can't resist, your body lighting up and coming alive. Dragging him closer by the hand on his neck, you kiss him, fully this time, and he returns the sentiment, kissing you like a man starving, hands moving to your lower back to hold you steady, the slightest gasp escaping his mouth and inviting you to explore more.

You feel him underneath you, a twitch first, then steadily growing. There's heat between your own legs, a tightening knot in your lower stomach, a rising need.

You only part when you need to catch a breath. His face has reddened and you're sure yours isn't far off either. He inhales, on the verge of saying something, when you hear the door open behind you, a high-pitched 'Oh okay' in what can only be Michael's voice, and the door closing again.

"Fuck," Luke mumbles, letting his head fall onto your shoulder. His arms envelop you, hugging your torso close to his, and the slight movement of your hips has you shifting against his growing need, eliciting a low groan. "The things I'd do to you if I could get you undressed right now."

"Why can't you?" you tease.

"Mikey literally just walked in on us," he chuckles, but all it does it press your body harder against his.

"What if we did something we didn't need to get undressed for?"

He lifts his head, looking up at you through his lashes and you're about to melt.

"Surely you can't go on stage like this."

This time, you grind down on him on purpose, roughly moving against his hardness and he moans so, so sweetly that you know there's no way you're going to leave here without making him come.

"Yeah?" he pleads. "What are going to do about it?"

You repeat your motion, sliding perfectly on his laps, rubbing against his cock again and again. You've never been so glad he decided against his jeans today. The fabric of his trousers are thinner, give more room, and when you look down between your bodies you can see an almost perfect outline through the layers. It makes you want to get on your knees and tear his clothes off, but the rational part of your brain stops you.

Not here, not now.

"How is this?" you ask instead, pushing down on him again, feeling him against you so thick and long, you're sure your panties are soaking already. "Think you can get off for me like this?"

Luke's moan is less contained this time and you grab onto his head to angle it your way, pressing a silencing kiss to his lips.

"Talk to me, Luke."

You're already making a mess out of him. You can see it in the glaze in his eyes, in the frantic way his hands are scrambling for purchase on your body, how his hips are starting to meet yours halfway, rubbing himself against you.

"Yes," he sighs under his breath. "Yes, please, I can, just—"

"Just what, hm?"

You continue to ride him, watching how you're hitting all the right spots as he starts losing his composure.

"Can I touch?"

"Do it, baby boy."

His hands are on your breasts immediately, another deep groan escaping his throat as he kneads the flesh, getting lost in the sensations of you on him. He's buckling up into you as you try to keep some resemblance of a rhythm but you can tell he's getting closer. Closer to losing control.

"Come on, Luke. Come for me. Let me see how your pretty face falls apart. Don't even need me to touch you. Don't even need my hands or my mouth. So pretty, so desperate for anything at all. So hard for me. Come for me, Lu."

He does, then. He wants to bury his face in your shoulder, but you pull him back by the strands of his dark hair, making his head fall back instead, mouth open, eyes screwed shut. Silent moans on his tongue as he ruts against you, twitching until he's spent.

Luke is beautiful. Tangled curls and flushed cheeks. His eyes open slowly and you can't deny him another open-mouthed kiss. When you move away a little, getting some distance between the two of you, you can see the stain he left in his trousers, the dark material even blacker where he came, visual proof of your ministrations.

"Think you might need to change before stage," you giggle.

His gaze follows yours, taking note of the state of his trousers, then letting his head fall backwards again with a laugh.

"The things you fucking do to me."

"Yeah?" You perk up, peppering several kisses along his exposed neck. "Tell me all about it in the hotel when you get off stage?"

He grabs you again, squeezing your sides, holding the back of your head to press his mouth against his.

"You got yourself a deal."

[spilledrapture]

HANDS ★ CALUM HOOD

★ calum and you are building legos, and you get distracted by his hands. calum fixes the problem.

★ word count: 910

★ warnings: fingering, slight choking implications, finger sucking(?)

★ i’m back tackling another request. sorry to make y’all wait so long. spending tonight on writing so i should have another fic up tomorrow!!! thanks for being patient 🖤

it’s a saturday night in your apartment, and you’re building lego sets with calum. he showed up at your doorstep, holding two boxes.

“your apartment needs some decoration.” he had said, motioning to the legos in his arms. you had just moved into a new apartment, so he was right. your place was still fairly empty.

so you are building the polaroid camera, and calum is building a set of flowers. you’re sat across from each other at your dining table. there’s music playing on your tv.

“these will look good in here. we’ll have to get you some more.” calum says, and you nod. “and it’s super fun!” you add, and he laughs. “it is super fun, part of the reason i got these is because i just wanted to build legos.”

“i can’t say i blame you there, calum.” you giggle back at him, his focus returns to his legos. you take the chance to look over at him. calum and you weren’t together, there’s some gray area you guys are in that isn’t really friends, but isn’t really anything more.

his hands are carefully connecting the bricks together, and you admire the way his fingers hold onto them. the way his tattoos stretch over his hand as he moves it. the slight flex of his tendons as he opens his knuckle after connecting the pieces.

you can feel a heat move through you, and you shiver at the feeling. calum’s hand is slow as it moves to grab the next piece, your eyes following helplessly. he squeezes a piece between his pointer and his thumb, slowly picking it up.

your eyes slowly move up with his hand, until you find calum’s eyes looking at yours. you quickly let out a breath, calum caught you red handed.

“so, my hands, huh?” calum asks casually, and you swallow. you try to speak, but a bunch of quiet mumbles pour out. you hear calum let out a laugh, and shake his head. “i would have asked if there was something wrong with them, but i know that’s not the case.” he says instead, and you look down at the table.

“i can try to explain..” you mumble, earning you another laugh from calum. “what excuse can you come up with for salivating at the sight of my hands?” calum’s voice is steady, a hint of teasing laced through.

“i wasn’t salivating..” you defend yourself, and he scoffs. “you were looking at them like you want my fingers in your mouth..” he says slowly, testing the waters. you don’t know how you’re allowed to react.

you settle on keeping your mouth closed, stare still pointed down at the legos. you hear calum’s chair scoot backwards, and hear his footsteps coming around the table.

calum’s fingers come under your chin, pulling your head up, forcing you to look up at him. his eyes are locked on yours, and he has that sweet smile on his face. his thumb gently grazes on your lip, pulling it down. you open your mouth, and calum slides his thumb in.

your lips close around it, your tongue coming up under the bottom, and you gently suck. calum sucks in a breath, looking down at you, with his finger in your mouth. he pulls his thumb away, and pushes two fingers into your mouth now.

“you like sucking on my fingers, baby?” calum whispers, as your tongue laps around his fingers. his other hand comes up, pressing gently against your throat. “you like my hands on you?” he asks again, and you nod this time.

calum’s hands drop from you, and he quickly drops to his knees in front of your chair. “take your shorts off for me?” he asks, and you quickly slide them, along with your underwear, down your legs.

“good girl.” calum responds, and you shiver in response. his hands are on your thighs, gently pushing your legs open. his fingers gently knead into the flesh. your hips shift slightly off the chair.

calum finally brings his hand up, pushing two fingers into you. you let out a breath, a hand immediately finding his arm. “fuck..” you breathe out. calum looks up as you, as he pushes them fully inside.

you let out a sigh at the pressure. calum starts to move his fingers back, dragging them mostly out of you, and then pushing them forward again. a moan comes out of your mouth.

“taking it so well, such a good girl.” calum’s voice is deeper now, and you see he’s still looking at you. you close your eyes, and hear calum’s voice rings through again. “open your eyes” he says, and you feel him start to plunge his fingers inside faster.

you open your eyes, and lock eyes with him again. he then presses up gently and your hips grind yourself onto his fingers. “taking it so well..” calum mumbles, his other hand coming up to hold you neck.

you feel a strong sensation rising through you, before you come undone onto calum’s hand. he’s moving at the same pace, working you through it. sharing whispers of encouragement as you moan out.

calum slides his hand out of you, bringing his fingers up to your mouth, pushing them inside. your tongue laps around them, cleaning them off. calum pulls back, and stands up, looking down at you.

“now, lego time? no distractions?” you hear calum ask, and you nod.

“lego time, no distractions.”

[hemminghearts]

leave a number in my ask! (5sos edition)

who’s your fav?

who would you want to be best friends with?

fav bromance

fav hair color on mikey 

favorite song by 5sos

favorite lyric by 5sos

favorite tattoo on ¼

do you have ¼ follow anywhere?

have you ever met the boys?

what is one question you’re dying to ask your fav?

which shirt would you steal from them ? mwaha

fav quote from band

have you ever seen them live??!

are you planning on seeing them live ?!

favorite 5sos cover

snapback or beanie? (omg tough)

reblog for numbers in your ask !!!!

[michaelswldflwr]

sfw and nsfw boyfriend!calum hood headcanons ⋆˚꩜｡

minors dni. this is an 18+ blog.

boyfriend!calum who. . .is secretly a lover boy. he'll act all tough in public, but when he's home alone with you, his head is in your lap, he's cooking for you, and you're getting showered with silly pet names.

boyfriend!calum who. . .loves it when you suck his dick under his skirt after shows. it's so vulgar to watch your head disappear under the fabric and he loves it.

boyfriend!calum who. . .loves holding hands. he adores the way you trace your fingers over his tattoos and veins.

boyfriend!calum who. . .adores fucking you in the shower. he'll pin you against the wall, loving the way the water cascades over your body, making you look like a goddamn model.

boyfriend!calum who. . .is secretly a swiftie, dedicating songs like "lover" and "honey" to you.

boyfriend!calum who. . .is dominant, but never in a mean way. he's dominant for your own good, knowing exactly which positions will make you sleep like a rock later that night.

boyfriend!calum who. . .loves to get high with you and watch cartoons from your childhood while laughing your ass off and eating taco bell.

boyfriend!calum who. . .loves taking you from the back. it makes him cum so quickly watching your ass recoil as he pounds into you.

boyfriend!calum who. . .volunteers at the animal shelter with you every saturday if he's home. it's how you ended up with duke, after all.

boyfriend!calum who. . .knows you love his hands. he'll wrap them around your throat as he fucks you, loving the way you moan.

boyfriend!calum who. . .likes doing those silly couples tiktok trends with you.

boyfriend!calum who. . .is obsessed with all the little noises you make while he fucks you.

lil sumn sumn to feed y'all while i work on reqs!

[af4llenst4r]

or whatever that song said

[k1ng-z3ro]

Blah blah blah, proper name, backstory stuff.

[michaelswldflwr]

SPIN THE BOTTLE

in which. . .a game of spin the bottle leads to you losing your virginity to your best friend

warnings: smut, protected p in v, missionary, making out, dirty talk, sex between friends, virgin!reader, sgfg era!michael, lowercase intended -> beta read by @catsdisconnected :)

minors dni. this is an 18+ blog.

word count: 1,442

“fuck! no!” ashton cried out as the bottle he had spun landed on calum. 

“well, you have to do it.” luke pointed out, taking a swig of his drink. 

“this fucking game is rigged.” ashton cursed, but nevertheless puckered up and planted a kiss on calum’s lips, to which the bassist made a disgusted face, wiping his lips soon after. 

the members of 5 seconds of summer were currently huddled up in ashton’s dressing room, playing spin the bottle with a tequila bottle that had recently been emptied during the before-show-pregame. you snorted, watching the antics and flexing your fingers, preparing for another night of keyboard playing. being the only girl in a band full of guys definitely never left you bored, that was for sure. 

“your turn, y/n.” calum grumbled, still wiping his mouth. 

you took a deep breath, anxiously scooting closer to the bottle. out of the corner of your eye, you could see michael chewing on his thumbnail, directly avoiding looking at you. things between the two of you had been strange, lately; you weren’t quite lovers, but you were more than friends, opting to share hotel rooms, flirting at bars, and exchanging a heated makeout or two whenever the rest of the band wasn’t around. 

“i swear if it’s luke, i’m gonna have to wash my mouth out with soap.” you laughed. 

“what did i do?!” the singer asked incredulously. 

“you’re a whore, luke.” you snorted, spinning the bottle. 

the glass spun on the carpet in dizzying circles. your feelings were divided. you wanted to kiss michael, but at the same time, you were afraid of getting too heated and the rest of the band finding out about your feelings. as luck would have it, the empty don julio bottle promptly pointed at michael. 

from across the circle, you could see the lavender haired boy’s adam’s apple bob as he gulped, indicating he felt the same way you did. you scooted across the carpet, your cheeks horribly red as the other members of the band hollered and hooted. 

michael’s green eyes were wide with a mixture of lust and anxiety as he quickly pecked you on the lips, a soft giggle leaving you. the kiss barely lasted five seconds, but you felt the butterflies in your stomach soar. based on the way michael quickly looked away, you could tell he felt the same. 

“good god, get a room!” ashton howled, an amused smirk etching itself on his face. 

you smoothed your hair back, moving back to your spot. “you’re the one who just kissed your best friend.” you shrugged; being in a band with all guys had taught you how to dish it and it. 

nevertheless, the thought of sharing a room with michael tonight felt different. it occupied your thoughts as you made your way to stage, and during every talking break that occurred. it was obvious that the same thoughts occupied michael. he never messed up his solos, but tonight there had been a slip up during jet black heart and wrapped around your finger. 

-

“four rooms, five people,” ashton announced later in the evening when the band had arrived to the hotel after the show. “who’s sharing?”

“nose goes!” luke squealed, touching his nose. 

“not me!” calum announced quickly. 

“michael? y/n? you cool?” ashton asked gently; even though it was well-known that the drummer always got his own room due to being the most worn out of the five of you, he always liked to check on his friends. 

michael shrugged, trying to hide the blush that only you noticed. “works for me.”

none of the other members of 5 seconds of summer seemed to notice the shared look between you and michael. despite being on tour and basically living out of each other’s pockets, you nd the guitarist had done a pretty good job of keeping your feelings for each other under lock and key. by the time the two of you had made your way to your room, tension was high. 

“fuck, y/n,” michael said as soon as the door closed, dropping your bags and pinning you to the wall. “you don’t know what you do to me.”

a current of electricity ran through your body at michael’s words. your back arched from the way, your body desperate to feel michael’s. “kiss me.” you breathed. 

michael smirked; he didn’t need to be told twice. his plump lips connected with your own, kissing you like he hadn’t seen you in years. it was a flurry of tongues meeting each other, heavy breathing, and desperate kissing until he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you towards the bed in the middle of the room. 

“you don’t know how hard it was for me,” he said, pulling back to speak before kissing you again. “to sit there and kiss you and pretend i don’t think about you all the fuckin’ time.” michael said in between kisses. 

you moaned as he kissed his way down your neck and chest, leaving blooming hickeys in his wake. “fuck me, michael.” you said, panting heavily. 

he paused, staring at you like you were speaking another language. he knew you were a virgin, but the idea of him being your first had his cock twitching in his pants more than he’d like to admit. “are you sure?”

you nodded eagerly, grabbing him by the collar and kissing him again. “so sure.”

michael grinned, moving to pull a condom out of his bag before situating himself on the bed with you again. “well, if you so insist.” he teased, helping you remove your shirt and bra through gentle coaching and soft kisses. 

the heat between your legs built as michael kissed his way down your stomach and removed your pants after you’d given him the okay. he smirked when he saw the wet spot on your underwear, quite proud of himself for doing that to you. 

“so wet for me,” he cooed, kissing the delicate spot. “good girl.”

you whined, grinding your hips against his face as your clit throbbed. “please, mikey.”

michael felt himself grow incredibly hard at the nickname. he had always loved you, ever since he first saw you years ago. the fact that you wanted him to take your virginity had him all sorts of horny. he removed his own shirt and bottoms, ripping open the condom and sliding it on. he kissed down your stomach and your thighs, removing your underwear to press kisses to your dripping cunt. 

“tell me if it hurts, okay?” he whispered. “we can stop whenever you want,” you nodded eagerly, gasping at the stretch when he finally slid in. michael stilled for a moment, letting you adjust to his size. “all good?” he asked you. 

“yeah.” you breathed with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

once he could tell that you were, in fact, okay, michael began to rock his hips back and forth, building up friction as he fucked you. both of you had been building up to this moment for months, the shared flirting in bars and kisses when no one else was around coming to fruition. as michael began to fuck you harder, you felt your lower start to clench with that familiar need to cum that had previously only come from your fingers or a toy. 

“you’re so tight,” michael moaned as he fucked you, the sound of skin-on-skin and the smell of sex filling the hotel room. 

“‘m gonna cum.” you whimpered, your nails scraping down his back as you pulled yourself closer to him. 

michael kissed your lips deeply, smiling as he did so. “i do that to you?” he whispered, still fucking you. 

you nodded, grasping at anything you could get your hands on. michael wasn’t just having sex with you, he was making love to you. one more thrust was all it took for you to come undone, crying out as you came. the feeling of your pussy clenching around him and your cries had michael reaching his climax soon after, burying his face in your neck as he moaned. 

as he came down from his high, the guitarist kissed you again, pulling out and removing the condom to throw it away. michael pulled you into his side, kissing the top of your head as you yawned. “was that okay?”

you blushed,hiding your face in his bare chest. “yeah,” you whispered. “i really liked it.”

michael snorted, ever the jokester. “well, i sure hope you would have.”

you scoffed, shoving his chest playfully. “i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

“you’re right. . .i don’t.”

[calumsvalentine]

how you’ll catch me everytime someone puts on all my affection

thats MY song😭😭😭😭😭

[my-valntyne]

Lick It With A Wet Tongue

Word Count ⁎ 2.5k

Summary ⁎ You're quickly losing patience at the lame house party your friend has dragged you to. But then Michael turns up, obnoxiously sucking on a lollipop, and maybe the evening isn't meant to be quite as boring as you think.

Content ⁎ Smut

On ao3 soon.

It's all the fucking lollipop's fault. Before, the house party had been boring at best, to the point where you questioned why you'd even accompanied your friend here. But then Michael had turned up, inexplicably with a lollipop in his mouth, smiling at everyone with those adorable teeth and those rose-coloured lips and the evening had turned around in an instant.

Now all you're focused on is that damn red-haired man making his rounds, wondering if you'll get the pleasure of getting to say hi to him, too. You've only met briefly before, through mutual friends, but it would be a lie to say he hasn't been in the back of your mind ever since.

You get your chance sooner than expected.

"You remember her, right?" Your friend's voice reaches you, even over the music playing, before you even see her. By the time you realise she's talking about you and, in fact, is heading your way, Michael is already in front of you, a toothy grin on his face.

"How could I forget?" he says, as if you've done anything remarkable when you met before. You haven't. Not that you're aware of at least. Then he leans in for a hug, completely taking your by surprise and while you're still busy processing that his arms are around you, his chest is against yours, he's already pulling back, once again taking the stick of the lollipop in his hands and taking it out of his mouth with a loud plop.

Impossible.

"Enjoying the party?" Michael asks and you helplessly turn to your friend, only to realise she's vanished. Of course. That's what you get for telling her about your little crush.

"Not really." The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Not what you meant to say. Even if it is true. But Michael just laughs, an honest, loud laugh, and you smile despite yourself. "Music's mid, I don't know anyone here, the wire in my bra keeps poking my tit and I've not found where they keep the good alcohol."

Maybe the bra comment is a bit much. Michael's eyes briefly drift downward, where your top reveals some cleavage, a blush on his face that could be caused by anything, really. Right?

"Well, I can help with some of those."

He pops the lolly into his mouth again in the most performative, insufferable way and you want to roll your eyes but most of all you want to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Go on, then," you challenge. "Make my evening better."

He grins, taking your hand in his so you won't get lost in the thickening crowd and all you can do is will the goosebumps on your arms to go down. He pulls you further and further into the house, until you reach an annex to the kitchen, where he motions for you to close the door behind you, muffling the party noises, and then reaches into a cooler.

"Try," he says, holding a lollipop similar to his but slightly different in colour out to you, as well as his own. "Trust me."

Somehow, almost unfortunately, you do.

You reach out to take the newly-acquired one, but Michael pulls back immediately.

"Nuh-uh," he tuts. "Try before you buy."

You want to correct him, considering there is hopefully no buying of any sorts involved here, but then both of the lollipops are in your face again and it dawns on you what he means. He taps one of them against your lips ever so slightly, an annoyingly smug grin of his face that you want to wipe off by putting your mouth on it, and you open up.

The lollipop touches your tongue, carefully, your eyes fully trained on his as you close your lips around it and give it a taste. The alcohol in it is undeniable, surrounded by a fruitiness that sets it off beautifully. A margarita, if you had to guess.

As soon as you release it, Michael, whose bright eyes are holding something very different now, switches it for his own lollipop. The red disappears into your mouth as you swirl your tongue around what Michael himself had been sucking on just moments before, a hint of his taste mixing with raspberry and liquor.

You grab onto the stem of the lollipop, your fingers briefly covering Michael's before he lets go. The atmosphere shifts, further, both of you hypnotised by the other. You break the silence by releasing the lollipop from your mouth with a loud 'pop'.

"I'll take this one."

Michael chokes on his spit for a second, before recovering with a shaky 'sure' and popping the other, yellow lollipop into his own mouth. You can't help but be aware of the fact that it had also just been on your tongue. You wonder if he thinks about it too.

"Wanna go fix your other complaints?"

You barely remember them now, intoxicated by the red-haired men in front of you slowly letting the lollipop dissolve on his tongue, white stem in stark contrast to his rosy lips, but you nod. Anything to keep him close to you. Anything to keep him looking at you like this.

He takes your hand again and you fight against the blossoming hope that erupts inside of you. But then he throws you a smile over his shoulder as he leads the way out of the annex and you throw all caution to the wind.

You don't take note of anyone else as he pulls you through the crowd once more. You're solely focused on his bright red hair, providing a beacon of colour among the dark scene, his bare arms in the tank top he's wearing, the way his back and shoulders flex as he holds onto you.

The slight contour of his muscles hypnotises you enough that you almost stumble when he leads you up the stairs.

You don't know where he's leading you, unaware with the layout of the house, in fact, you barely remember who owns it at all, but Michael seems to either be privileged enough to access a guest bedroom or not care about being caught in one. This time you're closing the door without being prompted to as he walks over to fumble with the stereo in the corner, turning on a low table lamp on the way.

You're not sure it's the right move. But your want for his man is blurring the lines.

You turn the lock.

Barely a heartbeat later, the familiar riffs of old-school Good Charlotte are sounding through the speakers. Michael turns it down, just a little, just to still be able to have a conversation. But it's loud enough to cover up any other sounds. You wonder if it's intentional.

"There you go," he grins, walking towards you with that unbearable smile around the lollipop once more. "Fixing your problems."

"Well, not quite. Not all of them."

He didn't forget. You can see it in the twinkle in his bright eyes. The mischief brewing behind them.

"Well, I didn't say I was done yet."

The music becomes mere background noise as Michael steps closer. He lets go of the lollipop, keeping it between his lips, as his hands carefully but firmly set themselves on your hips. Heat travels through your body in an instant, your cheeks blushing with nerves and in anticipation alike. You hope he doesn't see it in the low light.

