souperbloom

[souperbloom]

heyyyy… how y’alll doin… been cookin this one up for a while with my pookie bear. (who is extremely talented and also super hot and sexy). i will forever be grateful for her unlimited patience with me and my slow ass LMAOO hope you guys love pins and needles, she’s a special one!!! <33

Pins and Needles

MDNI

pairing: firefighter!ashton x reader

summary: you’re completely over ashton irwin. your life has moved on, and so have you. there is nothing that would ever change your mind about it, not even when he magically shows up to rescue you from a broken elevator. it’s all pins and needles, babe.

warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f! receiving), choking, hair pulling, mirror sex, rough ashton, slightly intoxicated sex, mentions of cheating, slight descriptions of a building collapse and hurt + comfort.

word count: 24k (monster blurb ik)

title: pins and needles by nessa barrett

a/n: the story behind this is actually quite funny. i had the song pins and needles by nessa barrett stuck in my head all day, and as i rewatched 9-1-1 i had the idea for this one-shot. this is definitely a beast, but god i am so proud of it. this started off as an idea for a small luke blurb, but @souperbloom has been corrupting me with ashton, and i can’t even blame them. also, did i mention this is a collab with them? AHHH they’ve quickly become one of my favorite people to work with, and her writing is just BEAUTIFUL!!! anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did, and you should all watch 9-1-1 and stream pins and needles if you haven’t already!!!

also, thank you ashton for those extra superbloom era pics. i got violently wet. ANYWAY ENJOY

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

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The sharp click of your heels echoed through the hallway, each step amplifying the urgency of your pace. You were running late—frustratingly, maddeningly late—as you powered forward, trying to make up for lost time.

Your breath came quick and shallow, each inhale a reminder of the meeting looming ahead. The sketches p tightly against your chest felt heavier with every step, the thought of presenting them making your skin break out in a cold sweat.

Whether it was the weight of the presentation or the caffeine from your third cup of coffee that sent jitters through your body, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was both. Either way, your nerves were on edge, a storm threatening to break inside you.

You let out an annoyed huff, wincing as your new heels pinched at your feet with every step. Damn these shoes. They made you look polished and professional, but they were far from comfortable—and definitely not broken in.

Finally, you reached the elevators, skidding to a stop and allowing yourself a moment to breathe. The faint sting in your feet and the hammering of your heart reminded you to steady yourself. They’re not going to laugh me out of a job… right?

Your hand trembled slightly as you pressed the elevator button, the quiet ding of the arrival chime feeling louder than it should. Watching the numbers tick down, you took a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. The anticipation tightened your chest. It’s going to be fine. It has to be.

When the elevator finally came to a halt at your floor, you didn’t hesitate to step through the eerily empty space. Nervous energy coursed through you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from going over your presentation for the millionth time in your head.

As the elevator door slid shut behind you, you pulled out your phone, scrolling mindlessly to distract yourself. You quickly answered a few messages from Diego, who wished you luck and confirmed you were still on for tonight’s date.

He was the first guy you’d worked up the courage to see—albeit casually. You weren’t exactly in the right headspace to open your heart again, and the thought of letting someone in still felt daunting. Sighing, you pocketed your phone and tilted your chin up, watching as the numbers on the elevator panel continued to rise.

Suddenly, the sharp sound of screeching metal broke through the silence. Before you could process what was happening, the elevator lurched violently, and you were falling. It wasn’t far—only a few floors—but your mind went into overdrive as you instinctively dropped to the ground, covering your head and bracing for impact.

But it didn’t come. The elevator jolted to a stop with a bone-rattling force, and the lights flickered off completely, plunging you into darkness. Your heart hammered in your chest as you lay there, disoriented and trembling. Slowly, you felt along the floor for your phone, your fingers shaking as you finally found it.

You didn’t hesitate to open it, though every nerve in your body screamed at you to stay perfectly still, afraid any movement might trigger another fall. Swallowing hard, you hovered your fingers over the keypad, finally typing the three digits you never thought you’d need.

The line picked up almost immediately.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” a calm woman’s voice asked, the faint sound of typing accompanying her words. You could hear a faint accent in her words— maybe Australian?

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to speak through the panic constricting your chest. “Hi, uh, I think the elevator I’m in just fell a few floors—and now I’m stuck.”

“I understand,” the dispatcher said smoothly, her tone steady. “What’s your name?”

Your grip on the phone tightened as you shut your eyes. “Y/N.”

“Got it. Are you hurt, Y/N?”

“No,” you said shakily, “I don’t think so. Just… shaken up.”

The faint sound of rapid typing filled the other end of the line as you fought to focus on her voice rather than the silence around you.

“Okay, you’re doing great. Can I get your location?”

Your mind scrambled to recall the address, your body trembling with a mix of fear and adrenaline. Stammering, you recited the address, silently praying you didn’t get it wrong in your panicked state.

“Alright, I’ve got it,” she said reassuringly. “Now, can you tell me approximately what floor you’re on? Are there any indicators?”

You glanced toward the panel where the floor numbers usually lit up, but it was useless. The screen was dark, just like the rest of the elevator.

“I have no idea,” you admitted, frustration and fear lacing your voice. “I got on at the seventh floor, and it was around the fifteenth when the elevator… dropped.”

More typing came through the line before the dispatcher spoke again. “Understood. Help is on the way. Please stay still, try not to move too much, and keep the line open until they get to you. Can you do that?”

“Yes—yes, thank you,” you gasped, a rush of relief making your head spin as you slumped against the floor. The cool metal pressed against your back as you tried to regulate your breathing.

“Ma’am, are you still with me?” the dispatcher prompted gently, her voice cutting through your haze.

You blinked, jolting out of your trance. “Yes, I’m here,” you murmured, barely recognizing your own voice.

“Is there anyone else in the elevator with you?”

“No,” you replied, glancing around the empty space. “It’s just me.”

The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity as you sank further into despair. The dispatcher on the other end of the line did her best to keep you calm, her steady voice a fragile lifeline in the oppressive silence. Of course this would happen to you—especially today, when you had such an important meeting.

Your gaze drifted to your scattered sketches and plans, lying just a few inches away on the elevator floor. At least they were still intact. Maybe, just maybe, if luck was on your side, you’d still have a chance to present your idea.

The dispatcher checked in periodically, asking how you were holding up. You wished you could unload everything onto her—every fear, every frustration, every ounce of emotional baggage that threatened to drown you. But you held back, knowing how frantic and borderline desperate that would sound.

Before you could spiral any further into your thoughts, a muffled voice broke through the suffocating silence, followed by the faint clatter of tools.

“Ma’am, this is the Los Angeles Fire Department. Are you okay?” a man’s voice called from above, it sounded almost familiar.

Relief flooded through you, almost overwhelming in its intensity. You scrambled to respond, your voice trembling. “Yes! I’m okay,” you managed. “Please, just hurry!”

“Hang on tight,” the firefighter said reassuringly. “We’ll have you out in just a moment.”

For the first time since the elevator had stopped, hope blossomed in your chest, fragile but bright. Help was finally here.

The sounds above you grew louder, they were unnerving enough to set your nerves on edge yet again. You could hear voices coordinating, tools working against the metal. It was slightly overwhelming.

You remained frozen on the floor, clutching your sketches tightly to your chest and trying to regulate your breathing. Every muscle in your body felt tense, your grip on your phone firm as if it were the only tether keeping you grounded.

The dispatcher’s voice broke through your thoughts again, calm and steady. “They’re doing their best to get you out, Y/N. Just hang tight and stay as still as you can, okay?”

You huffed quietly, biting back a sarcastic retort. Liz had been nothing but kind and supportive; she didn’t deserve your misplaced frustration. “I’m trying,” you said through gritted teeth, your voice softer but strained.

The elevator shuddered violently, and your breath caught in your throat. “What the hell was that?” you exclaimed, panic spiking again.

“They’re securing the elevator,” Liz reassured, her voice soothing. “It’s normal, I promise. You’re in good hands.”

Your chest rose and fell in rapid breaths as you closed your eyes briefly. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “What’s your name?”

There was a pause on the other end before the dispatcher gave a surprised laugh. “Oh, I’m Liz, honey.”

“Thank you for staying on the line, Liz,” you murmured, trying to focus on her voice instead of the fear clawing at you. “I probably sound so dumb right now—”

“Not at all,” Liz interrupted, her tone firm but kind. “It’s perfectly normal to be scared. This is a terrifying situation, and you’re allowed to feel that way.”

Before you could respond, a faint beam of light broke through a crack above you, and you instinctively squinted as the sudden brightness filled the confined space. The sound of metal scraping against metal echoed as firefighters pried open the emergency hatch.

“Oh, thank God,” you breathed, a nervous laugh escaping as relief flooded through you.

The firefighter’s voice, now much clearer, called down to you. “Ma’am, we’re here. Are you okay?”

You froze as the familiar voice registered. Your head tilted up slowly, your heart skipping a beat. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you recognized the face peering down at you—the warm brown eyes, the tattooed forearms.

“Calum?” you whispered in disbelief, your voice barely audible.

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice, and his lips curled into a surprised smile. “Oh, hey, Y/N!” he said brightly, as if running into an old friend at a coffee shop instead of in the middle of a rescue. “Fancy seeing you here. You okay?”

Before you could respond, a sinking realization hit you. Calum was never alone—not back in college, not ever. Wherever Calum went, he followed.

But no, it couldn’t be. There was no way.

And just like that, your worst fear materialized as another figure popped up beside Calum, peering through the hatch. Hazel-green eyes met yours, familiar and devastatingly beautiful— the eyes you had dreamed about for half a decade.

“Good God,” Ashton said with a laugh, his grin infuriatingly charming. “If you really wanted to see me that badly, you didn’t have to call 9-1-1.”

Calum shot a look at his best friend, his brows furrowed in mild annoyance. “She doesn’t control who gets sent on calls, Ash. Maybe ease up?”

“She really doesn’t,” Liz interjected from the other end of the line, startling you. You hadn’t realized she could hear everything being said. “Sorry if I’ve put you in an awkward situation, Y/N, but these are good guys. You’re in safe hands. I’ll let you go now.”

You tore your gaze away from Ashton’s infuriatingly familiar green eyes, your frustration bubbling over. “Actually,” you muttered, “is it too late to send another team? Because, honestly, plunging to my death in this elevator sounds kind of appealing right about now.”

Liz laughed, clearly unfazed by your sarcasm. “Definitely too late for that. It was nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you too,” you grumbled, biting the inside of your cheek as the call disconnected, leaving you alone with your rescuers.

Ashton’s grin widened, his confidence as aggravating as ever. You couldn’t help but notice how much he had changed since the last time you’d seen him—over a year ago. His once sandy blond hair was now jet black, styled effortlessly to frame his face. He’d filled out considerably, his uniform clinging to his broad shoulders and toned arms.

Of course, the universe had to serve this moment to you on a silver platter. As if being trapped in an elevator wasn’t humiliating enough, now you had to contend with him.

Calum rolled his eyes, clapping Ashton on the shoulder as yet another head peeked into the hatch. This one belonged to someone unfamiliar—blonde hair, big brown eyes, and a face that looked significantly younger than the others. “What’s going on here?” the newcomer asked.

Ashton groaned, his tone dripping with irritation. “Mind your business, Probie.”

“Mate, get it together and help her out,” Calum interjected, shaking his head. Turning to you, he added, “I promise he’s not always like this on the job.”

You tightened your jaw, your patience already wearing thin. “No, I’m sure he is,” you snapped, pocketing your phone and grabbing your sketches.

“Alright, Y/N,” Ashton sighed, clearly trying to temper his frustration. “I’m here now. Let me get you out of there, and then you can yell at me all you want.”

Anger flickered in your chest as your gaze locked with Ashton’s. The man standing above you bore no trace of the love you once felt for him—no spark, no butterflies. Just pure, unfiltered irritation.

Calum leaned over, lowering a harness through the hatch. His voice was calm and professional, a sharp contrast to Ashton’s flippancy. “Slip this around your waist. Make sure it’s secure, and we’ll pull you up nice and easy.”

You nodded wordlessly, avoiding Ashton’s penetrating gaze as you secured the harness snugly around your waist.

“I’m good,” you called, looking up to meet Calum’s eyes.

He nodded, his tone steady and reassuring. “Great. We’ll get you out in just a second.”

Ashton leaned over the edge, his smirk softening into something resembling concern. “Are you okay down there, Bambi?”

You froze, your frown deepening. “Don’t call me that.”

Ashton let out a slow exhale, glancing briefly at Calum. “Sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Old habits die hard? You could’ve laughed if the situation weren’t so precarious. It had been over a year since you stormed out of Ashton’s apartment, tears streaming down your face, your heart splintered in ways you didn’t think were possible. Whatever love you had for him was long gone.

Choosing to ignore his comment, you focused on Calum’s steady movements.

“Y/N, are you good?” Ashton pressed, his tone sharp and impatient.

Your patience snapped. “Oh, now you care how I’m doing? That’s some interesting character development, Irwin.”

Calum winced, visibly uncomfortable as he turned back to the two of you. “Here we go again…”

He had been there by Ashton’s side for every single one of your tries at a relationship with him. Calum had been there every time it inevitably crashed and burned.

“Don’t ‘here we go again’ me,” Ashton snapped, his nostrils flaring as he glared at Calum. “Can we just get her out of here now?”

Calum’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s exactly what we’re trying to do, but maybe focus on actually doing your job instead of running your mouth.”

“Making sure she’s alright is part of my job,” Ashton shot back, his tone biting.

“No, Michael and Luke are supposed to handle that,” Calum retorted, his patience clearly wearing thin. “You’re supposed to help me lift her.”

In any other situation, their bickering would’ve been amusing, but the creaks and groans of the unstable elevator made you far too anxious to appreciate the comedy of the moment.

