inthepassengerside

[inthepassengerside]

HOUSE WARMING

PAIRING ♡ LUKE HEMMINGS X FEMALE READER

DESCRIPTION ♡ a new house bought with your long term boyfriend luke takes to a much needed house warming ritual (2.3k)

WARNINGS ♡ smut (mdni) | multiple orgasms | rough sex | unprotected p in v | dirty talk | breath play | praise kink | breeding kink | bondage.

NAT BABBLES ♡ this is very much inspired by a chapter in a wattpad fanfic that changed my life at age fourteen. ardor and adore, i will always miss you🙂‍↕️

the gasp that left your lips was breathless, a whisper of air leaving your lungs as your widened eyes staring up at the beautiful california home in front of you. it wasn’t too big, something you talked to luke about not wanting. it was the perfect mix of lavish and reliable.

“oh, luke,” you breathed, palm going to cover your mouth as you took in the beautiful exterior of the home your boyfriend had chosen for the two of you. “it’s beautiful.”

smugness and warmth radiated off of luke like a second skin. he was secretly gloating that he found a house you loved so much, but he was also so enamoured by your presence and awe, that he found himself staring at you instead of the home.

“yeah,” he whispered, not wanting to break the atmosphere you two created. “very beautiful, darling.”

as a breathtaking smile overtook your face, luke found himself smiling even harder, watching as you bounced in your seat like an excited puppy. “can we go inside?!”

“of course. its our home after all.” luke grinned, pressing a soft and quick kiss to your cheek before you both got out of his car. the walk towards the front door was spent with you awing over the flowers decorating the front and the way the wrap around porch was a perfect spot for these two cute rocking chairs you found at the thrift store.

walking up the porch, you found yourself gripping onto luke’s arm, hands clutching his bicep as he grinned down at your wide eyed look. when he made it up to the front door, keys dangling in his fingers, he smirked as he passed them over to you, watching as your eyes crinkled in confusion.

“you should do the honours,” he said to your confused face, hands clasped in yours so he could place the metal key in your palms. “open up the new chapter of our lives for us.”

the smile stretching across your lips hurt your cheeks, making luke smile even brighter back at you. placing a delicate kiss on his knuckles, you grasped the keys from his palms and walked towards the door, giggling as you unlocked the new memories you’d be making with your boyfriend.

as the door swung inward, you found your jaw dropping, a louder gasp then the one you let out driving up to the home leaving your mouth as you took in the open floor plan. “oh my god!” you squealed, looking around at the empty space.

to your left, there was a beautiful dining room that you knew would home most of luke’s awards, guitars, and the grand piano you both loved so dearly.

the stairs to the upper level were on the same left side, with the kitchen and living room just down the hall; the kitchen on the left and the living room on the right. grand ceilings and big windows adorned the home, and it was something so beautiful you didn’t want to close your eyes.

your feet moved down the hallway away from the front door, past the grand staircase and towards the beautiful french doors to the backyard. though the grand kitchen that was possibly the size of your apartment now caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but screech to a halt.

“luke! look at this kitchen!” you screamed, thinking he was far behind you by the stairs. though when you turned, a gasp lodged in your throat as you came face to face with his ocean blue eyes.

taking a step back in surprise, you found your back hitting the large island, hands grasping at the marble behind you. luke just grinned, crowding your space again and placing his hands on top of yours.

“you scared of me, sweetheart?” his smirk turned knowing, one of his hands leaving your own and trailing down to your waist. “or is it something else that’s got you all jumpy?”

the man knew what he was doing, and the heavy pants leaving your lips weren’t helping. with a lone squeeze on your hip, luke’s fingers danced across your stomach, the fabric of your shirt lifting up as a chill moved across your skin; luke’s fingertips moving slowly across your lower belly.

“let’s bet on something,” luke whispered, a sultry breath brushing the shell of your ear. “if you’re as soaked as i think you are, then i’m going to fuck you in as many rooms in the house as possible. y’know, as a house christening if you will.” his smirk was insufferably hot, and you found yourself not being able to catch his eye.

all of a sudden, your head was jerked upward, away from the view of luke’s hand descending towards the waistband of your jeans. his other hand was gripping your jaw harshly, fingers digging into your skin in the most delicious of ways.

“don’t look away from me, darling,” he gritted through his teeth, fingers skillfully unbuttoning your jeans. “because if i find that you’re as turned on as i am, i’m going to need to see that pretty look in your eyes.”

“you said this is a bet.” words somehow managed to escape your breathless lungs, and as luke’s fingers toyed with the bow on your panties, you found it harder to breath. “so what happens if i’m not as wet as you believe me to be?”

luke’s grin became blinding, the cockiness oozing from his tall stature. “oh, baby,” he whispered hazily. “i know my girl, and i know she’s fucking wet.” with that, he dipped his middle and index finger by your entrance, rubbing easy circles around the hole with your arousal.

the moan that left your lips bounced off the empty kitchen, and you found yourself gripping the marble in such a death grip you feared a chunk would fall off.

“fuck!” you breathed, feeling as luke’s two fingers teased your entrance in sultry circles. your jaw was still in his grasp, and you could feel him tilting your head back, lips descending towards your jaw so he could place scruffy kisses against the hollow of your throat.

his fingers never entered you, and you felt like your whole world was going to crumble. needing a release desperately, you panted heavily like you hadn’t drank water for ages. “more, luke. i need more.”

“you want more?” his words hit the area where your shoulder and neck met, biting a hickey into your skin before his mouth moved back to hover over your lips. “turn around, and make sure that pretty ass is high up for me.”

it was like you were moving on autopilot, not even noticing luke’s hand moving out of your pants as you flipped around and bent over the island. the marble was cold against your cheeks, but the heating feeling of luke pulling down your jeans and underwear was melting enough.

helping you flick the material across the floor, luke gripped at your ass with one hand as his other busied taking off his belt. it wasn’t until he roughly grabbed your arms and placed them behind your back that you came back to reality.

“what — luke, what are you doing?” the feeling of leather binding around your wrists made you still, and the feeling of your arousal dripping down your legs at the feeling was making you squirm.

a tug at the belt looped around your bound wrists made your spine arch up, head and neck tilted in the air as luke’s other hand grazed your jaw. “you once told me you’ve always wanted to be tied up. now’s your lucky chance, darling.”

you couldn’t believe he remembered that, and you would’ve brought it up if it wasn’t for him roughly thrusting his member inside of your tight walls.

when he took his pants and underwear off, you wouldn’t know. but the feeling of him filling you whole rendered you speechless. a loud mewl left your lips, and the momentum of his hips pushing against yours had your lower half smacking against the counter in a deliciously hard way.

one of his hands stayed firmly around your bound wrists, holding your lower stomach down against the marble counter. his other danced across your jaw, fingers firmly gripping your throat in a way that had air sticking to your lungs. it was so erotic, and the breathless pants that left your lips just turned both you and luke on more.

“that’s it,” he coaxed, his curly hair tickling your shoulder. “take me like a good girl. i know you want to come.”

his grip on your throat tightened, making your walls clench around him harder. you were so aroused, and you felt the starting tidal waves of your climax coming at full force.

luke’s thrusts never seized, his hips pushing forward against yours in a hurry. he wasn’t in no means rushing, he just knew that you liked it fast and hard.

with a whisper of “baby” against the shell of your ear, you let out a strangled scream as your orgasm came crashing down on you. luke’s thrusts started to slow, the slap of his hips against yours slowing as your arousal careened down your thighs.

“good girl,” he whispered, fingers loosening on your throat so he could push the sweaty hair off your forehead. “ride it out for me, darling. let me make you feel good.”

luke’s words and the feeling of his still hard dick resting inside of your clenching walls made you breathe out moans, hands aimlessly reaching for his as he undid the belt around your wrists.

spinning you around, a whimper left your lips as luke pulled out of you, your hands clutching onto his broad shoulders for some semblance of skin contact. luke knew you too well though, and he gripped the back of your thighs, lifting you up so your legs were wrapped around his waist.

“i’m right here, baby,” his whisper was romantic, a melancholic note in a swaying song. “i’m not leaving you. and we are far from done.”

you jostled against his tall body as luke started walking away from the kitchen, his strider steering towards the empty expanse of the living room. as he made it to the middle of the large room, high vaulted ceilings towering over the both of you, luke’s lips crashed onto your’s, his mouth fervently moving against your own.

he craved you like you craved him, and as you both stood there, naked from the bottom down, you found yourself desperately needing more of him.

“i want to ride you.” the request came out breathless, your hips grinding against his as the kiss grew more passionate. nipping at his bottom lip, you stared into luke’s baby blues with as much passion as you felt for him in your bones.

luke didn’t think twice. in a second flat, you two were on the ground; luke flat on his back while you straddled his waist. both of your shirts went flying, and luke had taken off your bra before you could even blink. facing the big floor to ceiling windows, you could see the beautiful expanse of your backyard — rolling hills and greenery so beautiful it looked like a secret garden.

“i see that look in your eyes.” luke whispered, hands exploring your waist. in one swift movement, he lifted you up, waiting as you softly grabbed his dick and lined it with your entrance. in a second, he had dropped you down on his member, both of your pelvises meeting and clashing together.

“what look?” you moaned, hips starting to softly circulate above him.

luke just smiled, one hand on your waist as the other squeezed one of your ass cheeks. “the look you get when you’re thinking of the future.” his words made a moan rip through your parted lips, head tilted back as you started to ride him faster.

but luke wasn’t done. “i want that future with you, baby. i want to stuff you so full of my come it’ll be leaking out of you for hours. i want to see you round and pregnant, carrying my child. and i want to kiss your belly every night, knowing i’m the one who’s baby you’re carrying.”

his words sent you into a spiral, your hands braced on his shoulders as you continued to ride him at a fast pace. you were picturing his words, picturing all the times he’d fuck you, stuffing you so full with his cock that none of his seed would fall out of you.

luke wanting a family with you, wanting to start that new chapter alongside you made your walls clench, and your nails dig deeper into the skin on his shoulders.

“c’mon, baby, i know you’ve got it in you.” luke’s praise was unlike any other, and the grip he had on your waist was enough pressure to make you see stars. “grip me nice and good, make me fill this pretty cunt until its full.”

at that, you came with a scream, your arousal washing over you harder than your last orgasm. luke wasn’t far behind, and you could feel him coming inside of you even without the groan the left his lips.

the both of you stayed still, breathless beyond words. you found your hips slowly grinding against luke’s as his hands explored your skin, kneading and tracing shapes on the skin of your stomach.

it wasn’t long before he was sitting up, face going between the valley of your breasts, leaving kisses and love bites that you’d stare at later. with a smile in your voice, you said something that made luke grin.

“i want to see the upstairs.”

the next while was spent in a blur. all you remember is that luke fucked you on the stairs, against the wall in the guest bedroom, on the floor of your own bedroom, and even in your master bathroom; both against the sink as luke stared at you through the mirror, and in the shower with you pressed against the tile.

you complained that there was no towels to dry you both off, but luke just smirked as he started lapping the water droplets off of your skin.

with his tongue.

everything was perfect, and you couldn’t wait to start a family in this house, with luke by your side.

TAGS: @starzify @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @h8aaz @luimousine @sacr1ficialang3l @deanspookiebear @hvnlygrl @j4ckles @losers-clvb @beausling @bluemerakis @shypilled @thesevnthseal @tinas111

[inthepassengerside]

the best

Nights Like This

✦ MDNI — 18+ Only ✦

✧ pairing: luke hemmings x reader

✧ summary: days with an overactive toddler often lead to eventful and desperate nights. like this one.

✧ warnings: fingering, unprotected sex, creampies, parent sex, hints of a breeding kink if you squint. fluffy married sex, sickeningly sweet.

✧ word count: 5.6k

✧ title: nights like this by the kid laroi

✧ author’s note: i got a request for this a whileeeee ago and i started writing it but gave up after like a paragraph and crashed out. long story short i scrapped it and moved on. a few days ago i got a notification that somebody liked the post where i replied to this request and i decided to revisit it. anyways now i wanna have a filthier flower bud in concrete moment for luke, but in the meantime have this cutesy lil smut full of parental and married life bliss.

anyways, send ur requests!! send me some calum ones too in celebration of OCO!! also, first blurb with the new @

oki bye.

Copyright © 2025 undersugarnights. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Luke’s voice carries gently through the baby monitor — a low, sleepy hum as he sings one of his sweet, nonsensical lullabies. The kind that makes no sense to anyone but Eden and somehow works every time. Your little girl is curled around a stuffed bear three times her size, one she refuses to sleep without, her tiny body finally stilled in sleep.

You lie on your bed, propped up on one elbow, head cradled in your palm, a soft smile tugging at your lips. You watch the monitor like it’s your favorite show, heart melting as Luke finishes his made-up song — even though Eden had fallen asleep minutes ago. He stays there a little longer, crouched beside the crib, gently smoothing her curls back from her forehead.

It never fails to hit you, the way he is with her. The patience. The gentleness. The quiet strength when she’s crying. The goofiness when she’s giggling. The complete surrender in every moment he gives her. Watching Luke be a dad is like falling in love with him all over again, every single day.

Eden’s two now. Old enough that you sometimes get a full night’s sleep. Still young enough that “sometimes” is generous. She’s clingy in the most adorable, exhausting way — a velcro baby through and through. If she had it her way, she’d sleep pressed right between the two of you every night, one chubby hand on each of your cheeks like a hostage negotiator.

It’s been ages since you’ve felt Luke touch you in any way that wasn’t a fleeting kiss on the cheek, a sleepy forehead press, or a soft hand at your waist as he passed by in the kitchen. Sweet, yes. Loving, always. But you missed the other kind of touching. The kind that made your toes curl and your thighs ache.

On the monitor, Luke leans down and kisses Eden’s head, slow and reverent. His smile — that bright, easy thing you’ve always loved — is crystal clear on the tiny screen as he rises to his feet.

Sighing, you shift in bed, letting your body melt into the mattress as you roll onto your back. Your eyes trace the ceiling lazily, shoulders finally relaxing for the first time since dinner. That nighttime routine was no joke. Eden had been on one tonight — not a meltdown exactly, just her usual chaos cranked to eleven.

She was particular. Meticulously particular. Luke liked to say she got that from you — always with a teasing smirk and a kiss to your temple, like he didn’t find it completely adorable in both of you.

Dinner had been its own disaster-slash-comedy special. Eden refused her pasta outright until Luke made her laugh so hard she accidentally snorted a bite. Then came the bath — where, midway through rinsing, she got the zoomies and took off through the house naked, squealing with delight as she chased a bewildered Petunia. You’d run after them like some exhausted sitcom mom, while Luke collapsed against the hallway wall laughing too hard to help.

Then came the bedtime stalling. The “just one more story” and “just one more kiss” protests — Eden’s greatest hits. You’d lost count after five kisses. Luke had given her six. Of course he had.

Parenthood wasn’t easy. Your back hurt. Your privacy was a myth. Half your laundry was tiny socks you swear didn’t exist an hour ago. But God, it was worth it. Every bone-deep ache and stolen moment was soothed by a little girl with his dimples and his blue eyes and a giggle that made your heart feel too big for your chest.

And then there was him.

Your husband. The love of your life. The man you’d somehow become wildly, inconveniently feral for in the most domestic circumstances imaginable.

Like when he knelt beside the crib with that sleepy, adoring smile. Or when he’d hoisted Eden onto his hip with one arm and stirred mac and cheese with the other. Or when he stood at the sink washing baby bottles with those long, skilled fingers like he was doing the most sacred task in the world.

No man should look that good covered in banana puree and Goldfish crumbs. It should be illegal. And yet, there you were — staring at him like he was a centerfold in Hot Dads Monthly, wondering how the hell you were supposed to go another night without climbing him like a tree and thanking him for doing the dishes with his shirt half off.

Outside the room, you hear the familiar drag of tired footsteps padding down the hall — heavy, slower than usual, exhaustion stitched into every step. Luke’s making his way toward you like he’s been moving through molasses since bedtime.

The door creaks open a moment later.

He steps in, and even through the low lighting, you catch the way his eyes find yours right away. That sleepy, boyish smile blooms across his face, soft and crooked, as he closes the door behind him and leans his full weight against it like it’s holding him up.

“Hey, handsome,” you grin, pushing yourself up onto your elbows.

Luke rubs his eye with a knuckle, stifling a yawn. “Hey, baby,” he murmurs — voice thick and scratchy with sleep, but tender in the way it always got just for you. It was the voice he used when Eden was napping on his chest, when you whispered secrets in the kitchen after midnight, when he told you he loved you without needing to say the words.

He sighs as he pushes off the door, dragging a hand through those mess of blond curls and shuffling toward the bed like he’s been walking for miles.

“Sometimes I wish I had the stamina she does,” he says with a sleepy laugh. “Imagine the shows I could put on.”

You snort, swinging your legs off the side of the bed just long enough to peel the covers back before slipping underneath them again. “Your stamina is plenty impressive, babe,” you say casually, eyes twinkling. “If it was any more intense, we’d have, like, seven more toddlers wreaking havoc in the living room.”

Luke grins, standing at the edge of the bed as he grabs the hem of his hoodie and yanks it over his head in one motion.

Your mouth goes dry.