While his eyes are fully on you, unmoving from your own gaze, his hands roam. They don't hesitate when they fumble with the hem of your top. They don't shake when they lift the fabric up, just enough to slip underneath. There's no insecurity as they reach further upwards, over your skin, leaving a tingling feeling in their wake. You almost flinch when they touch your sides, sensitive to the point of being ticklish, but he quickly moves on, reaching around to place them on your back instead, stepping closer still, his breath hitting your face, your eyes struggling to focus, your brain short-circuiting.

It clicks, what is doing, when his fingers start fumbling with the clasp of your bra.

You let him, arching into his touch to give him more room to work with, but he's skillful, only needing another moment until you feel the clasp give way and the fabric loosen. Michael's hands are off your body and out of your clothes more quickly than you realise, but the distance doesn't hold up for long.

The lollipop clacks against his teeth as he gives you a smile, then his touch is on your arms, slowly rising up, leaving you on the edge of breathless. His fingers dive under the straps of your top, pulling on the ones of your bra, stretching them downward until you wiggle your arms out, one then the other. In an unprecedentedly quick move, he reaches underneath your top again, grasps onto the fabric between your breasts and pulls the now-freed bra away.

Your nipples are hard, without having felt his touch, and when his eyes travel to your top you know he can see it.

"There you go," Michael all but whispers, throwing the bra away and taking hold of the lollipop again, giving it one more sinful lick, before dumping it in a nearby trash can without ever straying far from your body. "Fixed all of your problems."

"I think I've got a new one now," you murmur back, distracted by him still being so close, his cologne fully engulfing you. It makes you feel bold. Fearless. A little drunk on his pure presence. You pop the lolly out of your mouth. "I've gotten a little uncomfortable."

For a split moment, worry crosses his face, then you take his hand and lead it to fall onto your thigh, pushing it higher, higher, under the seam of your skirt, higher, between your legs. To the fabric of your underwear. Soft cotton, unquestionably wet.

"Fuck, you're—"

You never quite learn what exactly you are because Michael drops onto his knees without disclosing, instead putting his mouth on the inside of your thigh, hands holding you steady, as he sucks a hickey into your skin. You give up all pretense, collapsing into the wall behind you, allowing your fingers to thread into his hair. When you pull, just an experimental tug, he moans against you so deliciously you can feel the vibration.

"Michael, please," you sigh, impatiently pulling at his strands again just to get him where you need him most. His mouth leaves you for a second and it takes all your strength not to push him back into you, but then he looks up at you with clouded eyes, pink lips falling open, and you don't think you've ever seen anything more beautiful in your life.

"Please," you breathe, again, "I need you."

His mouth turns into a smirk. His hands wander.

"How about you put that lollipop back into your mouth," he suggests and only then do you realise it's in your hand once again, giving room to words and sighs and moans. "Give your mouth something to do instead of being loud. Wouldn't want the whole party to hear you now, would you?"

"They're downstairs… and you put on music."

"Do you really think that's gonna be enough?"

A shiver runs through you. He's self-assured, effortlessly confident in his skills, and the way he's currently peeling your underwear down your legs suggests he has every right to be.

You pop it back into your mouth.

"That's it, good girl."

There's no time to react when his lips attach themselves to your skin again, higher, his hands tapping at your ankles to lift your feet just enough to remove your panties, then immediately pushing at them again to widen your stance, giving him more space.

Without warning, his tongue is on you, slipping between your folds, tasting your wetness, and you're all but biting down on your lollipop to quieten the shameless moan threatening to spill from your lips.

"That's exactly what I meant," Michael chuckles and you want to reprimand him and throw some sort of comeback at him, but he doesn't waste any more time before diving back into you and all comments die on your tongue. His arms continue holding you up and you're silently thankful because the second he laps at your clit, your knees buckle.

It's not just that he's damn good at what he does — and holy shit, he is —, but you've been waiting to have him, waiting to get a piece of him, waiting to get his hands on you ever since you first saw him. The culminated want for this man had you nearing the edge much quicker than anticipated.

His lips close around your clit, and the feeling shivers through your whole body with such force that you pull at his hair hard to enough to make him whimper. The lollipop splinters in your mouth, no match for teeth desperate to bite down. You suck on the pieces, trying to distract yourself from how fast you're falling apart.

You're just about getting a grasp on the situation again, heavy breaths wracking your chests slowing down ever so slightly, when his right hand travels upward from your thigh, softly feeling along your skin, then sinking deep into you. You gasp around the stem of the lollipop, almost choking on one of the pieces. One of your hands is scrambling for purchase along the wall before joining the other in Michael's hair.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chant, barely keeping the stick inside your mouth as you push against him. "So good, Michael, so good."

You can feel how easily he slides into you, again and again, pushing a second finger to fill you up and you grind down, onto his hand, onto his mouth, quickly losing control of your body as you chase your high. His left hand is still holding onto your thigh, fingers digging bruises into the skin, but he never falters. Instead, his movements pick up, pushing into you in exactly the rough manner you're craving, tongue flicking against your clit and you—

fall apart.

The leftover pieces of lollipop are too small to do their job in quieting you down as your moan threatens to slip into a scream, pushing Michael against you so hard you don't know how he's still able to breathe, much less work you through your orgasm, but he does, steadily, perfectly, until the wave has washed over you, oversensitivity replacing it, and he carefully detaches himself.

You come down slowly, breathing heavily, peace and contentment coursing through your veins. You watch, through hooded eyes, as Michael stands back up to his full height, wetness visible around his mouth, a satisfied smirk. His red hair is all over the place, but if anything, it makes him more adorable. More desirable.

You're nowhere close having enough of this man, you realise.

He grabs onto the lollipop stick you barely realised was still in your mouth, pulling it from between your lips to reveal it empty. Your eyes meet his. And the glint in them confirms he's nowhere near done with you, either.

"Look at that," you tease, your hands already grasping for the belt buckle of his jeans. "Seems like I need something new to suck on."

[abbeyintheroad]

Late Nights, Strange Sounds - Michael Clifford

Summary: Michael can't wait to come home and complain about his day to his roommate, but when he comes home he can't seem to find her. Until he hears strange noises coming from her room...

Word Count: 5.8K (got a little carried away)

Warnings!!! SMUT, PiV, unprotected sex, mutual masturbation, pervy Michael, pervy reader, choking, praise

Authors Note: I'm currently working on the requests in my inbox don't worry, BUT I had this idea and started writing it and it's one of my favourites so far so ENJOY!!!

It had been a long fucking day. Michael was exhausted, the boys had spent the entire morning, from 7:00 am until 4:00 pm messing around for the new album. He played the same guitar parts 4 times over, his hands were sore and aching. More than anything, he wanted to be home. Bitching to his roommate/best friend had become the part he looked forward to the most. She was always so sweet, listening to him complain about his bandmates and management. Half the time she didn’t even say anything, she just listened. It was nice.

When he walked in the door, she wasn’t in the living room as she normally was. He assumed she must be in her room, so he put his shoes away and went to go see what she was up to. When he was halfway down the hall he heard it. He thought he was imagining it at first, a small breathy sound coming from her room. Thinking maybe it was just a sigh or something he continued down the hall. But it continued, he could hear her whines from the other side of the door. Clearly, thinking she was alone and not worrying about keeping quiet. 

Sure, he had heard her before. Mostly when she had brought people home, he usually just put his headphones on and ignored it. He was sure she did the same for him, but he couldn’t help but listen this time. It felt wrong. It was wrong. He was perving on her and she had no idea. He stopped in front of her door, the tent in his pants steadily growing as she got more worked up. She got louder, her small breaths turning into long drawn out moans. He had to stop himself from palming the bulge in his jeans. He imagined how she must look right now, face flushed, mouth dropped open, her hand- he stopped himself. His mind scolded him for thinking about her in that way, and then he heard it. “Michael.” 

That went straight to his dick. His face flushed and he continued to his room right next to hers. Wanting nothing more than to hear it again, but he refused to let himself keep listening to her. He closed the door quietly, hoping she wouldn’t notice he was home. Right as he was about to put his headphones in, ready to blast his music to try and get his raging boner under control he heard it again. Her soft, sweet voice moaning his name. Imaging it was him instead of her. He allowed his mind to wander again as his hand drifted to his jeans. Pulling them off and situating himself on the bed, it was right against the wall. He could still hear everything. She was whining now, his eyes closed as he imagined her. 

His hand slid into his boxers, her sounds still filling his ears as stroked himself. She was repeating his name over and over again. His hand sped up, his lip was between his teeth as he tried to keep himself quiet. “Oh, Mikey” That was it for him. The muffled sound of the sweet nickname falling from her lips between angelic moans. He was close, just a few more strokes and he would be right there with her. “Fuck” he heard her mumble, much different from the sounds she had been making before. He continued, the image of her still in his mind and he came all over his hand. He made quick work of cleaning himself up and sticking his headphones in. Pretending to be asleep so he could claim he didn’t hear a thing. 

Her bed was creaking, she was getting up. His breathing had yet to slow down but he threw the blanket over himself and sprawled out on the bed. 

Soft feet padded to the kitchen, seeing his shoes her eyes widened. Fearing she was heard she quickly, but still quietly, walked over to his room. He could hear the door open, but didn’t dare to move. She let out a sigh of relief at his sleeping form with his headphones tucked into his ears. She walked back to her room, still reeling. She flopped on her bed and closed her eyes. That could never happen again. 

Eventually, Michael did actually end up falling asleep. After the day he’d had he was more than happy to take a nap. When it passed 6:00 she decided to wake him up, she had ordered dinner and gotten out a bottle of sweet wine. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. “Mikey, I ordered takeaway.” The nickname caused him to open his eyes, his mind going back to earlier. He blinked a few times and looked at her. She had stolen one of his shirts from the laundry and was wearing shorts that left little to the imagination. Once he realized he had totally just checked her out, he answered her. “Chinese?” He mumbled, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. She laughed, “Yes. I got your stupid chicken balls too” He rolled over, the blanket falling down to around his waist. His full chest and abdomen were uncovered and she shamelessly looked at him. 

Since they had first moved in together she found herself attracted to him. He was sweet, funny and had a certain confidence that pulled her in. Of course, she had seen him shirtless before. Lots of times, and every time she practically drools at the sight of him. Her unsatisfying masturbation and undying need for him didn’t help this time. He rolled over completely on his back, giving her a full view of his v-line, the blanket stopping right before where she assumed his boxers to be. If he was wearing any…Her eyes focused on it, unable to pull them away, heat pooled in her stomach as she stood up pressing her thighs together. Trying and failing to will the feeling away. 

“Ugh, you’re an angel. Let me put some clothes on and I'll be right there.” He squinted at her as he sat up in bed. Taking away her gorgeous view. Or don’t she thought. He chuckled, shit. Did she say that out loud? She retreated quickly after that. Unable to stay in that room with his beautiful body on display like that. 

When she got to the kitchen she grabbed a glass and was not light handed when pouring her wine. Not that alcohol would help her at all. She was a touchy drunk, and while her mind screamed to jump his bones at all times, the alcohol made it a lot harder to resist the thought. But she took a large sip anyway, grabbing the takeaway containers and bringing them to the couch. She knew that having to sit and stare at him during dinner was not an option tonight. Her overwhelming desire was too strong, she needed to chill out. 

When he came out of his room, he was wearing a pair of pajama pants extremely low on his hips and a ratty cut off t. She could see the thick lines of his tattoos and the rest of his toned arms. She watched as he reached for the wine, his tank top betraying his and exposing his entire side. She couldn't take her eyes off of him as he grabbed his glass and his food. He sat back, not looking at her. “It’s been a day. Thank you for ordering. I think I would've killed you if you had decided that we needed to make something big together.” She didn’t say anything, just locked her eyes onto the box in front of her and began to eat her food. 

She hardly wanted it anymore, deciding in her mind that he would be a much better meal than the shitty Chinese food. But he wasn’t on the menu, so she pressed play on the TV allowing some animated show to fill the room. She continued nursing her wine, quickly pouring herself more once she had reached the bottom of the glass. “Do you wanna tell me about your day?” She asked, one glass of wine had helped her calm down for the moment. “Ugh, just the same old shit yanno? Everyone's tired, everyone's upset. And fucking Luke made me play the same fucking part 6 times..” She was staring at his face now, despite being consistently stuffed with noodles it was still gorgeous. She could see his long lashes every time he looked away from her face to pick up more noodles. Her eyes settled on his hands as they picked at what was in the box as he spoke. 

He trailed off, noticing she hadn’t said anything in a while. His eyes followed her line of sight before falling on his own hands. He had seen her staring before, never feeling the need to point it out. He still didn’t so he carried on talking, sure she must be hearing only half of what he was saying. He was just happy to let it all out. She nodded along with his words, letting out sounds of agreement, eventually stopping to look at his face rather than his hands. 

She seemed to have remembered her own food and began shoveling her own noodles into her mouth. Now listening attentively without distraction. The show had been forgotten in their conversation, and when they had both finished eating they set the now empty containers on the table. Both still sipping their wine as the conversation flowed as it usually did. “Oh! I picked up some ice cream earlier. We already ate like shit, might as well pig out right?” She stood up a little too quickly, losing her balance slightly, but she felt a warm hand on her thigh. Steadying her, she immediately forgot what she was doing and looked at where Michael's hand was on her bare upper thigh. The heat returned to her stomach, the feeling going right between her thighs. “You okay?” He asked, as if his hand was not still on her thigh. She nodded and finally got moving back towards the kitchen. “Uhm, I've been meaning to ask you. What time did you get home today?” 

His mind went back to earlier, surely that’s what she was asking. He tried to make it so nothing showed on his face, “Around 4:00, 4:30 maybe, why?” He feigned ignorance, but his mind remembered why. It was like he could still hear her, moaning his name, moaning for him. Her face turned red, “No reason, just didn’t hear you come in is all” Her back was turned to him now, he craned his neck to watch her walk to the freezer. Her ass almost fully out of her sleep shorts, and he was looking. The crease between her ass and her thigh was addicting to watch, her hips swaying as she walked. He looked her up and down before turning back as she puttered around looking for spoons. She came back, pint in hand with two spoons. He moved to sit closer to her, their legs now nestled against one another. The proximity made him crazy, the heat of her leg against his was burning. He could still feel how her thigh felt under his hand, and could still hear her voice in his head. 

He looked at her, flushed face clearly embarrassed. Still worried he had heard something he shouldn’t have. Which he did, and was ashamed to admit his actions due to what he heard. 

When the two of them finally decided it was a good idea to get ready for bed, they went through the usual motions. Putting the rubbish away, putting dishes in the sink and heading to the bathroom to brush their teeth. She had never realized just how domestic it seemed, getting ready for bed together. She supposed it’s what all roommates did, but she was also quite sure if he was sharing with any of his bandmates they would not be standing side by side brushing their teeth. He looked over at her in the mirror, she wiped her face and grabbed her hair brush. 

“Want me to do that?” It wasn’t the first time he’d offered. It had become a thing between the two of them. Michael had told her he wanted to learn how to braid hair so she taught him. She supposed brushing her hair wasn’t included in that, but he was willing and she was happy to not have to do it herself. 

He grabbed the brush from her hand, their fingers touching. She could feel how warm his hands were, just like they were earlier when one was on her thigh. She closed her eyes as he held the base of her hair and began gently running the brush through. She knew there would be quite a few knots, cause she hadn’t brushed her hair yet. He moved up slightly, moving his hand to hold it in place and to stop it from hurting as much, but he let go to begin going from her scalp to the ends. The first pass there was no issues, no knots, but as he moved over the next section the brush caught on a rather large knot. Her head pulled back and a gasp, sounding too similar to her gasps from earlier slipped out of her mouth. She slapped her hand over her mouth as he whispered sorry and continued brushing her hair. Careful to brush through the knot without hurting her anymore. His breath fanned over her ear, making her realize just how close he was to her. In another pass, the brush got stuck once more, this time the sound was much quieter but still not the right one to be coming from her given that he was only brushing her hair. He muttered sorry in her ear once more. 

The sounds surprised him, just as much as they intrigued him. He had half the mind to do it again just to hear the way her breath caught as the strands were tugged on. But he didn’t, opting to finish the job and separated her hair into three even strands. He set the brush down and ran his fingers through his sections. Despite the brushing his hand got stuck right near the base of her head, she managed to keep the sound in this time. “Sorry angel” He murmured right into her ear, she kept her hand pressed to her mouth and squished her thighs together. The sound of his quiet, gravely voice bouncing around her head. 

Once he finished the braid, he turned her to be facing him and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She wrapped her arms around his waist, allowing her head to rest just below his neck, “Thank you Mikey” her words half muffled into his chest, the smell of his cologne filled her nose as he held her close. The smell alone could send her into a tizzy, without everything else that had happened tonight. When he finally let go, they each went to their rooms. 

The heat between her thighs had become unbearable. She sighed as she entered her room, throbbing with need. Usually she wouldn’t jerk off at all, let alone twice in one day, but everything that happened tonight had made it impossible not to. She made sure to wait, hoping that he would be asleep or entranced in something else and wouldn’t hear her. She was still unsure if he was asleep, she had no way of knowing but she couldn’t ignore it anymore. She pulled her shirt up just enough to reveal her boobs and slid her hands down her body. Her eyes closed, trying to imagine the feeling of Michael’s calloused hands touching her just like that. She stopped at the top of her shorts, teasing herself just as she imagined he would, before slipping them fully under her shorts. She was too enveloped in what she was doing at first to hear the small grunts coming through the wall. 

As her finger slowly circled her clit, still not fully giving into her desire she heard him. Little grunts, he was clearly trying and failing to be quiet about it. She pressed her ear to the wall, desperate to hear more from him. She felt wrong about what she was doing, but god did it feel good. She finally touched the most sensitive part of her, shuddering at the feeling. She heard him let out a delicate moan, and her eyes closed again. A finger slipped inside her, she gasped, moaning in sync with him as she pumped her fingers in and out of herself.

On the other side of the wall, he could hear her too. He knew now that she could hear him, he still kept it quiet but wasn’t as careful as he let the profanities and obscene sounds leave his lips. His hand moved faster as she got louder too, pumping himself at a quick pace. Eyes screwed shut imaging it was her instead, that her delicate warm hand was wrapped around his cock squeezing him just right. “Fuck baby, I’m so close” he groaned out, “Oh, oh so close” she replied to him, just where he was. He imagined them coming together but the noises from her end had stopped. He came with a grunt, all over his hand for the second time that day. 

When they woke up in the morning, they didn’t talk about it. It was awkward as he walked into the kitchen where she was making breakfast. Still in those goddamn sleep shorts that were driving him crazy. He snuck up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she stood at the stove, it was something he had done before, but this time she practically jumped as she felt him rest his head on her shoulder. 

The rest of the day went as it usually did, Michael left and came back. They ate dinner together, got ready for bed and went to their rooms. Michael’s hand drifted to the elastic band of his pants again, already half hard from their hug in the hallway. She had whispered goodnight to him, her lips impossibly close to his neck, god he felt like a horny teenager. He supposed that’s what he was, but usually he was able to keep himself in line. Secretly he hoped she was doing the same, praying for a repeat of last night. Once he heard her first gasp, he spat in his hand and began pumping himself. Thrusting up into his hand, even more desperate than before. The need for her had only grown, wanting to hear her loud and clear and not through a wall. To see her face as she came undone. No longer having to imagine what she’s doing, or pretend it’s her. 

Once again, things were awkward when they woke up. Once was something to ignore, but twice? At some point they were going to have to talk about it. But if she was ignoring it then he sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up. 

When he got back from the studio, he walked into the living room and heard her again. She was being loud, he wasn’t as careful to be quiet this time. Curious, if she knew he was home, would she stop? He walked over to her room, noticing the door was open and gasped at the sight of her halfway beneath the blanket, writhing. Just as he’d imagined, face flushed, mouth open. “Mikey” she moaned out, his eyes were on the hand he could see moving beneath the blanket, when he looked up, she was looking right at him. In that moment, he could’ve died. He looked down to see the obvious bulge in his jeans, as he stepped in the room and closed the door she stopped. Her face getting redder, she wanted to get caught. “Oh come on princess, don’t let me stop you. Keep going.” A smirk spread across his face as he watched her face fall slightly. He motioned for her to keep going, and slowly she did. 

Working her way back up, “Are you close sweetheart?” He asked as he began moving towards the bed, she nodded, not stopping what she was doing. “Go on then,” Her face twisted into a pout, “Can’t” she was quiet, he almost didn’t hear her. “You can’t? How come?” Now sitting on the bed next to her, “I can’t, can’t do it myself” He could hear the frustration in her voice. “How come?” He grabbed her face gently, guiding her to look at him. “Dunno, never could” She avoided his eyes, he stared back at her. “Poor thing, do you want some help?” His voice was sincere, she could moan at just the sound of it. She nodded, the words getting stuck in her throat. “Lemme see you” Her face turned red at the idea, her hands coming up to cover her face. “Aw, why are you getting all shy on me. Weren’t so shy when you were moaning my name, hoping I would come in and find you. All desperate and needy” She whined, she knew she was being pathetic but she was willing to do anything to have him on top of her. 

She pulled away the blanket, her shorts were pulled down to her mid thigh, legs spread. “You look gorgeous baby,” He pulled away the blanket completely, slotting himself between her thighs, “Wait,” he paused where he was, unmoving. “Will you kiss me? Please” The word sounded sinful coming out of her pouty pink lips, he obliged happily. Leaning in and capturing her lips with his. They were jagged from the way she had been biting them but still impossibly soft. They moved against his with ease, she poked her tongue at his lips, desperate to get into his mouth. He opened up and her tongue greedily explored every inch of his mouth. He groaned at the feeling, her hands were everywhere. Slipping under his shirt, sliding over his abdomen, up his chest, down his arms, anywhere she could reach. He pulled away, “So desperate, want me to take care of you now?” His hand still cupped her jaw, while the other went under her tanktop groping at the skin there. “Yes please Michael. Please please” Her mind was thinking of nothing but him. The feeling of his hands, of his mouth as he pulled her top off and mouthed all over her breasts. Careful to stop at each nipple, given them equal attention as her back lifted off the bed and arched into him. “Mikey, take your clothes off, please” every word she said sounded like a whine, a plea. 

He took his shirt off and his pants followed. There was a large tent in his boxers and her eyes went straight for it, they flicked up to his face as she practically drooled over him. He chuckled, continued his action of taking off her shorts. He kissed the inside of her thighs, she was wiggling above him, desperate for friction, anything. Anything. But he continued sucking, bitting, and kissing her inner thighs, right next to where she really wanted him. She relished in the sensation of him kissing all over her, but she was ready to start begging for him to touch her where she really wanted. But just as she was about to open her mouth, the words died in her throat as he finally licked between her folds. It was slow and teasing, agony. She let out a pathetic whine as he did the same once more before fully diving into her. 