“Can you two lovebirds please focus?” you snapped, crossing your arms as you glared up at them.

Calum had the decency to look sheepish, but Ashton simply stared at you, his gaze intense and unwavering. The weight of it made your skin prickle, as if his very presence was an inconvenience you couldn’t escape.

Ashton let out a long breath through his nose. “Probie, help me out,” he barked, motioning for the younger guy to assist him.

The kid—too pretty to be working such a dangerous job—looked just as confused as you felt but stepped forward nonetheless.

Finally, you felt the rope begin to lift you out of the elevator. The ascent was slow and steady, yet you clung to the harness with white-knuckled determination.

“Hey,” Ashton called, his tone suddenly commanding. “Look at me.”

Against your better judgment, you did. His hazel eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, the chaos of the situation melted away. His voice softened, steady and reassuring. “You’re doing so good, Y/N.”

The words struck a nerve, too reminiscent of moments you’d rather forget. You bit your lip and broke his gaze, willing the heat rising to your face to subside.

Finally, with one last pull, you were hoisted out of the elevator and back onto solid ground. Relief washed over you as you took a shaky step forward, only to realize the entire floor had gathered to watch.

As applause broke out around you, mortification set in.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Calum gave you a soft, reassuring smile as he steadied you. His warmth was a stark contrast to Ashton’s fiery energy, and it always left you wondering how the two managed to remain so close.

“You doing okay, Y/N?” he asked gently, his voice calm but tinged with exhaustion. Whether it was from the rescue itself or the constant wrangling with Ashton, you couldn’t quite tell.

“I think so,” you replied, brushing off your skirt and taking a shaky breath.

Calum nodded, his tone taking on a more professional edge. “I’d like to have you checked out by the paramedics, if that’s alright. Just to be sure there’s nothing hidden under the adrenaline.”

You gave a small nod, letting him guide you away from the crowd of onlookers that had formed. Ashton was nowhere in sight—likely cleaning up the gear or bossing around the “probie” you’d seen earlier.

The paramedics were waiting for you just outside the commotion. One of them stepped forward, his kind smile instantly putting you at ease.

“Hi, I’m Luke,” he said, his grin wide and warm, his voice tinged with a similar accent as the dispatcher who took your call. His tall frame loomed a little, but his bleach blond curls and sparkling blue eyes softened the effect. He turned slightly, gesturing to his partner. “And that’s Michael. Mind if we check you out real quick?”

You glanced at Michael, who was quieter but no less striking. His blond hair fell messily over his forehead, and his green eyes studied you with careful precision.

“Sure,” you said, nodding, though your gaze flicked back to Calum. He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze before stepping away, his reassuring presence lingering as you turned to face the paramedics.

You sat quietly as they worked around you, their movements seamless and efficient. Luke took your blood pressure while Michael prepared a light to check your pupils. Despite the strange tension in the air, their coordinated rhythm was oddly comforting—like watching a well-practiced dance.

Luke had just finished shining the light in your eyes when someone cleared their throat behind you. Michael turned first, heading toward the source of the noise, but you didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Of course, Ashton stood a few feet away, shifting his weight awkwardly. He glanced at Luke and Michael with a sheepish smile. “Do you guys mind if I talk to—”

“I’m feeling quite faint, actually,” you interrupted loudly, catching Luke and Michael’s worried gazes before turning back to Ashton. “I think I should go to the hospital.”

Ashton sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Bambi, please,” he muttered, the nickname grating on your nerves. “You don’t have to try and run away from me, you know?”

Michael raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. “What did we miss?”

Luke looked equally perplexed, exchanging a silent question with his partner before shrugging.

You crossed your arms, leveling Ashton with a glare. “Is there a form I can sign that gets me the hell away from this guy?”

Luke hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the tension. “Uh… well, leaving against medical advice is an option. You sign, and we’re off the hook for anything. You’re free to, uh… run.”

Michael snorted, leaning casually against the wall. “Or, you know, restraining order. That works too.”

Ashton shot Michael a sharp glare, his jaw tightening. “That’s not funny.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, the sound cutting through the tense air. Watching Ashton squirm for once was a welcome change; in your relationship, he’d always held the upper hand.

“Alright,” Luke said, his serious tone cracking into a grin. “Make that against Ashton advice.”

Michael chuckled, his mischievous grin widening. “Yeah mate, now is not the time to pick up girls. You’re on the clock, not the cock.”

For a second, the room was silent. Then Luke and Michael burst into laughter, both doubling over as their shoulders shook. You couldn’t suppress your own snicker at Michael’s remark. Despite everything, their lightheartedness made you feel oddly at ease.

“Exactly,” you nodded in agreement. “So hop off mine.”

Your words only prompted another round of laughter from Michael and Luke. Ashton, however, was not amused. He crossed his arms, his expression equal parts annoyed and desperate. “Could you two please stop siding with her?”

Luke rolled his eyes dramatically. “Mate, you’re working, and it’s obvious she’s not interested in you.”

Michael nodded, smirking slightly. “Exactly. She’s not that into you, Ashton.”

You caught Ashton’s gaze then, his hazel eyes softening as they met yours. For a moment, his usual cocky demeanor fell away, replaced by a quiet vulnerability that caught you off guard.

But you weren’t ready to give him the satisfaction of winning this round. Turning back to Luke, who was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, you raised an eyebrow. “Am I cleared or what?”

Luke sobered quickly, exchanging a glance with Michael. “I mean… yeah, mostly. But there’s a couple more things I’d like to check.”

Ashton stepped forward. “I’ll do it.”

Michael and Luke both froze, exchanging a look of disbelief.

“It’s fine,” you said quietly, surprising even yourself. “He can do it.”

Ashton puffed out his chest slightly, clearly relieved. “See? She doesn’t mind. Besides, we’re all EMT-trained. She’ll be fine.”

Luke shot you a sympathetic glance before stepping aside, muttering under his breath, “Better him than me.”

Michael shook his head with a teasing grin. “Don’t back down so easily, Hemmings,” he said, turning to Ashton. “You can take over on one condition: you tell us what the story is.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing back at Ashton with a playful, expectant look. “Yeah, Ashton. What’s the story here?” you echoed, blinking at him with faux innocence.

Ashton clenched his jaw, visibly irritated but resigned. With a heavy sigh, he muttered, “That’s my ex. Y/N. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

The humor you’d been feeling vanished instantly. You had half-expected Ashton to brush the situation off or leave everyone guessing. But the casual, almost smug way he admitted it hit you like a sucker punch.

You clenched your jaw. “Don’t call me that,” you muttered angrily. “I’ve never met you.”

Ashton sighed, looking at you with a defeated look in his eyes. “Seriously Y/N? You’re gonna act like this?”

Michael let out a low whistle, clearly taken aback. “Yeah, nope. Not touching that one,” he said, shaking his head. He nudged Luke, motioning for him to leave.

Luke hesitated, shooting you a quick, apologetic glance before following Michael out of the room. And just like that, for the first time in over a year, you were alone with Ashton.

He stepped closer, his eyes lingering on the door his teammates had just walked through. “Appreciate that,” he muttered, shaking his head with a wry smile. “Now this will be the hot topic for the rest of the shift.”

You met his gaze, crossing your arms. “Serves you right, don’t you think?” you replied, your tone laced with sarcasm. A smirk tugged at your lips as you tilted your head. “You know, after everything.”

Ashton raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a sly grin as he grabbed a flashlight to replicate Luke’s earlier tests. “After everything, hmm?” he repeated, his voice smooth. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

You let out an exhausted sigh, leaning away slightly as he moved closer. “What do you want, Ashton?” you asked softly, your adrenaline draining and leaving behind nothing but weariness.

He paused for a moment, his expression softening. “I don’t want anything,” he said evenly. “Just saying… it’s been a while. You look good. Happy.”

There was a sadness in his eyes that only seemed to fuel your simmering anger. You scoffed, shoving him away with more force than necessary. “I am happy,” you snapped, your voice sharp. “That’s what happens when I get over a leech.”

Ashton barked out a laugh, the sound disbelieving. “A leech?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Damn, alright. Wow.”

You spun on your heel to face him fully, your glare sharp enough to cut. “I could say so many things to you right now, Ashton Irwin, but I’m choosing peace.”

Ashton cocked his head to the side, his hand resting casually on his hip as he stared at you with an unimpressed expression. “Peace?” he echoed, his tone both mocking and curious.

“Yes,” you nodded firmly. “I’m over you, and wasting my breath on insults isn’t really my thing anymore.”

“You’re really over me, aren’t you?” he asked, a small, amused smile creeping onto his face.

You struggled to keep your composure, but you met his gaze without faltering. “Yes, completely,” you said, your voice steady. “It’s all pins and needles here, babe. You’re dead to me.”

Ashton raised his eyebrows, clearly entertained. “Dead is a bit much, don’t you think?”

“My feelings for you are dead.”

“Great,” Ashton said with an infuriatingly charming smile. “So let me take you out—catch up a bit. It’s been a long time; we’re overdue, don’t you think?”

You laughed, disbelief shaking through your tone. “Are you serious right now?” You turned to him fully, eyes narrowed. “You want to catch up?”

He blinked, completely unaffected by your reaction. “Well, you’re over me, right? We can have a simple outing as two mature adults. You’re doing great, and I’d love to hear all about it.”

You opened your mouth to shut him down, but a sly thought bloomed in the back of your mind. What if you did go out with him? Just a casual outing, nothing more. It would be the perfect opportunity to show him firsthand how much better your life was without him. Let him see for himself how unimportant he had become.

You pressed your tongue against your cheek, letting the idea take root as you weighed your options. After a moment, you let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine,” you said coolly.

Ashton’s grin widened, but you didn’t miss the flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Fine?”

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug. “Let’s catch up.”

He smirked, clearly pleased, but you were already imagining the look on his face when he realized just how much you’d thrived.

“Perfect,” he nodded, backing away. “I’m halfway through a shift, but I’ll text you as soon as I’m off?”

You shrugged. “Might have to unblock your number first.”

Ashton smiled, a true, wide smile. His dimples flashed, and you could catch a glimpse of his infuriatingly adorable bunny teeth. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

—

The first week of college was already off to a rough start.

Not only had you been late to every single one of your classes due to your inability to navigate the campus, but the past few days had been drowned in a perpetual cloud of pouring rain.

You were on your way to an Intro to Philosophy class, after having sourced the massive textbook and spent twenty five dollars on express shipping to get it to your dorm on time, your pockets were empty and your soul was crushed when you realized just how goddamn heavy it felt when sitting in your backpack.

Your roommate wasn’t a peach, either. She was kind of standoffish, mean in a way that seemed so effortless as she berated you with passive aggression every time you’d forgotten to turn off a light or drop a dish into the sink.

All of these things combined left you frazzled, and once again, late, trudging through the rain in lightweight Converse that allowed the water from puddles to seep through and wet your socks.

You grumble to yourself as you adjust your bookbag on your shoulder, attempting to dodge the raindrops that splashed down like hail and occasionally got in your eyes. It was even harder to focus on the sidewalk as the sky got darker— you’d wished they’d turn the street lamps on a little earlier when it came to shitty weather.

Or, you wished you’d remembered to put your contacts in.

The walk from your dorm to the Social Sciences building seemed like an eternity. Puddles grew larger, the wind was getting stronger. You could only see the silhouettes of the other students walking past you, which felt as eerie as all hell. There was absolutely no way you were getting to this class on time. Especially not before stopping to collect yourself.

You eventually did stop, landing beside a lamppost before you let too much water fill up your shoes. Leaning against cold, wet metal, you tug at the straps of your bookbag. The entire bag tightens against you, reminiscent of strapping a cinder block to your shoulders, and making your newfound stress headache worsen tenfold.

In the midst of your adjustments, you glance across the way to the opposing side of the street. All of the squinting and toppling back and forth due to the sheer weight of your belongings must’ve had you looking like a madwoman.

Beneath the other streetlamp stood two figures; you could hardly make them out due to the bucketing rainfall— but they seemed to be lingering around with an umbrella. Something you desperately wished you had right now.

You were always told that approaching strangers was the best way to go about making friends in college. The theory of being in a new place with people who share the common goal of earning their degree was like a magnet for new interpersonal relationships.

It seemed morbid to think about friendships in this way, but with an already shitty roommate, the beating heart of rainclouds and the horrid feeling of soaking wet socks, you were starting to think that asking to walk alongside the only people for miles with an umbrella may be your best bet.

After steadying yourself and working up the courage to do the strangest thing you’ve done all week, you set off to cross the street. Puddles were becoming more and more plentiful with each step you took. It took everything to avoid them all, and you regretted wearing such slippery shoes to trudge to class in the rain.

“Hey!”

You call out into the dark air, the two figures whipping their heads in sync to face your now embodied voice.

As you walk, you wave your arm, trying to shield yourself from the bullets that nature called raindrops. But having the two figures’ attention made any and all semblances of words disappear from your mind. They just watched you, halting their own interaction.

“Hey! Hi, I’m sorry to—”

Right as you take one more step to join them onto their side of the street, your ankle is suddenly immersed in water. A pothole, disguised as a shallow puddle, engulfs your entire foot.

Your arms wave to catch yourself, but to no avail. It isn’t long before you’re falling face first towards the concrete, and the hand you attempted to steady yourself with is completely drenched in rain water.

“Oh, shit.”

“Holy fuck, are you okay?!”

Concerned exclamations and courtesies were expected— you’d just fallen flat on your forehead. But what you didn’t expect, nor wanted, to hear after your blundering trip was laughter.

“That was fuckin’ gnarly,” you hear a deep voice get higher, as laughter fills the air and clouds over the embarrassed shade of red dawning your face.

Shaking yourself off, you attempt to stand up, still being pelted by rainfall as the two strangers before you squatted down to your level and attempted to help you up.