Because, of course, he’s not wearing a shirt underneath. He rarely does — a personal crime you’re convinced is 100% intentional. Your eyes sweep over the soft slope of his stomach, the faint lines of muscle, the sharp cut of his V, and that maddening trail of golden hair leading straight under his sweatpants like a neon “pull here” sign.

Your thighs clench. Reflex.

“I’d love that, y’know,” Luke says as he tosses the hoodie onto a nearby chair. “Seven little yous. Or mes. Or some chaotic mix of both.” And then he flops into bed beside you with a groan, face half-buried in your pillow, long limbs sprawled like a starfish.

You let out a soft giggle, crawling over to him on your hands and knees — slow and playful, your sleep shirt riding up just enough to make him stare. Luke watches you with that look again. The one that’s almost too much to bear. Like you hung the stars. Like he can’t believe you’re his, even now, even after everything. Reverence, pure and radiant, etched across every sleepy line of his face.

His cheek is smushed into the pillow, hair falling messily across his forehead, lashes fluttering as he follows your movements. You lean down and press a kiss to the tip of his nose — he scrunches it a little — then trail another one to his shoulder, and another to the dip of his back, lips brushing over soft, warm skin still humming with the heat of the day.

“Mm,” he hums, low and pleased, voice vibrating under your lips.

You giggle again and plop down beside him, reaching over to flick off your bedside lamp. The room melts into a soft hush, bathed in the faint blue glow from the hallway nightlight.

Luke shifts closer, immediately, instinctively, like he can’t bear not to touch you. His chest meets your back as he slides an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His nose nuzzles behind your ear, and his breath is warm against your neck — slow and steady and his.

You settle into his embrace, threading your fingers through his and tugging his arm tighter around you. His hand splays across your stomach, palm warm and grounding. You sigh into the safety of it all.

“I love you,” you whisper, turning your head just enough to brush your lips against his. The kiss is feather-light. Sacred.

You feel him smile into it, soft and sleepy. “I love you too,” he murmurs, voice thick and full and certain.

You close your eyes again, letting your body go soft in Luke’s arms. The quiet hum of the fan and the low, steady static of the baby monitor blend into a kind of lullaby — one that dulls the ache in your thighs and slows your racing thoughts, just enough to pretend you’re actually going to fall asleep.

It lasts all of two seconds.

Luke’s fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt — slow, deliberate — the callused pads brushing against the sensitive skin of your waist. Your breath hitches. Your heartbeat stutters.

He keeps going. Tracing your stomach, skimming your ribs, until his hand stills just beneath your breast. A pause. A warning.

Then his thumb moves — just a soft, slow stroke — and your body arches into it before you can stop yourself.

“Luke,” you whisper, sharp and breathless, as he abandons all pretense of subtlety. His hand fully cups your breast, warm and familiar, and then he’s pinching — just enough to pull a quiet whimper from your lips, your hips twitching instinctively against his.

He grins against your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the slope of it. “You know,” he murmurs, voice low and sinful, “this whole trend of big shirts and tiny shorts around the house…”

You shiver as his teeth graze your skin.

“…is really fucking with my self-control

Your back arches slightly, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to catch the moan threatening to escape. Slowly, you press back into Luke, feeling the growing hardness straining against your ass.

“Says you,” you whisper, breath hitching as his hand trails down from your chest, toying with the waistband of your sleep shorts. “Taking off your hoodie like a fucking slut.”

You feel his smile against your neck, smug and shameless. “God, I can’t believe you’re real,” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked as his hand slips under your shorts with no hesitation. His fingers tease just above the fabric of your panties, while his hips grind forward, pressing into you with aching need. “My wife. My fucking woman.”

His other hand sneaks back up beneath your shirt, finding your chest again, greedier this time. You gasp — only for it to die into a moan as his fingers rub slow, maddening circles over your clothed clit. It’s just enough friction to make you dizzy.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts softly, amusement laced through the heat in his voice. “Can’t wake Eden up, remember?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as he keeps going, every brush of his fingers a cruel kind of heaven. You bring your hand to your mouth, trying desperately to smother the breathless whimpers that spill out anyway.

But Luke’s grinning behind you now, nose brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re so bad at being quiet, baby.”

And god, you are.

Your thighs are trembling, eyes squeezed shut as Luke keeps working you over, patient and relentless. Every touch feels amplified — sharpened by the risk of being caught, by the thrill of finally being touched like this again.

“Been dreamin’ about having you like this,” Luke breathes, grinding up against you, hard and desperate, like the only thing keeping him from losing it completely is the thin cotton barrier between you. “Dreamin’ about those pretty little moans… how wet you get when you have to be quiet.”

But then��he stops.

You freeze.

For a second, your heart stutters. Maybe he heard something — Eden fussing, a creak of the crib, the soft rustle of sheets. But before you can spiral further, his hand slips down, confident and cruel, sliding your panties aside and dragging one long, slow finger through your slick.

Your eyes roll back. A breathy whimper escapes your throat before you can stop it.

Immediately, Luke clamps a hand over your mouth — warm and rough, wedding band cool against your cheek.

“Oh my god,” he groans into your ear, low and wrecked, as his fingers return to your clit, teasing slow, devastating circles. “You’re soaked. All this for me, baby?”

You nod frantically, muffled moans caught in his palm, the heat of his body burning into your back. He’s pressed up against you, rock hard and trembling with restraint, and the thought of him finally sliding inside sends a full-body shiver down your spine.

Then his fingers dip lower, just barely skimming your entrance — playing, circling, torturing. Not yet. Almost.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” you whimper, burying your face into the pillow as you try to grind back against him. Luke hisses into your neck, teeth grazing your pulse, and your breath stutters hard.

He circles your clit again — barely there — then finally dips down, gathering your wetness before slipping two fingers inside. Your mouth opens in a gasp, but you bite your lip to keep the sound in.

“No, baby, that’s all you,” Luke murmurs against your skin, grinning as he begins to pump his fingers in and out of you with slow, deliberate pressure. “When’s the last time you even wore a bra? I swear I’m turning into a full-blown pervert.”

You manage a breathless giggle. “Maybe that was— oh, fuck— the plan all along.”

He hums, low and dangerous. “Shhh, baby,” he laughs softly, licking the shell of your ear while keeping that maddening rhythm. “Let me have my way with you. But I can’t do that if you wake Eden up.”

Your face is nearly buried in the pillow now, thighs trembling with restraint. The wet sounds of Luke working you open are obscene, slick and needy — the kind of sounds that always seem to follow him wherever he touches you.

“Mm, keep doing that,” you groan into the pillow. “And you’ll have another kid to worry about not waking up.”

At that, Luke’s thumb begins to circle your clit again — slow and focused — and your entire body jerks in response. You fist the sheets so hard your knuckles go white, biting your lip to keep from moaning too loud.

“Just like that, baby,” Luke whispers, voice thick with praise. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Then his hand stills.

He slowly withdraws his fingers from your body, and you let out a desperate little whimper, lifting your head to glance back at him, confused and breathless.

“Calm down,” he murmurs, grinning as he tugs at the waistband of your shorts and underwear. “Just wanna get these out of the way. You can be patient for me, yeah, love?”

You lift your hips instinctively, just enough to help him slide the fabric down and off. He tosses them aside, leaving you in nothing but one of his old band tees — worn, oversized, and hitched high around your waist.

“Fuck,” he breathes, hand wrapping around your thigh to coax your legs open again. “Look at you. Such a pretty mess.”

You shift slightly, pressing your ass back against the hard outline of his cock through the soft cotton of his pajama pants. His breath catches — barely audible — and then his fingers are inside you again, slow and deliberate.

You glance down, watching as his fingers slide in and out, slick and glistening. Your breath hitches. It’s obscene. It’s everything.

Your hand reaches back, finding his hair, curling your fingers into the thick mess of it and tugging gently at the roots.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper, voice raw and soft as you turn your head just enough to brush your lips against his.

He doesn’t kiss you — not fully — just breathes against your mouth, forehead resting against yours, his entire body wrapped around you like a secret. The spooning position makes everything feel more intimate. More tender. More desperate.

Like if he could crawl inside you and stay there, he would.

“Missed you more,” Luke murmurs, lips trailing down the curve of your shoulder in slow, open-mouthed kisses. “Fuck, I’ve been so horny lately I got hard just watching you walk up the stairs.”

You let out a breathless laugh, grinding your hips back into him. He whines — an actual, desperate sound — and buries his face in the crook of your neck like it’s the only way to survive you.

“Good to know I still have it,” you whisper, smug.

“Shut up,” he mumbles against your skin, and his fingers pick up speed, leaving you gasping. “You gotta keep quiet, my love. Don’t forget.”

His long fingers work you open effortlessly, the occasional swipe of his thumb over your clit sending jolts up your spine. You shiver when he moans against your neck, the sound vibrating through you, skin breaking out in goosebumps.

He’s slow. Intentional. Like he’s savoring this. Like there isn’t a ticking time bomb of a toddler down the hall.

“I can feel you squeezing me,” Luke breathes, his lips brushing your jaw. “Thinking about how my cock’s gonna feel, hmm?”

Your eyes flutter shut. You nod frantically, biting down on your bottom lip to keep the noise trapped in your throat.

Luke shifts behind you just enough to press his cock more firmly against your ass — hot, hard, and barely restrained beneath his pajama pants. The pressure alone makes your mouth water.

“Baby,” you gasp, fingers digging into his bicep. It flexes as he keeps fucking you with his hand, slow and relentless. “Please. Please, I need you.”

“Need me to what?” Luke asks, all false innocence, voice like sin. “Need me to fuck you stupid, baby?”

His fingers slide out of you, dragging your slick up through your folds, circling your clit with maddening precision. He’s teasing again — slow, measured, cruel in the way only Luke can be.

You jolt at the sensation, hips moving on instinct, grinding against his hand with raw, frantic need. The kind that’s been simmering under your skin for days.

“Baby,” you hiss, voice hoarse from the effort of keeping it down. “If you’re not inside me in the next five minutes, I’m divorcing you.”

Luke stills, then lets out a hushed laugh, biting your shoulder to muffle it. “You’re so fucking needy,” he chuckles, wicked and breathless. “Fine. Just because you beg pretty. And because if I tease you any longer, Eden’s definitely waking up.”

His hand slips from between your thighs, and he brings his fingers to your lips, glistening.

“Clean me off first,” he murmurs. “Be a good girl.”

You don’t hesitate. Your lips wrap around his fingers, tongue licking them clean, moaning around the taste of yourself. Luke groans softly behind you — that guttural, broken sound you know means he’s barely holding it together.

“Fuck. That’s so hot.”

His fingers slip from your mouth with an obscene pop that echoes through the quiet room. Behind you, Luke shifts just enough to shove his pajama pants down, freeing himself with a soft grunt.

You feel the heat of him immediately — his cock thick and flushed, grinding slowly against your ass, teasing you both with the drag of it.

His hand slides down your thigh, guiding your leg up and over his hip to open you wider for him. That same hand wraps around his cock, and he groans through gritted teeth as he strokes himself, slow and tight.

Your breathing quickens, chest rising and falling as the anticipation builds — and then you feel him. The head of his cock, hot and slick with precum, rubbing through your folds. You whimper at the contact, and Luke groans in response.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, burying his face in your shoulder and biting down gently to stifle himself.

He teases your entrance, circling it once, twice, before finally starting to press in — slow, unhurried, deliberate.

The stretch is divine — just enough to make you gasp, every nerve lighting up as he pushes deeper. You shift slightly, craning your neck just enough to see his face. His eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, bottom lip caught between his teeth like he’s trying not to lose it completely.

A soft moan slips from him. “Shit, baby… you’re so fucking tight,” he pants. “Can feel you sucking me in. Such a greedy girl for me.”

Luke sinks into you slowly, inch by inch, every push setting off a new wave of pleasure that shivers down your spine. His arm tightens around your waist, holding you close, grounding you. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin as he groans softly — almost like it’s too much. Almost like you’re too much.

When he finally bottoms out, it feels like coming home.

He stills, fully sheathed inside you, twitching each time your walls flutter around him. You’re soaked, throbbing, completely wrapped around him — and Luke can barely breathe.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, voice low and wrecked. “I missed being inside you. You’re so fucking wet and tight—I can feel everything.”

“I missed you,” you whisper back, cheek pressed to his. “Missed being stretched out like this. Missed us.”

He doesn’t move at first. Just stays there, buried deep, holding you like he’s afraid he’ll disappear if he lets go. The stillness hums between you, thick with want — not rushed, not frantic, but aching. A moment suspended in the kind of intimacy that makes your chest burn and your thighs tremble.

You both just breathe for a second.

Wrapped around each other, finally giving in to the slow, simmering need that had been building for days.

Luke presses a kiss to the nape of your neck, barely more than a brush, before gently tugging your shirt up until it bunches just above your chest. His hand slips beneath, finding your breast again — warm and reverent, his palm cradling you like he needs the contact just to breathe.

Then he starts to move.

Slow, deep strokes that make your whole body shudder. You bite down on your wrist to muffle the moan that threatens to escape, the sound caught in your throat like a secret. Luke isn’t faring much better — soft, breathless whimpers spilling into your skin as he rocks into you, his hips pressing close with every push.

His teeth graze your pulse point, dragging gently. A moment later, his tongue follows, soothing the sting, leaving you trembling.

“You take me so well, love,” he whispers, voice thick and ruined, hips picking up their rhythm. The pleasure builds with each thrust, slow but devastating, until your eyes roll back and you’re forced to bite into the pillow just to stay quiet.

He groans into your neck, almost desperate. “So fucking good for me.”

Luke rolls his hips, settling into a pace that’s just slow enough to draw it out — to keep you aching — but steady enough that you can feel the tremble in his hands from how tightly he’s holding himself back.

“You have no idea what it does to me,” he whispers, voice low and cracked, each word punctuated by a deep, deliberate thrust. “Seeing you with that ring. Wearing my name. Raising our kid.”

“Full—full of you,” you whimper, gasping as he hits that perfect spot. His rhythm never falters, but you feel the way his grip tightens at your waist, like he might lose it at any second. “God, I missed being fucked like this.”

Luke lets go of your breast, shifting just enough to fuck into you harder, the bed starting to creak beneath the motion — soft, rhythmic, dangerous. You both freeze instantly, breath caught in your throat, bodies locked together as you listen with baited breath.

Silence.

No tiny footsteps. No sleepy cries. Just the quiet hum of the baby monitor on the nightstand.

“Luke,” you hiss, desperate, wiggling your hips back against him. “Please—fuck, please don’t stop. You can’t keep doing this to me.”

That does something to him.

Luke brings his fingers to your lips, pushing two into your mouth without warning. Your lips part automatically, sucking them in with a moan. Your back arches as he pulls them out just as quickly, trailing down your stomach before slipping between your legs.

He finds your clit easily, rubbing slow, steady circles in time with the deep roll of his hips.

“Just like that, baby,” he coos, voice gone sweet and filthy. “Let me make you feel good, yeah?”

You nod frantically, lip caught between your teeth as your thighs twitch, the pleasure winding tighter with every passing second. His fingers stay lazy on your clit, teasing you through it, never giving too much — just enough to drive you insane.

“I love you so much,” Luke murmurs against your neck. “You look so fucking pretty stuffed full of my cock.”

Your hand reaches back blindly, tangling in Luke’s hair and yanking at the roots. He groans into your neck, hips stuttering before he picks up the pace again — faster now, more desperate — and so do his fingers.

That familiar coil in your belly starts to tighten, fast and sharp. You can feel him everywhere, every inch of him buried deep, every snap of his hips jolting through your spine. Your stomach flutters, your thighs twitch, your whole body buzzing like live wire.

“Bet no one would believe what a pretty little slut you are for me, hmm?” Luke growls, voice rough and wrecked, the edge bleeding in. “That you’re the most gorgeous fucking cockwhore — mine. Bet if I told you I was close, you’d beg me to stay in, wouldn’t you?”

“Please, baby,” you sob, the words falling out broken. “Wanna be dripping with you for days. Want you to come inside me, please, please—”

Luke’s hand flies up to cover your mouth, silencing your cries as his teeth sink into your neck, biting down just hard enough to sting. You gasp beneath his palm — the pain sharp, the kiss that follows it soft and soothing, a cruel little contradiction that makes you whimper into his skin.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he pants, fingers circling your clit with perfect pressure, filthy and reverent all at once. “You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna soak my cock like the perfect little thing you are?”

You nod frantically beneath his hand, body trembling, seconds from unraveling. Stars begin to bloom at the edges of your vision, your thighs quivering as you squirm back against him, chasing every last bit of friction.

“Yeah, just like that, baby,” Luke grunts, voice thick and desperate. “Come for me — I’ve got you.”

With one final, devastating thrust, your body breaks. You bite down on your wrist, muffling the cry as the dam bursts open. Your back arches into him, muscles locking tight, legs shaking with the sheer intensity of your orgasm. The world narrows to heat, motion, and Luke — still buried inside you, still moving, still whispering in your ear.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he moans, breath ragged. “That feel good, baby? So good for me.”

Your body sags against him, boneless and buzzing, completely undone — and Luke doesn’t waste a second.

Without warning, he pulls out, and before you can even catch your breath, he’s flipping you onto your stomach. A sharp gasp escapes you as your cheek hits the pillow, and then his hand presses firmly between your shoulder blades, holding you down just enough to make your breath hitch again.