There were stars behind her eyes, she kept trying to keep her eyes open. Desperate to watch the man between her legs as he ate her out, but the pleasure building in her stomach kept her eyes screwed shut. She gripped his hair tightly, practically grinding against his face, chasing the release she so desperately needed. “Mikey, please- don’t stop, I'm so close.” He hummed against her, slipped a skilled finger into her. Her back arched off the bed, a second finger joined the first, already she felt so full. His long fingers reached spots inside her that she never could. With a few pumps in and out she was gone. His name fell off her lips like a prayer as he continued to work her through her orgasm. 

It took her a second to come back, her vision still spotty. “Hi” he said sweetly, as if he hadn’t just eaten her out like she was his last meal. She smiled at him and motioned for him to lay beside her. Once he had, she connected their lips once more, she could taste herself on him. She moaned into his mouth, he pulled away, a questioning look on his face. “So, just now, that’s the first time you’ve come in the last 3 days?” Her face was red with embarrassment, not really wanting to answer the question. “Uhm, yeah, I’ve never been able to come from jerking off” She got quieter as she continued talking, “Then why torture yourself?” She rolled her eyes, “It can still be good even if you don’t finish.” Her hand was on his bare chest, he shrugged. “Yeah, but you’re just edging yourself forever until you can get someone to do it for you. I’d die.” His face seemed genuinely concerned, she snickered at him. “It’s okay, I’m hoping I won’t have to worry about that so much anymore…” she trailed off, her eyes raking up and down his form. 

She pulled him back in for another kiss as her hand began moving up and down his torso. She sighed as she felt the muscles in his stomach tighten as her hand moved lower, “Mikey, can I suck you off?” His eyes widened at the question, clearly she had gained some confidence. “Yes, god yes please” 

He was the desperate one now, begging for her to touch him. He felt hot all over, painfully hard from eating her out, aching to be touched. She situated herself between his legs, kissing down his abs and stopping at the waistband of his boxers. She looked up at him, his head was back and his eyes were screwed shut. He looked up at her as she toyed with the band, nodding quickly, praying she’d free him from his tight underwear. She pulled them off, he lifted his hips to make it easier for her. She ogled at him, he was big. Michael had the prettiest dick she had ever seen, not that she would have ever described a penis as pretty before, but it truly was. Her hand wrapped around the base of it and his head went back against the pillow, a groan leaving his lips. The sound music to her ears, she licked the head of it and he groaned once again. 

When she finally took him fully in her mouth he thought he could’ve died. The feeling was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, sure he was no stranger to getting head, but the buildup over the last few days made it euphoric. She took as much as she could before she began bobbing her head up and down, sounds he had never made before were steadily leaving his lips. He already felt his release coming but he held off, not wanting this to end so quickly. He looked down at her, her mouth full of his cock, her big eyes staring back at him, it became much harder to stave off his orgasm at the sight. But he kept his eyes on her, he bucked up involuntarily, his dick hitting further in her throat as she gagged on him, but never pulled off or stopped. “Oh fuck angel” his hand came the back of her head, not forcing her but guiding her. She doubled her efforts, her tongue licking the underside of him, swirling the head and pushing him further and further down his throat. “You gotta stop” His sentence punctuated with a loud groan, "I'm so close” but that didn’t stop her, she continued everything she was doing until she finally felt him spill down her throat. Swallowing every drop, not missing a beat. 

His breathing was ragged as she pulled off of him, his face and chest flushed as she looked up at him sweetly. He could feel himself getting hard again already, “You have a crazy head game” He said as he smiled down at her, she smirked up at him “I could say the same about you” He dragged her to be beside him once more and kissed her. It was much different than the ones before, he was bruising, gripped hips as he flipped them over. “You wanna keep going?” He asked as his hand flicked her nipple, “Yes. Need you so bad Mikey” Fuck. She was going to kill him, her sweet voice drenched in sensuality as she pleaded with him. “Of course darling,” He began toying with her clit, her fingers rough. Already spent from her earlier orgasm she could only manage pathetic whines as she waited for him to enter her again. “Why don’t you tell me what you were thinking about earlier while I get you ready” He began kissing down her neck, the words stuck in her throat as he nipped at her surely leaving marks that she would have to cover up. “Come on baby, I wanna know” he said teasingly as she swallowed hard. “I-“ She was cut off by a moan as he went back to circling her clit, fingers dancing lower now teasing her entrance. But he stopped moving, waiting for her to keep talking. “I was thinking about this, your fingers” She stopped as another moan ripped through her, his fingers finally inside her. “Yeah? Just my fingers?” She shook her head no, “Thinking about you doing whatever you wanted to me, fucking me until I can’t think” His fingers moved in and out of her, brushing her g-spot. He angled his hand, his fingers slamming into her again as he rammed the spot inside of her. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him impossibly closer, her hands gripped his arms as he curled his fingers just right. 

He watched her face contort in pleasure, drinking up every sound she made. He pulled his fingers out of her, a high pitched whine left her lips. “Rubber?” He asked, she shook her head. “I’m clean, and on the pill” He could groan just at the thought of feeling every inch of her, with nothing in the way. He lined himself up with her hole, gently pushing in. “If anything hurts you tell me okay?” His hand caressed her cheek, far too sweet for the predicament they’re in, she nodded and kept her hands steady on his biceps. They both moaned once he had fully bottomed out. 

She had been with other guys before, but no one as big as Michael. She felt so full, so satisfied. He pulled out and she almost whined again at the loss of the feeling but he quickly slammed back into her. Her breath knocked out of her chest, her nails scratched down his back, his name on her lips like a prayer. “Doing so good angel, feel so good” 

He was just as lost as she was, his eyes shut tight as he pushed in and out of her. When he opened his eyes the sight before him was one that wouldn’t leave his mind ever. Her hair splayed out on the pillow, her mouth open, sounds steadily falling out of it, and her hands across his back trying to keep herself grounded. He could feel the scratches from her nails down his back, it all just added to the feeling. He rested his thumb on her lips, and she was quick to draw it into her mouth, gently sucking as he continued to plow into her. He could feel the vibration of her moans, she clenched down on him and his head dropped to her shoulder. “Mikey, i’m so close i’m so close, please” her last word was drawn out, her voice quiet and needy in his ear. Her lips now wet with her own saliva, she was whining now. “What do you need baby, what is it”

She was hesitant but grabbed his hand, pressing it onto her neck, “Fuck angel, you’re a wet dream” he gently squeezed her neck and she moaned even louder. He was so close, on the edge of his orgasm but wanting her to finish first. She came with a moan of his name, her back arching off the bed. He could feel her clenching around him, “Where do you want me?” She didn’t say anything, just wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer to her. She moaned as she felt him fill her up, he stilled inside her not wanting to hurt her. She watched his face as he looked at her, his hair sticking to his forehead. “You’re so beautiful Mike” She reached out and touched his face gently, her chest still moving up and down as she breathed heavily. He tucked his face into the crook of her neck, kissing some of the marks he had left there. He gently pulled out of her, she hissed and he mumbled an apology.

He got up off of her and went to the bathroom to grab a warm cloth. When he came back, she was exactly as he left her. Her eyes were closed, but once she heard him come in she looked at him. “Hi angel, I'm gonna clean you up okay? This is gonna suck” He ran the warm cloth between her legs and she whined as he did, writhing under him. “I know I know, he kissed her forehead and wiped himself down. He threw the cloth in the laundry and quickly wrapped himself around her, “Mikey, what does this mean for us” Her hand traced over his tattoos, she looked up at him sweetly, “I think we’ve been dancing around it for a while” His eyes met hers as he spoke, “I don’t want to label it yet, but I don’t want to share you with anyone else” He nodded at her words, happy to have whatever this was between them. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had by the way” He admitted openly, smiling down at her. “Me too” She nuzzled into his neck, kissing him gently.

“Want takeaway for dinner?” The amusement was clear in his voice, “I want to take a nap, so please shut up” And he did, wrapping himself around her carefully and falling into the best sleep he’s had in days.

[niallerspayno]

Bordersz

Masterlist

A round of Never Have I Ever turns revealing when you admit you’ve never had sex—and suddenly, Zayn Malik is looking at you like he’s found something he didn’t know he was missing. One slow, heated night later, it’s clear this isn’t just casual anymore.

Tags: Zayn x reader, smut (virgin reader, fem receiving oral, protected p in v)

...

It’s loud, but not overwhelming—the kind of bar that smells like lime and beer, where the lights are low enough to feel cozy, and the music hums just below the chatter. You’re tucked into a booth that barely fits six, pressed between Zayn and Liam, a mostly-melted mojito in your hand.

You’re not really sure how this happened. One minute you were doing final touch-ups backstage, brushing powder over Harry’s nose while Louis heckled from the couch, and the next you were being dragged along to their night out. No time to change, no time to overthink it.

Zayn had just said, “She’s coming,” like it was obvious. Like no one needed to ask you.

So now here you are, squeezed between two popstars in a booth sticky with spilled rum and laughter, trying to pretend this is normal.

You’re their junior stylist—junior being the keyword. Lou brought you on a few months ago, and you’re still learning the rhythm of tour life. You handle the minor jobs—foundation touch-ups, hair gel emergencies, panic-bought concealer when someone’s breakout threatens a photo op. Most days you feel invisible, floating around the boys while they joke and banter like brothers.

But tonight, they’ve pulled you in. Not just physically—though Zayn’s thigh is warm against yours, and Liam keeps refilling your drink without asking—but socially. Properly.

“We’re playing something,” Louis announces, tossing a coaster at Niall. “Before I get too drunk to speak words.”

Niall catches it with one hand, somehow already flushed. “Truth or dare?”

Harry shakes his head. “Too chaotic.”

“Spin the bottle?” Liam teases, raising a brow.

“Oh, please,” you mutter, “You’d all die before kissing each other.”

“I wouldn’t,” Zayn says casually beside you, and you nearly choke on your drink.

Louis grins like he’s just won something. “Never Have I Ever, then?”

A chorus of nods follows. Glasses clink. A fresh round is ordered.

“You ever played before?” Liam asks, leaning in just enough that you can hear him over the music.

You nod. “Once. Uni party. Someone puked on a bean bag halfway through.”

“Charming,” Zayn murmurs near your ear. You swear you feel the ghost of a smile on your neck.

Louis slams his hand down. “Right. I’ll start. Never have I ever… worn eyeliner.”

Everyone groans and drinks.

Even Liam.

You laugh into your straw, relaxing a little as the game rolls on. The questions start off easy—silly tour stuff, harmless confessions. Harry admits to stealing conditioner from hotels. Niall cops to crying during The Lion King. Zayn hasn’t said much, but you catch him watching you out of the corner of your eye more than once.

And then Louis leans forward, smirking like he’s about to drop a bomb.

“Never have I ever… had sex in a tour bus bathroom.”

Groans. Laughter. Drinks raised.

And just like that, the game shifts.

You feel your stomach flip, your fingers tightening around your glass.

They’re about to start sharing stories.

You laugh along with the others, cheeks warm, limbs loose from the cocktails and the late hour. The game has moved into dangerous territory—no longer silly little confessions, but real ones. Blurred lines. Edging into intimacy.

Zayn’s thigh is still pressed against yours, the leather of the booth creaking when either of you shifts. He hasn’t said much since Louis’ bathroom story, but you feel him there. Solid. Present.

“Alright,” Harry says, swirling the last of his drink, voice low and mischievous, “my turn.”

“Oh no,” Liam groans. “Here we go.”

Harry grins. “Never have I ever had a one-night stand.”

The table explodes.

Niall howls, immediately downing his drink.

Louis slaps his hand to his heart. “So many sins. So little time.”

Liam drinks with an awkward little cough. “University was… a time.”

Even Zayn lifts his glass and sips—no drama, no explanation.

And then they all look at you.

You hesitate.

Smile faintly.

And slowly shake your head.

You don’t drink.

At first, no one reacts.

Not really.

Louis is already halfway into another story—something about a girl who turned out to be a twin. But then he falters, eyes narrowing just slightly.

“Wait,” he says, pointing at you with a squint. “Not even once?”

You give a small shrug. “Nope.”

Niall frowns. “But you said you’ve been in relationships.”

“Not… really,” you say. “I’ve dated. But nothing serious.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Liam’s brows lift, something dawning in his expression. “So… wait—”

“I haven’t,” you say quickly, cheeks burning. “Had sex. Ever.”

The words feel loud, too loud.

You wish you could grab them and stuff them back in your mouth.

There’s another pause, longer this time.

Then—

“Oh.” Niall says, soft and surprised.

You brace yourself for awkwardness. For teasing. For the boys to make it weird, even if they don’t mean to.

But instead—

“That’s alright,” Liam says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Nothing wrong with that.”

Louis blinks, then grins. “Shit, I think that just means you’ve got standards.”

Harry laughs. “High ones, clearly, if none of us ever made the cut.”

You snort, tension starting to break. “Please. You lot couldn’t handle me.”

That earns a chorus of laughter, and the mood shifts again—gentle now, softer around the edges.

Niall leans across the table, eyes kind. “You don’t have to feel weird about it. Honestly. If anything, you’re the only one here who hasn’t had some tragic, messy story.”

“Oh yeah,” Louis nods seriously. “You’re the only one who’s still pure. You must be protected at all costs.”

You roll your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks is fading, replaced by something warmer. Something steadier.

But beside you, Zayn hasn’t said anything.

You risk a glance, and he’s still looking at you—jaw slightly tight, fingers tracing the condensation on his glass like he’s trying to work something out.

“Zayn?” you say quietly, half-joking. “You alright?”

He snaps out of it, blinking once. “Yeah. Sorry. Just—”

He pauses.

Then, softly, “Didn’t expect that.”

You smile nervously. “Surprise.”

But he doesn’t laugh.

He just keeps looking at you, like he’s seeing you differently now. Not in a bad way. Just… deeper.

“How’s someone like you never…” He trails off, brow furrowing. “I mean—you’re beautiful. And kind. And smart. And—”

You blink, caught off guard.

He shakes his head, like the words slipped out before he could stop them. “Sorry. That sounded—fuck. That sounded weird.”

“No,” you say quickly, voice smaller than before. “It didn’t.”

Louis whistles. “Alright, loverboy.”

Zayn shoots him a glare, but there’s no real bite in it.

You can feel your pulse racing again—but this time, not from embarrassment.

From something else entirely.

Something new.

And maybe a little electric.

You try to laugh off the moment, but Zayn’s words linger in the air like smoke—visible, heavy, and impossible to ignore.

He’s still watching you, jaw tight, one hand wrapped around his drink like he’s forgotten it’s there. The way he’s looking at you now is… different. Focused. Almost reverent, like he’s seeing you for the first time.

Which, apparently, is also not going unnoticed.

Harry is the first to clock it. His eyebrows lift slowly, mouth twitching like he’s about to say something but—shockingly—chooses not to.

Louis, however, is less restrained.

He leans across the table, nudging Niall. “Is it just me, or did Zayn’s soul just leave his body for a second there?”

Zayn snaps out of his trance with a slow blink. “Piss off.”

Niall grins, catching on immediately. “Mate, you alright? You’ve gone a bit… soft in the eyes.”

You groan, hiding your face behind your hands.

Zayn shifts beside you, clearly trying to play it cool. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Do what?” Louis says innocently, clearly delighted. “We’re just admiring how smitten you look.”

“Yeah,” Harry adds, voice smooth, “it’s kind of sweet. Like watching a Victorian man fall in love with a scandalous woman who just showed him her ankle.”

Liam lets out a loud laugh. “Ankle, wow.”

You finally lower your hands, aiming a glare at the whole table. “You’re all children.”

Louis grins. “And yet you’re the one being courted in public.”

“Oh my God,” you mutter.

Zayn tries to lean back, casual, but the blush rising in his cheeks gives him away. “You lot are insufferable.”

“Maybe,” Liam says with a shrug, “but we’re not wrong.”

Niall lifts his glass. “To sexual tension.”

You slap a hand over his mouth before he can say more, laughing despite yourself.

Zayn shoots you a sideways glance, something soft behind his eyes. “You okay?”

You nod, heart thudding. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah,” he says, and there’s something heavier in his voice. “I just… didn’t think you’d be full of surprises like that.”

You tilt your head, trying to keep things light. “You saying I seem like the type?”

He looks at you for a long beat, eyes warm. “Nah. I’m saying I don’t think I’ve figured you out yet.”

Your breath catches.

And across the table, four smug idiots exchange glances.

“Oh, they’re definitely gonna hook up before the tour ends,” Louis whispers loudly to Harry, who nods like he’s observing wildlife in its natural habitat.

You and Zayn say nothing.

But neither of you look away.

You try to shake it off—try to join back into the game, sip your drink, laugh at Harry’s impression of their old vocal coach—but it’s impossible to ignore Zayn’s presence beside you now. Like the heat of him has increased, the space between your bodies charged with something electric.

Every time you move, your thigh brushes his. Every time someone laughs too loud or leans too close, you feel his hand lightly graze your lower back as if instinctively grounding you.

The others keep stealing glances. Less subtle now.

“God, the vibes,” Louis mutters under his breath, dramatically fanning himself with a coaster.

“Should we leave them alone?” Niall asks, not even bothering to whisper.

“I’d be concerned if it wasn’t so hot,” Harry adds, sipping his drink with a smirk.

You shoot them all a look, but your heart is beating too fast for it to land properly.

Zayn, to his credit, doesn’t say anything. But you feel him tense beside you—like he’s fighting the same thing you are.

Liam glances at his watch and stretches. “Alright, I’m calling it. My liver’s begging for mercy.”

“Same,” Niall agrees, dragging his coat off the back of the booth. “And I want chips before bed.”

Everyone starts to shift, gathering phones and unfinished drinks. You follow suit, sliding out of the booth—Zayn moves too, standing beside you like it’s automatic. Protective.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Louis calls, clapping you both on the shoulder as he passes. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That leaves a lot of questionable grey area,” you mutter, earning a chorus of snickers.

The group spills out onto the pavement, the night cool and crisp, city lights glinting off the sidewalk. They start debating whether to walk or call a car, scattering slightly in different directions.

You hang back a little.

So does Zayn.

You’re both quiet for a second, until he speaks—voice low, like it’s just for you.

“Wanna walk?”

You glance at him, heart thudding. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

The others are too busy arguing over the route to notice as you peel away, footsteps falling into rhythm as the buzz of the night folds around you both.

You don’t say anything right away.

Neither does he.

But his hand brushes yours, once.

Then again.

And then—slowly, deliberately—he laces his fingers through yours.

Just like that.

And you let him.

The walk back is quiet. Comfortable.

Zayn doesn’t let go of your hand the whole way, even when you reach the hotel entrance, even when the doorman gives you both a knowing look as he holds the door open.

The lobby is mostly empty—just soft lighting, a few murmured voices from the overnight staff, the faint hum of an elevator arriving. You glance toward the others, who are still bickering near the vending machines, loud and distracted.

No one’s looking.

Zayn doesn’t stop walking.

He gives your hand a gentle tug, and you follow him into the lift without a word.

You ride up in silence. His thumb is stroking along your knuckles, slow and steady, grounding you even as your heart thumps against your ribs.

You’re not sure what this is. Or what it’s about to be.

But you don’t want to let go, either.

The doors slide open on his floor, and he turns to you—voice soft, careful.

“You don’t have to,” he says, like he’s offering you an out. “But if you want to come up. Just to hang out. Or talk. Or… not talk.”

There’s no pressure in his tone. No expectation.

Just Zayn. Quiet. Open. Honest.

You nod once, heart catching in your throat. “Yeah. I want to.”

He leads you down the hall, your hand still in his. The corridor is dim and quiet, carpet muffling your footsteps. When he reaches his room, he swipes the keycard and pushes the door open with his shoulder.

It’s a typical hotel suite. Neat. A little impersonal. But it smells faintly like him—warm spice and something smoky.

He lets your hand go gently, just long enough to toss the card on the counter and flick on a lamp.

The room fills with a soft amber glow.

You’re suddenly hyperaware of the silence. The way the door clicks shut behind you. The way his eyes find yours in the quiet.

He steps a little closer. Not crowding you, just… nearer.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low.

You nod. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

You hesitate—then smile, small and a little breathless. “Are you?”

He laughs under his breath. “Not even a little.”

And for some reason, that calms you more than anything.

You let out a breathy laugh, the kind that feels more like a release than amusement. “You don’t seem that nervous.”

“I’m good at pretending,” he says, and for a moment, the smile slips from his lips. “I didn’t expect tonight to go like this.”

You nod, fingers toying with the hem of your sleeve. “Me neither.”

He watches you for a second, then speaks again—quieter now. “Is it bad that I wanted to be around you tonight? Even before the game. Even before I knew…”

You look up at him.

His eyes are serious. Warm.

“I think I’ve been trying not to think about you like that,” he says, like he’s confessing something heavy. “Because you work with us. And you’re Lou’s. And you’re… you.”

“Me?” you ask, brows lifting.

Zayn gives a small, almost helpless smile. “Yeah. You. You’re funny, and sharp, and you don’t take shit from any of us. You look after everyone, and you don’t even realise it.”

Your heart thuds against your ribs, something fluttering and fragile rising in your chest.

“I’ve been thinking about you too,” you say, the words slipping out before fear can catch them. “And not just tonight.”

He exhales like he’s been holding that breath for a while. Then he nods—just once—and steps closer again.

This time, when he lifts a hand to your cheek, you lean into it.

His thumb brushes your skin.

And then he kisses you.

It starts soft—tentative, exploratory, like he’s afraid to break something delicate. But when your hands find the hem of his shirt, and he sighs against your mouth, the kiss deepens. His other hand finds your waist, then your back, pulling you closer until there’s barely space between you at all.

You feel dizzy with it. The heat of him, the scent of his skin, the way he’s kissing you like he wants to know every part of you, every thought.

But then he pulls back suddenly, breath hitching. His hands still on your hips, but his face just inches from yours.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, eyes closed. “Wait.”

You pause, blinking up at him. “Zayn?”

He lets out a rough breath. “I didn’t bring you back here just to sleep with you.”

You smile softly. “Okay.”

“I mean—I wanted to be with you tonight, yeah,” he says, words tumbling out fast now. “But I didn’t have some plan. I didn’t think, oh, she’s a virgin, now’s my chance. I swear I didn’t. I just… wanted more time with you. Away from them. Just us.”

“Zayn,” you say gently, resting your hand against his chest. “Even if you had brought me back here to have sex with me… I would’ve been okay with it.”

He opens his eyes then. Searching yours like he’s making sure.

“Because I trust you,” you continue. “And because I wanted this too. I still do.”

His shoulders drop slightly, the tension in them bleeding out. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You smile, letting your fingers trace the edge of his shirt. “You keep saying that.”

He leans in again, this time slower, more certain. “Because I keep meaning it.”

And when he kisses you again, there's no more hesitation.