You see a hand reach out to you, and you take it in a daze, getting back to your feet with minimal injury from your fall. Your knees were definitely a little banged up, with a new hole ripped into the front of your jeans that stung when you straightened your legs.

“I’m— oh, dear God,” you chuckle wryly, still attempting to hide the humiliation, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Your knees. Are they scraped? Are you bleeding? Do you need a bandaid?”

When you eventually look up to face the concerned voice of a stranger, you’re met with dark brown eyes and a mop of soggy brown curls.

Behind his shoulder stood another guy, his energy a bit less frantic as he continued to just— laugh.

“No, no. Not bleeding, I don’t think. I just wanted to uh, ask if I could walk under your umbrella. Guess the campus potholes had other plans.”

Before you could muster up another sentence, the kid who helped you up extended his free hand once more, “I’m Calum. And I am— so sorry we had to meet this way.” Calum’s face pinches in second-hand embarrassment as you nod to him wearily. His handshake was firm, his fingers trembling a bit as he held you tightly.

“Y/N,” you reply sheepishly, “And your friend?”

The friend in question was still doubled over, getting an absolute kick out of the fact that you’d just busted your ass in the rain. But that high pitched laughter and sturdy white smile made up for the annoyance you suddenly felt.

“Holy shit— oh my God,” he wheezes between faltering chuckles, “I’m Ashton. And unfortunately, that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life.”

In an attempt to ease the awkwardness, you laugh along, now uncomfortable in your wet, tattered jeans and palms covered in gravel.

“Ashton, fuckin’— seriously? Stop laughing! It’s not funny!” Calum tries his hand at defending you, but it seemed as though Ashton had his mind made up. As if he were replaying the incident in his own little world, his laughter strikes up like a match once again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just— you should’ve seen the way you fell. It was like the ground disappeared from under your feet! Just one step and woosh, you were gone.”

“Well, to be fair— it did disappear. I uh, stepped into a pothole.”

“Oh my God, I think that makes it better.”

You grumble at the thought of being Ashton’s laughing stock of the day, self consciously wiping your palms off on your sweatshirt and now looking visibly uncomfortable. You could see Calum out of the corner of your eye, wearily glancing between you, Ashton, and his watch.

“I hate to leave so quickly, but I’ve got class in about three minutes.”

“No no, it’s fine—”

“It was lovely to meet you, and I’m sorry to leave you with this demon,” Calum smiles warmly, adjusting the two textbooks in his arms, “Ashton, be nice.”

Before you could even spare him a parting word, Calum is rushing off towards campus. It starts as a slow jog, morphing into a full fledged run.

Calum also took the umbrella.

“How can I make it up to you?”

Ashton’s voice from behind you snaps you out of your spaceout; he’s still standing where he was before, his hands dug into the pockets of his jeans as his long, shaggy brown hair starts to get wet from the still falling rain.

“Fall. Face first,” you murmur, pointing out, “into that puddle right there.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as thunder crackles in the distance. “Don’t think so. How about instead of that, we get out of this rain and I grab you some ‘sorry that you busting your ass was the highlight of my year’ apology ice cream? My treat.”

“Oh boy, ice cream in the cold. Sounds like a riot.”

“I appreciate your sarcasm,” his lip twitches up into a smile, as he extends his arm for you to hold onto, “But ice cream is good during any weather. And you know it, too.”

The sheer switch in Ashton’s demeanor, from absolutely dogging on you to being a gentleman, gave you what seemed to be whiplash. His eyes switched from mockery to sincerity in a matter of seconds, as he waited for you to latch onto his elbow.

“My clothes are wet,” you comment awkwardly, shaking out your sleeve.

“Doesn’t matter. Wouldn’t want you to fall. Plus, I don’t think I have enough air in my lungs to spare laughing like that again.”

After battling with yourself for a moment, stalling the amount of time spent in the now rolling storm, you take Ashton’s arm. He chuckles when you hold onto him, still seeming like he was coming down from laughing.

“So, where were you headed before the accident?” Ashton motions to you with a tilt of his head while you walk with him down the sidewalk.

“Well, I was headed to class. But honestly I’ve been so stressed this week that I think I deserve to miss this one.”

“You’re saying that was a stress-induced blunder back there? Jeez, wouldn’t want to be you right now.”

As much as you wanted to be annoyed with your new friend’s constant jabs, the bigger part of you knew how funny the entire situation was. A puff of air leaves your lips, Ashton’s giggle fit starts up once more.

“No, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.” Ashton says, a lot more sincerely than you expected.

“I agree with you. I don’t think I deserved to be ankle deep in a pothole either.”

He shakes his head, using his arm to guide you to the start of the crosswalk and press the button, “No, I meant— you don’t deserve me being such an asshole about it. If I were you, I’d probably be so pissed and embarrassed that I’d drop out.”

You scoff at Ashton’s words, taking a lead once the red light turns to green, “Dramatic much? I’m sure within my four years of college I’ll embarrass myself like that at least ten more times.”

“A bold statement for the first week,” Ashton chuckles, as he now has now passed you and you’re attempting to keep up with his slender, jean-clad legs, “We should make a bet.”

“A bet?”

Your eyes narrow with challenge, your deeply-rooted competitive nature coming to a front. You glance at Ashton as you reach the opposing side of the sidewalk, stopping right in front of the ice cream shop.

“Mhm. I bet you’ll embarrass yourself less than ten times before our four years are up.”

“That’s awfully generous, Ashton,” you scrunch your nose, finally able to study his features shielded from the rain, “But unfortunately, you’ve only just gotten a taste of how badly I can embarrass myself.”

“Isn’t that the fun part of a bet, though? To prove someone wrong?”

The smile that dawned Ashton’s cheeks was playful, the corners of his mouth curved up into a point and highlighting the slightly outgrown stubble gracing his jaw. You’ll admit it now, he was attractive. The long shaggy hair added a bit of that indie rockstar vibe to him that you always favored in a guy. His eyes were a bit too green for your liking, burning holes into your face as you let the silence hang in midair after his question.

“You’re right. I do love proving people wrong. Especially if it’s the guy who laughed so hard at me that he almost passed out.”

Ashton shakes his head, his gaze lingering for a moment too long before he’s holding open the door of the ice cream shop, “I’d let you prove me wrong any day.”

Soaking wet and now a little less uncomfortable, you walk into the ice cream shop. The bell rings as you enter, and the inside is quiet, as expected. Who but you, and a stranger you met twenty minutes ago, would be getting ice cream on a cold, rainy day?

The attendee greets you warmly, as if she’d been waiting to speak to someone all day, “Hey guys! What can I get for you?”

Ashton steps back, gesturing with his head for you to order first. You smile inward, having known what you wanted since he asked you here.

“Can I get two scoops of cotton candy in a waffle cone with rainbow sprinkles?”

The cashier nods, tapping your order onto the screen and immediately rushing to put it together for you, all while you can hear Ashton snickering quietly behind you.

You whip your head around, squinting at him, “What? What’s so funny?”

“You’ve got quite a sweet tooth, don’t you?”

“First you make fun of me for busting my shit, now you ridicule my ice cream order? What’s your fuckin’ deal?”

As Ashton opens his mouth to reply, the cashier hands you your ice cream. You take it from her with a grateful smile, mumbling ‘thank you’ before spinning back around to lock eyes with him. But now, he’s taking out his wallet, and leaving your question unanswered as he tells the cashier ‘that’ll be all’.

Ashton brushes past you, glancing down at you over his shoulder as he hands the girl his debit card.

“You’re not getting anything?”

Your question comes off more as a whine, which left you feeling more embarrassed than you were earlier.

“Nah.”

Ashton pays, and you continue to eat your ice cream with a sour face, eyeing him scornfully as the two of you sit down at a small metal table in the corner.

“Why didn’t you get any ice cream?” you ask, the thought of only you enjoying ice cream twisting your heart strings in a very strange way. Ashton just shrugs, pulling himself closer to the table so that he could fold his arms and get a better look at your soggy features.

“I’m lactose intolerant. But you should’ve seen how your face lit up at the mention of ‘apology ice cream’. How could I turn down those big doe eyes, all soaked from the rain?”

You scoff, a mix between taking offense and a sliver of laughter, “You’re lactose intolerant and your first thought was ice cream? Do you have a death wish?”

“Why do you think I didn’t get anything? Just because dairy is hell for my insides doesn’t mean I have to rob you of the joy from eating an ice cream cone.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t shit yourself from laughing earlier, jeez.” You’re back to your playful tongue, taking your time in licking off all the sprinkles.

“That’s not how it works like, at all,” Ashton puffs, leaning back into his chair and crossing his eyes, “The ice cream was a lucky guess. For all I knew, you could’ve been severely allergic to dairy and smacked me for even offering.”

“Now why would I smack you for offering? That’d be silly.”

You could tell now where Ashton’s eyes fell; directly onto your tongue. Each time you jutted it out to eat your ice cream, his gaze wandered. Almost like he was hypnotized.

“Dunno. People these days. They’re weird.”

Stewing in his seat, Ashton clears his throat. But you continue on eating, playing your little unspoken game of catching his viridian eyes each time they linger off to where they don’t belong. Suddenly, you sit up, and he flinches as if he’d been caught.

“So, that bet. Are we still on? Because I think I’ll embarrass myself those aforementioned ‘ten times’ within my first semester.”

After collecting himself slightly, and bringing his mind back down to earth, his lip twitches up into a smile, “Well, that would mean we’d have to keep in touch. Y’know, so you can update me every time you walk into the wrong classroom or take a nosedive into concrete.”

“Is this you asking for my number?” you smile, halfway through a bite of your slowly dwindling cotton candy ice cream.

“I suppose so,” he shrugs, the wet t-shirt beneath his jacket moving fluidly against his chest and making it harder for you to concentrate, “Would you mind?”

“Not at all. As long as you don’t mind me considering you as the first friend I’ve made in college.”

Ashton’s smile doubles in size, as he sits up to reach for his phone in his back pocket.

“So it’s settled then. We’ll concede the results of this bet a week before graduation.” Along with his phone, Ashton smacks his black leather wallet onto the table, “Whatever’s in that cash pocket at this very moment is how much money’s on the line. I expect you to hold me to it, and you can expect me to do the same.”

A small smile plays on your face as you reach for his wallet, the obvious choice, and hold it open with one hand. Inside of the cash slot lies a singular twenty dollar bill, a twenty dollar bill that seems to carry a lot more weight to it than only the amount of cash that Ashton has on him at the moment.

“Twenty bucks. Not bad. That’ll come in handy for our next ice cream date.”

“Already planning our next date? She’s efficient, I like it.”

You chuckle heartily, sliding him back his wallet, and grabbing his phone to give him your number, “Consider that a date for after graduation. Cap, gowns, tassels and all. In this very chair, at this very table.”

“Deal.” Ashton agrees.

The two of you shake hands, but when your palms touch, a spark ignites through your forearm. Like a wave of static shock, you remain frozen in time, with a stirring feeling in your gut.

You couldn’t place your finger on what it meant, nor did you really want to. But you had a feeling that this wouldn’t be your last time sitting at this table with Ashton.

“What’re you doing later?” Ashton asks, after you’d exchanged a few giddy glances to one another since giving him your number.

“Standing in front of a hair dryer to get a handle on these stupid wet clothes. How about you?”

“Hm, sounds like a drag. I, however, am going to that karaoke bar on the campus strip with Calum at nine. Cowgirl. You should come along.”

The mention of karaoke freezes your senses. You never had a complete aversion to karaoke, however, the thought of singing at a dive bar in front of Ashton and Calum made you nauseous. You’d just met them— they don’t know you, and you don’t know them. Surely you’d have a good time, but stage fright was always one of the many thorns in your side. You weren’t sure you had the confidence.

“Yeah, I’ll go.”

Damn it.

“You twenty one yet?” Ashton raises his eyebrow, fighting a cheeky smirk that gives you the impression that he already knew your answer.

“In Tennessee, yeah.”

“I see,” he scratches his chin, eyeing you teasingly, “I’ve got a friend who’s twenty three in Arizona, so— I’m pickin’ up what you’re putting down.”

The two of you laugh once more. And the more you share smiles and shied away glances, the more you really get to know about Ashton.

He’s twenty one, having lived in Australia for most of his formative years until moving to the US to get his bachelor’s in communications. Ashton almost didn’t make it to college, you learned, after taking two travel-packed gap years that left him with a lot of knowledge on European culture and even more numbers in his phone. You wanted to keep asking him questions, but by the time you’d really gotten to the meaty bits of his life, your ice cream cone was down to the wrapper it came in.

“I still can’t believe you took, not one, but two gap years. And you still made it here. That’s honestly super impressive.”

Ashton tosses his hand at you, his seat somehow shifted much closer to you than before, “Meh, not that impressive. Parents were on my ass about actually doing something with my life. They shipped me off here with practically nothing. I felt like I got dropped in the middle of the woods with two twigs and a rock.”

“Well, regardless of your wilderness exploration, you seem to have it figured out at least a little now, right?”

You and Ashton were now only an inch apart, your knees occasionally brushing against one another each time Ashton got particularly animated when telling his story. He went on to tell you about his random roommate pairing, and how meeting a friend, Calum, from across the hall basically saved his ass one night during random room checks. He and Calum both moved into school three weeks early, sharing the common ground of being gap-year freshmen, and were currently inseparable. They sought refuge in each other’s dorms due to unfortunate roommate pairings, and became attached at the hip.

“Funny that you met probably the only other Aussie on campus,” you comment, twiddling with the empty cone wrapper on your thumb.

“Mhm. It’s us blokes against the world. But, y’know— I have a feeling that may change after tonight.”

“Really, how do you figure?”