A wave of heat pulses through you at the shift — that sudden, dizzying change from softness to raw possession. Your heart skips as the realization sinks in. You’re not done. He’s not done.

And God, that only makes you wetter. You bite down on your lip in anticipation.

“You gonna let me use you now?” Luke pants, hovering over you, his hand fisted in the sheets beside your head for balance. His voice is wrecked, low and hungry. You nod — small, breathless, already trembling — and that’s all he needs.

You feel the thick head of his cock drag through your soaked entrance before he sinks in with one hard, brutal thrust.

You arch beneath him, a gasp ripping from your throat before you can stop it. Luke slaps his hand over your mouth again, groaning into your ear.

“Be quiet,” he tuts, voice tight with restraint. “Don’t need a fussy baby interrupting while I’m busy fucking my wife into the mattress.”

His hand drops from your mouth and curls around your throat again, warm and grounding — claiming. Then his hips pull back and slam into you, fast and unforgiving.

Each thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, sending shockwaves through your body as he finds that perfect spot over and over. You bury your face into the pillow, biting down hard to stifle the sounds clawing up your throat.

Luke is panting, gasping, barely keeping it together. “I’m not gonna last,” he grits out, voice breaking. “This pussy’s too fucking perfect. Perfect — and mine.”

His words dissolve into growls, each one filthier than the last. His hand tightens around your throat just enough to make you dizzy — never enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who you belong to. His thrusts get rougher, messier, his control slipping with every desperate snap of his hips.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, his forehead falling to your shoulder. “Fuck, I’m gonna come. Please — let me fill you up, baby. Please.”

You don’t answer.

Instead, you flex your leg back just enough to push him deeper, lock him in place.

Luke lets out a broken moan — almost a sob — as he comes, spilling into you with a sharp, shaking groan. A string of curses and your name fall from his lips like a prayer, wrecked and reverent. He exhales hard, thrusting once, twice more before collapsing onto his back beside you, totally spent.

You’re both breathless, the room quiet except for the sound of your hearts pounding. You turn your head just enough to look at him — and, of course, he’s already looking at you. That lazy, fucked-out grin is spread across his face, curls messy, lips kiss-swollen.

“I love you so fucking much,” he murmurs, still panting.

You roll your eyes, resting your cheek on your palm. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease, reaching over to brush a damp curl from his forehead. “You talk a lot for someone who has a mess to clean up.”

Luke’s eyebrows lift, amused, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he nudges your thigh and gently rolls you onto your back. He hovers above you for a moment, then starts kissing his way down — slow, deliberate, worshipful. Every inch of exposed skin is met with his lips, his stubble, the heat of his breath.

When he reaches your thighs, he spreads them apart with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

“You always look so fucking pretty when I’m dripping out of you,” he says, almost dreamily. His finger drags through the mess between your legs — a light, filthy stroke that makes you shiver — before he leans in and licks into you without another word.

His tongue is warm, slow, unhurried as he laps up every drop he left inside you. You sigh, your eyes fluttering shut, sinking into the bed as his mouth works — greedy but soft, careful with your overstimulated body.

He places one last kiss to your clit and your legs twitch instinctively. Luke chuckles, smug, and crawls back up your body, kissing along the way until his mouth finds yours.

The taste is unmistakable — both of you, hot and sweet and earthy on his tongue.

You sigh into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, hands roaming across his broad back. You never want him to move.

“I really fucking love you,” you murmur when he finally pulls away, settling beside you again.

Luke grins, flushed and glowing. “Yeah?”

Instead of answering, you crawl onto your knees, shooting him a sly grin. His cock rests against his stomach, still half-hard, glistening. You lean down and drag your tongue in one slow, deliberate stripe from base to tip.

Luke lets out a filthy little moan, head falling back onto the pillow as you take the head into your mouth. Your tongue swirls along the underside — that sweet spot just beneath the crown — and his legs twitch in response. You can taste yourself on him, and the mix makes your head spin.

“Christ,” he exhales, voice already wrecked. “You’re fucking insatiable—”

He’s cut off by the rustle of sheets and the unmistakable sound of a sniffle, soft and pitiful.

You both freeze.

A glance toward the monitor confirms it: Eden’s sitting up in bed, clutching her stuffed bear to her chest, face crumpled into the world’s saddest pout.

Luke groans. Not the sexy kind. The parental kind.

“Rain check?” you whisper, flashing him a sheepish smile as you reach for your discarded underwear and shorts.

He’s already sitting up, dragging his pants back on with the sort of defeated slouch that only comes from being cockblocked by the literal love of your lives.

“If we can squeeze it in before Eden turns eighteen,” he mutters, deadpan. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if u made it here ur awesome!! thank u to anon for this amazing request. i love dad luke.

[inthepassengerside]

Hotel Ceiling

A/N: i’m back :)) hope you guys like this one, it took me soooo long.

Warnings: protected sex, dirty talk, cute emotional sex ya feel me?

You and the band were in South America now, second leg of the tour. Your camera hangs around your neck as you lean against the wall of the hotel interior. Your eyes are closed, hands at your sides, hair clipped back as sweat forms along your neck. Calum, Ashton, Michael, and Luke all stand close to check in with the hotel clerk, and you watch from afar. It was only the second leg but God you were tired. Even though it wasn’t new to you, you’d been doing this with them for years, it always felt like the first time.

Calum leaves the bunch to come find you. “You okay?” he asks, nudging your shoulder slightly. His shorts hang low on his hips, neck pillow around his neck still, and his eyes heavy as well. Nonetheless, his excitement is still evident about continuing the tour.

“Head hurts,” you mumble, smiling softly. Calum nods, shrugging, “I feel that. You’re not gonna come out to eat with us?” You shake your head no. “I’m sorry, can’t even think about food right now, just wanna put my head on that pillow…” he frowns a bit before reassuring you that it’s okay, heading back to everyone else.

You guys make way for the elevator, luggage taken from you by the hotel men. As you reach your floor, you bid the boys goodnight and let them know to be safe, that you’re calling it for today. They pout, but understand, as you shut the door to your room.

As you walk in, you’re immediately engulfed by the calmness and quietness of the room. You see your bags already by the door, and you change into a matching pair of tank tops and shorts before heading for the bathroom and getting ready for bed.

You close your eyes, hoping sleep will tame the headache and you’ll wake up as good as new tomorrow. The soft noise of the tv blurs in the background as you wait for sleep to lull over you.

You’re jolted awake by a knock at the door. Startled, you wait it out, before you hear ruffling that sounds like an unopened back of chips, and a voice you know all too well.

“Brought some snacks.. can I come in?” Luke’s familiar voice is quiet through the door. You shout out a yes, telling him it’s okay, as you get up and open the door for him, resuming your position on the bed shortly after.

He follows you over to the bed. “I know you’re not feeling that well, but you need to eat okay? Probably don’t have an appetite, I got nachos from the cafe downstairs… brought some extra chips.”

You smile shyly. “Thank you, but really didn’t have to.” He responds with a quiet, “I know. Do you need anything else? For… your headache?”

You shrug, “It’ll pass, it’s nothin…”

Luke doesn't push, but his gaze says he doesn't believe you. He sits there beside you in silence for a few moments, the only sound the steady rhythm of his breathing. It's a comfortable quiet, not awkward or filled with forced conversation. It's as if he's offering a silent promise: ‘I'm here if you need me.’

You realize then that this is what you like about Luke. He's not a follower— doesn’t care about what the rest of the crowd is doing. He's the steady presence in your life, the one who's always there when you need him.

“Here, come lay with me,” you reposition your body to the side so there’s room for him. “Only.. if you plan on staying. I don’t want to keep you if you don’t wanna stay.”

Luke hesitates, and for a moment, you can practically hear the gears turning in his head. He glances towards the door, thinking of the others waiting, then back at you.

"Okay," he says softly, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile. he stands up and kicks off his shoes, then carefully settles next to you. He's mindful of keeping the distance between you respectful, but close enough to offer comfort.

For a few moments, he's silent, his breaths steady and even against the fabric of your shirt. But then, it's like he can't help himself, his curiosity gets the better of him. His fingers reach out, tracing light, almost feather-like patterns on your back. The light touch sends a little shiver down your spine, but in a good way. It's soothing, sending a wave of warmth through you that seems to lessen the pain, if only for a moment.

You let out a breathy sigh, letting him now that he’s helping you, that it feels good. Encouraged by your response, Luke's touch becomes a little more firm. His fingers continue their exploration, dancing over your back in a rhythm. His touch is gentle, but filled with purpose. He seems to know where your muscles are tense, where the knots sit, and deftly applies pressure in those spots. You can feel some of the tightness start to ease as he works, the steady rhythm of his movements lulling you into a state of relaxation.

“T-thank you,” you stutter out, voice weakening because of his actions. "No problem," Luke whispers, his voice barely audible over the soft audio from the tv in the room. His fingers continue to move, kneading out the knots with a gentle touch. You can't help but lean back into his hands, the pain slowly fading as he continues his ministrations.

Time seems to stand still, your focus entirely on the steady rhythm of Luke's touch. The headache still lingers at the edge of your consciousness, but for the first time all day, it feels like an afterthought. You're lost in the moment, in the gentle ebb and flow of your shared silence. There's a sense of safety and acceptance here, a quiet understanding between the two of you that seems to transcend words.

“You’re my best friend, I think,” you whisper, only loud enough for him to hear. The simplicity of your statement is oddly moving. It’s a small confirmation of your relationship. Luke's hand stops for a moment, his fingers pausing mid-motion. He doesn't speak; his response is quieter, subtler. His hand resumes its path, but you can feel a tiny bit more weight behind it. It's a silent affirmation, a confirmation that your feelings are reciprocated. For all his words left unspoken, Luke communicates volumes through his touch. "You're mine too," he mumbles softly, his lips so close to your ear that the words are more felt than heard.

“And… and sometimes,” you whisper, “I don’t know if I want you as more.” Luke shifts slightly beside you, his body turning a few degrees as if to better face you. His touch, however, remains constant, the steady rhythm on your back the only tangible connection between you as he mulls over your meaning.

"It… it feels wrong, I know, but sometimes, I want it too," he admits, and in that moment, you feel the walls of your guarded hearts crumble. There's a shared vulnerability in those words, a mutual understanding from years of friendship that blossomed into something you’ve been too scared to admit. And in the quiet stillness of the hotel room, as Luke's touch continues across your back, you feel a shift—a turning point neither of you realized was coming.

You turn to face him now, his hands stopping briefly on your back as you move closer to him, fingers tracing over his palm. “Sometimes… I think about you kissing me.” You speak again, calmly.

The simple touch of your fingertips tracing patterns on his palm sends him reeling. Luke's breathing hitches for a moment, a subtle shift in the rhythm of his chest. His fingers continue their soothing movements on your back, but there's a new tension there, a palpable anticipation. He swallows before speaking, the words a bit husky. "Sometimes... I think about it too."

“C-can we kiss, Lu?” you ask, abruptly, waiting for his response. God you wanted him so bad.

There's a moment of silent anticipation before Luke answers, his voice soft but undeniably firm. "Yes."

His hand stills completely, now resting lightly on your side. It's a silent invitation, an offer for you to take the lead. His breathing quickens, his body seemingly poised on the edge of a precipice, waiting for your signal.

Time seems to slow as you lean in, drawn towards Luke. Your noses almost brush, a fraction of distance between your lips.

Luke's breath catches in his throat as you draw closer. The anticipation is almost electric, a tense, coiled energy that thrums between you. His eyes flutter closed, his long lashes casting feather-soft shadows on his cheeks. Then, with a shuddering exhale, his lips finally meet yours: tentative at first, a gentle, testing exploration.

Luke's lips are surprisingly soft, warm and gentle, as if he's afraid that any more pressure might shatter the fragile moment between you. There's a faint taste of something sweet, a lingering hint the chocolate bar you shared on the plane. His hand, still resting lightly against your side, trembles just the slightest.

For a few moments, you remain there, lips barely touching, breaths mingling. It's as if the world has narrowed down to just this: the taste of Luke's lips, the warmth radiating from his skin, the intoxicating blend of familiarity and desire that dances between you.

The unexpected sound of your giggle seems to catch him by surprise. Luke freezes for a moment, his lips still pressed lightly against yours. His eyes flutter open, a soft chuckle escaping his throat, the sound low and warm like honey. The tension that had filled the air melts away in that moment of shared laughter, replaced by a growing sense of ease and connection.

"You do that a lot, you know," Luke murmurs, his eyes still sparkling with amusement. "Laugh at the weirdest times."

You pull away, blushing, “Sorry! I- I just… can’t believe this is happening.”

Luke's expression softens at your words. "Don't be sorry," he whispers, his thumb moving to trace the curve of your cheek. "I love your laugh, it's contagious."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look you fully in the eyes, his gaze filled with a burning intensity that leaves no room for doubt. He swallows, then continues, his voice low, almost a whisper. "And I can't believe it either, but in a good way. The best way. I... You have no idea how long I've wanted this." You nod, looking at him, “Me too.”

This simple admission seems to break something in Luke; a newfound boldness floods him. He suddenly surges forward, capturing your lips in a passionate, yearning kiss. There's an urgency there now, a clear indication of the barely contained desire that's been simmering beneath the surface. His hand moves up over your side, tracing a searing path up your chest and coming to rest lightly on your jaw.

You let out a moan at the new passion, lips molding with his as you suddenly become breathless. You whimper at the feel of his hand wandering.

At the sound of your whimper, Luke seems to become more confident. His hands become bolder, roaming over your body as if touching you is the only thing that matters. His grip is both firm and gentle, the perfect blend of dominance and tenderness. His mouth moves against yours, his kisses deep and hungry, as if he can’t get enough of the taste of you. His touch is everywhere, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, each point of contact setting your body ablaze.

With an abrupt movement, he rolls you onto your back, hovering over you, his body pressed closely against yours. The weight of him is a warm, reassuring presence, and you can feel his heart pounding against his chest, the rapid rhythm matching the one that’s now thundering in your ears. His hands continue their exploration, moving slowly over your body, leaving shivers in their wake. His fingertips trace over the curves of your face, your chest, your hips. It's like he’s mapping out the contours of your figure, committing it to memory with every light touch.

“You- you taste so good, Lu,” you whimper out. At the huskiness of your voice, Luke’s breath catches in his throat, the praise hitting him like a physical blow. “You… you do too,” he manages to reply, his words coming out soft and low.

Then, before either of you even realize it, his hands are moving beneath your shirt, skimming up over your stomach, his palms flattening against your skin. The heat of his touch is searing, leaving a trail of fire from the bottom of your ribs up to the curve of your breasts.

As he reaches the edge of your bra, his fingers hesitate for a brief moment before pressing gently against the fabric, his touch simultaneously teasing and insistent. His breath is shallow now, his hand moving in a slow, circular motion as if to gauge your reaction. You nod at him, granting him your approval.

The affirmation from you is all that he needs. His hand continues its journey, moving with newfound urgency, his palm coming to cup one of your breasts, his thumb brushing lightly over the lace-covered peak. “Feels good,” you gasp.

As you arch into his touch, a soft moan escapes Luke's lips, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “You’re so soft, so beautiful,” he murmurs, his words little more than a whisper against your ear. His thumb continues to tease over the lace, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body. His other hand continues to explore, his fingers now tracing lazy circles over your hip, each movement drawing a new sigh from your lips.

Then, a realization dawns over you. “Do you think we’re making a mistake, Luke?”

At your question, Luke finally pulls back, just enough so he can look you in the eyes. His expression is raw, his desire and hesitation equally evident in his gaze. “I don’t know,” he says, his voice husky, as if the words themselves are being pulled from deep within him. “But… I don’t care. Not right now.” And with that, he leans in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss.

You moan, surging forward to kiss him again. The heat between you is becoming unbearable now, a fever that seems to be consuming both of you whole. Luke’s hands move with newfound urgency, his fingers hooking under the hem of your shirt and pushing it up over your head, the action leaving you half-naked against him. He breaks the kiss to look at you, his eyes raking slowly over your body. His gaze is filled with a smoldering intensity, as if he wants to devour you whole.

His hands come to rest softly against your sides, his touch still tender despite the fire in his eyes. He leans in once more, his lips pressing against the column of your throat, his voice low and hushed between kisses. “Tell me...” he murmurs, “Is this… Okay?” His words carry a weight to them, the question laced with uncertainty and desire. “More than okay,” you nod, “Need you, so bad- please.”

At your breathy plea, Luke's resolve snaps. His hands become more insistent, his mouth moving with a new purpose as it trails down your body, leaving a path of fiery kisses in its wake. He whispers your name against your skin, his voice filled with an aching need that matches your own. "Need you too," he murmurs, the intensity in his voice almost overwhelming. "Need you… now."

As he reaches the waistband of your pants, his hands dip beneath the fabric, caressing the warm skin of your hips. His fingers work deftly, fumbling with the drawstring of your shorts. He seems to be moving solely by instinct now, the need to explore your body trumping all else. He slowly peels the shorts off your body before you mumble, “Why are you hiding from me baby? Wanna see you,” you tug at his shirt.