It’s still gentle—deliberate—but deeper now. Slower. The kind of kiss that makes your knees a little unsteady. He backs you toward the bed with soft touches and quiet breaths, never rushing, never letting his hands wander too far too fast. Just enough to let you feel him. To know he’s there.

You fall back onto the mattress with a breathless laugh, and he follows, crawling over you with a low, fond hum. His hands settle at your hips, grounding you, but his eyes search yours again.

“You good?”

You nod, breath hitching. “Yeah.”

“Tell me if you want to stop.”

“I won’t.”

He leans in again, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your throat. “Still gonna say it. As many times as you need.”

You reach for him, curling your fingers into the soft cotton of his shirt, tugging gently. “Take this off?”

Zayn sits up just enough to pull the shirt over his head in one smooth motion. You drink in the sight of him—bare skin, warm tattoos, the soft shadows that curve down his stomach. He doesn’t flex. Doesn’t show off. Just watches your face as you look at him.

You reach up and run your hand down his chest, slow. He shivers under your touch.

“Your turn,” he murmurs.

You nod, and he helps you—soft and careful, lifting your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra without fumbling or asking questions. Like he wants to make it easy. Like he’s been thinking about this longer than he’ll ever admit.

“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes roaming your chest, your waist, the soft curve of your stomach. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

You flush, but he doesn’t give you time to hide. He kisses you again, slower now, and lets his hands explore—palms dragging over your skin like he’s trying to memorize it. His mouth finds your collarbone, then lower, sucking a soft mark just under your breast. You arch up into him, a shaky gasp escaping your lips.

“That feel good?” he murmurs against your skin.

You nod, voice barely there. “Yes.”

His hands work down your body, undoing the button of your jeans, slipping them down your legs with the same kind of reverence he’s shown all night. You’re bare beneath him now, just your underwear still on, and Zayn kisses your inner thigh before glancing up.

“Can I taste you?”

You feel your breath leave you.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

Zayn lowers himself between your legs like he’s worshiping, not rushing, just sinking onto his knees at the edge of the bed with maddening calm. His hands slide up the backs of your thighs, thumbs sweeping in slow circles as he presses a kiss to the inside of your knee—then higher. Another kiss, hotter now. Then higher still.

You’re already trembling.

No one’s ever done this before. Not even close.

He leans in and kisses you over the thin fabric of your underwear, warm breath ghosting across your skin, and the sound you make is barely human. A choked gasp, hips jolting slightly before his hands tighten to keep you grounded.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs, voice full of awe. “So responsive already.”

You manage a shaky breath. “I’ve never…”

Zayn glances up, eyes dark and soft. “No one’s ever gone down on you?”

You shake your head, suddenly shy again. “No.”

He lets out the quietest groan, his thumbs grazing along your hips. “That’s gonna change. Right now.”

And then he peels your underwear down.

Slow.

Torturous.

He watches as he does it, his eyes fixed on the way your body’s revealed to him inch by inch. When the fabric is finally gone and you’re bare before him, he exhales like he’s just seen something sacred.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re dripping.”

Your whole body lights up at the way he says it—rough, reverent, hungry.

Then his mouth is on you.

It starts with a slow lick, from bottom to top, just enough pressure to make your back arch. You gasp—your fingers shooting down to tangle in his hair—and he groans against you like your reaction alone is enough to wreck him.

He flattens his tongue and licks again, firmer this time. Then a flick—precise, teasing—over your clit that makes you moan, loud and raw.

“Oh my God—”

He hums, mouth closing around you, and the vibration nearly makes you come undone.

His tongue moves in perfect rhythm, unrelenting but still somehow patient, like he wants to savor every twitch of your body, every breathy moan. He circles your clit with slow, steady flicks, then sucks gently, just once—enough to have you clenching around nothing, toes curling, a whimper breaking from your lips.

Your thighs start to shake, and he slides his hands under them, spreading you wider, holding you open for him like he never plans to stop.

“Zayn—fuck—” You grip the sheets with one hand, the other still tangled in his hair. “I—I can’t—”

“Yes you can,” he murmurs, barely lifting his mouth. “You’re doing so fucking good. Just let go.”

You’ve never felt anything like it—like every nerve ending is alive, like the pleasure is building too fast to contain. It rushes up your spine, through your core, until it’s all you are—heat and tension and Zayn’s mouth and—

You shatter.

Your orgasm hits hard, your entire body shaking with it, a cry tearing from your throat as you grind against his tongue. Zayn groans again, deeper this time, holding you through it, licking you gently as your body pulses with aftershocks.

He doesn't pull away until your legs twitch and you whimper from overstimulation.

Then—finally—he lifts his head, lips shiny, pupils blown wide.

“You good?” he asks, voice low and wrecked.

You’re breathless. Boneless. Floating.

“I don’t even know my name right now.”

Zayn grins, crawling back up your body and pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your lips—slow and filthy and sweet all at once. You taste yourself on his mouth and moan softly into him.

“I’ve been dreaming about doing that,” he admits between kisses. “Didn’t think I’d ever get the chance.”

You cup his face, still flushed and dazed. “That was the best thing anyone’s ever done to me.”

His smile softens. “Then let me keep going. Let me make the rest just as good.”

And when he kisses you again, it’s the promise in his voice that makes your heart race all over again.

Zayn’s mouth is still warm against yours, his weight pressed carefully into your body, one hand stroking your side like he’s trying to calm you—but it’s your pulse that’s thundering now, a different kind of need building in your chest.

You trail your fingers down the line of his chest, over the tattoos you’ve only ever seen peeking from under his shirts, your touch featherlight. He shivers.

“You okay?” he murmurs, eyes fluttering open.

You nod. “Yeah. I just… I want to touch you.”

His breath catches.

“You can,” he says, voice rough. “You can do anything you want.”

You slide your hand lower, fingers tracing down the ridges of his stomach, then over the waistband of his jeans. There’s a sharp tension in his jaw now—like he’s trying to stay still for you, to be good, to give you time.

You palm him gently through his jeans, and he lets out a low, shaky exhale, head dropping to your shoulder for a moment.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

You smile, gaining a bit of confidence, and undo his button. He lifts his hips slightly to help as you tug his jeans down, then his briefs, revealing him fully. And for a second, you just look.

He’s thick, flushed, hard already from everything you’ve been doing—and from the look of restraint on his face, he’s been aching for you this entire time.

You reach out, fingers curling around him, and he lets out a strangled sound.

“Jesus—okay, slow down—” His hand covers yours, not to stop you, but to guide. “Like this.”

He shows you, gently—how to stroke him, how to twist your wrist just enough at the top, how to run your thumb over the sensitive underside. You follow his lead, watching his face as his eyes fall shut and his lips part.

He groans again, deeper this time, hips rocking up into your fist.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You lean up and kiss his jaw. “I like seeing you like this.”

His eyes open—dark, wild, and reverent.

“I like you seeing me like this,” he whispers, and the honesty in it makes your stomach flutter.

You keep stroking him until his breath turns ragged, his hips twitching, his muscles trembling under your touch.

Then he catches your wrist gently, stilling you. “If you keep going, this’ll be over too fast.”

You smile, flushed and pleased. “You make it hard not to.”

He leans down and kisses you again, this time with heat behind it. “Come here.”

He reaches into the drawer again, his hand finding a condom—because now, there’s no more pausing. No more slowing down.

It’s time.

And he’s going to make it just as good for both of you.

Zayn kisses you again as he rolls the condom on—slow and deliberate, never taking his eyes off yours for long. His hand glides down your side, grounding you, while his body settles between your thighs, warm and solid and trembling with restraint.

“You still okay?” he murmurs against your lips.

“Yeah,” you whisper, breath catching. “More than okay.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek, then your throat, then the center of your chest—like a silent thank you. Then he positions himself, the head of his cock nudging your entrance, and pauses.

“This might sting a little,” he says softly. “But I’ll go slow. You just tell me anything you need.”

You nod, and he watches your face as he starts to push in.

You feel the stretch first—thick, deliberate, burning in a way that steals your breath. Your fingers dig into his biceps as your back arches off the mattress, and Zayn stills instantly.

“Breathe,” he whispers, kissing your jaw. “You’re doing so fucking well.”

You exhale shakily, and he continues—inch by inch—until he’s buried to the hilt, his body trembling above yours with the effort of holding back.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re so tight. You feel unreal.”

You feel full, completely overwhelmed in the best way—your body stretched and aching and lit up all at once. But with Zayn’s body wrapped around yours, the pressure starts to ease. The burn fades into heat, into want.

He doesn’t move until you shift beneath him, pressing your hips up gently in silent invitation.

“You sure?” he breathes, voice strained.

“Yes,” you whisper, eyes shining. “Please.”

Zayn kisses you again—slow and deep—before drawing his hips back and pushing in again, slow and measured. The first few thrusts are tentative, shallow, but they still make you gasp, your nails biting into his arms.

He’s careful, watching every reaction you give him.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing more. “Zayn…”

That’s all it takes.

He groans your name and moves deeper, hips rolling with just enough force to drag a moan out of you. You grip him tighter, the friction growing with every stroke, pleasure curling low in your belly as your body starts to adjust, to crave it.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Just like that, baby. You’re taking me so well.”

His voice wrecks you—deep and reverent, like he’s in awe of you. Like he can’t believe he’s the one making you feel like this.

He starts to move faster now, his thrusts harder but still controlled, like he’s desperate but still focused on you. You cling to him, breathing hard, the sound of skin on skin filling the room.

“You’re doing so good,” he pants. “So fucking good for me.”

Your hips roll up to meet his, desperate for more, chasing that spark again. “Zayn—don’t stop—”

“I won’t,” he groans, his pace quickening. “Wanna make you come again. Want you to fall apart on me.”

You cry out when he hits that spot deep inside you again, over and over, and it’s like everything coils tight—your body clenching around him, your thighs shaking, heat blooming hot and fast.

“Zayn—fuck—I’m gonna—”

“I’ve got you,” he rasps, his hand slipping between your bodies to stroke your clit. “Come for me. Let go.”

And you do.

Your second orgasm crashes into you, harder this time, ripping through your body like a wave. You cry out, shaking under him, your muscles fluttering around his cock as he fucks you through it.

He curses under his breath, hips stuttering as your body squeezes him tight, and then he’s groaning your name as he comes—deep inside you, buried to the hilt, every muscle in his body trembling.

Zayn collapses onto his elbows, forehead pressed to yours, both of you gasping for breath.

For a long moment, there’s just silence.

Heavy breathing. Heartbeats pounding.

Then he kisses you again—soft, slow, almost dazed.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You nod, still clinging to him. “That was… incredible.”

Zayn exhales like he’s been holding that breath the entire time. He leans in and kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring the feel of your lips against his. His hand moves gently over your side, fingertips dragging lightly down your skin, grounding you.

“You sure you’re okay?” he murmurs again, brushing his nose against yours. “Not too sore?”

“I’m good,” you whisper, still breathless. “Sensitive, but… yeah. I feel good.”

He smiles softly, kissing your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. “You were so perfect, you know that?”

You laugh, flushed and floating. “I don’t think I did anything.”

“You let me see you,” he says, voice quiet, reverent. “That’s everything.”

You blink, your throat tightening a little at the way he says it—like you gave him a gift. Like it meant something.

Zayn starts to shift, carefully pulling out of you. You whimper softly at the sensation, and his hand strokes your thigh instantly, soothing.

“Sorry, I know,” he murmurs. “Hang on, I’ll take care of you.”

He slips out of bed and disappears into the bathroom. You hear the water run, the rustle of something soft, and a moment later he’s back, warm towel in hand. He moves gently, kneeling between your legs again, cleaning you up with slow, careful strokes. You’re already squirming, body overstimulated, and he presses a kiss to your knee.

“Almost done, sweetheart.”

Your heart stutters at the nickname.

Once you’re cleaned up, he tosses the towel aside and crawls back into bed, pulling the sheets over you both. His arms slide around you instantly, tugging you into his chest like he can’t stand the thought of space between you now.

You bury your face in his neck, breathing him in—sweat and skin and something warm and smoky that’s just him. His fingers trail lightly up and down your spine, lazy and soft.

“You’re quiet,” he murmurs after a beat. “You sure you’re alright?”

You tilt your head just enough to look at him. “I’m just… kind of in shock. In the best way.”

Zayn watches you, eyes soft in the low light.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his fingers never stopping their gentle glide along your back. “What kind of shock?”

You smile faintly, cheeks warm. “Like… I didn’t know it could be like that. I thought it would be awkward, or painful, or…” You trail off, tucking your head under his jaw again. “But it wasn’t. It felt… safe. And really, really good.”

He exhales a slow breath, his arms tightening around you. “Good,” he whispers. “I wanted it to feel like that for you. I wanted to take care of you.”

“You did,” you murmur. “You do.”

He’s quiet for a second, then tilts his head to rest his cheek against your temple. “I know it was your first time,” he says slowly, “and I don’t ever want you to think I—fuck, I don’t want this to feel like it was some kind of heat-of-the-moment thing for me. Or like it didn’t mean anything.”

Your breath catches.

“I didn’t just bring you back here to fuck you,” he adds, voice quiet but firm. “I brought you back because I wanted you close. Because I’ve been wanting you for a while now, even if I’ve been too much of a coward to say it.”

You lift your head, eyes searching his.

“Zayn…”

He brushes your hair gently behind your ear, his gaze steady. “I care about you. More than I realized, maybe. And I know we’ve been tiptoeing around it, but tonight just—” He swallows. “It made me sure. I don’t want this to be a one-night thing. I want you. For real.”

Your heart thuds hard, and you blink, surprised by how fast the emotion wells in your chest. “I want you too,” you whisper. “I thought maybe I was making more of this in my head, but… I didn’t want it to be just tonight either.”

A slow, crooked smile spreads across his face, like he’s been waiting to hear that. “Good,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Because I’m not letting you go now.”

You laugh softly and curl into him again, one leg hooking over his, your arms sliding around his middle like you never want to be anywhere else.

His hand comes to rest at the small of your back, thumb sweeping in slow, comforting strokes.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmur against his chest.

“Anything.”

“Was I okay? Like… did I do okay?”

Zayn freezes for half a second, then lifts your chin gently so you’re looking at him.

“You were incredible,” he says, eyes dark with sincerity. “You were so responsive, so open. You let me see you, and feel you, and… I’ve never been with someone who made me feel like that. Don’t ever doubt it.”

You bite your lip, flustered, but his words settle deep in your chest like something solid. Something warm.

“I meant it,” he adds, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “I don’t want to sleep with anyone else. I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

You blink back sudden tears, overwhelmed and aching in the best way.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Then I’m yours.”

He pulls you in closer, burying his face in your neck, and holds you like he never wants to let go.

“Mine,” he murmurs. “Fuck, I like the sound of that.”

And the way he holds you after that—tight and tender and secure—tells you he means every word.

...

You wake to the feeling of warm fingers tracing lazy circles along your back and the low rasp of Zayn’s voice in your ear.

“Mm. Stay.”

You shift slightly, face still pressed against his chest. “What time is it?”

“Too early,” he mumbles, wrapping his arm tighter around your waist.

You smile against his skin. “We’re supposed to be at hair and makeup in twenty minutes.”

“Yeah,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “But we’re here.”

You laugh, eyes still shut. “That’s not how time works.”

Zayn hums and pulls you even closer, one of his legs slipping between yours, like he’s physically anchoring you in bed. “Five more minutes.”

You give in. Of course you do.

The five minutes turn into ten. Then fifteen. You only finally drag yourself up when your phone buzzes with a message from Lou: “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU. GET YOUR ASS HERE BEFORE I LET LOUIS DO HIS OWN FOUNDATION AGAIN.”

“Shit,” you mumble, fumbling to get out of bed. “We’re so late.”

Zayn groans, rolling onto his back with one arm draped over his eyes. “I’d rather die than go to glam right now.”

You toss one of his hoodies over your head—it smells like him, and it’s soft and worn in the best way. He watches you from the bed, eyes hooded and slow-blinking like a cat in the sun.

“You look good in that,” he murmurs, voice still sleepy. “You should keep it.”

You pause at the mirror, cheeks warming. “You saying that because you want to see me in it again, or because you’re too lazy to wash it?”

“Both.”

You huff a laugh and toss him a clean shirt from his suitcase. “Get dressed, Malik.”

...

You both slip into the makeup trailer twenty-five minutes late, trying to be casual about it—but the second you open the door, the entire room freezes.

Harry’s halfway through a pastry, Niall’s drinking coffee, Liam’s looking over his shoulder at something on Lou’s phone, and Louis is—of course—the first to break the silence.

He points dramatically. “You two had sex!"

You freeze mid-step. Zayn stops beside you, one hand still in his hoodie pocket like this is all very normal.

Harry chokes on his pastry.

Liam sighs, rubbing his forehead like he’s already tired.

Niall mutters, “Took them long enough,” and goes back to his coffee.

You stare at Louis, wide-eyed. “How do you know that?”

Louis stands from the makeup chair like he’s about to deliver a TED Talk. “Let’s examine the evidence, shall we? You’re late. You’re glowing. You’re wearing his hoodie. And Zayn hasn’t looked away from you once since walking in. I rest my case.”

You blink. “You just described coincidence.”

“Oh, please.” Louis turns to the others. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Harry just smirks and says nothing.

Liam coughs behind his hand. “She does look a bit… soft.”

“And he’s smiling,” Niall adds, like that alone is suspicious. “Zayn never smiles this early.”

Zayn finally speaks, calm and cool as ever. “You’re all deeply annoying.”

“And deeply right,” Louis fires back, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You roll your eyes and move around the boys toward the makeup counter, trying to pretend you’re not wearing Zayn’s hoodie, trying to pretend you’re not still a little wrecked from last night. “Can we focus on the actual job now, maybe?”

“Sure,” Harry says, leaning casually against the wall. “Just as soon as Zayn stops looking at you like he wants to write poetry about your mouth.”

You freeze for half a second, brush case halfway unzipped.

Behind you, Zayn hums. “Not a bad idea, actually.”

You toss a makeup sponge at him without turning around. It hits his chest and bounces off.

Lou finally speaks, tapping her fingers impatiently on her palette. “Unless someone here wants to explain to management why I was forced to airbrush Liam using my elbow, I suggest we get back to work.”

“Thank you,” you mutter, stepping beside her and grabbing one of the brushes from your kit. “Finally, someone with sense.”

“Mm,” Lou hums as she inspects a compact. “You’re glowing, by the way.”

Your head snaps toward her. “Seriously?”

She shrugs, entirely unfazed. “Hey, I’m just saying. That’s not your usual concealer routine. That’s the kind of glow that comes from… well.” She glances at Zayn. “Clearly a good night.”

Louis absolutely howls with laughter. “Lou!”

Even Liam lets out a surprised chuckle. “She’s not wrong, though.”

You groan, pressing your fingers to your forehead. “You’re all children.”

Louis gasps, clutching his chest. “She confirms it with sass! Look at her—feisty, radiant, tangled in Zayn’s hoodie like a love-drunk woodland creature.”

“I will stab you with this eyebrow pencil,” you mutter, pulling a brush from your kit.

Zayn, still seated in the chair with an air of practiced patience, lifts a brow. “Will you all leave my girlfriend alone, please?”

The room goes very still.

You blink.

Louis gasps again, somehow louder this time. “Girlfriend?” He turns to the others like he’s just witnessed a royal announcement. “Did you hear that? Girlfriend!”

“Confirmed by the man himself,” Niall says with a grin.

Harry gives Zayn a slow clap. “I honestly didn’t think you’d admit it first.”

Liam raises both hands. “I didn’t have that on my bingo card, but I’m not mad.”

Lou doesn’t even look up from her brushes. “Finally. Now maybe we can stop pretending none of us saw this coming two months ago.”

You glance at Zayn, stunned but smiling, and he just shrugs like it’s no big deal—like he hasn’t just casually dropped a title that makes your stomach flip.

“Was that okay?” he murmurs, soft enough only you can hear.

You nod, heart racing. “Yeah. More than okay.”

Louis, meanwhile, is pacing the trailer like he’s narrating a documentary. “First she was just the junior stylist. Quiet. Unassuming. Then—bam!—Zayn Malik’s girlfriend. What a plot twist. What a hero’s journey.”

“Someone sedate him,” Lou mutters.

“I’ve got a setting spray I could use like pepper spray,” you offer.

Zayn smirks. “Use it.”

You roll your eyes and turn back to work, trying not to grin too hard as you catch your reflection in the mirror.

Zayn watches you from his chair, one leg bouncing, one hand curled loosely around the edge of the counter—completely relaxed now.

And when your eyes meet again in the mirror, he winks.

[b-tangkitten]

Part two?! Wtf 😂 This is for the absolute angel @speaknowslt who requested this. I genuinely was not expecting anyone to read it let alone like it so you’ve made my day guys. This is also A LOT longer than I expected so..sorry?

MDNI

Pairings: Ashton Irwin x Reader, Calum Hood x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, Spit, Choking, Double Penetration, Unprotected Sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), Spanking, Anal, Terms such as; slut, cunt, fuck toy. I think that’s it…

Alright, let me douse myself in holy water after this filth. Enjoy!

PART ONE ENDING:

Suddenly, as if fate would have it, the door to the bathroom opens, luckily for you….it’s Calum.

PART TWO:

You gasp as Ashton delivers a particularly hard thrust once he notices his friend standing at the door. You look at Calum and his eyes are wide with shock, while also not being able to tear them away from your tits bouncing as Ashton fucks you on the bathroom counter. You smirk at Calum as he stares, knowing that this is exactly what Ashton wanted.

You’d both discussed a third in the bedroom, and Ashton knew that Calum had a thing for you. He’d notice the way Calum suddenly got nervous when you entered a room. Noticed the way he’d clam up and stumble over his words when you spoke to him. You caught on pretty quickly to Calum’s behaviour. Always taking the opportunity to make him squirm a little by flirting with him or pulling your skirt a little higher when he was around. You and Ashton were both comfortable in your relationship and jealousy was never an issue, so when Ashton saw the way you were teasing Calum, he decided to bring up the possibility of a three way. Which of course led you to this moment.

“Fuck! Sorry, the door was unlocked I didn’t think anyone was in here!” Calum quickly mumbles out as he turns to leave.

“Cal,” Ashton pants out as he’s still balls deep inside you, “She wants it dude, she wants you.”

Turns out the boys had engaged in their own discussion about the possibility of a three way…and Calum, although unsure at first, eventually agreed to it with some convincing from Ashton. He couldn’t deny how much you turned him on and although he was nervous to admit it to Ash, Ash looked almost proud that someone else wanted his girl.

You raked your nails down Ashton’s back as he brings his hand down to your clit and starts rubbing while simultaneously fucking you. “Fuck baby, you like having Cal walk in? You’re gripping me so fucking tight. Just wait til we get you back to the apartment. You’ve got no idea what you’re in for.”