“Even though he was off like a shotgun earlier, I think you’re really gonna dig Cal’s vibe. You guys are really fuckin’ similar. Down to those big ass eyes whenever you're scared or embarrassed.”

You giggle, tilting your head down and subconsciously hiding your eyes beneath your hair. But Ashton isn’t having it. In an unforeseeable turn of events, Ashton’s thumb is there to catch your chin and pull your gaze back up into his.

“Don’t go shy on me now, Bambi,” Ashton hums, his voice the softest it’s been since you met him, “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell ya’ how pretty I think your eyes are.”

“Thank you,” you mumble meekly, your knees suddenly feeling like jello and your cheeks as hot as the surface of the sun.

“I’m serious. I swear, I saw some stars twinkling in there.”

In the heat of the moment, you press your palm against his knee, the one that’s been touching you since he scooted himself closer. You freeze, not knowing what else to do with this moment other than to let it be.

“Are you doing anything else today besides karaoke?” you ask, your heart rate speeding up by the second.

“Not particularly. Why?”

“We should hang out.” You blurt out the words faster than you can actually process them.

Ashton chuckles at your eagerness, “Aren’t we hanging out right now?”

“Oh shut up, you know what I mean.”

The air around your bodies had you feeling like you were floating on a cloud. Ashton’s hand folds on top of yours, supporting the growing weight of anticipation you felt boiling in your chest.

“I can’t read minds, but— you could hang out at my place until Calum gets out of class. I’m supposed to be off doing something studious right now too, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt ‘em.”

“Sure. If I’m gonna miss class, why not do something fun?”

“That’s the spirit. It’s week one of classes and I’ve already got you playin’ hookey.”

You giggle at him, feeling more and more comfortable with his hand in yours as the moments pass, “You’re a bad influence.”

“Trust me, Bambi. I’ll make your life hell.”

After a few more minutes of playful banter that was quickly shaping up to be unabashed flirtation, the two of you set off to Ashton’s dorm. He told you that his roommate wasn’t home; and talked extensively about how his roommate tends to leave the room for days at a time and never tell him where he’s going.

The rain had since subsided, leaving the sidewalks muddied and damp; but Ashton kept you on his arm to prevent you from slipping and falling once again.

“Do you maybe have a shirt I can borrow?” you ask Ashton shyly, as he leads you towards a large steel door and taps his university key card against the lock.

The door creaks open, Ashton holds it for you with an arm above your head, “I’ve got plenty of shirts. I’m sure you’d want pants, too. Those jeans have seen better days.

“Knock it off. My jeans are fine,” you chuckle, sliding past him into the dorm stairway.

“Yeah, okay,” Ashton glances down judgmentally at the wet spots on the knees of your jeans, “I’ll lend you a pair of sweats. No big deal.”

You roll your eyes, a sucker for his sarcasm, as he leads you up a few flights of stairs to his floor. The journey to his door was quiet, and awkward. He’d occasionally poke your shoulder, making jabs at your soaking wet hair. But you just brushed him off— boys are stupid and dumb.

“Well, this is the place,” Ashton sighs, pushing his door open and leading you into the room with a pat at your back.

You take a second to glance around. One side of the room was almost completely barren— not a single poster, picture, or sign of life. Only dark blue bedspread with a single pillow, and an empty desk.

However, the opposite side of the room was decked out to all hell. Music and movie posters on every conceivable area of the wall above the bed. A plaid, black and grey bedspread with a few comfortable looking throw pillows that were clearly picked out by someone with taste. A mason jar filled with drum sticks, broken and intact. You smile to yourself, lucky that you landed the roommate with a personality.

“This is nice. Who taught you how to decorate?”

Ashton scoffs, setting his backpack down on his desk chair, “Myself. Didn’t need to be taught. It’s called having a vision.”

“You get more and more annoying the more I get to know you,” you smile, finding yourself a seat on the floor to rid yourself of your muddied Converse. Ashton paces around the room for a moment, before landing on a drawer and pulling it open. He puts his hands on his hips, and taps his foot.

“Let’s see— are you a Ramones fan? Or more of a ‘Stones girl? What about Red Hot Chili Peppers?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Trying to figure out which shirt I can spare you. It’s likely that I’ll never get it back, so. I wanna see which I’d be most fine parting with.”

“Shouldn’t you be asking yourself that question, then?”

Ashton scratches his head, tucking a lock of his sandy brown hair behind his ear, “Damn. You’re right. You’re pretty good, Bambi.”

“At making obvious decisions?” you raise an eyebrow.

“No, at keeping my head on straight,” Ashton reaches into the drawer, tossing a black T-shirt over his back and letting it whack you in the face, “Rolling Stones it is.”

After removing it from your face, you hold the shirt tightly to your chest. Ashton slams the drawer shut and smiles, spinning around to face you with a pair of grey sweatpants in hand.

“Last chance. Do you want these or no?”

You chew on your bottom lip, glancing around the room for any sign of a bathroom door, or even a closet.

“Do you uh— have a bathroom here that I can change in?”

“It’s communal. All of them are.”

You let out a puff of air, shaking your head and smacking your palm to your forehead, “Right. Dumb question.”

“Nah nah, it’s not dumb. This is an all dudes floor, too. If you wanted to change in here I could just— turn around.”

Blush pink falls across your face, while Ashton does a dumb hand movement and spins around to face the wall.

“I don’t want to get changed in here!” you protest, indignant. “I just met you today. I don’t need you seeing my delicates.”

“I told you I’d turn around,” Ashton shrugs, already spinning back, arms crossed. “You don’t trust me?”

“Not as far as I can throw you,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you fold his clothes neatly in your lap. You’re fully aware of how dramatic this is getting—but part of you enjoys it. Ashton matches your banter beat for beat, always taking it just a little further.

It’s amusing. It’s entertaining. It’s… hot, if you’re being honest.

You shoot him one last skeptical glance—just to make sure he’s not about to peek—then reluctantly reach for the hem of your soaked shirt and peel it off.

“Y’know,” Ashton pipes up cheerfully, “usually when girls wear my clothes, they at least let me get a peek.”

Your cheeks flush instantly. You yank the shirt up over your chest again like a makeshift shield.

“Well, usually when guys take me out for ice cream, it’s not as an apology for being a dickhead,” you snap.

He laughs, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. “Hey, I more than made up for that. I’m lactose intolerant and I still did that for you, Bambi. I’m basically a saint if you think about it.”

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come. You just stand there, holding the shirt against yourself like armor.

None of this is going how you expected.

“Can I turn around now?” Ashton asks, softer this time. The teasing edge has faded. Now he just sounds unsure—cautious, even. Like under all that swagger, he might actually be nervous.

You bite the inside of your cheek, hesitating. Would it really be so bad? What would he do if you just… let him look?

Ashton—annoyingly comforting Ashton—was not what you thought he’d be. Hot and cocky, yeah. But also weirdly sweet. Weirdly attentive.

“Fine,” you say, the word escaping before you can stop it. Your arms fall to your sides, shirt clutched in one hand as you brace yourself.

“Okay, sick—” Ashton spins, grinning wide—until his eyes land on you. His whole expression shifts. You, shirtless. Standing tall despite the nerves.

And just like that, he stops smiling.

Ashton’s grin falls mid-spin, his eyes going comically wide as they take in your state of undress. He stumbles back half a step, like the sight knocked the air out of him. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again—completely speechless for the first time all day.

Your heart beats loudly in your chest as you bite your lip, holding the moment for just a second longer before slowly beginning to lift the shirt up.

The air between you turns molasses-thick—warm with tension, humming with something sharp and sweet and unspoken. You know Ashton’s probably seen a hundred girls naked. A guy like him? A revolving door, easy. But the way he looks at you—eyes blown wide, throat bobbing with a hard swallow—feels… like it means something.

“Nice,” he breathes. Then his brain catches up. “Shit. Fuck. I mean—”

He presses a hand to his face, dragging it down slowly like that might somehow reset him. “Jesus, Bambi. You—you’re just—” He exhales hard. “That was… a lot. In a good way. The best way.”

His hand drops and he gestures vaguely in your direction, as if trying to find the words to explain what he’s seeing. “Like, I thought you were hot before, obviously, but now I think I might have to call a priest. Or a therapist. Or both.”

Your cheeks heat, but you smile. The shirt slips over your head, hiding your chest again, but Ashton’s still staring at you like he’s trying to memorize every second of what just happened.

“Yeah?” you grin, feigning nonchalance. “Thank you.”

Ashton blinks. “No, thank you,” he repeats dumbly, almost reverently. “I feel like I should buy you ice cream again after that. Or, like, dinner. And a house. I don’t know. What’s the going rate for a spiritual awakening?”

You roll your eyes with a soft laugh and shoulder past him, flopping down on the bed like this is all completely normal. “You can start by telling me your favorite karaoke songs, so I know what I’m getting myself into.”

Ashton turns, still blinking like he hasn’t quite recovered. His fingers twitch at his sides, and he sits carefully beside you, like getting too close might make you vanish. His cocky confidence has melted away, replaced by something quieter. Awed. A little wrecked.

“Okay,” he says, voice low and breathy. The smile that creeps onto his lips is slower now, almost shy. His dimples deepen, and he glances at you from under thick lashes. “After that, I think I’d do just about anything for you.”

You giggle, chest warm from the switch-up—the complete shift in his energy. He was adorable like this. Dangerous when flirty, but downright endearing when undone.

Then, as if remembering himself, Ashton shoots you a crooked grin. “I hope you like Radiohead, Bambi.”

You groan and flop dramatically onto the pillows. “Please don’t say Creep.”

He laughs, leaning back on his hands. “Too late. I’ve already got my falsetto warmed up.”

—

You took your time unblocking Ashton, convincing yourself it was purely to drive the point home—he meant nothing to you. Still, when his indignant text finally came through about being unblocked, you couldn’t help but smile.

You shut that down immediately. There was absolutely no reason to smile at his texts, not when he’d done nothing to earn it. You knew better than anyone how dangerous it was to let yourself soften around Ashton. If you weren’t careful, you’d slip right back into his arms.

Just like you had so many times before.

Part of you expected Ashton to never actually follow through on the plans to catch up. In truth, you sort of hoped he wouldn’t. Being in his proximity wasn’t ideal, not when your track record with him involved losing all sense the moment his hands lingered on yours for even a second too long.

But this time would be different—you swore it. You were over Ashton. The fiery feelings he used to stir up had been reduced to nothing but numbness.

You had Diego now. He was stable, reliable, and had a normal job. He wasn’t going to destroy every part of you the way Ashton had.

Ashton was always one to surprise you. When he texted asking if you wanted to meet him at the bar you two used to frequent during your college days, you could only gape at your phone.

Meet me at Cowgirl tonight?

You considered blocking him again, pretending you hadn’t run into him at all. Of course, he’d choose that place—the one you’d been too afraid to return to after your last encounter with him.

But you knew you had to go. If you ghosted him after he suggested such a significant place, it would confirm that he still had a hold on you. You sighed, begrudgingly typing out your confirmation, silently praying the night would pass without incident.

A flicker of guilt surfaced as your mind wandered to Diego. You had canceled your date after the elevator ordeal, still too shaken to do anything but stew over Ashton’s sudden reappearance in your life.

You reminded yourself that you and Diego weren’t exclusive. There was no need to feel guilty about this outing—Ashton meant nothing to you anymore. He’d dug his own grave, and you hadn’t even shed a tear over it.

Still, as the evening approached, an uneasy knot formed in your stomach. Getting ready felt like a battle in itself. You didn’t want to overdo it, but the confidence boost makeup gave you was undeniable. If you looked good, you’d feel in control—and you needed every ounce of control tonight.

Besides, would it really hurt to rub in just how much you were glowing without him?

The drive to the bar was surprisingly smooth. LA traffic, unreliable as always, decided to work in your favor for once. But when you pulled into the parking lot, the fear hit you like a brick.

You stayed frozen in the driver’s seat, anxiously chewing on your lip as you debated whether to go inside or turn back. Before you could make a decision, a sharp knock on your window startled you.

Ashton grinned at you through the glass, his smile wide and obnoxious as he waved like he hadn’t just scared the life out of you.

Suppressing an annoyed sigh, you rolled down the window.

Ashton leaned casually against the car door, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Hope I didn’t interrupt your pep talk,” he teased. “Or maybe I’m glad I did—you looked like you were contemplating jumping off a bridge.”

“Now I am,” you grumbled, glaring at him.

He chuckled, completely unfazed. Dressed in simple black jeans, he looked deceptively casual—until your eyes caught on the bright red mesh sweater he wore. The sheer fabric exposed his tattoos and pale skin beneath, and you felt your cheeks heat despite yourself.

“Well, aren’t you dressed like a slut,” you retorted, brushing him away so you could open the car door.

As you climbed out, Ashton’s grin widened. “Not very woke of you, Bambi,” he quipped, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

A stray black curl fell across his forehead, and you had to stop yourself from brushing it away. Instead, you shoved your hands into your jacket pockets, determined not to let him get under your skin.

“What did I tell you about calling me that?” You snapped, not waiting for him to catch up as you began to walk towards the bar.

Ashton, with his infuriatingly long legs, didn’t take long to reach you. “Sorry, I forget you’re in your heartless era,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “My apologies, Y/N.”

You spared him a sideways glance, your eyes catching on the bright sliver of the chains that decorated his neck. Apparently you hadn’t been the only one to want to dress your best for such an occasion, because Ashton looked good.

But that didn’t matter to you, not anymore. No amount of beauty would ever rekindle the feelings that you had laid to rest so long ago. That part of your heart had gone ice cold, breaking off and dying in a corner of your brain that you never choose to revisit.

The bar looked just the same it always had, familiar in every way. The music blared and for a bit you almost felt as if you had traveled back in time— a doe eyed freshman who had feelings too intense for an unpredictable frat boy.