"Not hiding," he says, his voice a low rumble that's barely above a whisper as he pulls his shirt over his head, "Just... savoring this moment. Memorizing every inch of you. Everything." His hands come to rest on your waist once again, his fingers tracing along the elastic band of your panties. He's gentle, almost reverently, his gaze never leaving your face.

“See me, Lu,” you encourage him, letting him know it’s okay to take them off. With a final caress, his hand dips beneath the fabric. His fingers are warm, almost searing against your skin, his touch achingly light yet impossibly pleasurable. “I see you, baby,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a newfound raw honesty. “You’re perfect.” His eyes never leave your face, studying your reactions as he touches you. Every moan, every gasp, it all feeds his hunger for you, making him more insistent, more eager. Finally, he pulls your panties down your legs.

You stutter, “S-see how wet I am for you?” Luke lets out a low groan at your words, the sound raw and unapologetic. “Fuuuuck…” he curses, pressing his forehead against yours as if trying to ground himself. “I just… God… you’re…” He bites his lip, his breath coming in shallow pants as if he’s struggling to hold himself together.

You stare up at him, panting. “I want you…” Luke responds by capturing your lips in a heated kiss, as if he can't bear to be apart from you a moment longer. “I need you,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice almost a growl. “Now.”

His hands find yours, tangling your fingers together as he rolls you both over, pinning you beneath him. His kisses are possessive now, each one an insistent demand for more of you. “Do- do you have anything?”

You cringe as you hear yourself ask the question, scared you might be ruining the mood. A small smile plays at the corners of Luke's lips as he nods. He fumbles with his discarded jeans, pulling a condom from the back pocket with deft fingers. "Yes," he answers softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek, the gesture both reassuring and intimate.

You grin, feeling the sudden urge to tease him. “Prepared hm? Were you expecting this, lu? Planning on fuckin’ someone else?”

Luke gives a deep, hearty chuckle at your playful jab, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Absolutely not,” he replies, shaking his head, his voice filled both with amusement and a lingering sense of desire. “Just... Being prepared, y'know?”

His lips meet yours once more, the kiss slow and lingering, as if he's trying to convince himself that this is real. “Only you, baby,” he whispers against your mouth.

You moan against his mouth, “let me see you, see how big you are baby.”

At the huskiness of your voice, Luke shivers, his breath hitching for a moment. He rolls off onto his back, his hands moving to your hips to gently guide you to sit astride him. He watches you, the color high in his cheeks, his gaze unwavering.

He seems almost shy now, almost reverent. A small nod, a silent permission.

You peel off his boxers, eyes widening once you see him. His tip is red, swollen, and leaking. the rest of him stands tall. “Mmm, so big… so pretty.”

Luke’s cheeks flush at your words, his breath hitching in his chest. He seems to grow shy, as if your admiration is too much for him to handle. His hips reflexively buck up towards your touch, as if he can’t help himself. “It’s been a while,” he murmurs, his eyes fixed on your face. “So… be patient with me…”

You can’t help but smile at that, nodding. “Gimme the condom, let me put it on you..”

Luke fumbles for the condom, his hands shaking slightly as he hands it to you. His eyes are locked on your face, his expression a mix of desire and vulnerability. It's as if he's completely at your mercy, his body coiled tight and taut like a bowstring.

“Careful," he murmurs, his voice hoarse with need. "Don't... Don't tease me, baby. I'm so close already... Just the sound of your voice... The way your hands feel on me..."

You shake your head. “Need you to last for me, Lu, please?” You plead, tearing the foil of the condom and rolling it on his length.

As you roll the condom onto him, Luke sucks in a sharp breath, his hands clenching tightly into the sheets. "Ah... fuuucckkk," he curses, his hips bucking involuntarily upwards.

He looks at you, his eyes dark with desire, his chest heaving with each breath. He reaches for you, his hands grasping at your hips, tugging you closer. "I need you... now. Please baby... I can't take it anymore.”

“I know you do, I know,” You murmur, sucking along his neck as you make your way back up his body. “How do you want me?”

At your question, Luke shudders, his head tilting back to give you more access to his neck. His hands move to your waist, gently guiding you onto your back. "Like this," he responds, his voice heavy with need. His body hovers over yours, his weight resting on his forearms as he looks down at you.

Luke positions himself above you, his breathing ragged and shallow. He seems to be trying to still himself, to take a moment to savor the moment before sinking into you. He looks at you, his eyes dark and intense, his expression a silent question. Then, with gentleness, he presses forward to fill you.

You let out a quick gasp when you feel his tip press inside you. He presses into you inch by inch, his body trembling with the effort. His eyes are fixed on your face, his expression a mix of raw desire and tender concern, as if he's studying every tiny change in your expression.

His touch is gentle, his hands holding you steady as he pushes deeper into you. "You..okay?" he manages to rasp out, his voice thick with the effort it's taking not to lose himself entirely to the moment.

You nod, a whine tearing from your throat. “You- you feel so big,” you moan.

At your words, Luke lets out a low groan, the sound reverberating through his chest. "You’re so tight," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. "Take it... take me, baby"

His words are broken, as if he’s barely holding on to his control. He pushes in a little deeper, his body shuddering at the sensations coursing through him. His head drops forward, his cheek resting against your shoulder.

You moan, “I will… need a minute..”

Luke nods, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. He stills above you, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your shoulder. His hands grip your hips, steadying himself as he waits for you to adjust to him.

He presses feather-light kisses to your skin, gently nibbling and sucking at your collarbone as he does. He seems to be trying to distract himself from the overwhelming need to move, to lose himself in you completely.

“Tell me when,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. His touch is tender, his hands gently stroking along your sides, as if trying to soothe the tension that's coiled so tight within you. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

A few moments pass before you mumble, “‘m good… move, please.”

Luke lets out a ragged exhale, his body visibly relaxing as you give the signal. He starts to move, his hips rolling against yours in slow, gentle motions, each thrust measured and deliberate. He seems to be trying to prolong the moment, to savor every second of the connection between you.

He kisses your cheek, your brow, your jawline, all gentle, tender acts as he continues to move inside you. He keeps his pace slow, steady, his body close to yours, as if he can't quite bear to have any distance between you.

"You feel so good," he whispers, though his voice is barely above it, as if saying it too loud would shatter the moment. "So good. I want to... I want..." He seems to be struggling to find the words, his breath coming in ragged, labored gasps.

You moan out a response as continues to thrust. “W-want to what?”

Luke hesitates for a moment, his voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing. He leans in, his mouth close to your ear, his breath warm on your skin. "Want to cum," he whispers, the words barely more than a breath, the raw, unfiltered desire in his voice making your insides flutter. "But... I don't want this to end. Don't wanna... lose this feeling. You feel so good. I just want to stay like this forever..."

You whine, not close enough yet for him to cum. “Lu, please… hold out for me baby…”

Luke groans at your words, his body trembling with the effort it takes to hold back, to keep the slow, rhythmic movement of his hips steady. He nuzzles his face against your neck, his breathing labored.

"Trying... God, trying so hard for you," he manages to gasp out. "You feel... so good. Don't... Don't want this to end. Don't want... it to end." He repeats this like a mantra, as if the repetition will somehow make it more real or make it easier to hold back.

Luke angles his hips slightly different, prompting you to let out a squeak as he hits your g spot repeatedly. “A-ah! Lu!”

"Yeah?" he murmurs, his lips against your ear. "Feel good, baby?" He seems to adjust his angle again, his thrusts hitting against that same spot over and over, the sensation sending sparks across your skin. "Right there, baby. You like that? Hm?" His fingers dig into the skin of your hips, his touch urgent, as if he's trying to hold onto this moment for as long as he can, as if he's trying to memorize every small detail, every sound you make.

You nod your head and arch your body up, allowing his cock to go impossibly deeper. “W-wanna cum!”

At your words, Luke seems to lose a little bit of control. His movements become more erratic, his thrusts growing more urgent as he chases his own release. He's panting now, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he tries to hold back, to draw out this moment as long as possible.

"Yeah... Yeah, baby," he murmurs between ragged breaths. "Want you to cum for me." His voice is rough, almost guttural.

You whine as he trails his fingers down to your clit. “I-I’m gonna cum…”

Luke's fingers move in slow, tight circles, the touch firm and deliberate. He seems to know exactly how much pressure to apply, how fast to move, how to keep you just on the edge of that precipice without letting you fall. "Come for me," he whispers, his voice rough and hoarse with desperation. "Please, baby. I need.. need to feel you clench around my cock.." He kisses your neck, bites your ear, his touch possessive, his movements becoming more urgent as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

Then, finally, you cum. Your pussy clamps around his cock like a vice grip. Your hips stutter and your vision blurs. Luke's breath catches in his throat as you clench around him, his whole body tensing as he fights to keep control. "Ah, oh fuuuck…!" he cries out, the words sharp and choppy, as if they're being torn from his very soul.

He keeps moving his fingers on your clit, his touch gentle and firm, bringing you through your release, guiding you through the waves of pleasure. His other hand drifts to your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh to keep you grounded.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whines in your ear. “You’re so good to me baby. ‘m gonna cum.”

Luke's body tenses as he finally lets go, his pleasure crashing through him like a wave, washing over him in overwhelming relief. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, his breathing ragged and harsh. "Oh god," he whispers.

He keeps moving inside you, his body trembling with the aftershocks, as if he can't bear to pull away, as if he needs to stay close to you, to prolong this moment for just a few more precious seconds.

You whine, not really sure what to say. “T-that was so good, Luke.”

Luke nods, his expression both tender and still tinged with a hint of desire. "Yeah," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "It was perfect."

He kisses your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin for a few moments, as if he can't bear to break the connection. He rolls off of you, flopping onto his back and pulling you close, his arms encircling you.

You let out a saddened whimper as he slips out of you, but you know the condom is uncomfortable for him. Luke carefully pulls off the condom and ties it off before making his way to the bathroom to dispose of it. He returns a moment later, his body still slightly flushed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He climbs back into bed, tugging the sheets up around you both before once again pulling you into his arms. He holds you close, his body warm and solid against yours, his touch both possessive and protective. "You okay?" he murmurs, his voice soft and low.

You snuggle closer into him, curling in the hotel sheets. “‘m perfect. that felt so right.”

Luke nods, his expression fond and filled with an undeniable sense of contentment. "Yeah," he replies, his voice little more than a whisper. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, his arms tightening around you, as if he can't bear to let you go. "I don't want to move," he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin.

“S-so don’t. We’ll talk more in the morning, alright? But, for now… just… stay close.” You speak quietly, hoping he feels the same.

He hums contently in your ear, “Yeah. Jus’ gonna hold you tonight.”

[inthepassengerside]

That subby Luke fic honestly sounds so good. Is that still gonna be posted sometime after the best friends brother fic, the odds are not in my favour haha.

i still want to post it! i’ve been stuck recently but i have most of it done just gotta do some line edits. i’m honestly quite scared it might be a lil too graphic because even though all my works are smut ive never written anything subby. but i think you guys will like it!

[inthepassengerside]

hey guys! i have two ideas in the works. which would you like to see first? both of them are smut… one of them is a best friends to lovers type and the other is a really submissive luke. like i’m talking toys n all. let me know !!

[inthepassengerside]

SO GOOOOD

can you do a subby needy luke smut? maybe even a sequel to the high school au :)

teen romance .

thank you sososo much for this ask!!!!! i’m not very good at smut still very new but i hope this suffices lol,, thank you!! warnings: subby luke, riding, & that’s it i think!!

༺☆༻

you’d been kissing for so long your lips were tingling, numb around the edges, swollen in that perfect way that made it impossible not to go back for more. luke’s hands stayed warm and slow against your skin, sliding up beneath your hoodie like he was memorizing the shape of your waist, your ribs, the small of your back.

“can i?” he whispered, voice low and hoarse, fingers hovering just beneath the hem.

you barely had to think. “yes,” you breathed—already tugging the hoodie over your head and tossing it to the side, revealing skin that made his breath hitch and his hands freeze for just a second.

his eyes were all over you—wide and blue and completely overwhelmed. “you’re …: you’re serious?” he whispered, like it was something unbelievable.

you just smiled, leaning down to press your mouth to his, soft and slow and teasing. “obviously.”

luke groaned quietly, head falling back against the couch as you kissed down his jaw, your hips shifting slightly over his. “you’ve got … no idea what you’re doing to me right now,” he mumbled, breath catching as your tongue flicked against the corner of his mouth. “like, genuinely. i think my brain just shut off.”

“then you should probably let me do the thinking,” you said, half a laugh, half a dare, as you gently rolled your hips forward—and he made a sound that went straight through you.

his fingers gripped tighter at your sides, mouth parting, and he stared at you like you were the only thing in the room. “you always gonna boss me around like this?” he murmured, but his tone was soft, wrecked, a little in love.

you tilted your head, pretending to think. “maybe.”

his hands traveled down your back, slow and dragging, until they landed low on your hips—then lower. “please do,” he whispered, and the way he said it—like it wasn’t just about tonight, like he wanted you in charge forever—nearly unraveled you.

“you’re so good,” you whispered, kissing along his neck, “so sweet. i don’t even have to ask twice.”

he swallowed hard, his hands now resting on your ass like it was the only thing anchoring him to earth. “i don’t wanna think,” he admitted, breath shaky. “not when you’re doing that.”

you kissed him again—open-mouthed, messy, with just enough tongue to make his head spin. he kissed back like he was trying to prove something, hands squeezing your ass, your waist, like he still couldn’t believe this was real.

you pulled back just slightly, lips brushing his as you whispered, “good. then shut up and let me kiss you again.”

he nodded, eyes half-lidded, hands still glued to your hips. “yeah. yeah, okay, baby..”

he couldn’t stop looking at you—his lips red and kiss-swollen, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run five miles, not spent the last half hour kissing you stupid on the couch. his hair was a mess where your fingers had raked through them, and his jaw was tense in the best way, like he was trying so hard not to come undone completely.

you leaned down again, brushing your mouth against his, and he tilted his chin up just barely—chasing you, desperate for more even before the kiss started.

your lips moved against his in long, slow passes, tongue sliding past his teeth with practiced ease, and his hands trembled a little where they gripped your hips. you felt it when his fingers flexed, felt the way he tried not to push you harder into him.

but then you did it again—rolled your hips over his in a slow, grinding rhythm, the kind that said you knew exactly what you were doing. you felt him gasp into your mouth, his body jerking slightly under yours.

“you’re …. somethin’ else,” he whispered, and it sounded like the highest compliment.

you grinned against his lips, pulling back only enough to catch your breath. “aw, baby,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing. “m’just gettin’ started.”

his hands slid up beneath your shirt—just palms and fingers now, no rush. he was touching to feel, not to take, and it sent goosebumps down your spine. “you’re killin’ me,” he said again, almost laughing this time, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

you bit his bottom lip again, slow and deliberate, tugging at the silver ring as you pulled back. the sound he made—deep in his throat, wrecked and needy—went straight to your stomach.

“oh my god,” he muttered, his head thunking back against the couch. “i’m not gonna survive this.”

you kissed his jaw, then the corner of his mouth, then finally pressed your lips back to his—tongue tracing the seam of his lips until he opened up for you without hesitation. it was sloppier now, messier, your mouths colliding again and again like you couldn’t bear to be apart for more than a second.

your hips rolled forward once more, deliberately slow, and luke made a strangled sound that broke into a laugh—like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to beg or cheer.

“you’re not real,” he mumbled against your mouth. “you’re not even real. there’s no way.”

“i’m very real,” you whispered, kissing him again. “and very into you.”

“fuck,” luke breathed, the rest of his words lost in a needy whine. he’d tried in vain to not react, to make it less obvious how much you were driving him crazy, but he was quickly realizing that it was impossible when you were grinding yourself against him. the boy was achingly hard now, straining against the fabric of his jeans as you teased him.

but see, over the clothes just simply wasn’t working for the two of you.

which is where luke found himself here, at the peak of his life, his girl slowly sinking down on his cock.

luke’s whole body tensed the moment he felt you sink, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to keep his hips from bucking up instinctively, the sensation of your warm, tight, gummy walls sending a surge of pleasure through his entire body, leaving him gasping for air, his hands clutching your hips.

“how ya feeling, luke?” you questioned, all breathy, trying not to laugh at luke’s expression. luke’s expression was a painting in motion—dreamy, dazed, lost in something far beyond the room you were in. his lips were parted just slightly, still pink and kiss-swollen, like he’d forgotten how to close them. his eyes had that soft, half-lidded look, pupils blown wide, gaze stuck on you like you were the only thing that existed in the universe. he wasn’t even trying to hide it—didn’t blink, didn’t breathe for a second, just looked at you like he’d been stunned.

luke panted softly, his eyes slowly returning to earth to stare up at you. “you—” he stuttered, pausing to swallow. “so good, baby. you feel … amazing.”

you decided to move, beginning to bounce, slowly, at first. but to him? the experience was otherworldly. luke hadn’t had a lot of sexual experiences before you, and it was obvious.

luke’s head dropped down to your shoulder as the feeling of you bouncing in his lap overwhelmed him, his whimpers escaping freely into your ear, his breath coming out in ragged pants. his hands on your hips were holding you as close as he could get you, as if he was desperate to feel every inch of you. “god,” he whimpered, “you feel so good. so good, baby.”

he was blabbering at this point, not even processing his own words. his head lolled back against the couch, like a doll going limp, slurring our praises and whimpering and whining because your pace was relentless.