You practically scream as the combined pleasure of him rubbing your clit and hitting your g spot, has you gushing over him as you cum. “God damn you’re making such a mess on daddy baby. It’s okay though, I’m about to make a mess inside that pretty pussy,” he groans as he loses control of his thrusts. He leans in to bite your neck as he fills you with his cum, moaning as he does so. After a second of heavy breathing and Ashton gripping your hips three times in code (I love you), he pulls out with a groan, quickly replacing his cock with his fingers to push all of his cum back inside. You moan as he does so, almost forgetting you had an audience.

You glance over to Calum, who’s obviously struggling as his jeans are barely containing his erection and his eyes are filled with something you can only describe as lust. “Want me to help ya there Cal?” You bat your lashes while making a show of glancing down, with a filthy smirk on your lips.

“Not happening pretty, we’re getting you back home so we can enjoy this properly. That was just a preview,” Ash says while re dressing himself. Calum breaks out of his trance to reach over and grab your halter top off the bag hook as Ashton pulls you down off the sink. He grabs the top off Cal, helps you tie it up and then pulls your skirt back down, but places your panties in his pocket. “Keep your legs clenched for me, I want you to still be dripping with me by the time we’re back home.”

The nerves suddenly hit as the door to the bathroom opens and you’re hit with the stale air of beer and sweat. Worried people will know what you’ve been doing, but most of them are either too high or drunk to care or doing the same thing themselves. You walk awkwardly as you attempt to clench and keep Ashton’s cum from dripping down your thighs. He walks beside you with his hand on your waist as Calum trails behind, failing to hide his boner in his tight jeans. You make your way outside the club and into the sprinter van Ashton had organised before the night began.

The trip home felt like hours, when in reality it was a quick 5 minute drive. But being stuck between Ashton who couldn’t keep his hands off you, and Calum, who is trying is hardest to control himself, has you squirming in your seat. The second the van pulls up in the underground car park, Calum rips the door open and basically bolts to the elevator. Yourself and Ashton follow, amused by Calum’s sudden eagerness. Calum holds the door for you both, basically shaking as he waits for you two to enter. The ride up to your floor level was thankfully quick after Ashton entered the security code. The elevator doors opened and you headed straight to your apartment door, entering another security code and practically slamming the door open and making your way to the bedroom, making a show of stripping your clothes off as you walked.

The boys trailed behind, watching your every move. The sway of your hips, the jiggle of your juicy ass with each step, your hair trailing down your back just waiting to be pulled. The more they looked, the harder they got. You climbed the stairs to the bedroom, immediately climbing on the bed and turning so you were against the headboard. You stared each of them down as they entered, slowly spreading your legs, showing off the mess Ashton had left along with your own arousal dripping down your thighs.

“You’re a filthy fuckin’ thing aren’t you?” Calum says with a growl in his voice that goes straight to your core. It seems all the teasing from the club to the apartment has him less than willing to take this slowly. He starts taking off his jacket, staring directly at your soaked pussy. Ashton climbs onto the bed, leaning in to give you a gentle kiss. Only pulling back to rest his forehead on yours, “Okay?” He asks. No matter how rough he is, or how far you two go, he never messes with your safety or happiness.

You nod, leaning in to kiss him, pouting when he pulls back, “words, pretty girl.”

“I’m okay daddy, I want this. I want you both.”

He grins, leaning in to kiss you before trailing his kisses down your neck. Making his way down to your tits, giving each one equal attention, before moving down to your thighs. He kisses you everywhere except where you really want him, you push your hips forward in attempt to get him to make contact. You yelp as you feel a slap on your pussy. Ashton stares up at you from between your thighs, “be patient or Cal and I will use both your little holes and we won’t let you cum at all tonight. Understand?”

“Fuck! Yes I’m sorry, please I just need you to do something. I’ll be good, I swear!” Desperate for Ash to do anything, you stayed as still as possible as he kissed and nipped at your thighs. You glanced up at Calum and suddenly realised just how naked he was. You dragged your eyes down his body til they landed on his cock. Thick, long with a pretty pink tip that you just couldn’t wait to wrap your lips around. You watch as he lets some spit drip down from his mouth onto the head of his cock. He spreads it over himself and starts slowly jerking himself off while watching Ashton tease you. You could feel your arousal dripping down as you were so turned on.

You’re pulled away from the sight when Ashton finally makes contact with your pussy. You moan loudly as he licks a stripe up your soaked folds, not caring about his previous load that was dripping from you, before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. You arch your back as he sucks on your clit, while slowly adding two fingers to your tight hole. He scissors his fingers apart slowly, before adding a third, ensuring you’ll be able to take him…and Calum. He pulls away briefly, still fucking his fingers into you, “you know I have to stretch you out, make sure my little fuck toy is nice and ready to take daddy’s cock, yeah?”

You nod, moaning before letting out a squeak as Ashton slaps your pussy again. “Sorry! Yes I know you have to daddy, I want to be able to take you both! I want to be so good for you.”

Calum suddenly climbs onto the bed, “you want to be good? Open up.” He’s on his knees beside you, Ashton pulls your legs so your back is against the bed, before continuing to devour your cunt. Calum props up some pillows under your head to make it easier for you, which is sweet in comparison to how he’s about to fuck your throat.

You lean forward and plant kisses along the length of his cock, before placing one on his tip. You spit on his cock and let your hand spread it over him, before slowly starting to suckle on the tip. He grabs your hair and gathers it into a makeshift ponytail with one hand before grabbing you by the throat and pulling you back to look up at him. “How’s that gag reflex baby?” You smile back up at him with a look that could make him cum right there, “I don’t have one.”

He groans, leans down and spits in your mouth before shoving his cock down your throat. You swallow down on his cock, not caring about the drool running from your mouth down your tits. He pulls back and watches the line of spit from your mouth to his cock. You wrap your hand around him and start stroking as you lean down to suck on his balls. “Fuuuuck you’ve got a filthy mouth on you,” he moans while throwing his head back. Suddenly Ashton rises, stripping his clothes off while watching you drool all over his band mate.

“Back up Cal. Turn around and hang your head off the bed baby, you’re gonna make daddy feel good with that pretty mouth while you let Calum fill you up yeah?”

You eagerly turn so your head dangles off the bed, while the rest of your body is draped over the sheets. You feel Calum trailing his hands down your body, as if he was memorising every inch. He wraps his around your neck, bringing your head up to look at him and squeezes gently. “I’ve been waiting for this, waiting to see how you feel, how you taste, how you sound. You sure you want us to do this? Cause once we do, you’re going to be completely and utterly ruined for us.”

“I want to be ruined. I want you to use me, please,” you practically gasp as you lean in to finally kiss him which he thankfully grants you. His plush lips against yours are better than you could have imagined. The faint taste of tequila and cigarettes lingers in his mouth as your tongues slide together as you sloppily makeout, but you couldn’t care less as he slowly slides his cock up and down your folds. He pushes your head back down and Ashton is ready and waiting for your mouth.

You take Ashton in your mouth immediately, loving the taste of him. He groans and grabs the side of your face while you take him as deep as you possibly can. The man is thicc with two c’s, at least 9 inches and it’s taken some training for you to get him as far down your throat as you possibly can. Doesn’t mean you try to take him further every time you get your mouth around him.

Calum uses his thumb to swipe against your clit, while teasing your hole with the tip of his cock. Eventually he starts pushing in, moaning as he does so. “You must not fuck this whore properly if she’s still this tight Ash. Fuck she’s gripping me.”

“Mate it doesn’t matter how much I fill that cunt, she’s still tight as the first time I fucked her.”

Having them speak about you like you weren’t there, while using both your holes for their own pleasure had some fucked up effect on you. You moan around Ashton’s cock while gripping on Calum’s with your pussy and they simultaneously groan from your reaction. “You like being used like a little slut, don’t you? Like being used as nothing but a hole to fill.” Ashton pulls back, giving you a chance to catch your breath but also answer him. He smacks you on the cheek as you try to catch your breath.

“I love it,” you gasp, “I want you both in my pussy, please.”

Ashton looks down at you, his eyes showing a mixture of shock and disbelief. Yeah you’d done anal before and taken a cock in each hole, who hasn’t? But two massive cocks? Both in your pussy? Ashton nearly came at the thought and immediately started making his way around the bed.

“What’s your safe word pretty?” He says while climbing to lay on the pillows at the head of the bed before beckoning you over to him.

You think for a second, deciding to forgo your usual safe word and opting for something a little more…amusing. Knowing exactly what reaction it would pull from Ashton.

“English Love Affair?” You say while straddling him. Before you can even react he swings his hand around and smacks your ass causing you to gasp and jerk forward, making your clit come in contact with the underside of his cock.

Calum chuckles, coming up behind you and pressing his chest to your back. “Personally I like it but I think it needs to be shorter.” He leaves kisses down your neck as you stare at Ashton, Calum grabs your hips and pushes you down, helping you grind against Ash. “Fine I’ll stick with the usual. Pineapples it is,” you say with a sigh as your pussy rolls against Ashton’s length.

You reach over to your nightstand and grab your lube before passing it to Calum. You focused on getting yourself relaxed so you continued to tease yourself against Ashton. Messily making out with him while he slides his hands up and down your back, causing you to shiver. He grins against your lips and slowly reaches down to grab his cock, knowing what he wants, you lift your hips and slowly sink down onto him. You feel so stretched out, so full already. You don’t know how you’re going to take Calum as well, but you were damn sure going to try.

You hear Calum pop the cap off the lube before spreading some over his fingers. He warms it before reach down to your pussy, feeling Ashton’s cock sliding in and out of you. “You good baby?”

You nod and lean back towards his fingers as an answer. He gently inserts his pointer finger first, testing to see how you react. When you moaned and pushed back more, he knew it was fine to add another. You felt so good already with Ashton’s cock massaging your g spot with every thrust and Calum’s fingers now adding to the stretch.

“I can feel it you little whore, I can feel you gripping on me. You wanna cum? Calum’s fingers in your hole along with my cock making you feel that good huh?” Ashton lets out an almost animalistic groan as he feels your pussy clench on him at his filthy words. He plants his feet on the bed and starts brutally fucking up into you. You rake your nails down his chest, loving the way he was fucking you to the point of it almost hurting and Calum fucking you with his fingers. You lift off Ashton’s cock as you squirt out all over him, Calum’s removes his fingers but quickly rubs your clit causing the pleasure to amplify and drag your orgasm out.

You sink down onto Ashton’s chest with a sigh before Calum grabs your arms, pulling them behind your back and then pulling you so your back hits his chest again. “Didn’t think you were done already did you whore? You still need to be filled up properly.” You shake your head, moaning no as he pushes you back down against Ashton’s chest. Ashton pulls back so just the tip of his cock is inside you, waiting for Calum. Suddenly you feel Calum’s cock head at the entrance of your pussy, you immediately tense and both boys feel it. Calum leaves gentle kisses along the side and back of your neck, while Ashton runs his hands down your waist, whispering sweet nothings to you as he and Calum both slowly push into you.

“So good for us baby, look at you. Taking us both at the same time. You’re a fucking vision baby,” Ashton whispers against your lips before bringing you in for a kiss. You slowly start moving your hips, becoming accustomed to the fullness of them both inside you. They took your movements as permission to start moving with you, groaning as they did so as they felt not only you dripping down their cocks with your arousal, but their cocks sliding together inside you was a feeling neither had experienced before. And neither would be able to forget.

Your movements were awkward at first as you tried to gain momentum, but eventually you all found a rhythm and were bringing yourselves closer and closer to release. You could tell Calum was getting close as his thrusts were getting sloppy and his moans were becoming louder in your ear. Ashton couldn’t help but stare up at you, entranced by the blissed out look on your face, along with your bite-swollen lips and bruised neck and tits. “Feel good? Like having both of us in our pretty little fuck toy? You gonna let us both fill you up? Hm? Have you walking around with both of our cum dripping down your legs?”

“Yes! Yes, f-fuck yes daddy. Please!” You have no time to warn the boys before you’re coming again. Gripping their cocks so tightly and creaming all over them, causing them to unexpectedly cum together at the same time. The groans from them combined with your whines had you grateful your apartment was on the top floor, because you could only imagine what your neighbours would think.

Calum shudders against your back as his thrusts slow, Ashton’s pants below you as he tries to control his breathing. They slowly pull out causing you to groan and shudder from the loss. Calum floos on the bed beside you, completely spent. You and Ashton both look down as you see all of the cum dripping from your pussy onto his now softening cock. You moan and immediately lower yourself down and start licking up the cum. “Fuck! You’re so good cleaning up your mess baby but I’m sensitive.” You lick a long stripe up the length of his cock causing him to yelp and grab your hair, pulling you up to his mouth with a laugh, “Cheeky shit, still haven’t learn to behave, hmm?” Tapping you on the cheek before leaning in to kiss you, seemingly not bothered that you had not only his cum in your mouth but his band mates too.

You’re reminded of said band mate when you suddenly hear a snore from beside you. You and Ashton look over and see that Calum has already passed out, completely naked, right arm over his eyes, dead to the world. You laugh at the sight and move yourself off Ashton and next to Calum. Ashton quickly makes his way to the bathroom to grab a wash cloth to clean you up. As he does so he whispers to you about how well you did, how good you felt. He left gentle kisses on any bruises that were left, before tucking you into his arms under the blanket and kissing your forehead.

“Thank you for trusting me. I love you so much,” he whispers into your hair.

You lean up and kiss him before whispering back, “I’d trust you with my life, you never fail to keep me safe. I love you too.”

You both shared a few more sweet kisses before eventually succumbing to sleep with Calum cuddled up next to you.

[demilukeh]

Hehe can you write a smutty calum hood talking you through it imagine…..

.𖥔 ݁ ˖BABYDOLL.𖥔 ݁ ˖

︵Calum Hood x afab!reader◌Ⳋ𝅄── by DemiLuke

#|Fanfic #|Smut #|Friends to lovers #|BFM

Summary: You and Calum were close friends, you used to visit him at his house often to "talk about music," but this time you did something very different.

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, rpf, Calum dom, fingering, cock riding, unprotected p in v.

A/N: I don't know if it's very similar to the request, but I hope you like it anyway. Sorry it took so long, my brain works at 4fps.

Word count: 1.5k

────୨ৎ────

You two were sitting on the sofa in Calum's living room, as you did every Friday when he went to record or practice his songs. Sometimes you ended up doing completely different things. There was a certain level of trust between you, enough to wander through conversations and how you used your time. Sometimes you would start cooking dinner when you stayed overnight at his house, or you would start watching TV because you ended up talking about a really good series that, according to him, you should also watch.

Sometimes you did everything but argue about music, but that was fine because at the end of the day you both felt satisfied, even though they had wasted time together. But this time was different...

That day you arrived at his house and found him in his living room, lying on his sofa. The living room lights were off; only the natural daylight was coming in. For a moment you even thought Calum wasn't home until you approached and recognized his figure among the rumpled sheets above him, taking a nap shirtless and hugging a pillow.

You couldn't deny it, being in his house and seeing him like that made you feel some intimacy between the two of you, maybe because there was some.

You sat down next to him and waited a while; sleepiness was starting to affect you too, it was contagious perhaps, and you would have ended up lying down next to him if he hadn't woken up first.

"What are you doing here, babe?" His voice still sounded husky as he sat up, running a hand over his face, but you could tell he was familiar with the situation.

"I-" The words wouldn't come out. Calum was making you nervous. Of course there was tension between the two of you, even if you wouldn't admit it. This was like throwing gunpowder on a fire that was already burning. "I came because... well, today is Friday." You had already lost sight of the original purpose of the visits; you only did it to see Calum, and he always invited you to see him, simple.

"Seriously...? Damn, I didn't realize what time it was, forgive me, beautiful." He stretched, still sitting, and ran a hand over the back of his neck. He wasn't as affected as you, but he knew exactly what he was doing. "Don't you want to come over for a while? I think it would be a good way to spend the day." He joked, but you seriously considered it.

His relaxed expression was replaced by one of understanding, he didn't mind you "invading" his personal space. Calum never said it, but he wanted you close most of the time.

You were stiff on the edge of the sofa next to his outstretched legs. He took you in both hands and pulled you closer to him, saying nothing; it wasn't necessary for now. He hugged you from behind; he was still warm from being wrapped up for so long. His skin gave you a feeling of tranquility you couldn't explain.

"Sorry... I... I don't think this is a good idea, Calum. First of all, I shouldn't have barged in like I owned the place." Only then did you start using your brain instead of your heart. "And... and don't you think it's weird that, being best friends, you call me 'love', 'darling', "babe'..." Your heartbeat was accelerating, yet Calum didn't move a muscle to let you go.

"If you don't like it, I'll stop." His tone was a little lower, his arms still gently embracing your neck. "But you know it's not just me."

Calum's face drew closer, pressing between your neck and shoulder. His movements weren't meant to be intrusive; they were gentle and comforting, a way of calming you down.

"Tell me the truth, don't you want it too?" Calum's voice was a whisper; part of him didn't want to say it, but on the other hand, he was tired of pretending they were just good friends so he could be with you. Now he had you in his arms and didn't want to let you go.

You tried to think about what was best at that moment, but Calum's hands caressing your arms wouldn't let you do it properly.

Cal positioned you between his legs, and you ended up lying against his chest. "Calum?" One of his arms was still around your neck, muffling your words against his skin.

His other hand slid down to lift your shirt to your collarbone. A blush crept across your face, but you didn't stop him. Soon you felt the liberating sensation of your bra unhooking. Calum removed it and set it aside.

"It's okay if I...?" His hand touched your soft skin, he didn't hold back but you could feel the slight tremor of his fingers as he grabbed one of your boobs.

"Yeah" His warm touch on your skin was intoxicating, but he didn't stop there.

"Then I'm going to slide my hand... and open you up a little." Just as he said, his hand went down to your pants, unbuttoned them, and put his hand all the way down. You felt his fingers warm your pussy; he was right on a sensitive spot, and he didn't hold back from putting three fingers inside you. The movement slowed down as he went deeper.

Your rapid breathing turned into gasps; you definitely hated—in a good way—the way his fingers withdrew from you, making you tremble. Every shred of composure or self-control was killed by the hickeys he left on your neck; his lips sucked as if trying to trap the warmth of your skin, leaving a trail of saliva when he finished.

Calum was entertained watching you twitch on top of him, but his mind was elsewhere, he wanted a piece of the pie too. "Is it too much to ask you to ride me? I know you're a little... 'weak' right now." His tone softened. "But I want to put it inside you and see you give it your all. Can you, babydoll?"

Your breathing was shallow as he withdrew his fingers again; you had heard what he had said, you just needed to catch your breath. Calum loosened his arm around your neck, didn't want to overwhelm you, so he let you relax for a second. Also he carefully readjusted your shirt and finished removing your pants so they wouldn't get in the way.

After a while, as their breathing tried to stabilize, you turned around to look at him. His cheeks were slightly flushed from the heat, a thin layer of sweat covered his entire body, and his eyes were fixed on you. There was no way you wouldn't want to continue, not when he looked so good.

"Kiss me"

"Wha-" Calum was still catching his breath; he hadn't expected your request so soon.

"Kiss me, now."

When you approached him to do what you asked, he didn't refuse, rather, he drew you closer. His left hand, placed on your cheek, slightly ruffled the hair that fell across your face, while his other hand caressed your thigh.

Your breath mingled with his as he moistened your face with each kiss, it was hot, but that wasn't enough, you needed more, especially when it came to Calum.

You heard his moan the moment he lifted you by the hips to mount his cock; he wasn't very careful, his thoughts were somewhat clouded at that moment. When you felt him enter you, a wave of heat washed over you. Cal's hands only gripped you, pulling you down further. You let yourself fall onto his sweaty chest, you needed it 'case u couldn't stay upright as he quickened his pace, lifting you up and then thrusting back in. It was hard for him to go fast because you were somewhat tight, but even so, it wasn't gentle at all.

"What happened, princess? Did you get tired so quickly?" Calum said, pressing his lips to your ear, you could feel his warm breath against your skin. His tone was a mixture of that usual familiarity and a romantic tenderness.

"I'm fine." Lie. You were melting on top of him, he hadn't even tried to stop when he was talking to you, which only made it harder to think of a response.

"No, you're not." He didn't just laugh a little, he planted a kiss on your cheek, almost an apology for what he was about to do.

Cal pressed your hips down, you could hear his breathing become ragged and turn into gasps, he wasn't holding back, he thrust his cock all the way in to fill you up, when he pulled it out again his movements became slower, not by choice but because he felt you trembling and scratching his skin, his cum had left you sticky, the sensation had you numb. You were looking for something to hold on to, but you couldn't quite grab onto his back, so they only ended up being harmless scratches for Calum.

The room filled with the sound of your screams and Calum's moans muffled by your hair. Who the fuck needed to talk about music when you could do something so much better?

[spilledrapture]

Hii I was wondering if you could write something about making out with Calum on the tour bus while the boys are out? Maybe somebody walks in and catches us trying to be sneaky? I hope this makes sense 😭

TOUR BUS ★ CALUM HOOD

★ absolutely yes!!! love the request!!! i adore writing for calum 😭 he’s my baby boy

★ word count: 719

★ look at me posting twice in one day! i feel accomplished 😼✨

calum finds you in the hallway, stopping right in front of you. you look up, and smile at him. “what’s going on, cal?” you ask, and he looks around the hall, before leaning in close. “the boys are busy, we have some time to spend.” he whispers, and you smile instantly.

“sweet, let’s go.” you say, and he nods, walking down the hallway. you follow him as he walks, and you guys end up outside. “you’re taking me all the way to the tour bus?” you ask, groaning, and he waves an arm at you.

“it’s way less likely for them to catch us out here.” he says, you nod. calum and you had started dating pretty recently, and hadn’t told the boys yet. it wasn’t on purpose, it just hadn’t come up. it’s been fun sneaking around them.

he opens the door, motioning you inside. you climb in, and stand in the middle as calum follows after you. “plus i dunno, making out in here sounds like it could be fun.” he says, walking over to you, his hands find your hips, pulling you into him.

you bump into his chest, hands falling there to catch yourself. “so you brought me here to make out with me?” you ask, smirking at him. you slowly run your hand up his chest, fingers caressing up his neck.

“i hate to break it to you, that is the reason.” one of his hands slides around to your back, pressing you into him. “i don’t think you mind very much.” he whispers, you shake your head. “no, i don’t think i mind.”

you gently push calum’s chest, sending him back onto the couch, you shift ontop of him. your arms go around his neck. his hands come behind you, holding your thighs. you press your lips onto his.

when you and calum are alone, he gives you gentle, warm kisses. showing you how much he cares about you without saying a word.

but in the off chances calum and you find together when you’re busy, he’s kissing you needy and hungrily.

his lips are pressing against yours, tongue immediately sliding its way into your mouth. you whine into his mouth, running a hand into his hair. calum bits at your lip, and you let out a breath.