You could feel Ashton’s gaze glued to you, and it made your skin prickle with sweat. “What?” you snapped coming to a stop before an empty table.

“Nothin’, just didn’t realize we decided to match,” he slid into one of the stools effortlessly, eyeing your red leather jacket as he tapped his fingers absentmindedly.

You begrudgingly took the seat before him.

It was loud and crowded, and you briefly questioned what it was that had you so enamored with this place in the first place. The answer was simple, and he was sitting right in front of you.

“Oh don’t even,” you huffed, looking over at the bar and reading through your drink options. “You were never the type to dress like this before.”

Ashton put down his own menu, staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you saying that I look good?”

You raised your gaze, leveling him with an unimpressed glance. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Irwin,” you warned.

Ashton’s grin was wide and he leaned closer. “I used to put a lot of things in your mouth, Bambi.”

Your eyes widened comically as the words Ashton had said registered fully. “Nope,” you shook your head, standing up from the table. “I am too sober for your stupid jokes.”

Ashton followed you, sliding off of his seat. “Let’s fix that then.”

He was standing too close, close enough that you could catch the faint scent of mint from the gum he’d been chewing since he found you in the parking lot. You considered telling him to back off, but the effort felt pointless.

Instead, you let him follow as you wove your way through the crowded bar, bodies pressing in from every direction. The air was thick with sweat, spilled drinks, and memories you wished you’d left behind.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Tyler, the bartender, grinned as the two of you approached the counter. “Ash and Y/N, been a while since we’ve seen you two here.”

Ashton returned the smile, casual as ever. “Good to see you, mate.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the music. “Good to see you.” You avoided Tyler’s knowing gaze, already regretting your decision to come here. Because you and Ashton had frequented this bar so often throughout the course of your relationship, you were known by some of the staff. Still, you couldn’t deny the slight hope you had when walking in that no one who knew your history had been working.

“What can I get y’all?” Tyler asked, his grin widening as he winked in your direction before turning to Ashton.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Ashton beat you to it. “We’ll have the regular,” he said without missing a beat.

Your head snapped toward him, stunned. The regular? Your so-called regular was a ridiculous, oversized Sex on the Beach, meant for two and always consumed as part of some dumb competition to see who could drink it faster. It was a relic of your shared history, and the audacity of Ashton assuming you’d want to relive it left you speechless.

He didn’t even look at you, his focus still on Tyler as if nothing about this was unusual. You stared at him, your irritation bubbling up, but you swallowed it back. If Ashton didn’t matter to you anymore, then why should this?

“You’re not gonna kill me for that?” he asked suddenly, leaning against the bar with a smirk. His green eyes sparkled with mischief, daring you to react.

You met his gaze head-on, your chin tilting up defiantly. “I told you, I don’t care anymore.”

Ashton nodded slowly, his expression unreadable as he glanced around the room. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his voice low enough that you had to lean in slightly to catch it. “It’s all pins and needles, ain’t it?”

“Yup,” you said brightly, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I feel absolutely nothing for you.”

Ashton nodded, completely unfazed. “So, if you’re so over me,” he drawled, his eyes trailing Tyler as he prepared your drink, “you seeing someone?”

Bingo. The long bragging train was coming, and Ashton was about to be flattened under it.

“Yeah, guess so,” you replied casually, leaning an elbow on the bar. “Been here and there, you know? Dipping my toes in the dating pool—making sure none of them have girlfriends.”

Ashton let out a low whistle, leaning closer with that infuriating smirk. “If you’re so over me,” he whispered, his voice teasingly low, “why do you still sound so bitter about that?”

You leaned back, putting space between you. “Because I don’t particularly enjoy the idea of one of your girls storming in here to beat me up,” you said evenly, your tone cool and detached. “Tell me, how’s Eve?”

Ashton’s tongue pressed against his cheek, and for the first time, the cracks in his confidence began to show. “Don’t know,” he shrugged, slipping his mask of indifference back into place. “Haven’t known for about a year and a half.”

“Bummer,” you sighed dramatically, clicking your tongue. “She was as good as you’ll ever do.”

He shook his head, chuckling softly. “Enough about that. What have you been up to in the past year? Or year and a half, to be exact.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, deliberating what to share. “Well, I finally finished my architecture degree,” you said matter-of-factly. “Started freelancing, I was about to pitch designs for a new gym some company wants to build when the elevator decided to shit itself.”

Ashton let out another low whistle, his expression softening slightly. “Sounds real fancy,” he said, nodding. “But then again, you’ve never been anything close to ordinary. You’re doing great for yourself, Bambi.”

That damn nickname. Despite telling him countless times to drop it, it clung to you like a stubborn burr. You reminded yourself—again—that it didn’t matter. You were over him.

“Here ya go,” Tyler interrupted cheerfully, sliding the comically oversized cocktail across the counter. “Hope to see you two on stage later.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Ashton replied with a wink. “Gimme a few to let the alcohol kick in.”

Tyler chuckled before turning to the next customer, leaving you alone with Ashton once more.

“Karaoke, huh?” you asked, taking a tentative sip of the drink. It was stronger than you remembered, and you silently prayed you wouldn’t end up completely wasted.

Ashton shrugged. “Just to get him off my back,” he admitted. “We don’t actually have to do it.”

“Yeah, empty promises,” you said dryly, a humorless chuckle escaping. “You always were good at those.”

“You sure love your jabs, Y/N,” he sighed, taking a sip of the oversized cocktail. “Doesn’t exactly scream pins and needles to me, if I do say so myself.”

You rolled your eyes, waving him off. “Oh, please. Just because I don’t have any positive feelings for you doesn’t mean I don’t have negative ones.”

“Right…” Ashton said with a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You cleared your throat, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “Enough about me,” you said, turning the conversation toward him. “You’re a firefighter now? All that college for what?”

Ashton pursed his lips, swirling the straw in the drink. “College was never for me,” he confessed. “I stuck it out mostly for you and Calum. After you left, there wasn’t much reason to stay.”

“Calum dropped out too, huh?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Sure did,” Ashton sighed. “But honestly, it was the right call for both of us. We’ve been with the 304 for about a year now.”

You narrowed your eyes, piecing together the timeline. “Wait, so when did you drop out?”

Ashton took another long sip before answering. “After we broke up. Before Eve.”

Your eyebrows shot up, and your mouth parted slightly in surprise. The last time you’d seen Ashton, he hadn’t mentioned anything about firefighting school—but then again, his education status had been the least important truth he had neglected to tell you.

“Damn,” was all you could manage, before wrapping your lips around the straw and sucking down as much alcohol as you could handle.

Silence settled between you as you continued sipping your drink. Ashton’s eyes stayed fixed on the stage, where a much drunker duo was butchering You Shook Me All Night Long. Despite their terrible performance, Ashton looked oddly enthralled, resting his chin on his palm as he watched them sway and slur their way through the song.

He must have felt your gaze because he turned his head toward you. You quickly looked away, pretending you’d been staring at anything—anything—other than him. Thankfully, he didn’t call you out on it.

“We used to be pretty good at karaoke,” Ashton mused, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t you think?”

You focused on the stage, watching the performers lose themselves in the music. They might not have been good, but they were clearly having fun.

“Guess we made a decent duo,” you admitted with a quiet chuckle. “But there’s no way I’m doing that again.”

Ashton pouted, gently nudging your shoulder. “C’mon, you should go up there,” he urged. “Wow us all with that voice of yours. It’ll be fun.”

You bit your lip, trying to will his compliment away like it didn’t mean anything. But deep down, you knew the truth—you’d never have the courage to go up there alone. The only reason you’d ever done it before was because Ashton had been right there beside you.

And he’d sung to you.

Taking a deep breath, you turned back to the raven-haired man. “That’s not happening,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Not in a million years.”

Ashton threw his head back dramatically. “Aw, come on,” he groaned, slapping the table for effect. His grin stretched wide, mischievous like the Cheshire Cat. “I’ll bet you ten bucks and the rest of tonight’s drinks that you won’t go up there and sing karaoke.”

You laughed nervously, shaking your head again. “Ten bucks is nothing. But then again, imagine the things I could get you to do for five.”

Ashton raised an eyebrow, his smile so wide and contagious that you couldn’t even be mad at the butterflies it gave you. “You callin’ me easy, Bambi?”

You scrunched your nose, resting your head against your fist. “If the shoe fits,” you hummed, taking a long sip of the drink. You glanced down and realized it was almost gone.

Ashton nodded, his grin never fading. “Touché. But come on—get up there, sing a breakup song. Prove to me how over me you are.”

You froze, locking eyes with him for what felt like the millionth time that night. His eyes sparkled with excitement and challenge—he knew he’d struck a nerve.

“Or,” you said, leaning closer, “you could keep your ten bucks and your dick in your pants, and go up there with me.”

Ashton shook his head, feigning disappointment. “Nope. This is all part of your healing process. Go on, Y/N. Sing your little heart out.”

You knew he was testing your resolve. Ashton always loved making you squirm, and the idea of singing in front of all those people was nauseating. Your hands gripped the bar table tightly.

“I hate this,” you grumbled. “Singing alone feels like standing naked on display for everyone to see.”

Ashton waved you off. “First of all,” he said with mock seriousness, “the saying is about imagining other people in their underwear, not you being naked. And second, you naked is quite a sight to behold.”

You narrowed your eyes, glaring at him. “Enough of that, Irwin. You’ve never seen me naked. In fact, we’ve never even had sex.”

Ashton tilted his head, studying you with an amused expression. “Again with the ‘never happened,’” he said, laughing softly. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Bambi. But seriously, just get up there. Wow the crowd. Maybe you’ll catch someone else’s attention.”

You bit the corner of your lip, torn between anxiety and stubbornness. Against your better judgment, you nodded. “Fine,” you muttered, pushing yourself off the bar and heading toward the stage where the previous performers were just stepping off.

The alcohol in your system didn’t help nearly as much as you’d hoped. Ashton trailed behind you, weaving through the crowd until he reached the DJ booth. You were hunched over the song catalogue, flipping through the pages and willing your stomach to stop churning.

“Made your decision?” Ashton asked, leaning in to peer over your shoulder. His breath was warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, your eyes landing on Before He Cheats. If Ashton wanted to play this game, fine. You’d play too. Turning to face him, you were startled to find his face just inches from yours. “Seems I have,” you replied coolly.

Without breaking eye contact, you leaned over and whispered your choice to the DJ. When he nodded in confirmation and handed you the microphone, you risked one last nervous glance at Ashton before heading for the stage.

At first, no one seemed to notice you as you stepped onto the platform. But as the music queued up and the DJ gave you a small thumbs-up, a ripple of curiosity spread through the crowd.

Your heart sank when you felt their gazes fall on you. Tyler, standing at the bar, looked stunned to see you up there alone. But as soon as he caught on, he let out an enthusiastic cheer, clapping loudly enough to make others follow suit.

The screen lit up with the first line of lyrics, but your throat closed up. Your mouth refused to move.

A wave of confusion washed over the room as people began to murmur, and you could feel your chest tightening. Your stomach churned with regret—why the hell had you agreed to this?

Your vision blurred with the sting of tears, and the microphone trembled in your hand. Everything in you screamed to run, but your feet felt cemented to the stage. Seconds stretched into what felt like hours, your body rigid with embarrassment.

And then the music shifted.

The original melody was replaced by a familiar rhythm of drums and bass. Your breath hitched as you turned to see Ashton climbing onto the stage, microphone in hand, a wide grin on his face.

He draped an arm over your shoulders, leaning in close enough for only you to hear. “One last duet for old times’ sake?” he asked softly, his voice warm and steady.

You nodded, still too stunned to speak.

Ashton brought the mic to his lips, his eyes locking with yours. Then he began to sing, his voice low and deliberate, the opening line of Creep spilling into the room.

“When you were here before…

Couldn’t look you in the eye…”

The crowd remained silent, entranced, as the two of you commanded the room.

“You’re just like an angel, your skin makes me cry

You float like a feather in a beautiful world

I wish I was special, you’re so fucking special.”

Ashton’s grin widened as his arm slid from your shoulders, taking your clammy hand in his. His eyes held a flicker of worry, but the reassuring smile he offered steadied your nerves.

He sang effortlessly, not once glancing at the lyrics on the screen. Of course, he didn’t need to. You stood there, transfixed, as his voice filled the space, the memory of your first date in this very bar crashing over you like a tidal wave. Creep had been your song that night, and somehow, Ashton had chosen it again to save you.

As he finished the chorus, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Without hesitation, you joined him for the second verse.

“I don’t care if it hurts, I wanna have control

I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul.”

Ashton grinned, his hand giving yours a reassuring squeeze before he joined in.

“I want you to notice when I’m not around,

You’re so fucking special, I wish I was special.”

Your anxiety dissolved, replaced by a surge of confidence. The giddy realization that every eye in the bar was on the two of you filled your chest, but it didn’t feel daunting anymore. Your voices blended seamlessly, filling the room with a hauntingly beautiful harmony.

You never let go of Ashton’s hand, even as the song swelled into the bridge. Both of you grinned, moving in time with the music. Ashton’s hair clung slightly to his damp forehead under the bar lights, and for a fleeting moment, he looked otherworldly, as if he belonged to the stage and nowhere else.

Your heart thudded in your chest, each beat growing heavier as Ashton nailed every note with ease. While you knew you were a decent singer, his voice—rich and achingly sincere—was in a league of its own.

And then he stepped closer.

His hand released yours to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as his gaze bore into yours. The intensity in his eyes was staggering, igniting a fire in your chest you hadn’t felt in years.

“Whatever makes you happy, whatever you want

You’re so fucking special, I wish I was special.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to brush away the weight of the moment, but Ashton’s voice wrapped around those words like a confession. Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to push through, shakily joining him for the final lines.