“can’t—“ you chuckled softly, despite yourself. “can’t understand you, baby.”

luke let out a strangled moan in response, not able to do much more than take the ride you were providing him. he was a complete and utter wreck, all thanks to the way you were riding him, his eyes rolling back behind his head as your pace got faster.

all he could do to just cling to you, his nails digging into the skin of your hips, leaving little red half-moon imprints in their wake. “f-fuck,” he whimpered, “oh, god, don’t stop. don’t—“

his breath came in ragged gasps as he snapped his hips up on instinct, bottoming out inside you, the obscene splat of skin meeting skin echoing off the walls. your walls felt like heaven—and hell—forcing him to clench his teeth so hard his jaw ached.

“oh—jesus,” he let out a strangled whimper, hips rolling instinctively into the vice grip of your cunt. “m’gonna cum, gonna cum—” a broken moan ripped from his throat as your body fluttered around him, “fuck—“ his entire body locked up tight, every muscle coiled like a spring as he rode out the wave of pleasure. “can't," he gasped against your ear, voice wrecked and honey-sweet. "gotta…g-got-ahhhh—" the rest dissolved into a shuddering moan as white-hot ropes painted your insides, head falling back to the edge of the sofa with adoring exhaustion.

“y’did so good,” you whispered against his jaw, coming off your own high.

“… can we do that again?”

༺☆༻

i’m sorry i had NO idea how to end this. love you!!!!

[inthepassengerside]

[inthepassengerside]

[inthepassengerside]

please, please, please. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: your roommate is full of surprises, it seems.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. hints of dub con, veuryism, teasing, submissive!luke, dominant!femreader, sub/dom undertones, praising, light degradation/teasing, oral sex (male & female receiving), safe sane and consensual, explicit sexual content.

words: 3,783

a/n: lou planted this little seed in my head and i didn't expect a whole thing out of it, esp given my difficulty writing but.. lord, am i a whore for submissive luke. i kept this fairly mild but, alas, enjoy. x <3 (or don't, up to you.)

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

Copyright © 2025 badomensbaby. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

You weren’t supposed to be home tonight.

Picking up shifts at the diner, unfortunately, were unpredictable at times. The restaurant was either over-staffed or under, with no inbetween. So when your phone rang during the twenty minute drive to town, there was a fifty percent chance you’d get the don’t bother, it’s slow spiel from the manager.

After confirming twice – just to be sure, of course – that your presence wasn’t required tonight, you decide to swing by and grab a bite to eat before returning to the apartment. You fire off a quick text to your roommate, Luke, asking if he’d like anything. He’s a terrible, terrible cook. Can’t use an oven to save his life, poor thing. The two of you mainly survive off of your passable skills of recreating TikTok recipes Luke wants to try and Luke’s obsession with takeout.

When you don’t receive a response before placing the order, you decide to choose something for him anyway. The only thing Luke’s worse at than cooking is answering his phone. Half the time he’s left it somewhere with no knowledge of its whereabouts, and any other time he’s got Do Not Disturb on, so there’s really no point in contacting him at all. That’s a problem for his future girlfriend slash eventually wife, not you, his long-time friend and reluctantly, current roommate.

Living with Luke isn’t all bad. He’s got a beautiful voice. When he sings in the shower it’s like a personal concert, and although he leaves wet towels on the floor and finishes off the shampoo without telling you, he’s respectful. He doesn’t bring any girls home, so there’s no explicit noises wafting through the thin wall separating your bedrooms. And in return you do the same, keeping any activities strictly elsewhere.

It’s not like you’re having much luck in that department anyway.

Guys these days, at least the ones you’ve been meeting, don’t take too kindly to your best friend. The number of times you’ve heard oh, that’s him? you’re sure you’re just friends? is honestly ridiculous. God forbid you’re close with someone platonically these days.

And like, okay, yeah, you know Luke’s an attractive guy. With his stupid blonde hair he never styles but always falls perfectly, and his pretty, sparkly blue eyes, he’s honestly a main love interest in a romance novel for sure. But you’ve been there for Luke’s horrible acne and shuffle-dancing obsession, for his drunken karaoke nights that consist solely of the HSM3 soundtrack, you’ve seen him at his worst. 

But that’s the whole thing. He’s.. He’s like, the cutest guy on campus. The one who dates the cheerleaders or volleyball players or something equally cliche. He tells you about his failed sexcapades and shitty dates over popcorn and dollar store candy. You’re best friends, nothing more, nothing less.

Even if sometimes you wish that wasn’t the case.

Yeah, a girl with a fleeting crush on her guy best friend. A terrible cliche, really. But you know it won’t go anywhere, especially considering the fact that you’re one hundred percent not Luke’s type at all. If his hookup stories are anything to go by, you’re the moon and he’s out there looking for the sun. He likes submissive women. Luke’s not bossy but he wears the pants in the bedroom, as he says, and that’s so incredibly far from what you’re into it’s funny.

Stupid crush aside, you head back to the apartment, shaking the thoughts of Luke around in your head like a loose screw in a drawer. You’ll only be living with him for six more months, and when the lease expires on your apartment the two of you will go your separate ways. He’ll probably move in with Calum and Michael and you’ll figure something out. You can’t be stuck with him forever.

With your head full of fuzzy, Luke-centric thoughts and armed with a bag of delicious takeout from your favorite spot, the trek up to your second floor apartment seems to pass by in a blur. The fluorescent lights buzz and hum and flicker above you and eventually, within what seems like seconds, you’re fishing the apartment keys from your pocket to unlock the door.

Except nothing could have ever prepared you for what welcomes you on the other side.

The apartment is dark, save for the television illuminating the open living room in a soft glow. Your heart leaps into your throat after the door clicks shut, shoes squealing on the cheap flooring as you freeze in place, and somehow you manage not to drop your dinner. 

You can’t make out what’s unfolding on the television but you hear it, the noises and sounds of skin and pleasure, yet what catches your attention solely is your roommate. Bare skin flushed, lounging on the couch with his thighs splayed open, head tilted back with his plush, pink lips and the whiniest sounds spilling out of them. Hands roaming in places you’ve only imagined you’d ever see.

“I–” Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. Like lead, preventing you from making your presence truly known. It feels all types of wrong, witnessing Luke like this, while he’s clearly in the middle of something and hadn’t expected you to be home.

You’re torn. Should you chalk this up to an awkward moment? One you can laugh about later on, and never truly acknowledge the swarm of lustful butterflies stirring inside you? Or, do you just rip the moment apart and start packing your things?

Despite the low light and gentle sounds from the video Luke had put on the t.v., you can clearly hear the sharp, low breath he sucks in when his eyes flutter open. Glimmery, sapphire blue you’d liken to the ocean, now a dark navy that makes your skin prick with goosebumps. It was a look you’d only read about in stupid books, so desperate and hopeful and sinful all at once.

“You’re– you’re home,” He sounds hoarse, as if every moan he’d retched around the apartment reduced his voice to a mere rasp. Luke’s hands don’t halt their exploration, one wrapped loosely around himself while the other traces the inside of his left thigh delicately. “Got a little ahead of myself. M’sorry.”

What the fuck?

You’re incapable of speaking, mouth fallen open like a fish out of water because what?

“Luke, I..” Your words almost sound slurred, blending into the soft sounds in the apartment. You slowly set the takeout bag on the floor, feeling so dirty with the way your eyes refuse to leave Luke. He looks almost ethereal in the television light, like something out of a magazine. “What..”

“I was hoping– hnnnf– hoping you’d wanna watch,” The way Luke’s looking at you feels wrong. Wrong, because that’s how Luke looks when he’s on the prowl, when his sights are set on some girl at the bar. Never you, though, because you’re not his type. Nothing makes sense. “From what you’ve told me – shit – you like watching. Like being in control,”

Luke’s breaths stutter as his chest begins to rise and fall a bit quicker. “And– fuck, Y/N, you have no idea how long I’ve– been thinking about it. Fantasizing. Wishing you’d come home and find me like this. Telling me where to touch, when to– I– oh fuck.”

Luke’s clearly on the edge already, desperately clinging to anything to keep himself from going over the cliff. He squeezes the base of his cock with a low hiss. “Please,” He says. Almost a plea, with how whiny it is. “Please.” He repeats.

Something inside of you snaps, then, like a rubber band pulled and pulled and pulled so tightly, a flush taking over your cheeks and body, ears hot. Your feet move of their own accord, brain a frenzy of the most ridiculous thoughts, as you slowly step closer to the couch.

Despite stretching across the entire sofa, even with his legs bent and thighs open the way they are, Luke looks so small. The way his dark lashes flutter, his hair messily strewn across his forehead, lightly dampened with sweat. He looks beautiful. 

You want to ruin him.

“You’re so desperate for it,” You say, arms crossing over your chest, nerves fluttering and buzzing every bone in your body. Words come easy, ironically now, like they’re not coming from you at all. “You did all this,” You gesture to him with your chin, eyes narrowed. “Hoping I’d be into it?”

Luke’s cock kicks in his hand. “Yeah,” He says breathily, plush lower lip tucked between his teeth. “Even if you weren’t, I’d probably get off to you yelling at me for it.”

Good Lord, is Luke Hemmings even real?

“Slow down,” You scold softly. “You’re working yourself up too much. It won’t be worth it,” He sucks in a tiny whine, you watch as his throat bobs with the noise catching there. Luke’s hips shift, as if it pains him to slow but he complies. “What else have you fantasized about?”

Luke looks bashful, then, and tears his eyes away from yours. “No, look at me.” You tell him.

He listens so well. You consider complimenting him, telling him just that, but perhaps you’ll save that for later. After this, whatever the hell it is, is over.

“Just– um,” He shudders, working himself slowly, thumb running over the tip of his cock. “Fuck, like– thought about you riding me – my face, actually. God, I love your thighs.”

“You want me to ride your face?” You ask. 

“Yes.” He whines softly, hips jerking.

“Do you think you deserve that?” 

“No.”

“At least you’re self aware,” You snort, stomach twisting as color floods Luke’s face. So bashful and embarrassed, though he doesn’t stop touching for a second. Slow and tortuous. “What do you think you deserve?”

Luke squeaks out a rasped, “Nothing.”

You watch in awe as pre-cum pools at his tip, swiped away by his thumb, beautifully slick along the length of his cock. You can’t help but let your mind run wild with the worst scenarios imaginable. The positions you’d put him in – the noises you could draw from him. He’s simply putty in your hands and you haven’t even touched him. 

“I wouldn’t say nothing,” You hum, arms uncrossing. “You at least deserve to cum.”

Luke hisses thankfully at that.

“But I’m trying to figure out how.” You say. 

Luke tosses his head back with a low, strangled groan.

“Oh, I know. You poor thing,” You tilt your head, tone mocking, as if talking to a puppy. “Think you can be a good boy and make some room for me? Just sit up a bit.”

“Fuck. Yeah, ‘kay.” Luke nods quickly, so eager to please, letting go of his dick in favor of shuffling up, sitting halfway against the arm of the couch. 

With the length of his legs there isn’t much room but it’s enough. 

You’re slammed with a thought so sudden it makes your head throb. Holy shit, this is happening. The nerves have been dormant, though you’ve been well aware of them, resting below the surface of desire that swims in your veins. The one thing you deemed unattainable, dangling like a treat in front of you.

Willing and oh so pliant. 

“Don’t touch,” You tell him, his hand quivering on his abdomen. Fingers itching to get ahold of himself again, cock kicking against his stomach. You don’t bother kicking off your shoes or discarding any clothes – that’s all part of the scene, the power imbalance between yourself and Luke. With him exposed like this, with you covered up. It sends warmth pooling between your thighs. 

Your knees sink into the couch between his splayed thighs, guiding one down so that his foot rests flat on the floor, giving you more room. Luke’s hips shift at your simple touch, so featherlight, cool fingers on hot, flushed skin. “You’re not the only one who’s been fantasizing.” 

“Y/N,” He moans softly. God, it sounds so heavenly.

“It’s funny,” You continue, letting your eyes wander, but not touching. Keeping your hands from feeling him in every way you’ve been thinking about for so long. “You talk this big game, that you call the shots. With those big shoulders and big hands, oh I’m sure you could hold me down and do whatever you’d like. And yet, you’re desperate for me to tell you what to do. How funny is that?”

With every demeaning little quip from you, Luke’s cock kicks out another spurt of pre-cum. It dribbles onto his stomach, sticky and slick. And despite your desire to watch him squirm and beg and not give in, you find yourself wondering how he tastes. 

“Y/N,” He says again, a frenzied tilt to his gravelly voice. “Please, I’m begging. Anything, do anything.”

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” You hum. “I won’t make you do it, though. Not yet, anyway. I’m dying to get your cock in my mouth.”

Luke’s face screws up, as if he’s fighting the urge to cum right there. Stomach tensed, cock flushed red and oh so hard against his stomach. He’s so beautiful. 

Carefully, you take him into your hand. He’s velvety smooth and warm, veins tensing beneath your hold. Slick at the tip, so inviting. Something akin to a squeaky, broken moan escapes him. “Yeah? You’d like that?”

“Please,” He almost slurs. “Please, Y/N. Please.”

“So polite,” You shuffle closer, warm breath fanning over the tip. You lick tentatively, keeping your eyes on him to see how he reacts. He preens instantly, a muttered yes slipping from his open mouth. “Be a good boy for me. Don’t touch.”

It feels hot in the apartment, video playing on the television drowned out by Luke’s heavy breaths and the blood pounding in your ears. The moment his tip slips past your pretty, slick lips, Luke’s absolutely gone. He’s heavy and desperate on your tongue, pulsing from the sudden heat of it, only fueling you further. Slow movements, not to overwork yourself.

Your hand rests on the base of his cock, while the other plants firmly on his hip to keep him steady. He could overpower you at any point, no doubt, but you believe firmly that he won’t. He likes this too much. Your point is proven when you witness his face crumble, tongue hanging out of his mouth like a fucking dog, desperate. 

You hum around him, letting your throat relax, keeping a consistent pace. Letting him writhe, just barely, below you.

“Y/N,” He pleads brokenly. “I– I’m– I’m not gonna–”

You withdraw from his cock with an obscene, slick pop. “Hm? What’s that?”

“I’m not gonna last long,” He says between breaths. “I swear, I’m not usually like this, I–”

“But you’re so worked up, baby,” You tilt your head, pouting your lips. “It’s alright if you’re a little quick on the trigger tonight. We’ll work on that.”

Instead of working him with your mouth, you gather a decent amount of spit and let it dribble down the length of his cock. Your hand moves slowly, so torturous, feeling every inch of him. “You know what? I’m feeling generous. If you beg me enough, I’ll let you taste me. How about that? You think you can do that?”

“Christ,” Luke mutters, his voice rising in pitch. “Fuck, Y/N. God,” His eyelashes flutter as you work him leisurely. “Please. Fuck, wanna taste you so bad. I’ll be so good, I fuckin– I swear. Won’t– won’t touch. Please, I’d– I’d be so good. So good. Please.”

He’s so debauched. Destroyed, sweat-slicked and persistent. 

“Hm, I don’t know if you want it enough.” You hum.

“I do, I swear,” Luke sounds so broken, like he’s seconds away from cracking entirely. Unable to catch his breath properly, wetness pooling at the corners of his eyes. Exactly what you’re looking for. “Y/N,” Your name sounds like a prayer falling from his mouth. “Please. Let me taste you.”

“That’s better.”

You withdraw from him entirely, and Luke can’t seem to decide if he’s upset about the lack of contact with his dick or excited about the idea of what’s to come. Regardless, you make a slow show of it, unbuttoning your pants and dragging them slowly down your legs. A lustful, yearning shade of navy blue swims in his eyes, as they zero in, hazily, on your thighs.

Your underwear join your pants soon after. “Alright baby, go ahead and lay down for me.”

Resisting the urge to coo in praise when he does exactly as you say, you drink him in one more time before doing as promised. Luke looks thoroughly wrecked, put through the wringer and he hasn’t been given the chance to cum yet. You wonder if he’ll get off to tasting you, but that thought doesn’t last long because you know he will. 

He’s flushed in shades of red, patterned across his pale skin, not easily seen from far away. The blooms look like flowers of all shapes and sizes, and your fingertips graze over his chest and neck. Luke tilts his head up to give access, silent permission, before letting his eyes fall shut when your hand tangles in his sweat-slicked hair. “You want me?” You ask.

“Yes,” Poor boy sounds so used, pent up and ready to burst at any second. Like a gust of wind could float through the apartment and he’d spill all over himself. “God, yes.”

The couch isn’t the biggest but you’re able to get comfortable, settling your thighs on either side of Luke’s head. The heat radiating from his body is delicious, warming you thoroughly. You tug carefully on his hair to draw his eyes open. They flicker to your heat first, then meet yours.

“Don’t touch,” You remind him again, but gentler this time. You can tell his mind is hazy, thoughts likely jumbled and not making a lick of sense. He nods, blinking slowly, tempted to find your heat again. “You’ll get the okay when I’m done, alright?”

Luke nods again. You swear there’s a small dribble of drool in the corner of his mouth.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” You adjust yourself accordingly and Luke doesn’t waste a fraction of a second before his tongue swipes across your cunt, warm and wet, humming in satisfaction at the taste that greets him. You can hear him shuffling beneath you, restraining himself from touching his neglected cock, wishing to clamp his hands around your thighs.