“cal..” you whisper, tugging on his hair gently. his lips move to your jaw briefly, leaving a few kisses. his lips come crashing back onto yours. his lips moving against yours, tongue dancing around yours, teeth gently knocking.

his hands slide up your legs, cupping your ass. he pulls you closer into him, brushing briefly against him, causing the both of you to let out a moan. his lips find your neck, sucking into the flesh.

you bite down onto your lip, holding in another moan. “cal..” you whisper, and he moves away from your neck, kissing your lips again.

he takes his time this time, kissing you gently, savoring the taste. his hands gently squeezing you. his tongue gently grazing your lip. your hands move to his neck, holding cupping his jaw gently.

you hear something drop onto the floor, and you immediately pull away from calum. the both of you turn your heads, seeing luke standing a few feet away.

his mouth is wide open, and his eyes are wide. you look back at calum, and realize you’re still ontop of him. you quickly crawl off, sitting next to him on the couch.

“well, no wonder i couldn’t find you guys..” he laughs, still shocked. he looks at calum, and then back at you. “how long?” he asks, and you and calum look at each other.

“four months?” you say, and calum nods. “give or take.” he adds. luke looks baffled. “right under our noses? how often do you guys sneak off when we’re around?” he exclaims. you and calum exchange a look.

“god! don’t even answer that. the boys are looking for you guys. come on!” he says, turning to exit the bus. “no funny business before the show dude, save it for after!” he yells out, as he exits.

you and calum share a laugh, before standing up. “i guess we’ll pick back up on that later. and maybe tell the others.” calum says, and you nod. “definitely, should do that.”

[michaelswldflwr]

QUADRUPLE DOG DARE

in which. . .the boys of 5 seconds of summer help you achieve a new first

warnings: smut, poly!sos x reader (don't like, don't read), dom!ash/cal, switch!luke, sub!michael, switch!reader, oral (f and m), mentions of kink, dirty talk, m/m sex and m/f sex, brat!luke, degradation, ass slapping, marking, hand job, edging, double penetration, orgasm denial, making out, male masturbation, cum eating, fluffy aftercare, set in CALM era, lowercase intended, this is genuinely just 3k words of straight smut -> beta read by @catsdisconnected :)

minors dni. this is an 18+ blog.

word count: 3,343

“you’ve actually never had a threesome, y/n?” calum asked you. “no offense, but you’re kinda a whore.” he laughed. 

“shut up,” you said, throwing a pillow towards him. “some of us aren’t kinky freaks.”.

“i mean, he didn’t lie.” luke shrugged. 

you chuckled, kissing luke’s cheek. luke was definitely your closest thing to a “partner”, but there was definitely some erotic tension within the band. you’d shared makeouts with them all, and sometimes two of  the boys, but you hadn’t done anything further than that with anyone besides luke. 

“who here thinks y/n should have a threesome or moresome?” michael asked, ever the kinky one. 

the band was currently over at ashton’s house, trading song ideas and lyrics for the upcoming album, CALM. somehow, probably because of the talk over wildflower, the topic of conversation had changed from the album to sex and kinks. you didn’t mind, if anything, you rather enjoyed it. you’d been in the kink scene in your local community and online for a while, and the talk of having a hookup with more than one person excited you. 

“oh, i absolutely do,” ashton said finally, gnawing on his lip. “she needs it.”.

“says who?” you asked. “you?”.

luke snorted. “you know ashton loves to be in control. . .on stage and in the bedroom.”.

“i dunno, luke. you weren’t saying that after the youngblood release party,” calum scooted closer to the blond. “i definitely wrote ‘i love the way you’re screaming my name’ about that.”.

luke flushed, burying his face in your side. you knew he hooked up with the other guys every now and then, and for some reason, the thought turned you on more than it annoyed you. the blond was more often your dom than your sub, and the idea of him submitting to someone else was a very pretty image. 

“fine,” you said, cutting right to the chase. “i’ll do it. but you guys have to help.” you smirked, watching as their faces dropped. 

“are you actually serious right now?” michael asked, his dick hardening at the scene that was practically dangling in front of his face like luring a dog in with a delicious treat. 

“i am,” you nodded solemnly. “what? you guys are hot. just because you’re my bandmates doesn’t mean i can’t say that.”.

michael moaned, half joking half serious, laying himself on top of you and luke, placed perfectly so that you could both feel his raging hard-on. “that’s so fuckin’ hot.”.

“you’re a slut, michael.” calum groaned, before leaning in to softly suckle on michael’s pale, milky neck while using his right hand to slowly palm luke’s lap. 

the scene in front of you was already making your pussy throb with excitement and you crossed your legs, watching it unfold. before you knew it, ashton had come to sit beside you on his large, L-shaped couch. 

“not participating in the fun, sweetheart?” he asked you. “this is about you, y’know.” he hummed in your ear, voice husky. 

“oh,” you moaned softly as ashton ran his hand up and down your thigh. “um. . .”.

michael and luke looked at you when they heard you moan. being a bit more submissive than ashton and calum, they were eager to please you. luke pulled slightly away from calum, just enough to run his tongue across your jawline and lips, slowly inserting into your mouth and beginning to make out with you. by this point, all five of you were touching each other somehow; the whole scene was definitely leading to something more, hence why ashton stood up suddenly, hands on hips. 

“luke, michael, y/n. bedroom, now. we’ll be with you in a minute.” he said, nodding towards calum and asserting his “dominant” voice that you’d heard stories about. 

michael immediately scampered off, eager to have someone dom him and take control, but you and luke hung back a bit, eyeing each other. 

“are you two deaf?” calum asked. “go.”.

“what if i wanna dom?” luke asked as he licked his lips, ever the brat. 

“gee, luke,” ash hummed nonchalantly. “i wouldn’t want to have to punish you in front of y/n, now would i?”.

luke blushed a bright pink, looking over at you. “i promise i’m a switch.”.

“yeah, like twenty percent of the time,” calum snorted, teasing him. “now go.”.

you both looked at each other and giggled a bit. you took the blond’s hand and led him to ashton’s large primary bedroom. your face was already flushed and your sex was throbbing at the thought of watching luke get punished by either ashton or calum or both. michael had already propped himself up with a few silken pillows, completely naked and panting heavily as he tried to refrain from touching himself. 

“you really are a pro at being a whore, aren’t you?” you asked him. 

michael nodded his head, whining softly. “mmmmm, luke.” he moaned. 

luke laid down on the bed, patting the spot next to him for you to sit down. “awww, you want me to fuck you and have y/n watch? wanna get humiliated in front of the hot girl?” he asked, trailing his fingers up and down michael’s bare thighs. 

the green eyed-boy nodded, looking up at luke through his lashes. “uh huh.”.

you blushed, kissing luke’s neck. “go on. do it. humiliate him.” you smirked. 

luke turned towards you, pausing his seducing of mike. “you need to be a good girl first. strip.” he commanded.

you bowed your head and slowly pulled off your shirt, making sure luke and michael were watching. after you had tugged your shirt off, you turned your back so that luke could unclasp your bra. once he had done so, luke tugged off his own clothes, eyeing both you and michael in a seductive way.

“help please?” you asked him in a sultry voice, fluttering your lashes. 

luke smirked, landing a smack to your ass before undoing your bra and tossing it onto michael. “good fuckin’ girl.”.

you blushed and then slid your pants off, doing the same thing with your underwear. within just a few seconds, both your panties and your bra were draped across michael. the whole scene was like something out of a pornographic film, and you knew that ashton and calum would definitely be mad, but that wasn’t stopping the three of you. 

“kneel, baby.” luke said, denying michael of any attention that he was so desperately whining and moaning for. 

you immediately did as luke asked, blushing. “yes, sir.”.

luke eyed you up and down one time before smirking. “good girl. now watch.”.

he turned to michael and began to palm his dick, leaving hickeys across the boy’s pale tummy. you couldn’t help but to feel turned on by the scene, your stomach tightening as you watched luke’s fingers and large yet delicate hands work michael’s dick. michael began to moan, throwing his head back and wiggling against the sheets. 

“i know you can do it.” luke told michael as he pumped him harder.

you were practically ready to cum yourself as you watched michael grip handfuls of the sheets in his hands as he tried so desperately not to release. luke wasn’t showing the green eyed boy any mercy and it was hot. 

“oh god, luke.” he whimpered. 

“ah ah, be good for your guest.” luke told him. 

michael whined, wriggling and thrusting his hips. you crossed your legs and bit your lips, knowing you would be next for luke if you didn’t listen. even if he was a switch, luke always pushed you as a dom, but you loved it. finally, luke decided he’d had enough of torturing michael. he gave him one last thrust of the hand before speaking. 

“go ahead, honey. show y/n how pretty you are when you cum.” luke taunted, running his pointer finger down michael’s tear-stained cheek. 

he didn’t need to be told twice; michael immediately let go, covering his tummy and thighs, as well as luke’s chest in thick, white, ropes of cum. the boy panted as he rode out his high, grasping onto luke’s forearms. 

“huh huh…” he panted. “thank you.” he moaned tiredly, smiling up at luke with a sleepy, fucked out smile. 

“you’re welcome. good boy.” luke cooed, kissing his forehead. 

when you heard luke talk like that, you immediately let out a moan, crawling across the mountain of sheets towards him. “need you.” you whimpered. 

“did I tell you you could move?” luke asked, raising a brow. 

you shook your head, looking down at the bed. “no, ‘m sorry.”.

luke lifted your chin in his hand, glaring down at you. “you will ask me for permission in the future.”.

you nodded, a blush speckling your cheeks. “i understand.”.

“i think you need a little punishment, babydoll.” luke said, as he bent to reach into ashton’s nightstand. 

despite this not being his house, there had been many hookups in this room, and luke knew exactly where ashton kept his condoms. he retrieved one from the drawer, pulling it out of the wrapper and rolling it onto michael’s still-erect cock. the blond nodded between you two before sitting back and crossing his arms. 

“well, since you two wanted to be so naughty, go for it. i’ll join in when i feel like it.” luke said with a sneer. 

you and michael looked at each other, before the boy eventually bounded across the king-sized bed to you. 

“you’re so pretty, y/n.” he whispered, dipping his head. 

“on top.” you commanded michael, knowing that would leave a way for luke to join in, which you so desperately wanted. 

he slowly did as you asked, sliding himself between your wet folds and jerking back instantly, in an almost teasing way. “is this okay?”.

“it’s perfect.” you panted out, so beyond horny. 

suddenly, michael slammed into you in a way that you didn’t know he was capable of. he began to ride you, moaning loudly and throwing his head back. you quickly joined in, the tightness of your pussy and the way michael looked so pretty looking down at you making you so much more sensitive than usual. 

before long, you were already near orgasm. his hips continued to grind into yours, the sound of his balls hitting your ass echoing around the room. you wondered what ashton and calum were doing that they hadn’t heard what was going on, but right now, you didn’t care. 

“oh,” you whimpered. “oh, mike. gonna cum.”.

“not yet,” luke said out of the blue, straddling michael’s hips from behind. “you’re not cumming until i say so. both of you.”

the blond immediately slammed into michael’s pretty, pink hole with no lube or condom, making the boy cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. the scene was vulgar. michael was topping you, panting heavily as luke edged him, all three of you letting out sensual, seductive moans, whimpers, and pants. 

“gonna cum.” you and michael cried at nearly the same time. 

luke was also nearing his climax, but he was much more skilled at holding his in and being edged than you two were. 

“go ahead, y/n. cum for…” michael’s sentence was interrupted by the door flying open. 

“what is this?” calum asked, surveying the scene. 

luke immediately pulled out of michael and kneeled, looking down at the bed. “sorry…” he whispered. 

michael did the same, quickly covering himself with the sheets and hiding his face in a throw pillow. you straightened up, trying oh-so-desperately to clench your legs. the way the boys had interrupted you three was perhaps the cruelest form of edging there was. 

“save it, luke. you know what happens to naughty boys.” ashton sneered, sitting down on the bed and giving luke’s blond curls a slight tug. 

luke whined, his head becoming fuzzy as he slipped into subspace. michael was already in his headspace, but the way calum, who was his regular dom, was looking at him made him sink further and further in.

“i think luke and michael need to watch,” ash stated. “i know they’re the ones that started it. they’re just little sluts, right, boys?”.

luke nodded his head slowly, blushing. “yes, sir.”.

michael didn’t speak, but nodded his head, giggling softly.

“good job,” ash patted each of their knees, before roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you closer to him. “as for you. . .”

he began to make out with you passionately, pinning you to the bed as calum stroked your inner thighs, exciting your nerves. you had never gone further than a drunken makeout with either of the boys, but you were so horny and so close to cumming at the current moment that they were absolutely turning you on. 

“look at her,” calum said, placing kisses on your thighs. “so desperate for cock.”.

you moaned into ashton's kisses, tugging on calum’s curls. the entire scene was beyond hot. all five of you were spread out across ashton’s large bed. luke and michael were sitting at the foot of it, completely naked and trying not to touch themselves as they watched the doms make out with you. calum was caressing your thighs with both his hands and his lips, kissing along your slit ever so teasingly. 

ashton had your arms pinned to the bed and was heatedly making out with you, every so often tugging on your hair. “you want me, baby? want my cock inside your pretty little pussy?”.

you whimpered and nodded, tensing and clenching your legs as calum hit a particularly sensitive spot. “oh…”.

“i’ll save the best for last. let cal have his fun. you two,” he nodded over at luke and michael. “get cleaned up and in pajamas. you’re going to bed without getting off, sweets. that’s what happens when you get the princess in trouble.” ashton’s tone was firm, but he did press a kiss to luke and michael’s forehead as they trudged into the bathroom. 

ashton leaned back against the headboard and pulled his shirt off, smirking to himself as he watched calum’s tongue edge closer and closer to your opening. the raven-haired boy crouched fully and slowly began to run his tongue along your folds, licking over your clit. 

if there was one thing calum was famous for in the bedroom, it was not giving a warning. he began to eat you out without a word, tongue thrusting in and out of your hole and going over your clit. you locked your legs around his head, crying out. 

“cal. feels so good.” you nearly hollered. 

he smirked, lifting his head up so he could speak. “need to cum already, princess?”.

you nodded your head, gripping the sheets and throwing your head back as deep, throaty moans elicited from your mouth. 

“not a chance.” he smirked, landing a smack to your ass as he ate you out faster and harder. 

by this point, tears were practically streaking down your cheeks. the lingering feeling of being edged earlier, combined with how good calum’s tongue felt against your sensitive nerves was pushing you over the edge. 

“please, need to cum.” you cried. 

“i know you can hold it, baby girl.” he moaned, the vibrations just feeding the feeling even more. 

you shoved your face into your hand as you cried, bucking your hips up. calum was just making you feel so, so good that your brain was overloaded. “please.”.

eventually, calum decided he’d had his fun with you. you’d been such a good girl, and for that, you deserved to cum. “go ahead, baby. cum all over my face.” he hummed. 

you immediately did as told, thrusting closer to him as you let go, your arousal coating his face. calum lifted his head up and smirked, wiping the liquid from his eyes. “good fuckin’ girl. she’s a good one, ash.” he said to his bandmate as he pulled off his shirt. 

you blushed, dipping your head as you caught your breath. “thank you.”.

ashton smirked, practically ripping off his pants after seeing what a good sub you were. “i want you to watch while i have my fun, cal. enjoy yourself.” he chuckled. 

although calum was also a dom, ashton had fallen into the role of lead dom for this particular scene. the brown-eyed boy removed his clothes when ashton spoke, ready to get off on the image unfolding before his eyes. 

the honey blond removed his pants fully before towering over your exhausted frame on his knees. you blushed as you eyed him up and down, staying a minute on his dick. he was much bigger than luke and michael and as you glanced over, bigger than calum as well. 

“suck.” ashton demanded. 

you moved yourself to your knees, kneeling before ashton and fluttering your lashes up at him. “okay.” you smiled shyly. 

you put his tip in your mouth, running your tongue over the head. slowly, you took more and more of ashton’s cock into your mouth. you were bobbing your head and sucking him off rhythmically, giving him quite good head. eventually, you reached the back of your throat and tried not to gag. the last bit of ashton’s nine inch dick that you couldn’t fit in your mouth, you began to pump with your right hand. 

“good girl.” ashton moaned, throwing his head back. 

you began to bob your head faster and harder, matching the erotic noises coming from calum’s mouth beside you as he got himself off. by this point, michael and luke had returned from the bathroom where they had cleaned themselves up and were watching the current threesome with wide eyes. they were so used to being dommed by ashton and calum that although they weren’t getting fucked themselves, watching them fuck you was a treat in itself. 

“oh baby, makin’ me feel so good.” ash said, tugging on your hair and wiggling his hips.

you looked up at him and tried to smile, giving him one last suck as you felt his dick twitch, indicating his need to cum. 

“gonna cum, baby.” he panted. 

ashton pulled your hair tightly one more time before releasing, all of his cum shooting down your throat. you pulled off his dick, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and smiling. you were absolutely exhausted and the feeling of ashton’s cum coating your throat was making you feel beyond good. 

“thank you.” you whispered. 

“you’re such a good girl.” ashton cooed, kissing your forehead. 

just as he said that, calum reached his own climax and came in his hand, moaning loudly. he smirked as he realized the other four of you had just watched him get off and based on the lustful looks in all of your eyes, you had enjoyed it. 

“that’s so hot…” luke whispered, blue eyes wide. 

ashton pulled a pack of baby wipes out of his nightstand and pulled a few out before passing the pack to luke. “help with aftercare, sweet boy.”

the blond began to wipe down calum’s chest and hand, leaving kisses along his tanned body as michael wrapped him in a cuddle. ashton did the same for you, wiping down your mouth and chest, making sure to praise you and leave kisses all over your body. he quickly wiped himself down before laying down and pulling you into his chest. 

you two scooted over to where michael, luke, and calum were laying. “band cuddle,” you giggled sleepily. “thank you guys. for helping me have my first group hookup.” you chuckled. 

“we should get y/n’s moans sampled into a song,” luke suggested. “that would sell so many fuckin’ records.”.

you giggled quietly, leaning over and planting a kiss on his cheek. “i love you guys. all of you.”.

you got a chorus of “i love you, y/n’s” back, which made you feel so warm inside. you and this band had had nothing but love for each other for the past nine years. now, you were finally getting to show it in more ways than one, and you couldn’t be happier. 

[sunshine-daisies-library]

starry eyed lies | ashton irwin x pop star!reader

author's note: had been cooking this one for a while, might be really sloppy bc i had zero time to work on it lol

summary: as a publicity stunt to boost the popularity of five seconds of summer, ashton is forced to fake date you, a rising pop star that has stolen the hearts of listeners around the world.

warnings: fighting, social media, cyber-bullying?, swearing, mentions of weed, fake dating trope, Ashton is labeled a "bad boy" lol, angst

word count: 11.0k

It was supposed to be a simple “fix-all.” Following the tour for Sounds Good Feels Good, the boys were running on a high. Their names were known all over the world, and they were loved by all girls for not only their music but their looks, too. But with a running high, things must come to an end, as the boys began to falter on their positive fame streak. From negative articles to drama tabloids being released about them, the boys were torn apart by critics and haters alike for their rock star-bad boy attitude. Wherever they made a mistake -one drink too many or ending up in another drama with other celebrities- the press was right there to pick them and prod them where it hurt. The boys’ hands were tied, and it looked like it was the end for their band as they knew it. 

“I’m really at a loss here,” their publicity manager sighed, holding a news article in her hand. On the headlines it stated “Aussie Punk Rock Boys Strike Again: Another Party Gone Wrong.” Depicted in the photo were Luke and Ashton’s headshots taken by the L.A.P.D. It was yet another public disturbance report with additional fines allotted because they were under the influence. On top of that, Luke was still underage and not allowed to drink. 

“I mean, really,” she pressed, tossing the paper onto the coffee table. “Another disturbance report? I thought I told you guys to cut down on parties and alcohol. What were you thinking?”

And to be completely honest, they weren’t thinking. With press on their backs and paparazzi following them everywhere they went, the boys felt completely constricted. Stress was building up in their systems and they lacked an older figure -someone more knowledgeable in the music industry- to guide them through their early onset of fame. One mistake after the other just egged each other on, leaving them feeling hopeless and self-destructive. It got to a point where Ashton considered doing one last big stunt to end his career entirely. At least then he’d finally get to go back home and away from the drama. 

But he couldn’t do that to his boys. His best friends he more so considered brothers had dreamed of moving to L.A. and making music for everyone to hear. Hell, it was his dream, too. He couldn’t possibly throw all of that away for his own selfish desires. Ashton still had to admit that he was getting tired of constantly being under the spotlight with little reward from it. 

“I’m sorry Manuela,” Luke said, hanging his head low. “It won’t happen again, I promise.” 

“I hope I can count on you guys when you say that,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Because there’s only so much I can do on my end to get you guys out of the hole you put yourselves into.” 

Michael leaned over his knees, determined to make things right. “Tell us what we can do,” Michael insisted. “We can clean ourselves up, we swear. We promised to take this break as a time to fix ourselves and really focus on our music.” 

“See, that’s the thing,” Manuela pointed out. “Taking a break is the perfect opportunity to get out of the spotlight and focus on bettering yourselves. But, completely escaping the press and media will make you guys fade out of the music industry. So we have to find an even balance between the two.”

“How?” Calum asked curiously. A frown rested on his tired face. Anyone could tell the bad press was getting to him. It was getting to all of them. “Everyone practically hates us.” 

Manuela grabbed the remote from the table and turned on the TV, connected to her computer. “That’s where we come in,” she started, sharing her screen to the boys. “What we need is a fresh face that’s receiving positive feedback to get you guys on everyone’s good side again.” She flicked through meaningless graphs and percentages of social media engagement and views on YouTube for their tour diaries and music videos. Ashton winced at the downward trend for each graph. “My team’s first option was One Direction. But considering the break they decided to go on, it’s obviously not a viable choice anymore.” 

“So who do you have in mind?” Ashton spoke up, flicking his hand up to ask his question. 

Their publicity manager clicked the remote to change slides. On the screen was a beautiful girl, smiling at the paparazzi. You looked shy, definitely new to the L.A. music scene but confident nonetheless. 

“Woah, y/n l/n?” Michael awed. “I’ve listened to her music before. She’s sick.” 

“And also America’s new pop princess,” Manuela informed them. “After touring with Taylor Swift as her opening act for the 1989 tour, she’s gained considerable popularity. She’s just moved to L.A. and records at the studio a couple blocks down. She’s new to the industry, but she’s promising.” Manuela switched  off the TV and turned to the boys. “And she’s probably your only option.” 

“Hold on,” Ashton said. He was struggling to wrap his head around this. “What do you want us to do with her? Record a song with her? Not to be rude or anything, but her music genre doesn’t mix well with our type of stuff, and I don’t feel like writing lovey-dovey shit.” 

Manuela chuckled at his immediate disgust at the idea. “No, we weren’t thinking that,” she reassured him. “For now, at least. What we need is a good influence in your lives for the public to see. Someone like y/n.” 

“So what now?” Ashton raised an eyebrow. “We just knock on her door and become best friends?” 

“Ash,” Calum scolded him, smacking his knee. “Be nice. y/n and I are mutuals on social media and she’s had nothing but nice things to say about us.” 