“But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo

What the hell am I doin’ here?

I don’t belong here.

I don’t belong here.”

The song faded, leaving an electric hum in the air. Ashton’s hand lingered on your cheek for a beat too long, his expression unreadable. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, but you barely registered it. All you could feel was the way Ashton’s touch burned against your skin and the unspoken words lingering in the space between you.

The loudest cheer in the bar came from Tyler, but you barely noticed. Ashton’s hand left your cheek as he stepped back, as if suddenly remembering this wasn’t the past, and you weren’t the girl who would have followed him anywhere anymore.

You climbed off the stage, laughing with Ashton despite the sudden intensity you’d shared moments earlier.

“I’ll take another round of drinks on you tonight,” Ashton teased as the two of you slid into seats at the bar.

“I sang!” you protested, laughter bubbling up. “We both sang, so no one has to pay.”

Ashton shook his head, grinning smugly. “Nope, that’s not how the deal worked. I bet you wouldn’t go up there alone, and you didn’t. So, I win.”

You rolled your eyes, groaning. “I hate you so much right now.”

“All I’m hearin’ is that I got your ass,” he chuckled, nudging you with his elbow.

“You wish you could get my ass.”

His eyes darkened slightly as he leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Wanna bet?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You pushed him away with a laugh, forcing yourself to ignore the shiver that ran through you. “You’re impossible.”

“C’mon, I saved you up there,” he said, his own laugh slipping through. “I don’t even get a thank you?”

Before you could respond, a thought struck you. “Oh my God, I drove here,” you blurted, panic rising. “How the hell am I supposed to get home now? We’re both drunk.”

Ashton hopped off his stool, catching your arm to steady you. “Relax, Bambi,” he said smoothly. “I’ll get us an Uber, then tomorrow I’ll take you back here so you can grab your car.”

You bit your lip, glancing up at him. His easy smile was infuriatingly contagious, the kind of smile that could disarm anyone. “Do you mind if we leave now?”

Ashton shook his head, a rogue curl falling across his face. Without thinking, you reached up and brushed it aside. For a second, you swore he froze under your touch, but you were too lightheaded—too elated—to care.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said softly, taking your hand as the two of you stepped out into the cool night air.

You stood on the curb, giggling at nothing, your fingers still intertwined as you waited for the Uber. Once inside the car, you turned to him. “So… who’s getting dropped off first? I don’t even know where you live.”

Ashton shrugged casually. “Figured we’d both head back to my place. You can take the bed, I’ll crash on the couch, and I’ll bring you back here in the morning.”

The idea of staying with Ashton sent a wave of heat down your spine, but you nodded anyway. The ride to his apartment was quiet, though his hand never let go of yours.

When the car pulled up, Ashton helped you out, thanking the driver before closing the door behind you. As you walked toward his building, the air between you felt heavier, thick with unspoken tension.

Your gaze dropped to his hand, still wrapped around yours, warm and steady. Something about the weight of it felt familiar—inviting.

Ashton’s eyes were on you, his gaze tracking the length of your legs and lingering on the curve of your neck throughout the elevator ride. The hunger in his expression was painfully familiar, sending an electric tension coursing through the air between you.

“Thanks for tonight,” you whispered, breaking the silence as Ashton fumbled with his keys outside his door.

He froze for a moment, then turned his head to give you a small, soft smile. “Anytime,” he said quietly, pushing the door open.

He stepped inside first, but you lingered in the hallway, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he’d hear it. Curling your fingers into fists, you shoved them deep into the pockets of your jacket, trying to steady yourself.

Noticing your absence, Ashton turned back, his brows furrowing. “You alright?” His voice was low, almost tentative.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as emotions threatened to spill over. “This… this can’t happen again,” you said, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. Your voice shook, but you forced the words out anyway. “The hanging out, all of it. I’m glad you’re doing great, and I am too, but I’m over you, Ashton. I want to stay over you.”

His face remained blank, no emotion slipping through his cool exterior. Instead of replying, he turned sharply and walked inside.

You hesitated before stepping over the threshold, the weight of the moment sinking into you. Pressing yourself against the wall near the door, you tried to steady your breathing. Ashton was only a few feet away, leaning against one of the dining chairs.

The space was small, a simple studio with minimal decoration. It looked like a place he barely cared about—except for the electric drum kit in the corner, positioned by the window. That felt unmistakably him.

“I know,” Ashton finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, sharp and deliberate. “You love to remind me. All these goddamn pins and needles.” He took a slow step closer, his hands still in his pockets.

“But are you sure?” His tone turned colder as his eyes locked onto yours, searching for cracks in your resolve. He stopped just inches from you, one hand coming up to press against the wall beside your head, his body leaning closer.

His proximity made it hard to breathe. “I’m sure,” you managed to whisper, though even you weren’t convinced by your trembling voice.

Ashton’s free hand dropped to your waist, his fingers brushing lightly against the waistband of your skirt. He didn’t break eye contact as his hand trailed deliberately, moving down your side. When he reached the hem, his touch lingered, setting your skin alight.

Your resolve crumbled with every touch, the tension between you growing unbearable.

His fingers trailed higher, slipping beneath the fabric of your skirt, and you felt the warmth of his hand against your bare skin. Your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch even as your mind screamed for restraint.

“Ashton, this isn't a good idea,” you whispered, but the tremble in your voice betrayed your hesitation. You made no move to push him away, your breathing uneven as his hand lingered, the anticipation sending shivers down your spine.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and full of restraint, though his actions spoke otherwise. His fingers grazed the edge of your underwear, his touch feather-light but enough to make your breath hitch.

You swallowed hard, forcing the words out even though they felt hollow. “I don't have feelings for you,” you said, but your voice wavered, lacking conviction. You couldn't even convince yourself.

A small, humorless chuckle escaped Ashton's lips as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Then why are you shaking?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your jawline.

Your heart pounded as his fingers teased along your folds through the thin fabric of your underwear. A soft gasp escaped you, and you felt him smirk against your neck. “You're already so wet for me,” he murmured, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

“Ashton—” You started, but the words were cut off by a moan as he slipped his hand beneath your underwear, his fingers sliding through your slick heat. The sensation sent a jolt through you, your back arching involuntarily as he found your clit, circling it with maddening precision.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as your legs threatened to give out. “I shouldn't be doing this,” you whispered, but your body betrayed you, pressing into his touch as he slipped a finger inside you

“You're not doing anything, Bambi,” Ashton murmured into your ear, his voice a low, teasing growl. He slid another finger inside you, the stretch pulling a breathy moan from your lips. “I am.”

You shook your head weakly, your voice trembling. “But—”

Before you could finish, Ashton withdrew his hand, leaving you empty and aching. Your eyes flew open to meet his piercing jade-green gaze, and your breath caught as you watched him raise his slick fingers to his lips, cleaning any trace of you from them deliberately.

The sight alone made you whimper, your knees threatening to buckle. Ashton smirked, the gleam in his eyes dangerous. “Still convinced you feel nothing?” he challenged, his voice dripping with smugness. “Still telling yourself I never made you scream my name before?”

You clenched your fists at your sides, shaking your head as though that would drown out the memories threatening to overwhelm you. “Ashton, stop—” you pleaded, but your trembling legs and flushed skin betrayed your words.

His red sweater clung to him in just the right way, highlighting the curve of his shoulders and the tattoos that inked his forearms. Even with your eyes closed, you could picture him perfectly—the smooth expanse of his skin, the strength in his frame, and the way his gaze alone could make you fall apart.

Ashton leaned in closer, his forehead pressing against yours, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Tell me again how over me you are,” he demanded. “Tell me you don't miss how my cock made you feel. Tell me, Y/N.”

Your eyes fluttered open, locking with his, the truth written all over your face. The intensity in his gaze burned through every excuse you'd clung to, every lie you'd told yourself. Even now, the ghost of his touch lingered, your body betraying every word you wanted to say.

There was no getting over Ashton Irwin.

“I miss you,” you gasped, the confession slipping out before you could stop it.

In one swift motion, your hand found the back of his neck, pulling him down to you.

His lips collided with yours, the hunger and urgency behind them unmistakable. They moved against yours with practiced ease, igniting a fire in your chest. His hands found your waist, gripping firmly as he pulled you closer, erasing any space between you.

A whimper escaped your lips when Ashton's teeth grazed your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine. The two of you stumbled across the apartment, the kiss never faltering. Your tongue traced the outline of his lips before delving deeper, tasting him fully, as his hands guided you blindly.

The back of your knees hit the armrest of the sofa, halting your movements. Ashton didn't hesitate; his hands gently but firmly pushed you down onto the cushions. You fell onto your back, your breathing uneven as you propped yourself up on your elbows, your gaze locked with his.

His smirk was devilish, his eyes dark with desire. Ashton leaned over you, his frame towering yet familiar, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns along the bare skin of your thighs. Every touch sent sparks skittering across your skin, and all you could do was watch him, entirely at his mercy.

“God, I missed having you like this,” Ashton groaned, his fingertips trailing up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher until it bunched at your waist. The distant hum of the city filtered in through the window, a sharp contrast to the heavy, uneven breathing that filled the small apartment.

His calloused palms roamed every inch of your exposed skin, lingering just enough to make your body tremble beneath his touch.

His fingers brushed over the waistband of your underwear, teasing. “Let me see that pretty pussy,” he rasped, his voice low and rough, before pulling the fabric down your legs and discarding it without a second thought. “You don't even know how many nights I thought about stretching you out, fucking my hand and wishing it was as tight as you.”

“Ashton,” you panted, your hands gripping his biceps as he hovered over you. A stray curl fell over his forehead, dangling above you along with the glint of the silver chains around his neck. He wasn't in any rush—his deliberate movements drawing shaky gasps from your lips as he let his hands linger just above your heat, his touch tantalizingly close but never enough.

He dipped his head, capturing your lips in a kiss that sent a wave of heat coursing through you. His fingers finally found your clit, rubbing delicious circles, his touch so familiar and precise it sent a jolt of pleasure down your spine.

“I was so fucking mad when you started talking about dating,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and strained as he replaced two fingers with his thumb, sliding them inside you. The stretch made you whimper, your head falling back. “But then I remembered—no one knows you like I do. Ain't that right, Bambi? I've mapped every inch of your body, made you come so many times in one night you couldn't even lift your head afterward.”

His fingers picked up speed, curling into a perfect rhythm that had your thighs trembling. Sweat pooled at your collarbone, and your hips moved instinctively, matching the pace he set as the pleasure built steadily.

“You're so fucking needy for me, Y/N,” he growled, his eyes dark as they locked on yours. “Tell me—do you ever lie to yourself? Pretend it's not my mouth you think about when you get off?”

Your head fell back against the wall as a breathless cry escaped your lips. “N-no,” you moaned, your voice trembling. “I can't forget it. Can't forget you.”

Ashton smirked, his free hand roaming your body as his lips trailed lower, biting at the sensitive skin of your thighs hard enough to make you yelp. The sharp sting only heightened the ache building deep in your core.

“You're such a bad liar, Bambi,” he teased, his voice dripping with amusement. “You think I didn't notice you tonight? The way you froze when I said you were doing a good job in the elevator? You've never forgotten, and neither have I.”

Finally, he settled between your legs, tossing one over his shoulder as his eyes drank in the sight of you. His thumb left your clit, and the sudden loss made you whine in frustration.

“Look at you,” Ashton rasped, his voice dripping with lust. “Taking my fingers so well. But fuck, I need more—I need my mouth on you, your clit between my lips, your legs shaking around my head.”

Your hand shot down instinctively, tangling in his curls. The dark glint in his eyes and the cocky smirk that followed sent a fresh wave of heat through you just before he finally lowered himself.

The moment his plush lips wrapped around your sensitive bud, a moan ripped from your throat, your body arching as pure pleasure coursed through you. His mouth moved in perfect tandem with his fingers, the combination pushing you dangerously close to the edge.

The teasing, the tension, and the fact that no one had touched you like this since Ashton— all of it built to an unbearable crescendo. You felt yourself slipping, your resolve unraveling as his name fell from your lips until it didn’t even sound like a name anymore, just a chorus of pleasured moans.

His tongue moved over you with languid precision, every flick and swirl reminding you that Ashton hadn't forgotten a single thing about your body. He was attuned to you in a way that felt almost unfair—like getting you off was second nature to him.

Your back arched off the sofa, your stomach tightening with every second his mouth worked its magic. The heat of his tongue and the rhythmic motion of his fingers were almost too much, the sensations blending into an overwhelming wave of pleasure. His eyes fluttered shut, his expression one of pure bliss as he savored you, utterly lost in the moment.

“I'm so close,” you whined, your heel digging into his back, urging him on. Your grip on his hair tightened, shadows dancing in your vision as the tension in your body coiled impossibly tight. Each flick of his tongue pulled another breathless whimper from your lips, leaving you teetering on the edge.

And then he wrapped his lips around your clit one final time, sucking gently but with just enough pressure to send you spiraling. The coil in your stomach snapped, and a tidal wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your body shook violently, your thighs instinctively clamping around Ashton's head as the ecstasy consumed you.

He didn't stop. Even as your moans turned into overstimulated whines and your legs trembled uncontrollably, Ashton stayed buried between your thighs, his tongue and fingers working you through every aftershock. You looked down at him, your chest heaving, and saw the way he was utterly lost in you, his grip on your hips tightening as if he couldn't bear to let go.

“Baby—” The word slipped from your lips before you could stop it, soft and breathless, laced with a vulnerability you hadn't meant to reveal.

Ashton froze, his body going rigid at the sound of the endearment. His fingers stilled, and for a fleeting moment, you were certain you'd said too much. But when his eyes met yours, there was no anger, no hesitation—just a new kind of fire burning behind them.