He mouths at you like a man starved, lacking finesse but showing off his greediness, his willingness to please. You can’t judge him too harshly, for you’ve scrambled his brain a good bit. You have time to teach him properly. If he’s interested, that is.

A moan claws its way up your throat with every flick of his tongue, nips of his teeth, his desire to prove he’s worthy enough to have his head between your thighs right now. It’s adorable, you think. 

Your fingers tighten in his hair, slowing his frantic movements to guide him, allowing your hips to rock ever so slightly, the friction delicious and eliciting moan after moan from your chest. Perhaps you’re in the same boat as Luke, so pent up so quickly, for your stomach begins to coil with a sharp, electric heat and you know it won’t be long now.

Your toes curl, hips finding their own way, chasing every movement of Luke’s tongue and teeth and lips and everything they’re after. His eyes are wet, mouth hot, and the rubber band finally snaps.

It isn’t intentional but your grip on Luke’s hair is almost lethal, hips forcing downward, the friction of his nose nudging your clit the final nail in the coffin. You let go, allowing your moans and whines and shuddering sighs to fill the apartment alongside the slick sound of Luke’s overeager mouth, receiving your release with pleasure-ridden hums.

“You can touch,” Your brain feels like static, warped and numb. But there’s no movement beneath you, no yearning to get himself off. Instead, Luke’s arms clasp around your thighs and draw you impossibly closer like a madman.

Then, a broken, muffled moan against your heat, vibrating and thrumming beneath your skin. Fingers sinking into your thighs, locking you in place. The overstimulation of Luke’s tongue against you is overwhelming, but you don’t mind it. Not for the sake of what you’re considering the best night of your life.

You lift your hips, pulling at Luke’s hair to detach his greedy mouth, his lips slick with your release, eyes distant and watery and a softer blue.

A glance behind you proves he had gotten off to tasting you. Pearly white ropes decorate his heaving chest and stomach. 

You return your gaze back to him. His eyes have fluttered shut. “You did so good,” You tell him, words almost blurring together from the post-orgasm haze. Your knees cry in agony from the awkward position on the couch, and you relent, climbing off of him and collapsing into a heap of sweaty limbs on the floor. “So good, Luke.”

It feels like an eternity passes, your hearing slowly recuperating and fixating on the video still playing on the television at a low volume. You find the remote and switch it off.

The apartment is blanketed in darkness, then, aside from the small stream of moonlight poking through the curtain behind the couch. Enough to make out Luke, still breathing heavily, laying flat. 

“You okay?” You ask quietly.

“I think I’m in love with you.” Luke says into the shadows.

“Luke–” He isn’t thinking clearly. He’s riding the aftershocks of his orgasm, is all. 

“Don’t worry about it now, Y/N,” He says. “We have so much shit to talk about but I’d rather do it tomorrow.”

Your anxiety rears its ugly head. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning, then?” You don’t get the chance to even attempt to stand before Luke’s hand clasps around your wrist.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asks, no heat behind his words. 

“To my room, to sleep?”

“Hell no,” Luke scoffs, a light laugh following. “You’re staying in my room tonight, Y/N. And after we talk, I’m getting my mouth on you again.”

You don’t have the energy to quip back at him, to make a joke. Instead, you nod, leaving your abandoned clothes in favor of following Luke to his room. The thought of your dinner still wrapped up on the floor doesn't even cross your mind.

You weren’t supposed to be home tonight but fuck, if getting cut from work leads to nights like this, you may just have to quit your job.

[inthepassengerside]

[inthepassengerside]

last week was crazy for luke hemmings fans i dont think ive felt like that for months

[inthepassengerside]

happy valentines ^o^

thinking about this picture and this picture only today 🧎🏻‍♀️👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻

[inthepassengerside]

[inthepassengerside]

roommate!luke sees you're having a rough day and decides to help out <3 words: 1.2k request fill: 🦊 genre: fluff awwww tw: luke can't cook :((( author's note: my first fic!

Luke knew from the moment you stumbled out of your bedroom, still throwing your work clothes on and fixing your hair into a presentable style, that the day had not started out well for you. He was hunched over a bowl of cereal at the kitchen counter as you set your purse down on the counter and rummaged through the cabinets for something to hold you over for the day. Your boss, unprofessional as ever, called you unexpectedly that morning to inform you that you would have to cover a shift for someone who’d called in sick. You’d tried to tell him that he couldn’t just take one of your vacation days from you— but seeing as you were a student and you didn’t have much money as is, you decided against provoking the man who signed your paychecks.

He sets his spoon down, still chewing on the bite that he had just taken, and leans against the counter to watch you. “Rough morning?” He inquires as he watches you grab a granola bar and a piece of fruit from the counter. He flinches a little at the force you use to shove your breakfast into your bag.

“Like you wouldn’t believe— my boss called this morning to tell me someone called out sick. I have to cover for them…” Your bag tips over as you continue to stuff it with your personal belongings and you let out a growl of frustration. He casually props it up again for you and rakes his hands through his blond hair. He was fortunate enough to have a job that didn’t require shifts like yours— only that at some point, he and his band members had an album ready to release. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?...” His voice is soft when he addresses you. From personal experience, he knew that being too nagging while someone was having a bad day could only make it worse. You shake your head a little, sighing in defeat as you slide your shoes over your socks. “No, it’s fine. I just had a shit ton of stuff I wanted to do around the house today— my laundry needs to be done and I was gonna vacuum and wash the dishes and I was gonna cook for us tonight, but I guess now we have to order. Again.” His lips form a thin line at the sound of your complaints. “Alright,” accepting your fate, you sling your bag over your shoulder and grab your keys. “I’m off. See you later.”

His head turns to follow your form hurrying out the door, eyebrows knitted together in sympathy. He looks around at the apartment. It wasn’t that dirty— surely he could do all this stuff for you, right?  After a moment of thought, he decided it was so insignificant that he’d start the chores later in the day. 

Now as he was elbow deep in dirty dishwater, bubbles overflowing onto the tile floor of the kitchen and head shoved into the crook of his neck to hold his phone in place, he wanted to go back in time and slap himself across the face.

“No— Ash, I’m telling you, the grease won’t come off! Ye–yeah, I’ve tried scrubbing harder, at this point the plate’s gonna break with how hard I’m scrubbing! C’mon, give me something else, y/n’s gonna be home in an hou— shit— in fifteen minutes!” He shouts into the phone over the sound of the sponge scraping over some dried, mystery residue stuck on it. He glances over at the stove, where the sauce in his pot is slowly beginning to rise and threaten to overboil. “Shit, I gotta go!.. The food’s gonna burn.” He sets the plate back into the sink and cleans his hands of the bubbles, rushing to the pot. He lowers the heat and stirs it a few times. “Fuck…” Resting his hands on his hips, he sighs a little. The vacuuming was finished and the dishes were almost done, but he was torn between the few plates left in the basin and the pasta sauce simmering on the stove. He thought cooking was going to be easy, after all, he’d called his mom to ask about what recipe to use— but it turned out to be impossible. The same went for your laundry, which he had to meticulously sort and wash in stages.

Turning the heat down, he resumes washing the dishes until there’s none left but the ones dripping on the drying rack. “Stupid dishwasher…” He kicks the machine as he passes it, cursing the broken appliance with a hushed anger.

Then he hears the door open. His head swivels around the kitchen for anything he might have forgotten to do. Meanwhile, you kick your shoes off and toss your bag onto the couch, slugging into the kitchen with a weary expression. Making your way towards the sink without a second thought, you reach in to grab one of the many dishes you expected to be waiting for you.

Your hand hits the bottom of the sink. You do a double-take as your eyes flicker down to the empty space. A soft grunt draws your attention to the stove, where Luke scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “You did the dishes?...” The slight break in your voice gives away just how exhausting your day at work was. His eyes soften and before he knows it, his arms are wrapping around your waist to pull you into a comforting embrace. He stoops down a little to rest his chin on the top of your head.

“And the laundry, and the vacuuming… it was awful, God— it was so awful.” He laughs a little under his breath, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet to sway the both of you playfully. He smiles when it garners a stifled giggle from you. “And I made pasta. I hope it’s good– it’s my mom’s recipe, but I’m not the best at cooking.” He pulls back a little and takes your hand, leading you to the stove to show off his culinary skills. A tired smile plays on your lips when you see the messy station, his phone still propped up on the utensil holder, and the pasta and sauce pots resting on the burners, still steaming. “I called my mom for this. I hope you’re grateful. I took about an hour out of her day trying to make this sauce.” “I am..” You assure him with a little breathless laugh. Your heart clenched at the thought of the boy scrambling around and holding things up to his camera so that his mom could ensure he was using the right ingredients. “I am.” You affirm again, gazing up at him with an appreciative grin. “Thank you for all this.”

He practically glows at the praise he’s receiving from you, a simper sneaking its way onto his slightly red cheeks. “Yeah, well— it was the bare minimum..” His voice trails off the more his smile grows and he clears his throat, two dishes for you. “You go sit down on the couch, we can watch a movie while we eat, okay? You pick tonight.” As he scoops pasta and sauce onto the bowl, you can’t help but let your gaze linger for a few seconds longer. Luke never knew how much his kindness affected other people, but you’d make sure to repay him when the opportunity presented itself.

[inthepassengerside]

POOKIES ATE

fatal attraction.

💋 Ashton Irwin x fem!reader

a moth to a flame, a candle to the wind. when lingering feelings and dissatisfaction lead to making irrational decisions with your boyfriend’s best friend.

this fic was written in collaboration with my dear friend @kaleidoscopecth!

a/n: we are SO fucking excited for this fic. be warned, it follows a cheating plot— so if that floats your freaky ol’ boat, carry onward and enjoy!

and, of course, this is a work of fiction. these characters do not accurately represent the real people they portray! :)

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut!, cheating trope, oral (f!receiving), pet names, porn with plot, pnv.

wordcount: ~6.8k

── .✦

You couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t as simple as something keeping you awake like a repetitive sound or bright light, no. It was something much more complex than that.

A bit too complex for your liking.

Today was the first day of a week-long “friend-cation”, as the groupchat was named. And the first day was already off to a strange start. You were on this trip with your boyfriend, Luke, as well as a few of his friends. There was Michael, and Calum, and their partners.

And then, there was Ashton.

The word ‘crush’ may not have been the correct term to emulate how you felt about Ashton; it could be a small infatuation. A piqued interest in his character. But definitely not a crush.

It’s fine to tell yourself these things.

Who's to say that your incapability to turn around and fall asleep was caused by your boyfriend’s best friend? Nobody in their right mind would sit you down as you confided in them, and tell you that these feelings were justified. For you were in a relationship. A blissful, two-year relationship with a man who you’ve tossed around words like ‘engagement’ and ‘wedding’ with. Mostly joking, yet sometimes the undertones became slightly more serious when hurt feelings got involved.

But after attempting to rationalize these thoughts all at once while staring at the popcorn ceiling of your weekend beach rental, you realized that maybe this infatuation, this tiny, tiny crush, may have become an issue.

Ashton was a flirt. And to make matters worse, a single flirt. He wouldn’t be caught dead with someone on his arm for more than an hour let alone in a serious, committed relationship. But something about his omnipotence and aura had you drawn in like he was a shiny, colorful fishing tackle.

You knew that if you bit the bait, you’d be gone for good. He was powerful, and pretty, extremely quick witted and had the undeniable ability to make anybody swoon. Even the other guys questioned their moral compasses when Ash was in town.

He was hardly around which was a saving grace, in theory. You’d met him a few years back at a party, and ended up tangled within his poised circle of friends. Existing beside and talking to Ashton felt like flirting with the edge of a cliff. One wrong move, and you’d fall right over into a deep abyss.

So you kept Ashton at your hip. You’d talk to him on and off, flirting with death while simultaneously building relationships with the people around him. And all of those nights out to dive bars and extended invitations to house parties eventually led you to Luke.

To keep your demons at bay, you settled for the man who seemed best for you.

After that, the rest was history.

Staring at the ceiling was doing you no favor. Your snoring boyfriend was beside you, asleep on his back, with his eyes fluttered closed and a rogue arm tossed across your chest. You forced a smile at the warmth of his body however, that arm of his was becoming a bit much entwined with the thoughts you were having.

It was overwhelming, to say the least. You figured maybe getting up and taking a stroll around the house might help with pushing these thoughts back down into the ditch where they came from. Everybody was asleep and from what you knew, you’d be able to finally hijack the TV and watch cartoons until you fell asleep.

You trusted your gut, and slid out from beneath Luke’s grasp. The sound of your socked feet brushing against the floorboards seemed to dull the thumping that was rattling around in your ribcage.

When you made it down to the foyer, you were surprised to see the light over the kitchen sink illuminating most of the area. You sighed in relief when you peeked over the bannister to see the kitchen unoccupied, and figured maybe someone had forgotten to turn off the light.

Your first order of business was a glass of wine. God knows why, but something about these nauseating thoughts had you craving a drink. Something stronger than the late night glass of ice water.

Being afraid of the dark seemed so immature, but a small part of you was weary of stepping out of the domain of that little kitchen light. You were comfortable in this area, enough to turn your back to the living room and attempt to grab yourself a wine glass.

You swung open the cabinet, and looked up.

Of course, they were on the top shelf.

Despite the slight fear of embarrassment, you jumped, attempting to swipe the stem of one of the glasses. And after two more attempts, to no avail. They were just high enough to be out of reach.

“Want some help?”

A voice from your backside startles you out of your concentration— a voice that was the last thing you needed to hear right now.

“Uh—”

When you turned around, you were faced with him. The current bane of your measly existence and the reason for this shoddy attempt in the search for a nightcap. He smiles at you, thick black curls fanned against his forehead with one rogue curl dropped right between his glassy eyes.

“Yes?”

He spoke again, and you panicked. You felt as though opening your mouth in this moment would cause all of the words and semblances of your inner monologue to spill right out. It was in your best interest not to engage with him. Just ignore him. Maybe even blame it on sleepwalking.

“I don’t think jumping to grab a glass is the safest idea.”

Stop talking, you thought, heart racing. Please, stop talking.

Without arguing, he steps towards you from the living room. You could see his eyes aiming for the glass that you had attempted to grab, yet yours were more focused on his plaid pajama pants and simple black tank top.

“What’s the matter with you? Afraid to ask Ash for some help?”

“Referring to yourself in the third person is stupid,” you mumble. The truth. It really was stupid.

“Whatever,” he grumbles back, brushing past you towards the cabinet.

You watched in awe as Ashton reached up to the top shelf with ease. He swiped the glass from its resting place and handed it back to you without a care.

“Here. Don’t need broken glass to clean up in the morning.”

“Thank you.”

Now, you were surely overthinking. Did that ‘thank you’ seem too curt? Maybe even a bit mean?

“I’ve gotcha. Say, what’re you doing with a wine glass at this hour anyway? Late night craving?”

Your eyes widen at his astute yet obvious observation, but you just diverted the attention away from it. “How long have you been down here?”

“About an hour. Couldn’t sleep. I ended up in the one room with no AC. Fuckin’ sweating my balls off up there.”

You wanted to laugh but only a puff of air left your lips. You were too distracted by that imaginary glowing red light that surrounded his figure every time you looked at him.

“That sucks,” you mumble meekly, “Is it cooler down here?”

He crosses his arms, scanning down your body at the short silky tank top set you’d packed and worn. Shamefully hoping that he might see you in it.

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

Awkward silence floats around the room while you tap your fingers against your hip. Ashton seemed very amused by the energy that he created.

“Well, if you’re down here for a drink, maybe you’d like to join me?” He clears his throat, and motions to the already half empty glass of dark liquid resting on the kitchen counter.

How did you not see that?

“I was gonna get a glass of wine but, I don't think I want it anymore.”

“Why not? It’s only two. Never too late for a glass of red.”

Again, you wanted to laugh. You wanted to smile and swat at his shoulder, proceeding as usual whenever he attempted to make sly jokes at you and lighten the mood. One of the first things he’d ever told you was how your smile lit up the room; but after the last hour or so, that compliment hit a little too deeply.

“I think I’ll pass. Thanks for grabbing the glass, though.”

You ducked your eyes down to your feet, hastily discarding the glass, hoping to just scurry out of the kitchen and act as though nothing happened. But as you turned away to head back up the stairs, you heard quiet shuffling and a dramatic sigh.

“Leaving so soon?”

You couldn’t tell just how close he was, but you knew it was closer than you’d ever want him to be. A chill runs down your spine as you note the scent of his shampoo wafting beneath your nose and the warmth of his chest flushing against your back.

Oh he was close. Really fucking close.

“I’m tired.” You bite back your tongue, hoping your reply was sharp enough for him to take a hint.

“That’s no fun. Why not stay down here— with me?”

Hint not taken.

Despite being worried about how close you’d end up to his face if you turned around, you did it anyway.

“Don’t wanna keep me company?”

The tips of your noses were merely an inch apart.

“Ashton—” you warn.

“I’ve got a lot of energy, y’know.”

There was an odd swirling in your stomach. Ashton was now about as close as he could get to you, his jet black hair draped like velvety curtains across his sage green irises that seemed to be a tad bit hazy from the liquor. In fact, you could even smell it on his breath. That’s how close he really was.