Manuela snapped her fingers. “Exactly,” she agreed. “Calum and Michael are already acquainted with her. We need a bigger step to bring you guys into the limelight.” The older woman turned to Ashton, ironically the one member that was most against this whole ploy. “We need you to date y/n.” 

The four boys let out shouts of differing emotions. Michael was shocked, Calum was confused, Luke was jealous, and Ashton was no doubt opposed. 

“Why him!” Luke whined. “He doesn’t want to do it, let me! I’ll gladly date her.” 

Manuela shook her head, adamant on her decision. “It’s gotta be Ashton, I’m afraid,” she said. “His “bad boy” persona is the most detrimental to your overall image. He’s got to be the one. Not to mention, y/n requested him specifically.” 

“Oh great,” Ashton groaned, voice dripping in sarcasm. “The plan is to sell me off as some pop star’s boy toy? How come she’s in on it and I have no choice?” 

“That’s not the plan,” Manuela told him firmly. “It was created in agreement between her team and yours. She needs all the publicity she can get to boost her fame and, well, you guys are aware of your own situation. It’s all for show, Ashton. All we ask is a few dates in public and even a kiss or two for the press.”

Michael snickered. “He won’t have a problem with that,” he muttered under his breath. 

“But,” Manuela cut the boy off. “We’re not asking you to marry her. It’s just a few months and then an amicable split. She’s going on tour at the end of the year, and you boys are going on your writing retreat. By then, both of you will be able to part ways and your relationship will be a thing of the past. She gets the publicity, your reputation gets fixed. It’s a win-win situation.” 

“Not for me,” Ashton fought back. He wanted nothing to do with this. Hell, he didn’t want anything to do with the band anymore. Each night, he plotted excessive plans to escape his prison called L.A. and fly back to Sydney to be with his family. He was sick of the lights, the glamor, the fame. 

He glanced back at his friends. His heart clenched at the dark bags under Calum’s eyes, and Michael’s uncharacteristically extra pale complexion from the lack of sleep. Anxiety had riddled the entire band, and it was clear on Luke’s hands where he had been picking at his fingertips. They were a wreck, and Manuela made it seem like he was their last hope. If he said no, they could pack up their things and go home. He’d get what he wanted all along. But Ashton couldn’t let go of the sparkling looks in their eyes when they received word from One Direction that they wanted them to open up for their concerts. He saw hope in their futures, saw something bigger in store for them. In some way, Ashton could still see that innocence in their eyes, blocked slightly by their stress and nerves. He was their last chance to bring that optimism back. 

“I’ll do it,” he gave in. The boys let out whoops of joy, tackling Ashton into a hug. Ashton was frustrated beyond belief, but he faked a smile just to see his boys get their spark back. 

–

Ashton was immediately regretting his decision the moment he stepped foot into the restaurant. The restaurant was too expensive for his taste, the kind of eatery that sold mediocre food primarily for you to post on social media for your “friends” to envy you. If this place was your idea as Manuela mentioned, it was only a mere insight of your personality. And without even meeting you yet, Ashton was beginning to loathe you. 

The musician checked his watch again, keeping his head down and away from any prying eyes. You were ten minutes late, and if you kept this up, Ashton predicted you wouldn’t even show up. Ashton swore under his breath, growing more and more annoyed by you. He never should have agreed to this plan. 

Suddenly, you came bursting through the door. Your eyes peered around the store before finding Ashton’s, immediately heading to the table he had saved. Ashton fought the urge to roll his eyes at your lack of sunglasses or hoodie. It was like you were begging for attention. Which, now he thought, you probably were. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you apologized profusely, setting your bag on the ground and pulling out your notebook. A waitress immediately went to your table to take your orders. Ashton had only wanted water, but you ordered one milkshake and a side of cannolis. “Traffic was terrible, as per usual in L.A. I suppose. And then my publicity manager asked me to get my hair down for today, then she scheduled a nail appointment-” You took a deep breath, running out of air from talking so quickly. “I feel like a dress up doll,” you joked, giving the Aussie a sheepish smile. 

Ashton, however, was not amused. He barely returned your smile, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Whatever,” he murmured. “Let’s just pretend to look happy when the press gets here. We were supposed to have a ten minute prep time but since you decided to be late-”

“I didn’t decide to be late-” you fought back incredulously.

“We only have three minutes max to plan something good for the press to take a picture of,” Ashton finished, sending a glare your way for interrupting him halfway. 

You huffed, deep in thought before concocting something paparazzi worthy. “Just follow my lead, okay?” you said, watching a swarm of paparazzi approach the restaurant. The waitress set down your order and was about to dash off when you asked for two straws. 

Ashton raised an eyebrow at your idea, not exactly following along. You stuck the two straws into the glass, taking a healthy sip from it. You let out a moan of delight, smiling to yourself at the taste. Ashton fought the urge to chuckle at your almost innocent-like demeanor. He coughed to cover up his laugh, still stubborn enough to maintain his grudge against your tardiness. 

You took the paper wrapping of one straw and glanced up at the drummed in front of you. Tying the wrapper together, you raised the knot up. “Tug the other side,” you instructed. 

Ashton gave you a pointed look but pulled the wrapper nonetheless, pulling until the paper gave way and snapped in half. The knot remained on your end, making you cheer in victory. 

“I still don’t understand what the hell you’re doing,” he grumbled. 

You ignored him, closing your eyes and whispering to yourself. Ashton leaned back, not fighting back an eye roll. “Great,” he muttered. “I’m on a date with a weirdo.” How was this supposed to get the band good publicity? 

Opening your eyes again, you set the wrapper down. “I was just making a wish,” you explained as if it was the most obvious thing. “You never did that before? Tie a knot in the straw wrapper, pull, and whoever gets the knot gets to make a wish.” 

“That’s,” Ashton took a deep breath. “The biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard in my life.” 

You scoffed playfully, cocking your head to get a good look at the paparazzi. More photographers approached the windows, taking hundreds of photos of the two of you. “Try smiling more,” you told him. “Maybe people wouldn’t crown you with the “bad boy of the band” title if you did.” 

“I’m not the bad boy of the band,” Ashton retorted, smiling nonetheless. It was a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it satisfied the press who started flashing their cameras more frequently at the sight of it. 

Snorting, you took his hand and weaved your fingers together as you took another sip of your -now shared- milkshake. You let out a quiet giggle despite no one saying anything funny.

“You’re terrible at this,” Ashton deadpanned. 

“I’ve seen people do this in movies,” you responded, shaking your head as if he said something unbelievable. 

“Doesn’t mean it’s a good idea,” he said back, responding to your head shake with a chuckle. 

You hummed, turning away and muttering under your breath, “Look who’s talking.” 

Ashton couldn’t help but be amused by your clever comebacks. He never expected you to be able to keep up with his sarcastic comments. But here you were, dishing them out faster than he can create one. 

“Anyways,” you continued breezily. “You’re so the bad boy of the band.”

“What makes you say that?” he asked, readjusting his position in his chair to prepare himself for whatever response you’d curated. 

You took a pause to collect your thoughts. You took a bite of your cannoli as you thought to yourself. “First off,” you swallowed the remaining bits of the pastry. “In your first album, you’re the only one looking away from the camera frowning. Luke’s looking away, but at least he’s smirking a little bit. That’s big bad boy energy. And the bandana? Come on, you’re trying so hard to be edgy but I see your smile behind the drums.”

Ashton rolled his eyes for the millionth time that day. “Good to know you’ve done your research.”

“I have to get to know my new fake boyfriend,” you waved him off jokingly. “What am I supposed to do? Go into this blind? Surely you’ve done some research about me.” 

The Australian musician hesitated to respond. “I may have skimmed the binder?” he responded, a little bit embarrassed. He didn’t expect to have to know everything about you and your career. 

You squeeze his hand, reminding him you were still intertwined. “It’s okay,” you assured him. “We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other later.” 

You both turned to the windows and noticed the swarm of photographers only grew in size, all of them in huddles behind cars. “You think we gave them enough to look at?” you asked. Not waiting for a response, you placed a couple bills on the table and pulled Ashton up with you. 

“Where are we going?” Ashton questioned as you both braved the outdoors, instantly getting bombarded by the paparazzi. Taking on a protective boyfriend role, Ashton wrapped an arm around your shoulders and lent you his sunglasses to wear. 

“Don’t worry!” you said, raising your voice a bit due to the loud calls of interviewers calling out to them. “I know a place!” 

You sprinted down the street and took a sharp right, tugging Ashton along with you. Impressively enough, you were fast enough to lose the press. Soon enough, you found the place you were looking for and dove in. 

The drummer blinked a couple times, trying to regain his sight after the millions of flashes nearly blinded him. Once his vision turned back to normal, he looked around the room to see a relatively empty restaurant. The lights were dim and gave the feel of a speakeasy but also had sweet handmade decorations adorning the walls. The place was endearing to him, somehow, because of how unabashedly unique it was. 

You directed Ashton to your favorite table in the back corner while you went up to the counter to order for the both of them. By the time Ashton had gathered his bearings in his seat, you returned with a tray full of food. 

“Welcome to the “Quilted Corner,” you introduced him to the cafe. “Everyone’s favorite eatery in the darkest corner of Los Angeles. And by everybody I mean probably just me and five other people.” 

Ashton nodded dubiously, understanding the unique name for the place once he got a good look at the grandma-esque decorations. 

“And what do you have in your tray of horrors?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the assorted foods.

You began to divide the food between the two of you, the mountain of greasy foods slowly turning into a valley and then nothing at all. 

“I’m going to change your goddamn life, Irwin,” you declared, taking a napkin and wiping your hands with it. “This is the order Granny Stevenson -the owner- recommended to me when I first came here. I was lost in the city looking for a place to duck and cover from the paparazzi and came across this lovely place.”

You gestured to the spread of foods. “This is the “homesick cure,”” you told him. “It consisted of two double cheeseburgers, a side of fries, and a milkshake. All completed with Granny Stevenson’s special sauce.” 

“And a heart attack,” Ashton deadpanned. 

You ignored his statement. “This place is really special to me,” you confessed. “It actually cured my homesickness and Granny Stevenson is a grandma-away-from-home to me. This place is where I go to write songs or just get away from it all.”

Ashton poked at his order, a thin film of oil coating his fingertips. “I don’t see the inspiration factor here,” he said, his nose scrunched up. “It just looks like another fast food place in America.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, sad mis-fed rockstar,” you said with a smirk. You pointed at the one last item you didn’t mention. “Behold the Grandpa Stevenson special.” You held up the dish and smelled it deeply. “A blueberry cheesecake made in-house with all the love this place can put into it. Name a place that sells that kinda love, Ashton.” 

“I’m pretty sure Burger King sold that at one point in a mall food court,” he snipped back. 

You narrowed your eyes at the pessimistic drummer. “Not sold with love,” you reminded him. “Besides, they actually make this stuff here. No processed shit, only love.”

Ashton scoffed, turning his head away from the table. Love. What a load of bullshit. If you were gullible enough to buy into the “love” this restaurant sold you, you definitely wouldn’t make it in the cut throat music industry. You were too innocent. It was only a matter of time until those producers and media companies tear you apart like they did with him and the band.

Despite his negative attitude, he took a fork and tried a piece of the cheesecake. The light dessert just about melted on his tongue, the flavors of cream, blueberry, and cinnamon dancing along his tongue. It was the best thing he’s ever tried.

“Told ya,” you sang, eating your own meal with a knowing smirk on your face. 

Ashton feigned a look of disgust. “You didn’t tell me shit,” he grumbled. “It tastes like every other cheesecake.” That was a lie. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever tasted. Somehow, it tasted like home. 

You tried to wipe your messy face with a napkin. “No one that thinks this is an average cheesecake makes that kinda face.” When Ashton didn’t understand, you sighed, preparing to make the same face. “It’s the look you get when you touch down in your hometown after an eleven hour flight. Or the face you make when you write a banger bridge for a song you’ve dedicated weeks to. Or it’s the look you get when everything makes sense in the world.” 

Ashton stabbed his cheesecake and shoveled more of it into his mouth. Pure Heaven. “Whatever,” he huffed. 

The two of you finished the rest of your meal in silence, aside from sighs of content from you because the food was that damn good. You finished off your milkshake, but not before picking up the straw wrapper and tying a knot, just like you did at the cafe before. 

“Pull away, rockstar,” you instructed. Reluctantly, Ashton followed suit and tugged at the paper, the knot ending up on his side this time. You cheered, clasping your hands together. “It’s your turn now! Your first wish that shall be granted by the straw gods.”

Ashton shot you a look before tossing the wrapper to the side. “I don’t really care for wishes,” he stated plainly. You frowned at his negative attitude and that look alone made Ashton’s heart lurch. He instantly felt bad for the way he’s been treating you; it wasn’t your fault the press hated him. But still, he couldn’t help but put some blame on you. It was better than wallowing in self hate, he supposed. 

“It’s okay,” you collected yourself. “You can save that wish for when you need it.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not going to need it,” he responded sarcastically.

You chuckled, taking a bite out of Ashton’s cheesecake. He let out a shout of protest but you paid no attention to him. “Trust me,” you assured him. “There’s always a time when you need a wish in L.A.”

–

“She’s weird,” Ashton grumbled, readjusting the cuffs of his button up. The boys were preparing for their interview with Buzzfeed in their shared dressing room, fighting for space in front of the mirror. 

It’s been a total of three months since you and Ashton started your fake relationship and the media has been eating it up. They followed the both of you everywhere you went, hiding in cars and in alleyways to get a glimpse of the so-called happy couple. You played your part well, holding his hand in public and kissing his cheek whenever you had the opportunity. From the public’s point of view, Ashton was just as taken by you as you were with him. The media fawned over his boyish grin and blush whenever you’d readjust his beanie in the winter cold. 

On your end, you were genuinely falling for the boy. Behind closed doors, he was just a boy from Australia, new to the fast paced life of being a celebrity. You saw through his cold facade, slowly cracking through the walls he put up around his heart, and you had a feeling you were growing on him. He’d still quip sarcastic comments and roll his eyes, but you didn’t miss the small smile that would rest on his face when he thought you weren’t looking. As rare as his genuine smiles were, you relished those moments because it was the only times you’d see the real Ashton, not the one he’s put out for the paparazzi. 

Ashton, however, was still holding out his grudge against you, albeit very weakly. His tough exterior was indeed toppling slowly. Your kind nature was just too sweet to not find you a little endearing. Ashton would never admit that you had grown on him a little, and a small part of him possibly looked forward to your weekly dates. He learned so much from you, it was as if he never wanted to stop listening to you. Not that he would tell you that, though. 

“That’s all you’ve ever said about her,” Michael shot back, glancing at the mirror to check his hair one more time. “Come on, mate, it’s been three months. Surely you have something new to say about her?” 

Calum agreed wholeheartedly. “Yeah, she’s come to the studio during her breaks from recording. That’s not even in your dating contract but she still does it.”

“Not to mention she gets us coffee every time,” Luke piped up. “That coffee is addictive, where does she get it?” 

Ashton couldn’t help but smile at the thought. He knew you’d always stop by the Quilted Corner -no matter how far of a walk it was- to pick up some coffee. And he knew you always tried to be slick about it, but he’d always catch you tucking away a slice of blueberry cheesecake in the band’s fridge, just for him. He’d never mention it, though. He wanted to let you have your fun. 

Calum let out a shout, pointing at the drummer accusingly. “Aha!” he cheered. “I knew she was growing on you!”

“What the hell are you going on about, Cal?” Ashton demanded, exasperated by his friends’ antics. 

Calum continued his childish shimmy, the other boys gleefully joining in. “You got that dumb smirk on your face,” Calum smugly pointed out. “You’ve got it bad for y/n, don’t you.” 

Before Ashton could respond, the director shouted, “Five minutes till shooting!” Glaring at the boys to keep them silent, Ashton made his way to the chairs in front of the camera, silently praying for this interview to be quick and over with. 

“Welcome to Buzzfeed, boys,” the director’s assistant approached them with a smile. She was petite but her voice was strong and insistent. “Make sure to always look at the camera, but above all, smile and don’t look down. The viewers want to see your faces, okay?” Nodding in confirmation, the boys readied themselves for the camera as the assistant swiftly moved out of the way. 

“Yeah Ash, don’t doze off dreaming of y/n,” Luke snickered into his ear, making the other boys chuckle along with him -aside from Ashton, of course.

–

The interview went as well as one could expect. The questions about the boys’ past were still continuously brought up but the boys answered the questions with grace they could only credit to Manuela. Luckily enough, the interviewer seemed to enjoy their responses, noting a significant maturity in the boys. They seemed to have gotten over their party phase and turned into serious musicians during their break from tours and parties. 

“Final question is for Ashton,” the interviewer shuffled through their papers. “Sources have spotted you and new singer songwriter y/n l/n around L.A. quite a bit following the end of the North American 1989 tour. Now, you both have confirmed your relationship and made it very clear you two are together. Has y/n been an influence in the reshaping of your image in the media?” 

Ashton bit the inside of his cheek. Just remember what Manuela rehearsed with you, he thought. 

“Yeah, y/n’s been great,” he answered, trying to not sound as monotone as he did during his practice runs. “She’s been such a great influence to me and the boys, always keeping a positive outlook on things. I learn a lot from her, and I’d like to think she’s learned quite a bit from me, too.” 

“Like jumping into the neighbor’s pool at midnight?” the interviewer jested, referencing the one time Ashton had drunkenly trespassed his neighbor’s home while they were on vacation. 

Ashton tried not to cringe at that one memory, heavily wanting to keep that part of him in the past. “Definitely not that,” he laughed awkwardly. “But definitely in a sense of navigating newly received fame and things like that.” 

“That’s great to hear,” they hummed. “Should we be expecting anything from you guys? Maybe a collaboration of some sort?”

The drummed shrugged his shoulders honestly. “It’s all up to her,” he responded. “We’re still taking a break from touring, but we do have an album in the works. Writing music with her is definitely on the table, for sure.” 

Ashton wasn’t sure what word vomit was spewing from his lips. Last time he checked, it wasn’t up to you whether or not you wanted to collab with the boys (you were clearly apprehensive about invading his space), he didn’t want to write music with her (possibly due to the fact that the last time you had a joint writing session, he was stuck staring at you curled up on the other side of the couch; you were just mesmerizing but he’d never admit that aloud), and he hated lovey dovey shit (because he hated the warm feeling brewing in his stomach whenever you’d smile or laugh at his jokes). But it wasn’t like he liked you, right? He had to focus on his career, his boys, his life. Not a relationship that’s destined for failure no doubt because of the media. 

 “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for you guys, thank you so much for coming to our studio today!” The interviewer finished off the closing statements for their interview while Ashton was left inside his head. 

Truth be told, he was conflicted. He had, in fact, gotten significantly closer with you, closer than he’d expected to be at the very least. He still tried to be closed off, tried to push you away from him so he wouldn’t get attached and heartbroken in the end. You just made it so damn difficult. 

“Nice responses, Ash,” Michael patted his shoulder as they gathered their things in their dressing room. “Really downplayed how much you liked her there.” 

Ashton raised an eyebrow while picking up his phone from the side table. He was stupid enough to not look at the text messages. Particularly the ones from you that stated you were on your way to the studio for your own interview. 

“What are you saying, Mike?” Ashton asked tiredly, tired of the relentless teasing and questions he’s gotten about you all afternoon. 

“Mike’s saying that we know you’re in so deep with her,” Luke spoke up from the back as he slipped on his jacket. “Like, L-word close with her.”

Love? Why the hell would he love you? This was all a fake set up for their careers, why didn’t they get that? 

“Can you guys knock it off?” Ashton snapped, finally raising his voice. “I don’t like y/n and I never will. I don’t even like her as a friend. She’s obnoxious, annoying, and so unbelievably difficult to work with; the two of us will never work out. And thank God for that because if I have to spend more than 10 months with her to save your asses’ careers, I’m leaving the fucking band.” 

“Ash-” Calum said meekly.

“No!” he cut him off harshly. “I’m sick of being pushed around like a fucking doll for publicity. The band was doomed from the start because the press won’t leave us the fuck alone. And using y/n as a last Hail Mary is as stupid as it is useless. She’s going to be nothing more than a washed up young celebrity like the rest of us and fade to the past.” 

“Ash!” Michael stopped him. “That’s enough, we get it.” 

Ashton didn’t piece together their hastiness until it was too late. He turned around to see you standing before them. He didn’t even hear the door open. Your eyes were welling up as your mouth was slightly opened by his outburst. 

“Hi guys,” you weakly greeted them. 

Ashton took a step forward, freezing when he saw you stagger back. “y/n,” he whispered, unable to know where to start with his apology. 

“I have an interview in ten minutes,” you informed them quickly. “I’ll see you around later, yeah?” 

You seemed to have taken that as final as you pushed them out of the dressing room and closed the door shut. You didn’t move from the door until you heard all of their footsteps trail off and out of the studio. You let out a shaky breath you didn’t even know you were holding in as you hang your head low. And to think you thought he actually might have liked you, too. 

A knock interrupted your thoughts. “Ms. l/n?” a voice spoke up. “My name’s Ryan and my buddy Shane and I wanted to know if–” 

“Sorry,” you said, opening the door sheepishly. You hoped your face wasn’t giving away your embarrassment and hurt you were experiencing. “I-um, I think I need to be alone for a sec.” 

“Oh!” the taller one exclaimed. “To call Ashton? I think I saw him walk that way.” 

You bit your lip, nodding painfully slow. “Yeah,” you croaked. “Thanks, I’ll be headed there soon.” 

You didn’t leave any time for debate or questions as you pushed through the pair and walked in the opposite direction, straight to the bathroom. The two men glanced at each other in concern. 

“What’s up with her?” Shane asked.

Ryan only shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it’ll remain unsolved,” he mused wisely.

“That’ll be a great name for a show one day!”

“I know right?”

–

You were lucky that there was enough conflict in both of your schedules to postpone your date to three weeks after the interview. To say you were anxious was an understatement. You picked at your fingernails as you waited for Ashton to arrive at the park. 

You were conflicted with the entire agreement. A part of you wanted to end the agreement, rip the contract into shreds. Ashton was right, wasn’t he? This plan was useless, and your fifteen minutes of fame were almost up. It was only a matter of time until you were no longer relevant. Then what would you do? You’d have to go back home and start over, and maybe that’s better than what you had for yourself now: a fake relationship for attention. 

But at the same time, you had fallen hard for Ashton. Behind his rough exterior was a shy musician that was passionate in what he did. He loved music, but loved his friends and family more. You admired him for that, realizing that he only had a harsh image because he was protective of who he loved. You only wished that he saved that part of himself for you, too.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” a soft voice spoke behind you.

You turned around on your bench to see Ashton standing, hands sheepishly in his pockets. His cheeks were red from the cold as his eyes were trained on the ground. 

“Of course I did,” you responded somewhat brusquely. “It’s part of the contract, afterall.” 