He didn't say a word. Instead, he rose from between your legs, his movements deliberate, and scooped you into his arms as if you weighed nothing. You didn't protest; you couldn't. Your body was boneless in his hold, your mind too hazy to form a coherent thought.

All you could do was cling to him as he carried you, your head resting against his chest, his heartbeat steady and grounding in the haze of the moment.

“I'm not done with you yet,” Ashton muttered, his voice low and gravelly, thick with need. His words sent a shiver through you as he carried you to his bedroom, the mirror doors of his closet catching your eye just before he laid you on the bed.

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip before coaxing it open and slipping inside. Instinctively, you began to suck gently, your lashes fluttering shut as his other hand swept the hair from your face.

When he pulled his finger away, his gaze was dark and hungry, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Slowly, almost torturously, Ashton slipped your jacket from your shoulders, his eyes devouring every inch of newly exposed skin. You let him, your body pliant beneath his touch.

“You think you can forget how I make you feel?” he growled, his voice rough in your ear as he climbed onto the bed behind you. His hands gripped your jaw firmly, tilting your head until your eyes met your reflection in the mirror. “You're gonna fucking watch while I ruin you. Gonna make you look at yourself while I make you come so hard you cry.”

To emphasize his point, Ashton tugged your top over your head, trailing his lips along the curve of your neck as he unclasped your bra.

His grip on your jaw remained firm, holding you in place, while his free hand moved languidly down your torso, tracing over the soft swell of your breasts.

“Look at you,” he groaned, his voice tinged with reverence as he pressed his hips against your back, letting you feel the full weight of his arousal. “You're fucking beautiful. You think I could ever forget this? Forget you?”

You whimpered, frustrated by the fact that he was still fully clothed. It was almost as if Ashton could read your mind. He released you briefly, stripping off his mesh sweater and letting it fall to the floor. With one hand, he unbuttoned your skirt, sliding it down your legs, leaving you completely bare.

Ashton's hands found your body again immediately, one moving to your chest to knead your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple before pinching it between his fingers. “My pretty, perfect girl,” he whispered, his voice softer now, laced with awe. “You're built like a fucking wet dream. You've always been the most exquisite thing l've ever tasted, ever felt.”

Your head lolled back against his chest, your body melting into his touch, but Ashton wasn't about to let you drift away. His hand slid up to wrap around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your eyes flutter open and meet his in the mirror.

“I said you have to watch,” he murmured, his lips grazing your ear. His grip tightened just slightly, grounding you, ensuring your gaze stayed locked on your reflection—on the way your body responded to him like it was made for his touch.

Slowly, Ashton bent you over, and your palms pressed into the mattress for support. His hands roamed across your back and down to your ass, squeezing and caressing before one slipped between your legs, sliding into your wet heat. You gasped, a moan tumbling from your lips as you fought the urge to close your eyes in bliss.

“That's right,” he purred, his voice thick and smooth as honey, withdrawing his hand before reaching for the button of his jeans. “Stay just like that for me, babygirl.”

Your breath hitched as you watched him undress in the mirror, his movements deliberate, teasing. When Ashton slid his jeans and boxers down, his erection sprang free, hard and heavy against his stomach.

The sight of him sent a wave of heat through your body, and when his eyes met yours in the reflection, they gleamed with mischief and hunger.

You watched as he wrapped a hand around his length, pumping slowly, his thumb brushing over the head. His voice was a low growl as he stepped closer. “Jesus Christ, you're still dripping,” he groaned, stroking himself faster. “God, Bambi, if I could keep you on your hands and knees like this for the rest of my life, I would.”

“Ashton, I need you,” you managed, your voice hoarse and trembling. Every nerve in your body seemed to pulse with anticipation, your walls clenching around nothing as you ached for him to finally claim you.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he teased the tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it slowly across your slick heat. Your fingers fisted the bedsheets, your body trembling as you felt him poised at your entrance.

“God, you're so pretty,” he muttered, his voice laced with reverence and lust. “Prettiest fucking pussy l've ever seen. So eager for me, aren't you? Not so sure about forgetting me now, huh?”

The head of his cock slipped in slowly, and you yelped at the intensity of the sensation. Ashton's grip on your waist tightened, his eyes squeezing shut as he began to push in deeper, sinking into you inch by inch.

The sting was minimal, your body already primed and ready from his earlier teasing. Still, Ashton let out a guttural hiss as he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his fingers digging into your hips as he held himself there for a moment, savoring the way you clenched around him.

You moaned, your head falling forward, but Ashton wasn't having it. His hand traveled up your back before tangling in your hair, tugging your head up so your gaze was locked on the mirror. “You gonna come for me again, aren't you, Bambi?“

His hips began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, but even the measured pace had your body trembling. Your walls fluttered around him, drawing out a low groan from his throat.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, his tone almost reverent. “So tight, so perfect—just for me.”

You licked your dry lips, nodding as his grip in your hair tightened, grounding you. His pace picked up, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoed in the room, each thrust making your body quake. You couldn't tear your eyes away from your reflection, watching your breasts bounce with each movement, your brows furrowed in ecstasy.

Every thrust sent stars dancing in your vision, your body so sensitive from earlier that every motion brought you closer to the edge. Ashton's chest glistened with sweat, and his grip on your hips tightened, using the leverage to pull you against him. His thrusts were harder now, deeper, each one forcing loud, desperate whimpers from your lips.

It didn't take long before he found that spot deep inside you, the one he never failed to hit. “Does that feel good, Bambi?” he groaned, his pace relentless. “Still think you could ever forget this?”

“No,” you gasped, your nails digging into the sheets. “No, baby, I can't—I'll never forget how your cock feels inside me.”

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice rough and breathless. One of his hands snaked between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and circling it with perfect pressure. The sensation overwhelmed you, and your arms gave out, your body collapsing onto the bed. Your cheek pressed against the mattress as you continued to watch, your reflection a picture of pure, unrestrained pleasure.

The edge was so close now, the coil in your stomach tightening with every thrust, every flick of his fingers. Your moans grew louder, the tension in your body coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snapped.

Your body convulsed as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your cries filling the room. In the mirror, you caught a glimpse of yourself—your mouth falling open, your eyes narrowing, and your brows furrowing as pure ecstasy consumed you.

As your orgasm subsided, Ashton pulled out, his movements gentle as he guided your trembling body to lie flat on your back. He positioned himself above you, bracing one hand beside your head while the other lined himself up with your entrance. His gaze was intense, his voice low and rasping as he said, “I need to see you when I come.”

He slipped back into you effortlessly, the stretch familiar but no less intoxicating. His nose grazed your cheek as he began to move again, his thrusts slow at first but quickly turning messy and desperate. You wrapped your arms around him, your nails biting into his back as you held him close, the sound of his labored breathing fanning against your ear.

“Fill me up, baby,” you urged, your voice trembling. “Don't let me forget what it feels like to be dripping wirh you.”

Ashton groaned deeply at your words, his teeth grazing your neck before he bit down lightly, his thrusts growing erratic. “You're so perfect,” he murmured into your skin, his voice raw with emotion. “You're everything.”

It didn't take long for him to reach his peak, his hips stuttering as he pushed deep into you, spilling inside with a strangled moan.

Your nails dug deeper into his back, grounding him as he gave a few final, shallow thrusts before his movements stilled. His forehead pressed against yours, both of you breathless, your bodies entwined.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Ashton remained buried inside you, your ragged breaths the only sound in the room. When he finally lifted his head, his gaze had softened, all traces of lust replaced by a quiet admiration that made your heart stutter.

“Hi,” you whispered, biting your lip, your cheeks flushing under his gaze.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, his voice tender as he pulled out of you and rolled onto his side. His hand came up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a soft, soothing motion. Neither of you spoke; it felt as though words couldn't quite capture the weight of the moment.

The night hadn't unfolded the way you had imagined, but somehow, it felt right.

As if sensing the thoughts brewing in your mind, Ashton leaned in and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. When he pulled back, a crooked grin tugged at his lips. “We better clean up,” he said, his tone light and teasing.

You nodded silently, unable to resist smiling back at him. Whatever questions or doubts lingered could wait—everything else could wait. Not when Ashton was looking at you like that.

For now, it was just the two of you.

—

You were overcome with panic before you even opened your eyes. The steady pressure of Ashton’s arm draped lazily across your body was the first thing you registered, pulling you from restless sleep into an even harsher reality. A slight jolt ran through you as the weight of your actions crashed over you.

Ashton’s room looked starkly different in the soft morning light, the cluttered chaos of last night now clear and inescapable. His soft breathing brushed against the nape of your neck, and it made you shiver—not from the cold but from the flood of memories that followed. You had been drunk, sure, but not drunk enough to excuse what had happened.

The truth was unavoidable: you weren’t over Ashton. Not even close. For the better part of a year, you’d lied to yourself, pretended you were fine, moved on—or at least convinced yourself you had. But as his familiar scent surrounded you, the ache in your chest reminded you how far from the truth that was.

You didn’t dare move, paralyzed by the thought of waking him and having to meet his piercing green eyes. You could still picture them from last night, looking at you in that way they always used to. It was too much. You couldn’t stay.

Carefully, holding your breath, you began sliding out from under his arm. The bed creaked slightly as you shifted your weight, but Ashton didn’t stir. He had always been a heavy sleeper—especially when alcohol and sex were involved.

The chill of the air hit your bare skin as you slipped free of the bed. Goosebumps rippled along your arms as you crouched down, hurriedly gathering your scattered clothes. Your jeans, your shirt,—everything but your underwear.

You froze as Ashton mumbled something in his sleep, his body shifting slightly under the covers. Your heart pounded as you watched him, every second stretching out painfully. After a moment, he stilled again, his breathing slow and steady.

Biting your lip, you tiptoed into the living room, pulling on your clothes as quickly and quietly as you could. Your jacket was slung over the back of the couch, and you grabbed it with trembling hands, reaching instinctively into the pocket for your phone.

Dead.

Of course, your phone would be dead. Charging it hadn’t even crossed your mind last night, and now the blank screen mocked you, showing a dim reflection of your disheveled hair and pale face.

You exhaled sharply, trying to steel yourself. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. You slid your boots on, your fingers fumbling with the laces as you avoided looking back toward Ashton’s room. The shame burned in your chest, and every second you stayed felt like a punishment.

Without another glance, you opened the door and slipped out into the hallway, shutting it quietly behind you.

You hadn’t expected this—walking the walk of shame from the apartment of the one person you’d sworn to everyone, including yourself, that you didn’t care about anymore. And yet here you were.

Although your head spun and your throat ached with unshed tears of frustration, you refused to let them fall as you stepped out of the building. Your jaw tightened, and you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand: finding the nearest coffee shop and begging someone to let you use a charger long enough to call for a ride home.

As you trudged down the street, the original plan came flooding back. Ashton was supposed to take you back to the bar to pick up the car you’d left behind. It was a plan that had made sense last night, when things between you were simpler—or at least less devastating.

Everything felt like it was crumbling around you now. Your heart pounded painfully in your chest, each beat amplified by the dull throb in your head. It was only a few blocks to the nearest Starbucks, but by the time you arrived, your anger had simmered into exhaustion, and your clothes clung to your skin from the heat.

Thankfully, borrowing a charger wasn’t much of an issue. The barista barely glanced at you as they handed one over, and you ordered a small breakfast to settle the uneasy churning in your stomach while you waited for your phone to charge.

Still, you couldn’t relax. Your eyes stayed glued to the door, half-expecting Ashton to walk in at any moment. A part of you wished he would, even if you wouldn’t admit it. But he didn’t. And you didn’t let yourself dwell on the disappointment creeping into your chest.

By the time your phone had enough charge, you’d numbly arranged for a ride back to the bar. The drive passed in near silence, your body heavy with exhaustion. When you finally arrived, you thanked the driver halfheartedly and stepped out.

Your gaze swept the parking lot as you walked toward your car, instinctively searching for any sign of Ashton. But he wasn’t there. Of course, he wasn’t. You ignored the pang of disappointment that hit you and quickly climbed into your car.

The second you shut the door, the tears came. At first, it was just a few that escaped despite your best efforts to hold them back. But by the time you crossed the threshold of your apartment, the dam broke completely.

You collapsed onto the floor, burying your face in your hands as sobs tore through you. The ache in your chest was unbearable, and your cries echoed through the quiet space, raw and unrelenting.

A small, curious head peeked out from behind the sofa. Your cat, the one you’d adopted with Ashton by your side, cautiously approached. She studied you with those wide, knowing eyes before padding over and hopping into your lap as if to offer comfort.

“Hey there, Dani,” you croaked, your voice hoarse as you extended a hand toward her. She purred softly, curling up against you without hesitation, her warmth soothing your trembling frame.

As you stroked her fur, a bittersweet memory flashed in your mind—Ashton, grinning ear to ear as he insisted on her name.

“Dani Cattyfornia is hilarious,” he’d argued, his eyes sparkling in that way they always did when he was up to something. “Plus, it’s a fire song for a very spicy kitty.”

“We are not naming my cat after a Red Hot Chili Peppers song!” you’d exclaimed, appalled at his suggestion. But both of you had known, even then, that the decision was already made. Dani Cattyfornia it was.

The memory stung now, bittersweet in its clarity. You clutched Dani closer, the tears you’d fought so hard to suppress spilling over once again. Part of you wondered if she could smell Ashton on you. You hadn’t realized how much you missed the way Ashton’s eyes sparkled when he teased you, or how his laughter could make the world feel lighter.

Your phone buzzed beside you, Ashton’s name lighting up the screen. The sight of it hit you like a punch to the gut, triggering another wave of tears. Without even thinking, you grabbed the phone and silenced the call, dragging yourself toward the bathroom.

The hiss of the shower filled the space as you stripped off your clothes and stepped under the stream. Hot water cascaded over you, soaking your hair and washing away the tears, though it did little to ease the ache in your chest.