“What do you want?” You weren’t sure what brought you to ask that— could have been the guilt.

Instead of replying with his words, he does so with a wandering hand. He snakes his broad palm across your waist and dips the tips of his fingers into the back waistband of your satin shorts.

“I want you.”

Those three simple words felt like a smack in the face. An emphatic breath between each of them which only further proved his point. You may not have felt nauseous when you walked down the steps but now, you surely did.

“What?”

You stutter the moment you let your senses grasp onto the feeling of his blistered palms. How overworked and battered his hands were from years as a drummer in a small indie band. You’ve always admired his work ethic, how much of his soul he’d put into his performances.

But now, you were thinking about the way those hands felt crawling sultrily across your back.

“Did I not say it loud enough? Can’t hear me over the sound of your heartbeat, hm?”

You shake your head, hands still frozen at your sides in fear. His eyes were bouncing from your lips to your chest— anywhere he could see beneath the dull kitchen lighting.

“No— I, I heard you.”

Ashton was dangerous, in his own wickedly charming, heart-stopping ways. You’d remembered the countless conversations you’d had with yourself and your friends about whether or not pursuing him would be detrimental to your mental health, and how the general consensus was always to stay as far away from him as possible.

Whatever happened to that?

“Do I really still make you nervous, Y/N?” he breaks the silence, taking one of his hands to brush a lock of hair from your cheekbone, “I don’t think there’s a reason to be.”

“You’re so fucked up,” you spit back, immediately regretting the spitfire of your tongue.

“Why? What about me is fucked up? I see the way you look at me. ‘Don’t think I can’t tell what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Unraveling thoughts begin flooding your mind: Why here? Why now? Why was this happening, and why was it so fucking hard to pull away?

Ashton couldn’t bear your unresponsiveness. He was getting antsy and from what you could tell, he’d already had you undressed and sprawled out with his eyes alone.

“You’re ignoring the question because you know I’m right, Y/N. Let’s face it. If this is the blame game, I think we’re both a little ‘fucked up’. Don’t you agree?”

His hushed tone made that guilt-ridden headache grow stronger. You knew he was being quiet due to the risk of being heard. But the words he was speaking seemed as though he wanted to scream it all from the rooftops.

“Don’t try to spin this on me. You came onto me first—”

A gasp flies past your lips and cuts your sentence short as Ashton pulls you into him, flush against his chest. You wished you had more control over the temperature of your cheeks, they were a dead giveaway of your current headspace.

“That’s not true. I’d say it was equal. You came trotting down here in that short little set and expected me not to go crazy? Please.”

“Not my fault you’re a pig.”

Insulting him while this close to his face felt therapeutic, in a way.

“Admit it. You want this as badly as I do.”

That wandering hand from before came back to bite you, literally. He had moved it all the way down to cup your ass and pull you flat against him, and you could feel whatever daydreams of you that were lying beneath those unforgiving flannel pajama pants. Nothing was left to the imagination.

“Feel that?” he asks, condescendingly, “You know what you fuckin’ do to me?”

“Ash—”

“You know how fuckin’ hard it is to ignore ya’ when you’re perched on Luke’s lap with those big innocent eyes? Staring at me like you want somethin’ that he can’t give you, hm?”

Your jaw drops open, desperately trying to ignore the circles he was tracing against your skin. “Ashton, please—”

“Answer me.”

As you attempt to squeak out something remotely coherent, Ashton slowly begins to back you towards the kitchen island. When your tailbone hits the counter, you jump. He’d officially had you cornered.

“Does Luke take care of you?”

You swallow. Hard. “Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Ashton swoops in and captures your lips into a rough and frenzied kiss. You sigh into him, almost melting, letting his broad hands travel up to your jaw and cup you like he’d never let go.

A cadence of semi-quiet moans start echoing against your head, still flustered by the feeling of his dick in his pants and how he’d tied all of his dirty desires back to you. You never doubted his hot-blooded temper, you just had yet to see it for yourself.

Until now.

“Ash, wait—” Desperate, heaving breaths catch in your throat as you pull away and stare into those big green marbles he calls eyes.

“Hmm? S’ matter, pretty?”

“Don’t fuckin’— call me that.” Your sentence is chopped by an attempt to pry yourself away from him. But the granite countertop was stationary, and so were his hands to your body.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” he shrugs, as if he didn't have a care in the world, “I call it like I see it.”

You shake your head, unable to form any coherent thought and distracted by his enigmatic aura. You were angry, your ears were on fire and it was only making you sweat more than your combined body heat.

“And— y’know what I see right now, Y/N?” he asks you, condescension laced through his husky voice.

“Fuck you,” you spit. Flames spewing from your tongue.

He ignores your verbal abuse, pulling you back into him and making sure you were gridlocked against the countertop by his thigh prying open your legs.

“Right now,” he begins again, taking his index finger and tracing it deliberately along your collarbone, “I see a needy little slut that isn’t getting the attention she craves so, so badly.”

Your eyes fall to the floor, heart dropping through your ribcage at his foul mouth. “You make me sick.”

You would think he’d pull away but no, Ashton Irwin doubles down, taking that index finger of his beneath your chin. He forces your gaze back into the eyes that might just turn you to stone.

“Look into my fuckin’ eyes and tell me just how sick I make you, baby. Tell me again.”

“Fuck you.”

“Running out of insults, I see,” he chuckles dryly, making your skin crawl, “They’d come a lot easier if ya’ really meant it.”

“Ashton, stop.”

Once again, you were cornered. Not only physically, but mentally, entombed in a web of your own emotions and sanity. He was an awfully good smooth talker and you knew it well just from being around him, but you never thought it’d get to a point where he used his wordsmithing abilities against you.

“Stop what, sweet thing? Want me to stop touchin’ you in the places your angel boy never gets around to?”

His lips tug into a smile, amused by your incapacity to answer him. Maybe he was smiling at you out of pity.

“You get awfully quiet when asked questions, don’t you? Somethin’s telling me that I haven’t gotten the truth out of ya’ quite yet.”

Without another word, Ashton begins to glide his hand down the front of your body. He grazes your chest and midriff, all the way down to the waistband of your satin shorts.

“Maybe this will get you to be honest with me.”

A fingertip slips beneath the elastic, and you gasp at the sensation as he drags a line up your fold above your panties. The slickness of your own arousal was coming back to bite you; and his eyes lit up upon noticing it, too.

“So wet, already? Jesus, you really are just desperate for someone to pay attention t’ this pretty pussy, aren’t you?”

“Ashton, please—” you beg an empty plea but he cuts you off with his fingertips grazing against your slit once more.

“What will it take to get you to answer me?”

You know the answer is simple, at least on paper. In another life, in some parallel universe, maybe wouldn’t have heeded the warnings of your friends—their concern fading into irrelevance as you gasp against Ashton's soft, inviting lips.

But this isn't another life. This is your reality.

Upstairs, your boyfriend is fast asleep in the bed you share, blissfully unaware of the war raging in your mind. It would be unforgivable if you surrender to the voice whispering temptations in the back of your head.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to hold onto the last threads of self-control. Tilting your chin, you try to summon a sharpness you don't feel. “You're so used to getting what you want, aren't you?” you say, your voice low but wavering, lacking the bite you desperately need.

A wicked grin tugs Ashton’s lips, and before you can react, his finger brushes your clit again. A sharp gasp escapes your lips, your hands gripping the counter for support.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “And from the way you're trembling,” his finger moves with maddening precision, “you're not used to getting what you want.”

His words ignite something raw and conflicted within you. You should push him away, should tell him to stop—should say anything to break the tension crackling between you like a live wire. But instead, all that escapes is a shaky exhale that betrays how badly your resolve is slipping.

Ashton's grin deepens as his fingers tease you further, a second joining the first, making your body betray you even more.

“You're so desperate for me,” he murmurs, his voice low and intoxicating. “I see it in your eyes, every time you're near me. You think about me when you're alone. Hell, you probably think about me when you're with him.”

The accusation burns. You want to deny it, to tell him he's wrong. But the part of you that knows he isn't—the part that conjures images of him in your mind late at night— keeps you silent.

This is reckless. Foolish. Being here, letting Ashton touch you in ways you've only dared to imagine, is a choice that could undo everything.

But the proximity to him is overwhelming, intoxicating in a way you can't resist. His scent, the heat radiating off his body, the intensity in his gaze—it all blurs the lines between right and wrong. His breath quickens, matching yours, and your last shreds of self-control dangle by a thread.

Would it really be so bad to give in? Just once, hidden in the quiet, forbidden secrecy of the night? The risk makes it dangerous, yes, but it also makes it thrilling in a way you've never felt before.

And for a fleeting moment, you wonder if surrendering will feel as good as you always imagine.

Ashton’s fingers continue their torturous ministrations, and your mind only whirls deeper into disarray. Every hair on your body stood, your breathing deepening as the blue eyes you forced yourself to remember quickly morphed into haunting green ones.

“Do you think about me, Y/N?” His voice is soft and teasing, daring you to reply with what he knows the answer to be. The absolute pomposity in his smile was driving you insane, and you could almost hear the thinly veiled desperation behind his words. Or at least you hope that’s what it is.

Ashton's other hand slides up to your waist, fingers curling under the waistband of your satin shorts and easing them down your legs.

The air in the room feels heavier, the reality of the situation settling in fast. His pupils are blown wide, almost swallowing the green of his eyes, and his tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip as the fabric falls to the floor with a whisper.

“Ashton,” you warn, but your voice betrays you, coming out as a breathy, almost pleading whine.

“Admit it,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with intent. His hand moves deftly, nudging your underwear aside to expose your slick heat. His fingers tease along your folds, deliberate and torturous. “Admit Luke doesn't touch you the way you need—tell me you're not satisfied.”

Your cheeks flush at his words, the boldness of his accusations stirring equal parts anger and desire. It's impossible not to wonder if Ashton is doing this to feed his already massive ego, his repeated jabs at Luke making you burn with frustration.

Even as your body responds to him, a spark of defiance ignites. You meet his gaze through hooded eyes, your voice low but sharp with challenge. “You could never please me the way he does.”

Ashton lets out a guttural growl, primal and raw, the sound reverberating through you.

For a moment, you think he might pull away, but instead, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss that leaves you breathless.

His hands are quick and deliberate, hooking around the waistband of your underwear and sliding it down your legs in one smooth motion. When he pulls back, his lips are swollen and his glare is fierce, a mix of hunger and determination gleaming in his eyes. “We'll fucking see about that.“

Before you can muster a response, Ashton's hand moves to your chin, gripping it firmly.

His fingers trace your jaw, his thumb brushing your parted lips before shoving your panties into your mouth as an improvised gag.

You let out a stifled gasp, hardly being able to register the fact that Ashton had just stuffed your fucking underwear in your mouth. He looked so mad, but you couldn’t deny the heat that coiled in your belly as you took in the way his jaw clenched.

“Gonna’ make sure the only name you can think of when you cum is mine,” he mutters, dropping to his knees before you with a fire burning in his eyes.

Slowly his hands trail down your thighs, squeezing at the skin and making you groan around the fabric in your mouth. You watch through half lidded eyes as he parts your legs, throwing one over his shoulder taking a moment to admire your dripping core with a satisfied smirk.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t wait for your command before he’s diving in and licking a long stripe across your slit. Your entire body shakes with the contact, and you throw your head back in pure bliss. His hands tighten on your thighs, keeping them spread wide as his tongue circles your clit.

You watch in awe, his eyes meeting yours from between your legs, and you can make out the unmistakable glint of pride in them.

When he takes your clit between his lips and sucks gently, your legs shake uncontrollably around him as one of your hands comes to grab a fistful of his jet black curls.

Ashton moans as you tug at him, sucking eagerly at your clit and sending waves of pleasure cascading down your body. He really worked magic, and it left you breathless.

Ashton's tongue moves with expert precision, each flick and swirl pushing you further into the haze of pleasure. You bite down on the gag, muffling the cries that threaten to spill from your lips, the intensity of his movements making your entire body tremble.

Your knees threaten to give out completely, but Ashton holds you steady, his firm grip on your thighs keeping you upright.

“You taste so fucking good,” he mutters against you, his voice muffled and slurred as if he's drunk on the taste of you. For a moment, it feels like he's forgotten his mission to prove himself better than Luke, utterly consumed by you.

You're teetering on the edge, your body arching instinctively toward him, seeking more, needing more. His hands tighten on your waist as he feels your movements, grounding you while his tongue works relentlessly, and his lips close around your clit once again.

The world around you blurs as a loud, muffled moan escapes your gagged lips, your fingers tangling in his hair to tug sharply—a silent warning about your creeping orgasm. Ashton groans at the tug, the vibrations against your core sending you spiraling.

With one final suck, your release crashes into you, a wave of white-hot pleasure that leaves you trembling and clinging to the counter for support. Your body shakes as you ride out the high, your muffled cries echoing in the quiet kitchen. Ashton doesn't let up, his tongue still teasing and coaxing every last aftershock from you until you're nearly collapsing from overstimulation.

When he finally pulls back, his lips and chin glisten, and he wipes at them lazily with the back of his hand. His pupils are blown, his chest heaving as he looks at you with pride.

The sight of him—his swollen, flushed lips and his disheveled hair—is almost enough to make you forget how wrong this is.

“I'm not done with you yet,” Ashton growls, his voice husky and low. Before you can process his words, his hands grip your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter.

You're still trying to catch your breath, your legs trembling as Ashton's hands work with frantic urgency to free his cock from his pants. His fingers fumble slightly, his need for you so evident that his hands shake.

You're barely coherent, your body still buzzing from your climax, but the sheer hunger in Ashton's eyes snaps you back to the moment. There's no turning back now—not with the way he's looking at you, like he's about to devour you whole.

Your eyes watch in awe as he wraps his hand around himself, thick and heavy in his hand as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“You still think he can do better than me?”

You groan, nodding slowly. He knows you’re just bluffing, the unmistakable glint of pride in his eyes telling you just that. Still though, you had too much fun riling him up.

Ashton doesn't warn you when he thrusts into you, your eyes widening as a moan spills uncontrollably from your lips. The sound is shamelessly loud, yet it only fuels the reckless thrill surging through you. Your boyfriend is upstairs, fast asleep, completely unaware of the sinful betrayal unfolding beneath this roof. And somehow, that knowledge only makes this feel more intoxicating.

Ashton's composure cracks as he sinks into you, a low, guttural groan escaping him as he buries himself to the hilt. His forehead drops to the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

The stretch of his cock is overwhelming, and when he begins to move, slow but deliberate, your hands fly to grip his broad shoulders.

Your fingers dig into his sweat-slicked skin, desperate for something to anchor yourself against the intensity of the sensation.

“I knew it,” Ashton groans, his teeth grazing your earlobe before he bites down lightly, sending a shiver down your spine. “You just needed to stretch that pretty pussy of yours out. You are such a fucking slut, such a whore and it’s all for me.”

His filthy words send heat flooding through you, making you clench involuntarily around him. A whimper escapes your lips, and Ashton growls low in his throat, his hands gripping your hips tighter as his thrusts grow faster and more desperate.

The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, the noise loud enough to make your cheeks burn, though you're too far gone to care. Every drag of Ashton's cock against your walls has your body trembling, your nails raking down his back in a mix of pleasure and need.

“You're mine,” Ashton murmurs, his voice rough with possession. “No one else could make you feel this good. Say it.”

Your mind spins as he pushes you closer to the edge with every brutal snap of his hips. Your lips part, the words he wants to hear on the tip of your tongue, but all you can manage is a broken moan as he hits a spot deep inside you that makes stars dance behind your eyes.

His hand comes up to your mouth, ripping out your soaked underwear and letting it fall to the floor. It became almost impossible to keep your noises at bay, the unforgiving pace he had set lighting your body up in flames.

“Don’t make me ask again, Y/N,” he warns, but his voice is strained.

You want to fight it, keep the words from giving him the satisfaction he so desperately craved, but the truth was that he was right. No one made you feel the way he was making you feel, no one fucked you the way he did.

His thrusts are hard, hitting spots deep inside you that you had almost forgotten existed. Stars spring up in your vision as you bite down on your lip so harshly you swear you can taste blood.

“No— no one,” you gasp between moans, “can fuck me like this. Luke can’t make me cum like this.”

Ashton lets out a whimper— a fucking whimper— and catches your lips with his own in a heated kiss. His tongue parts your lips, invading your mouth as you both groan. You could taste the salt of his sweat and your own mixing together on your lips, only making you more desperate for your second release.

Ashton’s hand snakes between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with enough pressure that it makes your entire body tremble.

“I’m gonna cum,” you warn, and Ashton’s free hand comes to grip your chin. Your eyes meet, and you can’t help the butterflies that erupt inside you as you realize how utterly wrecked he looks.

“Cum for me,” he urges. “That’s it pretty girl, show me how much better I make you feel.”

You fall over the edge again, his words being the final catalyst to your release. You clamp down around him, biting your lip to stifle any cries of Ashton’s name as you ride your high.

His movements remained steady, coaching you through your orgasm and not relenting even as you come down.

“Fuck, pretty, you make me feel s’good,” his movements grow sloppy by the second, both of his hands gripping your hips to steady himself. “I’m not gonna last long.”