Ashton scoffed, making you raise an eyebrow irritatedly. You had every right to be a bitch to him. He was the one bad mouthing you in the first place. Your mixed emotions had sat in your stomach for the past few weeks. Your anger was winning out the heartsick feeling. 

“What are you scoffing about, rockstar?” you quipped, disgust filling your tone instead of affection as it usually was in the nickname you gave him. “I signed that paper as much as you did.” 

“It wasn’t like it was my fucking idea,” he shot back, frustration fueling his voice. He pulled at his hair and laughed, but there was no humor behind it. “In case you forgot, I was forced into this bullshit! And to think I was actually going to apologize to you.” 

“About which part?” you shouted back sarcastically. “The part where you called me obnoxious and annoying? Or how about when you couldn’t stand to spend any more time with me or else you’d quit the band? Oh I know! How about when you called me a washed up celebrity? Take your pick, rockstar! You’ve got plenty to choose from!”

“Don’t fucking call me that!” he raised his voice higher than he ever had before. “God, I’m fucking sick of you and your “holier than thou” bullshit! You’re only in this shit for the money and the fame. I’m tired of playing this game and being a fucking plot device to launch your career! Maybe if you actually had substance instead of putting up the “innocent girl from a small town” act, people would like you more! Because Jesus fuck I don’t!” 

What Ashton failed to realize was that your ten minute grace period between meeting and the paparazzi coming was up. The photographers circled around you like predators stalking their prey, starving for anything to satisfy their appetites. You were too caught up in your argument, too, oblivious to the prying eyes of the public. 

“Don’t act like you’re so perfect,” you spat. “You want my honest opinion about you? I think you’re nothing but a stuck up member of a boyband who’s pissy because the attention’s no longer on him anymore. Face it, Ashton! You’re just like everybody else here! Self-centered, fucked up, and ignorant as all hell. Maybe that’s why the media fucking hates you! It’s not because they twist your actions, you just are a fucking terrible person and it’s about time you realized that!” 

Ashton silently seethed, opening and closing his fists as he tried to find the right words to say. “You really think that?” he asked in a low tone. He wasn’t really sure if he wanted to hear your response. Despite his harsh words, he truly craved your validation and he knew that he wasn’t going to hear what he wanted. 

“Yes,” you swallowed. “I do.” Silence filled the cold air as you stood at a standstill. The air filled your lungs like icy needles, not yet thawed for the seasonal change that was yet to come. It was like a test between the two of you. Who was going to be the first to bite the bullet and say what’s been on your minds? 

You made your decision. “Let’s end this,” you said, voice wavering. “Let’s put the both of us out of our misery and end this once and for all. I think we both got enough of each other.”

Ashton was taken aback. He thought the same thing, but he didn’t think you’d be the one to say it. If he was being honest, he didn’t want to end it. If he could spend the rest of his life on a tightrope, teetering towards anger and frustration for eternity just to be with you, he’d do it. But he knew he was hurting you as much as you were hurting him. He knew what he had to do.

“Good,” he agreed, mustering enough strength to not cry right there. He really was losing the one good thing he had going for him. And it was all his fault. “I’ll have Manuela reach out to your manager. You can..lose my number, I guess.”

“If that’s what you want,” you told him smoothly. On the inside, you were crumbling apart.

Ashton forced a nod. “Yeah, that’s what I want.” 

–

He didn’t expect things to get as bad as they did. Ashton knew the paparazzi was everywhere, he always did. But dammit, he got so lost in his anger that it slipped his mind. And the one time it did, everything went wrong.

But for the first time, the blame wasn’t on him. Not in the eyes of the media, at least. 

Is America’s Sweetheart y/n l/n Actually a Monster? 

Pop Princess y/n l/n rips Australian Musician Ashton Irwin Apart

End of an Era: Irwin-l/n Break Up is Messy and Unexpected

Even on Twitter, you couldn’t catch a break. 

#y/nl/nisoverparty

#y/nl/nisasnake

#y/nisthebiggestbitch

#y/nl/nisOVER

On every magazine and gossip column was a picture of your encounter with Ashton at the park. Lucky for Ash, the media only got a glimpse of your rant at him and didn’t get any footage of him yelling back at you. To the public, he looked like the innocent party while you looked completely wicked. 

Oh God, Ashton thought. I just ruined her life.

The weeks that followed were rough. Manuela called for a group meeting and told them that their ratings have gone through the roof. 5 Seconds of Summer were finally back on the good side of the press and were labeled as the “innocent boys from Australia” that got “led down the wrong path.” Manuela was happy that her plan had worked; 5SOS is back on track, but she was disappointed at what it cost. 

“Is there anything we can do to help her?” Michael asked at the end of the meeting. 

Manuela pressed her lips together. “I’m afraid not,” she sighed. “y/n’s manager cut off all ties with us. I think we got the message that she wants nothing to do with us.” 

Calum checked his phone, cringing at the amount of tagged posts he was in. All of them bashing you and everything you’ve worked so hard to create. 

“We have to do something,” Calum pleaded. “She’s not just a coworker; she’s a friend. She’s always been there for us, even if Ash wasn’t here, she’d come by. We can’t leave her hanging like this.” 

“Ash,” Luke turned to his friend, blue eyes pleading and desperate. “Can you talk to her? Maybe we can work something out. Anything.” 

Ashton stammered before he responded. What could he do? He was the very last person you’d want to see right now. He got you into this mess and painted you out to be a monster. The blame should have fully been on him. You wouldn’t have yelled at him if he didn’t push you over the limit. 

“Why should it be me?” he asked. “She hates me.” 

Michael scoffed at his friend, clearly upset at his poor attempt at weaseling his way out of this. “You’re joking,” he deadpanned. “She adored you. Whether you liked her or not she was your biggest supporter. When you weren’t around at the studio, she talked the world about you. You may have not liked her, but she loved you. So you have to fix this.” 

“Boys, relax,” Manuela insisted. “I’m certain her publicity team has a plan set for situations like these. She’s probably going to keep quiet for a while then re-emerge into the public scene again once the public wounds have healed. So it’ll be in her best interest and yours if you keep quiet and not cause a scene. Not when the public finally has a positive outlook on you.”

“That’s so..” Luke huffed defeatedly. “Wrong.” 

Manuela patted his knee comfortingly. “That’s the music industry, love.” 

–

You truly fell off the face of the earth. Ashton was at a loss. After the presumed “silent break” you took, he thought you’d get back into the swing of things. Media tabloids had died down, and it seemed like the public had forgotten about your argument and moved onto the next interesting thing. But you didn’t come back. Not even to your studio, the place remained empty. You didn’t respond to his calls, all of them going straight to voicemail. Your manager only picked up her phone once, insisting he stopped calling if he knew what was best for him. Not even your friends answered his frequent dm’s. 

Your instagram was dormant. The last post was of Ashton a month back, playing his guitar and smiling down at his lyric book. He didn’t even realize you took that picture until you posted it. He was a little shocked that you kept it up, considering all things, but at the same time you didn’t post anything anymore. You used to post everyday, updating everyone about your hectic life. All that was left were the photos that remained on your page. Ashton had caught himself too many times scrolling through, just to see your smiling face again. He beat himself up over the fact that his last glimpse of you in person was nothing but a broken shell of who you once were. 

Ashton pushed the door open, entering the last place he thought of that you could possibly be in. The smell of the restaurant was the same as it always was, full of spices and sweets that made his mouth water. But he had to stay focused. He needed to find you and talk to you. 

Behind the counter, an older couple approached him. Ashton immediately recognized them as the Stevensons, the couple you adored more than their own food. It seemed like they recognized him too once they reached the counter space. 

“You must be Ashton,” the older woman said, readjusting her glasses. Her wrinkles appeared as she greeted him with a smile, a sign that she lived a life full of laughter and smiles. The kind of life you confessed you wanted desperately. “y/n has spoken so highly of you.” 

Ashton ducked his head, blushing at the compliment. Even when you were gone you still managed to light up the room and make him seem like a better person than he actually was. “That’s actually why I came here,” he told them. “I was wondering if you had seen y/n come by.” 

The gentleman beside Mrs. Stevenson shook his head. “Afraid not, son,” he responded. “Not for a while, actually. We were quite disheartened about that, but that girl is always so busy, isn’t she?” Ashton smiled, trying not to wince as he cringed on the inside. 

“Let me make you something, honey,” Mrs. Stevenson insisted, rushing to kitchens before he could refuse. 

Mr. Stevenson ushered Ashton to the booths, away from the restaurant regulars. Ashton ran his fingers through his hair, the rain soaking his brown locks. Spring was a bitch with the rain, but he knew how much you loved it. “What brings you here, son?” he asked. “You usually come with y/n. Don’t tell me she’s in any sort of trouble now, is she?” 

Ashton sat down, dusting off his jeans. “Not exactly,” he answered honestly. “H-have you not heard in the gossip tabloids?” 

“Oh no,” Mr. Stevenson waved his hand. “We were never one for those magazines. Sarah is always strict on rechilut.” 

Ashton nodded along. “I did something wrong,” he confessed heavily. “And I hurt y/n. Not physically, but honestly it feels worse. I want to make things right, but I don’t think she even wants to talk to me.” 

“That’s nonsense,” Mr. Stevenson insisted. “y/n would never cut ties with people like that. Especially you, she was very fond of you.” It seemed like everyone knew that except for Ashton himself. “y/n talked to me like I was her own grandfather. Now, all my kids are grown up and moved out of California, so they don’t come around much. I appreciated her company, and I know for a fact that you shouldn’t give up on her.” 

The drummer’s shoulders slumped guiltily. “I don’t think I deserve that,” he told him. “I was awful to her. I did everything wrong. I don’t think she’d believe me if I told her I loved her all along.”

“Do you really love her?” Mr. Stevenson asked him softly. 

Ashton looked up into the older man’s gray eyes. He saw so much life, so much wisdom in them. If he looked deeper, he saw himself in his eyes, the him he missed all along. “Yes,” he answered truthfully. “I really do.” 

Mr. Stevenson patted his shoulder affectionately. “Then lead with that,” he advised him. “I’ve lived a long life, Ashton. And most of my life has been spent with my dear Sarah. If there’s anything I learned from that, it’s that sometimes you need to shut the hell up and let your love speak for you.” 

Ashton let out a tearful chuckle at his advice. Mrs. Stevenson rushed out of the kitchen, a steaming plate in hand. The older woman set it on the table in front of him. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I guessed what your homesick cure was,” she said sheepishly. “Artie said I should stop guessing but I had a gut feeling on this one. I was right for n/n, I hope I was right for you.”  

Mrs. Stevenson set down the plate to reveal a healthy serving of spaghetti and a glass of water on the table. Ashton’s heart clenched at the sight. “Did I get it right, dear?” 

Ashton couldn’t even respond, he just nodded wordlessly like a child on Christmas morning, eager to play with his toys. Mrs. Stevenson chuckled at his response, ruffling his hair gently like a mother would. “Eat it while it’s hot, honey,” she told him. “And I’m sorry, but it seems like someone forgot to order another package of straws. You’ll have to drink from the glass, I’m afraid.” 

Artie stood up from his side of the booth, playfully rolling his eyes. “I’m on it, honey,” he responded, following closely behind his wife. Before leaving to the kitchen, he turned around and gave the boy a wink. 

Left to his own devices, Ashton tucked his hand into his jacket and nearly jumped out of his seat in shock. Pulling it out, he realized it was the knotted end of the paper straw wrapper from so long ago. Turns out he really did need that wish. 

“Let me make things right,” he wished in his head. “I just want one last chance to do the right thing.” 

Setting it on the table, all Ashton could do was hope that whatever was out in the universe heard him.

– 

Soon enough, you did emerge from the shadows of your hiatus. You were lucky to have a loyal enough fanbase to keep you afloat, and your tour was still set for that summer. You were grateful for the fans that stuck around, and the new ones that came along the way. It was a rough journey, but you tried your best to power through it to the best of your ability. 

Now, you were in your dressing room at the venue you were expected to perform in, an absolute fucking wreck. You were curled up on your couch, trembling and unable to even raise your head from your chest. Sobs filled your room, but you insisted to every manager and passersby that you needed to be alone and fix it yourself. 

To tell the truth, you never truly recovered from the media frenzy that took you and Ashton by storm. You knew you had every right to turn the tides on him, revealing to the world that he wasn’t the perfect saint everyone painted him out to be. But you didn’t, and no one on your publicity team was able to figure out why. 

 The reason was that you were still unexplainably attached to Ashton. Somehow, even though he put you in the situation where everyone started to hate you, you couldn’t help but now be able to understand why he acted the way he did. How he was overprotective of the boys and acted out of self preservation simply because of how cruel the media could be. By no means did you excuse him for putting you in that situation, but you still grasped some understanding. 

The difference between you and the drummer, however, was that he had a support system: his boys. You were practically alone to deal with the mess, cornered and vulnerable. 

You were shaking frantically in your room, unable to free yourself from your thoughts. Only one look at your phone caused your entire psyche to crumble. One fucking tweet about you shook your confidence. Some anonymous user critiqued your music, only attributing your success to your past “relationship” with Ashton. Those simple words broke down the walls you were just beginning to rebuild, and now you were stuck in your dressing room, thirty minutes before you were called onstage. 

Meanwhile, Ashton was navigating through the maze backstage looking for you. A bouquet of your favorite flowers were in one hand, a handwritten card in the other. He figured you’d be somewhere backstage, prepping for your show. He didn’t count on you being in your dressing room since you told him in the past that you loved to watch the crowd from behind the curtains. 

But to his shock, you were still in your pajamas hyperventilating on the couch. Ashton has witnessed this before; he’s experienced this before. But seeing you go through the same struggles he and his boys went through caused his heart to ache even more. 

“y/n?” he called out to you. You didn’t respond, eyes still trained on the ground as your grip around your legs tightened. Ashton set his things down on the side table, instantly kneeling in front of you. 

“Ashton?” you finally spoke, voice raspy and exhausted. For a split second, you thought you were actually hallucinating, envisioning the one man you needed but feared the most. But his cologne wafted into your nostrils, alerting you it was him in the flesh. “What are you-” You heaved a deep breath, choking out a sob. You could barely take the overwhelming stress towering over you like a deadly ocean wave. It was only a matter of time until it took you under and swallowed you whole. 

“Love, I’m going to need you to breathe,” he instructed, his hands finding yours. In your anxious state, you were able to distract yourself from your worries at the mere touch of his calloused fingertips. It was a silent calling to you, gently beckoning you back into reality but not quite succeeding. 

Ashton took your hand and pressed it against his chest, tucking it underneath his slightly unbuttoned shirt. His warm skin electrified your palm, making your heart race -not from the anxiety- but from butterflies. “Pay attention to my breathing and try to copy it, okay?” 

At first, you struggled to listen to his instructions. You worked on your anxiety with your therapists over more sessions than you could count. You tried box breathing, yoga, and even journaling but nothing ever calmed your nerves, especially after the media went after you. 

But suddenly, you concentrated on the slow rise and fall of Ashton’s chest. The way his chest hair tickled your palms in a way that made you want to scrunch your nose at the feeling. How his heart was beating nearly out of his chest but you could tell he was trying to minimize it so he could attend to your needs first. 

You felt your Ashton. 

Moments that felt like hours passed until your breathing went back to normal and your tear stained cheeks dried. Ashton kept your hand against his chest, occasionally squeezing it to bring you back to reality when you teetered back into spiraling. This time, though, he rose from the ground and sat beside you. You let him move your legs over his lap as he practically held you against him. His smell was overwhelming. You could smell his cologne and shampoo, even the faint scent of weed from off his lips. He was intoxicating. He was the drug, dangling above your head, and you were weak, enthralled, captivated, addicted.

You found yourself leaning in to kiss Ashton, a real kiss this time. No corner of the lip bullshit that the press ate up every time. You didn’t expect him to kiss you back with the same fervor as you, hand wrapping around your waist and the other behind your head. It was sloppy, wet, and all shapes of perfect that you couldn’t describe. The taste of tea and weed transferred from his lips to yours as he pulled you in deeper. You gripped his shirt in your fist, hoping in your mind to mold your body against his and disappear from the world, anything as long as you were with him. His love was your poison and, at the same time, your cure. 

Reality began to sink in, making you push Ashton away forcefully and standing on your feet. He flew back into the couch, eyes wide and lips swollen. His perfectly slicked back hair was a gorgeous mess, curls gracefully falling down his face. Confusion riddled his face as he watched you curl back into yourself. 

“What are you–” 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered, unsure if you were saying that to him or yourself. “Why did I do that?”

Ashton stood up and reached for your hand, only for you to jerk back. “D-don’t touch me!” you exclaimed, scared of your own volume. Anxiety began to knock at your door once again, creeping in like a deadly virus into your system. “How could I be so stupid? Haven’t you put me through enough?”

You started to pace around your room, Ashton watching you move frantically back and forth until he got dizzy. You murmured to yourself not so quietly, scolding yourself for your stupidity and cursing him out for his enticing nature. All over again, Ashton was seeing you crumble.

“y/n, stop,” he ordered firmly, gripping your shoulders. You jerked to a stop, pausing to look Ashton in the eyes. You found yourself getting lost in the pool of hazel, wide eyed and entranced. “You’re going on stage in twenty minutes. Whatever’s going through your head right now, quit it. All of that can be put on pause until after the show, you hear me? And if that voice in your head brings it up while you’re out there, shut it down. What matters now is you, your music, and your fans. Fuck that voice telling you you’re anything short of great.” 

In his empowering speech, you forced yourself to listen to his words, ignoring the person those words were coming from. Taking his advice, you cleared your mind of the past few months and only focused on this moment: your first concert of your North American tour. 

Rushing to get ready, you scrambled around your room to prepare your hair and makeup. Ashton picked out your clothes for the concert, something simple that you absolutely adored but you paid little attention to the way your heart pounded at the thought. And in those twenty minutes, you were set for the show.

Your microphone in one hand and guitar in the other, you made your way straight to the stage. Ashton followed close behind you to ensure you didn’t misstep or forget anything. Mere inches away from the stage, you whipped your head around to meet his gaze just one more time.

“Thank you,” you whispered gratefully. “I know we haven’t talked, but thank you. Can I look for you after the show?” 

Your heart shattered at the shake of his head. “I’ve got a plane to catch right after your show so I can’t come by after,” he told you remorsefully. “But if you’ll have me, I’ll be right here when you come back from tour. Maybe then we can start again, correctly this time. None of the cameras, scripts, or any of that, yeah?” 

The sound of your name being chanted by the crowd was nearly deafening, but his words reached your ears and you smiled softly at him. In the corner of your eye, your stage manager pointed at her watch to inform you it was time to go up. Wordlessly, you pressed your lips one last time against his. 

“Don’t be a stranger, Irwin,” you told him, turning on your heel and pushing through the curtains. The crowd shrieked and screamed at the sight of you, instantly bringing a proud grin to Ashton’s face. 

This was only the beginning of something new and truly beautiful, Ashton thought to himself, hands in his pockets as he made his way to the VIP section.

–

Several months have passed since your North American and European tour and it has been almost a full year since you started your publicity stunt with Ashton. Throughout the tour, you and Ashton -and the boys, of course- kept close contact with each other, never going more than a day without a phone call or video chat. Over this period, you felt like you finally got to know the real Ashton, not bits and pieces he’d accidentally let slip when he first got to know you. This time, he was real and genuine, and that only made me love him more.

You tiredly dragged your suitcase up your apartment complex’s stairs, heaving at the ridiculous weight as you made your way down to your apartment. You didn’t expect to see a certain hazel eyed drummer standing behind the door when you unlocked it.

“Surprise,” he said sheepishly, balloons and blueberry cheesecake in hand. Tears instantly filled your eyes, you dropped your suitcase and wrapped your arms around his neck, nearly causing him to drop the dessert. 

Truth be told, you weren’t expecting to see him so soon, if at all. Your journey with your mental health has been a long one, and there were plenty of ups and downs. A part of you -one you were a little ashamed of- didn’t expect him to keep to his word that he’d be here now. Despite the plenty of calls and talks you had to rekindle your relationship, that nagging voice in the back of your head kept on asking “what if?” What if he took back what he said about wanting to start over? What if it was all in your head, and he never wanted to see you again? But without fail, Ashton was there, willing to rebuild your relationship into a close-knit friendship. And now he’s here, asking to make it something more. 

“You’re here,” you murmured into his chest, taking in his smell that you missed so dearly. “I didn’t think you’d come this soon. How did you even get in?”

Ashton pulled away, holding up your spare key. “Your friend gave it to me today,” he explained. 

Grinning you brought him back down into a hug before settling in and opening the box of cheesecake. Taking out two forks, the two of you ate straight from the box and caught up on everything, though there wasn’t much considering how often you both talked while you were away. 

“I’m really grateful you let me back in,” Ashton spoke up once the box had emptied. 

You were half listening, polishing off the plate of its sweet crumbs. “You let yourself in, silly,” you snorted, not quite understanding what he meant. “You’re the one who got a hold of my apartment key.”

Ashton chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Not that,” he laughed. “I mean letting me back into your life. I still don’t think I deserve it.”

“We talked about this, Ash,” you leaned back, setting your fork down. “We both said things we didn’t mean that day. We recognized it and we worked from it. We’ve moved on, and we’re friends. I think you deserve it as much as I do.” 

Ashton’s cheeks were tinged red as he tried to think of the right words to say. “I know,” he started. “But sometimes, I wish we had..more.” 

“More?” you raised an eyebrow. It took another second of you watching the drummer blush in embarrassment and vulnerability before it finally clicked. “Oh.”

Ashton stood up abruptly, wiping the invisible specks of dust off his jeans. “You can forget it,” he rushed in humiliation. “I-I just couldn’t stop thinking about that night of your first concert, how it felt, how you felt- and-”

“Ashton, slow down,” you giggled, standing up, taking his hand and tugging him toward you. A small smile rested on your face. “I still think about that night, too,” you confessed honestly. “And I want that, too. Whatever it is that you want.” 

The drummer looked up from your intertwined hands and into your eyes. He swore he saw stars in them. “Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked. “Again?”

You pulled him down into a kiss, your lips craving his all over again. “Yes,” you answered confidently as soon as you backed away to catch your breath. “I will be your girlfriend. Again.”

The two of you shared a laugh, enjoying the silent but welcoming comfort of each other. Standing in the middle of your kitchen, lips coated in sugar and blueberries. 

“What was your wish?” Ashton asked, pulling you closer to him as he broke the s. “Back at that restaurant when we first met?”

You hummed in thought, eagerly pressing your lips against his one more time to relish the moment. “My wish was that whatever we had back then,” you whispered, letting him in on your secret. “turns into something more.” 

“Well your wish came true, didn’t it?” Ashton smiled, a warm feeling bursting in his chest. 

You leaned your forehead against his, eyes fluttering closed. “Yes, Ash,” you said. “Yes it did.” 

--

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[megluvsmichael]

I’m not kidding when I talk about this man’s hands like def so insane