You don’t respond, mainly because your brain can hardly string together a coherent thought— at least not one that didn’t involve the feeling of Ashton’s cock buried inside you.

It only takes him a few more thrusts before he’s spilling deep inside you, biting your neck in an attempt to quiet his own desperate sounds.

When his body finally stops trembling and he softens inside you, Ashton pulls back, tucking himself into his pajama pants. The air between you feels suffocating, thick with the scent of sex and something unspoken. Your chest heaves as you catch sight of the open kitchen cabinet and the abandoned wine glass that now feels miles away.

Sliding off the counter, your legs wobble dangerously beneath you, threatening to give out.

Ashton's hand shoots out to steady you, but you swat it away, venom in your voice as you spit, “Don't fucking touch me.”

He freezes, his hand hovering midair for a beat before he retracts it. There's a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, anger, maybe even hurt—but it's gone as quickly as it appears. His lips part slightly, as though he wants to say something, but he stays silent as you bend down to snatch up your discarded clothes.

With trembling fingers, you tug your underwear and shorts back into place, your entire body taut with unspoken tension. You refuse to acknowledge the sticky warmth between your thighs or the damning evidence of what just happened.

“Oh, so that's how it's gonna be?” Ashton's voice cuts through the silence, sharp and laced with frustration. He crosses his arms, his biceps straining as his piercing green eyes lock on yours. “We have an entire week here, and you're already choosing to be a fucking menace?”

Hot guilt floods your system as the weight of what you just did truly sank in. The blue eyes you struggled so hard to picture earlier are now the only thing that plague your thoughts.

Holy shit.

“Don’t start this now,” you warn, sliding away from Ashton, desperate to put some distance between you two.

Ashton didn’t let that happen though, taking a few steps to make your attempt futile. “I’m not starting shit, sweetheart,” he grits out, annoyance creeping into his tone.

Your eyes meet again and your legs threaten to give out from underneath you. Why was it that even though you were wracked with guilt, you desperately itched to press your lips against Ashton’s once more.

“This won’t ever happen again,” you turn, your eyes ablaze with anger— mainly at yourself. “You understand? Never.”

Ashton’s lips curl into another infuriating smirk. “Sure it won’t,” he nods, “that is until I find you down here again looking for a night cap, or maybe when I catch your eyes on me like I always do.”

Now, a majority of the anger had been redirected towards Ashton. “Go to hell, Irwin.”

Already walking out of the kitchen, you caught the glimmer in his green eyes. “Guess I’ll be seeing you there, then.”

With that, he disappeared into the shadows.

You slumped against the counter you were just sitting on, the marble still heated from your skin. How were you supposed to act normal around him tomorrow when all of you went to breakfast together?

God, Luke would be there with his sickening puppy eyes and constant need for attention. No doubt he would notice, because you knew deep down, that nothing between you and Ashton would ever be the same again.

—

Luke was snoring softly by the time you tiptoed back into the room. He was curled in on himself, his chest rising and falling in an even rhythm. His curls were a tousled mess across his forehead, and his lips were pursed into a slight pout. He looked so peaceful, so innocent, and it made your chest ache. You bit back the lump rising in your throat, slipping quietly into the ensuite bathroom and locking the door behind you.

Every second that passed only served as a cruel reminder of just how badly you'd messed up. No amount of time or distraction could erase the weight of Ashton's mouth on yours, or the way his release now slicked your inner thighs. Shame clung to your skin, a suffocating blanket you couldn't shake no matter how hard you tried.

With trembling hands, you peeled your silk pajamas from your body, letting the fabric slip to the floor in a careless heap. Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror, disheveled and guilty. Your lips were still swollen, the ghost of Ashton's kisses lingering like a brand. And the grip of his hands—God, you could still feel it. Your hips ached where his fingers had dug into your skin, no doubt leaving marks that would bloom into bruises by morning.

You couldn't look any longer. Turning away from the mirror, you reached to turn on the shower, twisting the handle until the water was almost scalding. Steam filled the room quickly, fogging up the mirror and mercifully obscuring your reflection. But it wasn't enough to erase the evidence. Even through the haze, you could still catch glimpses of the red fingerprints on your hips, raw reminders of a moment you could never take back.

Stepping into the shower, the water hit your skin like a purge, hot and biting, but it wasn't enough to cleanse you. Nothing ever could.

The weight of your actions hung heavy on your shoulders, pressing down with every droplet that slid down your body. You closed your eyes, letting the water drown out everything else, but Ashton's touch lingered like a shadow you couldn't shake.

You scrubbed at your skin like you could erase the entire night, like the scalding water and soap could somehow cleanse you of your sins. If only it were that simple. You wanted the shower to absolve you, to leave you faultless, but no amount of scrubbing could undo what had already happened.

The worst part—the part that gnawed at you relentlessly—was that you didn't entirely regret it. You could still feel Ashton's teeth sinking into your neck as he came, his voice a breathless mess as he moaned your name like a babbling idiot.

There was something satisfying about the way he'd unraveled, completely undone just by being with you, like you were some prize he'd finally won.

As you lathered shampoo into your hair, you planned your excuse. Luke would wonder why you showered in the middle of the night, but you already had your answer: you were hot, sweating, and couldn't sleep. He wouldn't question it. Why would he? He had no reason not to trust you.

But even as you rinsed the soap away, Ashton's green eyes burned brightly in your mind. The guilt you'd expected was twisting into something else entirely. Your stomach tightened as you remembered the way he had moaned your name. The way he whimpered when you told him no one else made you feel like he did. The memory shouldn't have made you feel anything, but it did.

Stepping out of the shower, you dried yourself off methodically, trying to focus on the mundane task instead of the shame and exhilaration battling inside you. But it was useless. Ashton was everywhere—his voice, his touch, the way his hands gripped your hips like he'd never let go.

When you finally slid back into bed, Luke didn't stir. Part of you had hoped he would wake up, that he'd somehow know what you'd done and confront you about it. Maybe it would be easier that way. Maybe if he found out, he'd leave you for good, and you wouldn't have to carry the weight of your secrets anymore.

But instead, he shifted in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent as he threw his arm over your waist and pulled you closer. He nuzzled into your neck, warm and blissfully clueless.

You stared at the ceiling, wide awake, your body stiff beneath his. The memory of Ashton's skillful fingers and the heat of his breath on your skin played on a loop in your head, while Luke's steady breaths were a cruel reminder of the life you were supposed to want.

Trapped in Luke's embrace, you knew sleep wouldn't come. This vacation was going to be a long one, but not for the reasons anyone else would ever understand.

[inthepassengerside]

doesn’t have to be anything too crazy if u don’t want but something with a size kink cuz he is huge and it’s sexy. dom luke cuz u slay with that.

Teach You

warnings: daddy kink, kind of innocent reader, unprotected sex, dirty talk, uhh i think that’s it

A/N: i have no idea when this request is from i’m sorry. trying to write all my asks but there’s a lot so i started here. hope you guys enjoy, sorry if it’s rushed or too short. feedback is always appreciated!

You wait by the door for him as soon as you finish working around the house. Dinner is made and plated, dishes are washed and put away, and two large glasses of wine sit on the table.

Despite living together, you and Luke hadn’t been getting much time with each other. It’s now a couple months after your engagement, work has picked up again and the number of Luke’s clients are increasing by the minute.

He apologizes profusely when he does see you. Sometimes, he’ll come home with gifts just to show how much he loves and misses you. Flowers, lingerie, jewelry. As much as you appreciate him for it, you just wanted him.

That’s why, when you received one of Luke’s check-in texts after taking out a load of laundry, you almost dropped to the floor.

“Finally all done. I’m home for the next week. Tonight after dinner I’m going to take you to bed and fuck you so hard you and our mattress will become one. See you soon baby ❤️”

After that kind of text, you couldn’t think straight. It now had you anticipating his arrival many hours before. You did everything: shaved your whole body, moisturized, even painted your nails and toes just because you wanted to be the absolute prettiest for him.

After you did that you began on dinner, and soon enough, it was time for Luke to come home.

You sat on the sofa in the living room, staring blankly at whatever sitcom reruns are on the tv. When you faintly hear the buttons of the security keypad beeping, your heart starts to race.

Luke walks in looking like a fucking God. He wears a simple black button down with some black slacks and black dress shoes. You might drool at the sight of him.

You stand and he walks right over to you. “My beautiful wife,” he breathes, before leaning in to kiss you. You blush and both your heart and core spasm at the comment.

“Hi,” You start off with a voice crack, “dinner is ready. I made some steak and there’s a bunch of sides on the table.”

“Mmm.. thank you baby,” he smiles down at you, “gonna go change and I’ll be right back okay?”

Your pursed lips turn into a smile, “Yeah.” He leans down to kiss you and you melt into him before he pulls away with a sly grin. What a tease.

He makes it quite quick, coming down the stairs in some grey sweatpants and some old band t-shirt.

You guys sit down for dinner and enjoy your meals with some small talk. You feel a bit uncomfortable, not because of Luke, but because he’s not really giving you any direction in how tonight is going to go.

“‘s delicious, baby.” He gets stands up with his plate, leaning down to kiss your neck, and then walking over to the sink. Your eyes flutter shut as you shake your head, trying your hardest to regain even a bit of your composure.

You stand up as well. You begin to clean the kitchen as Luke walks over to the living room, plopping down on the couch to do some last minute work on his laptop, and then flicking on the tv.

After finishing cleaning up the kitchen, you softly patter your feet over to Luke on the couch. Just as you’re about to sit, he shuts his laptop and mumbles, “Upstairs.”

You look at him, not quite sure if you heard him correctly. “Hm?”

“Go upstairs,” he says flat. You stare at him blankly for a bit before nodding and scrambling upstairs.

As you make your way upstairs and slip into your silk nightie, you anticipate what moves Luke are going to be making tonight. Your memory floods back to only a few months ago when you had lost your virginity to your fiancé. He was gentle, but also so deep and passionate with you that you didn’t know what he’d be like not under those circumstances.

You look at yourself in the large, full length mirror in the corner of your room. The black lace decorates your skin perfectly. As you smile to yourself, you walk until you’re standing at the foot of the bed. You slowly sink to your knees, your heels touching the backs of your thighs as you sit and wait for Luke.

“I always want you to wait for me like this,” he said to you a couple weeks ago as he stood tall over you, his thumb tracing along your lips watching you peer up at him. “Good girls wait like this, okay? And you’re my good girl… my good, perfect girl,” he trailed off, his thumb slipping into your mouth.

Your thoughts are soon interrupted as you hear the door open. You look at Luke, and he has a subtle smirk spread across his lips. “My pretty baby.. look at you all dressed for me. You remembered what I taught you, yeah?”

You nod, smiling softly, waiting for him to continue. “That’s very good, baby. And ‘m gonna teach you some more today before I absolutely ruin you…”

A blush sprawls across your cheeks as you nod up at him, and he smiles, before tugging off his shirt, and then his grey sweats. Your mouth waters at the sight of his bulge in his black boxers. “You wanna help me, baby? Make me feel good?”

You nod. How could you say no? Not when he was so thick beneath his restraint. “Words…” he speaks. “Yes, yes daddy I want to help.”

He grins. “Take them off,” he mutters, hissing as your fingers peek under the elastic. You peel off his boxers, eyes immediately darting to his angry erection, begging for your attention. You think about how he taught you to touch him the first time, spitting in your hand before wrapping it around him, stroking slowly. You look at him, waiting for his reaction.

He lets out a rough groan, his eyes finding yours as he lets out mumbles of praise. “Good girl. More, faster.” You stroke him faster, and your mind flickers back and forth whether you want to try using your mouth or not.

You slowly duck your head down to kitten lick the tip of his cock, precum immediately dribbling on your tongue. Your eyes widen, but you continue, licking at his head and teasing him.

Luke moans, “Naughty baby…” he slaps the tip of his cock along your lips.. “You wanna play? Open up then.” But, you refused, keeping your lips closed. He groans softly, and you finally open, sucking the head of him into your mouth. You go slow, unfamiliar with this type of performance, and you let him control the pace. His hands find the back of your head, slowly guiding you as moans and whimpers tumble from his lips. You only get to take him halfway before you start gagging, and he pulls you away.

“Perfect, baby. All done for right now… get up on the bed for me.”

You scramble to your feet, nodding and lying down on your back, moving upward until your head meets the pillows. He looks unreal, climbing atop of you and kissing down your chest.

“Can’t believe you’re mine, honey. Getting this dolled up for me…” he tugs at the edge of your panties, before leaving them and prodding down at the wet spot that formed in the center. “Baby girl made a mess? Want me to fix it?”

You nod, and he tugs your panties down, letting out a groan at the sight of you. “Just wanna fuck this perfect little hole baby.”

You whimper loudly, nodding fast as you reach out for him. “P-please daddy.”

You’ve always been fascinated by how big he was. His broadened shoulders, large hands, and massive cock. When you’d lost your virginity to him, you swear you felt him in your stomach. You were scared that he wouldn’t fit, but he got you to take him little by little till you were filled to the brim.

Luke stands before you, stroking his cock slowly, just watching you. While he prepares himself, you take off your slip, to which he lets out a groan. You subconsciously spread your thighs, inviting him. he growls, nodding at you, and settling between them.

He slides the tip of his cock along your soaked folds. “S-stop teasin’, daddy,” you whimper. He growls, “You take what I give you.”

After a few short seconds, he slowly slides into you. He makes it so you feel every single inch of him, eyes boring into yours as his mouth opens slightly and a whimper leaves his lips, to which you mirror.

“A-ah!” a near scream leaving your lips. He mumbles into your neck, settling inside you completely, “Such a tight fucking pussy. Gonna fuck the shape of my cock into it, only for me to take.”

You whimper and nod, “P-please,” before grabbing his free hand and pressing it into his lower stomach, looking up at him.

“Here? You feel me here baby?” He moans, molding his lips with yours and slipping his tongue inside.

You groan, “mmmhm… please move, daddy…”

He retracts his hips slowly, guttural noises leaving both of your mouths.

He fucks into you, lips suckling all over your body. “You feelin’ good on me baby? Yeah? Daddy fuckin’ you good?”

You whimper. “A-ah! Yes… yes daddy! Y-you’re so deep inside,” you squeal. “Gah! Don’t stop….”

Soft little uh uh uh’s fall from your lips repeatedly. The way he drills inside of you makes your mouth stay open, eyes fluttering shut as he pumps you full.

Your reaction ignites a fire within Luke, his movements growing more fervent yet still just as deep. "You okay?" he murmurs against your skin, his voice filled with a mix of desire, but he still needs to check in on his baby. You moan, letting him know you’re okay, and he continues.

Luke begins to deepen his strokes, each movement a promise and a declaration of his desire for you. His breath hitches with each motion, every caress a reminder of his love for you.

“Daddy… daddy please can I cum? I’m so close…” you whimper, arms reaching up to wrap around him, scratching his back.

As your words find Luke's ears, he can feel the tension growing between you both. His voice is hoarse as he whispers, "Together-"

His movements become more deliberate, his need for release a powerful force that fuels every touch and movement. And just when it feels like you're both teetering on the edge of something unreal, he whispers against your lips, "Let go for me, baby. "

You cum as soon as he gives you permission, your body spasming uncontrollably as he fucks you through it. Moans tumbling out of your mouth, body shaking under him, eyes fluttering shut, waiting for him to release.

“Fuck fuck fuck, such a good girl. I’m gonna fucking cum- gonna pump you so full… fill your tiny pussy to the brim.” And with a final, harsh thrust, Luke lets himself release, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he surrenders to you. His love. In that instant, time seems as though it does not exist, leaving only the raw feeling of being with you.

Luke holds you close, his body trembling with the aftershocks of your shared climax. As you clutch onto him, he murmurs soft reassurances against your skin, his hand gently stroking your back. His voice is a soothing, comforting whisper. “You okay baby? I know that was intense. You did so good for me, little girl.”

A tear slips from your eye. Not because you’re sad.. you’re actually not sure why. Luke could sense that you were in a subby headspace. He knew that words might be difficult right now, so he took a moment to simply hold you close and scratch along your scalp like he knew you loved. His touch was a steady, grounding presence, a comfort to soothe you back to reality.

After a minute, you’re able to regain composure. “I love you,” you manage to get out. Luke's arms tightened around you in a protective, loving embrace. His eyes searched yours as he responded in a soft voice. "I love you too, baby." He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his adoration for you evident in every word and gesture.

“I- I should go clean up…” you mumble, suddenly aware of the mess between your thighs and that Luke is still inside of you. “I’ll take care of you.”

As you nod, Luke slowly pulls out of you and withdraws from your body. He carefully maneuvers off of the bed and guides you towards the bathroom, his arm around your waist to guide you. Inside the bathroom, he switches on the light, ensuring that the warm, intimate ambience endures. Then, he retrieves a soft towel and dips it into warm water, wringing it out until it's just damp. "Let's get you cleaned up," he murmurs, his voice soothing and caring.

“Thank you, daddy,” you whimper, legs shaking as you sit on the edge of the tub from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Gently, Luke runs the warm cloth over your sensitive skin, carefully wiping away any of his cum left behind. "Of course," he whispers, his touch tender and loving. “Anything for my princess."

You could not wait for your future with Luke. And because every night looked like this, you knew you were set for life. All you needed was him.

[inthepassengerside]

you'll always have a place in me