Sitting on the tiled floor, you let yourself be consumed by the memories you’d tried so hard to bury. Every hug, every kiss, every whispered “I love you.” They flooded your mind, vivid and inescapable. But for every moment of joy, there was a counterweight: broken promises, forgotten commitments, and feelings left unspoken.

The most vivid memory of all was the last time you’d seen Ashton before everything fell apart. It was during one of your attempts to patch things up, to see if there was anything left between you worth salvaging.

You’d been cautious then, agreeing to take things slow, but Ashton had seemed distant, dodging your questions and skirting around his emotions. At the time, you’d chalked it up to nerves. Neither of you knew what to expect from trying again.

That night, he’d invited you to his apartment with the promise of making dinner—an offer that had surprised you, given Ashton’s well-documented lack of culinary skills. You’d laughed it off, but when you arrived, any doubts about his intentions melted away in a flurry of kisses and wandering hands.

It was intoxicating, the way he touched you that night. His hands were tentative yet desperate, as if relearning every inch of you. Your laughter had quickly turned to soft gasps, and before you knew it, the sun had set, and dinner plans had long been forgotten.

The “fancy dinner” had been replaced by him ordering takeout pizza, which you had to convince Ashton to get because he was still dead set on cooking. He eventually relented, he always did when it came to you. You could still picture him, standing between your legs as you sat on the counter in nothing but his t-shirt, holding up two empty glasses of wine and a lopsided grin on his face.

“I’ll make the presentation worth it,” he’d joked, pouring you another glass of wine. “I’ll doll it up real fancy so you’ll forgive the fact that it looks like absolute dog shit.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling out of you without hesitation. Taking a sip of your wine, you leveled Ashton with a playful glare. “This has to be the least fancy dinner I’ve ever had.”

Ashton rolled his eyes, his grin wide as he ran his calloused hands along your bare thighs. “Okay, but you’ve gotta admit,” he said, leaning closer, “sometimes it’s not even about the food.” He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, his smile soft against yours. “It’s about the company.”

“Well,” you snickered, swirling the wine in your glass, “it’s definitely about the wine… and maybe other things.”

Ashton raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Other things, huh? Feeling up for a smoke?”

You smirked, leaning forward to kiss him slowly. “Oh yes. And I know how you get when you’re high,” you teased, your voice dipping. “Can’t seem to pry you from between my legs…”

Ashton laughed softly, pulling back and shaking his head. “Alright, alright,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll go get the stuff.”

As he turned, you didn’t hesitate to swat at his backside. He shot you a mock glare over his shoulder, but the playful smirk tugging at his lips didn’t waver.

You were still perched on the counter, swinging your legs and sipping your wine, when a knock came at the door. Assuming it was the pizza Ashton had ordered earlier, you didn’t think twice about your appearance—bare legs, his oversized shirt—as you padded toward the door.

With a carefree smile, you swung it open.

Your smile faltered instantly.

Standing on the other side was a woman, striking in her beauty, with dark hair that curled around her shoulders and wide, glassy eyes that immediately welled with tears.

The two of you froze, locked in a moment that felt like it stretched into eternity. Her gaze swept over you, lingering on your bare legs and the shirt that hung loosely around your frame. Slowly, her expression twisted, heartbreak and fury colliding in her tear-streaked face.

“Are you serious?” she choked out, her voice trembling as a tear slipped down her cheek.

“I—what?” you stammered, completely caught off guard, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation.

Her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line, her shoulders shaking as she let out a bitter laugh. “I’m Eve,” she said sharply, her voice cracking. “I’m Ashton’s girlfriend.”

It was like the ground fell out from under you. Your stomach churned as the pieces clicked into place.

He had been so dodgy, so hesitant. And now, it all made sense.

You were his side piece.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, stumbling back a step. “I’m so sorry—I swear I didn’t know—”

Eve’s tear-filled gaze cut into you, but she didn’t look angry with you—just devastated. Her voice softened, trembling under the weight of her emotions. “You didn’t know, did you?”

Before you could respond, Ashton’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Bambi, found the stuff—”

He froze in place the second he saw her, the color draining from his face. His eyes darted between you and Eve, his panic written all over his features.

“Eve?” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She let out a hollow laugh, swiping at her tears. “Yeah, Ashton. Eve. Remember me? Your girlfriend?” Her voice cracked, her pain unmistakable.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Ashton opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out.

The rest of the night was a blur of screaming, crying, and running away. Ashton had tried to explain, but you couldn’t listen. You promised yourself you would never listen to him again.

Now, a week after waking up in Ashton’s bed, the same feelings from that night lingered—anger, confusion, and an ache you couldn’t shake. You had avoided his texts and calls like the plague, and eventually, he stopped trying.

You sat alone in your apartment, replaying every moment in an endless loop, the pain still raw. No matter how much you wanted to hate him, a part of you still missed him—and that was the most painful part of all.

Every day, your mind wavered between the night you discovered Eve and the night you had spent tangled in Ashton’s arms. The memories were a cruel contrast, leaving you hollow, drained, and exhausted from carrying the weight of your emotions.

You barely noticed the news broadcast about a small residential building collapse, half-asleep on the couch with Dani curled beside you. The world outside felt distant, like you were moving through it in slow motion.

The entire week had been a blur of sleepless nights, haunted by memories of a time when you and Ashton had been happy. You went through your daily routine like a ghost, trying to convince yourself you were fine when you felt anything but.

It wasn’t until the phone call that everything shifted.

Still half-asleep, you idly scratched Dani behind her ears, a random show playing in the background. For the first time, the ache in your chest felt manageable, like you might finally be able to breathe again. You knew forgetting Ashton would take effort, but you were determined to start over—no matter how much it hurt.

Then your phone lit up with an unknown number.

At first, you ignored it, dismissing it as another scam call. But when a voicemail notification appeared, curiosity got the better of you.

You played the message, your blood running cold as a calm voice began speaking.

“Hi, this is Dr. Theresa Bray calling from St. Matthew’s Hospital. I hope this is the number for Y/N Y/L/N. You’ve been listed as Ashton Irwin’s emergency contact, and I’m calling to let you know he’s currently in surgery—”

Your breath hitched, the phone slipping from your grasp as your mind struggled to process the words. Ashton. Surgery. Emergency contact.

The room spun as you tried to process the voicemail. Your heart raced, and your thoughts blurred, but one thing was clear—you needed to get to Ashton.

You shot up from the couch, fumbling to find your shoes and keys while the voicemail continued to echo in your mind. “…he’s currently in surgery due to injuries sustained in a building collapse earlier today. We’re asking you to come in and discuss his condition.”

The words repeated like a broken record, colliding with the image of the news broadcast you’d seen earlier. Ashton must have been responding to a call at that building, and somehow, he’d gotten hurt.

The weight of the situation settled on your shoulders like a storm cloud. Anger and worry fought for dominance inside you. You weren’t supposed to care anymore—not after everything—but the fire coursing through your veins told a different story.

Grabbing the first jacket you could find, you moved toward the door in a daze. Dani meowed softly from her spot on the couch, her curious eyes tracking your every movement.

“Daddy’s hurt,” you mumbled without thinking, your voice shaky. “I just… I have to make sure he’s okay. Don’t wait up for me.”

Dani’s blank stare felt oddly comforting, as if she understood. You allowed yourself to imagine that she remembered Ashton, how she used to follow him around as loyally as you had.

The drive to the hospital was a blur. Your mind cycled through worst-case scenarios, each one more unbearable than the last. You told yourself it was just an obligation, that you were his emergency contact and nothing more. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t that simple.

When you finally arrived, the sterile smell of the hospital hit you like a wave. You made a beeline for the front desk, ignoring the noise and bustle around you.

“I’m here for Ashton Irwin. I’m his emergency contact,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

The nurse behind the desk gave you a sympathetic look. “He’s still in surgery, but we’ll notify you as soon as he’s out.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you stepped away. Before you could settle into one of the cold, plastic chairs in the waiting area, a familiar voice called your name.

“Y/N?”

You turned quickly to see Calum walking toward you. He was still in his firefighter gear—his T-shirt and gear pants smudged with dirt and soot, his face battered and weary.

Relief flooded through you, and you closed the distance between you, throwing your arms around his torso. Calum immediately hugged you back, his strong arms wrapping around you protectively, one hand cupping the back of your head.

“What happened? Is he okay?” you asked, your voice breaking as you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

Calum sighed, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and worry. “We were at the scene, doing everything we could to get people out,” he began. “Ashton… he went back in to save a kid. The floor gave out beneath him.”

Your heart sank, and tears stung your eyes. “Oh my God,” you whispered, clutching Calum’s arm. “Why would he—”

“He’s a stubborn idiot,” Calum said softly, though there was no anger in his voice. Just a deep, aching concern. “But that’s who he is. He’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears as you scanned the waiting room, taking in the familiar faces of Michael and Luke seated in the corner. Both of them looked just as anxious as you felt, their worry etched into every line of their faces.

Calum’s hands tightened gently on your shoulders, grounding you. “He’ll be alright, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the tension. “Ashton’s a fighter. Once he knows you’re here, he’ll claw his way back to you. I know he will.”

Your lip trembled as you dropped your head against Calum’s chest. “He doesn’t even know I’m here,” you mumbled, your voice cracking. “Why would he? I haven’t spoken to him in a week.”

Calum pulled back slightly, just enough to look you in the eye. “Why do you think you’re his emergency contact?”

Your brow furrowed as you shook your head. “I don’t know,” you whispered. “Maybe he forgot to change it?”

Calum gave you a knowing look, his voice firm but kind. “He put you down because he knows you, Y/N,” he said slowly, his words deliberate. “He knows you’d drop everything if you heard he was hurt, no matter how mad you are at him. He put you down because you’re the one incentive he needs to fight like hell to stay alive.”

The weight of his words settled over you, leaving you breathless. Your mind swirled with memories of Ashton—the way he smiled at you, the warmth of his laughter, the quiet nights when it felt like nothing else in the world mattered.

The waiting room buzzed with quiet murmurs as the minutes dragged on. You sat with Calum, Luke, Michael, and the rest of Ashton’s team, all of them waiting for news. Their captain moved between the group, offering reassurances that did little to ease the heavy tension.

When the doctor finally emerged, everyone in the room stood at once, but her gaze immediately sought you and Calum. She approached, her expression calm but professional.

“Y/N?” she asked, her tone measured.

Your grip on Calum’s arm tightened instinctively. “Is he alright?” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor—Dr. Bray, you assumed—gave a small, reassuring smile. “He’s out of surgery. Ashton sustained multiple injuries, including several broken bones, but he’s stable. He’s going to be okay.”

The relief that swept over you was overwhelming. You gasped, tears spilling freely as you turned to Calum, wrapping your arms around him in an unsteady hug.

When you finally pulled away, you wiped at your face, your voice trembling as you asked, “Can I see him?”

Dr. Bray nodded. “He’s still asleep from the anesthesia, but yes, you can see him. Just keep in mind he’s going to need plenty of rest.”

You nodded quickly, barely processing her words as she motioned for you to follow her. Calum gave your hand one last squeeze before letting you go, his silent support a comforting presence as you prepared to face Ashton.

You followed the nurse numbly to Ashton’s room, your heart pounding as you stepped inside. The sight of him hit you like a wave—pale and fragile against the stark white of the hospital bed, his black hair in disarray with sandy roots peeking through. His chest rose and fell in rhythm with the steady beeping of the heart monitor, but the bruises and cuts that lined his face made your stomach twist.

Without a second thought, you sank into the chair by his bedside, your hand reaching for his. His fingers were cold and limp, but you held on tightly. “You know,” you whispered, your voice shaky but laced with an attempt at humor, “you didn’t have to get the floor to fall out from under you just to get me to see you.”

The silence was heavy, Ashton unmoving, but you didn’t let it stop you. You stayed by his side for hours, your voice filling the quiet as you talked about anything and everything that came to mind.

Eventually, exhaustion began to creep in, and your eyes fluttered shut as you rested your head on the edge of the bed. Just as sleep was about to claim you, you felt it—a faint squeeze of your hand.

Your head shot up, your heart leaping in your chest. Ashton’s hazel-green eyes, tired but unmistakably vibrant, blinked up at you. A weak, familiar smile tugged at his lips.

“Hey, Bambi,” he rasped, his voice hoarse but warm. “Was scared I’d never see you again.”

A choked sob escaped you as you reached out, gently brushing his messy hair away from his face. “Hey, you,” you murmured, your voice trembling as tears spilled over. “Look at us—always doing the absolute most to get each other’s attention.”

His smile widened slightly, though it was laced with exhaustion. “At least this isn’t as embarrassing as you falling on your ass that one time,” he teased weakly.

You let out a watery laugh, wiping your tears quickly. “Yeah,” you said, your voice lighter for a moment. “At least there’s that.”

The room fell into a quiet lull as Ashton’s gaze wandered to the cast on his leg and the bandages covering his arms. His expression grew somber. “Guess I won’t be going back to work anytime soon,” he muttered, his voice tinged with regret.

“It’ll go by fast,” you said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve always been one resilient motherf—fighter.”

But your attempt at humor didn’t lift his spirits. His brow furrowed, and he looked down at your joined hands. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the past year and a half,” he said quietly, his tone more serious than you expected. “About my mistakes. And how most of them were with you.”

You swallowed hard, your heart tightening in your chest. “Ashton, we don’t have to do this now—”

He shook his head, cutting you off. “But we do,” he insisted, his voice soft but firm. He shifted slightly, wincing at the movement, and you shot up to help, but he waved you off. “I need to say this, Y/N. I owe you an apology.”

His words lingered in the air, heavy with unfiltered emotion, leaving you speechless.

“You really don’t have to do this now,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but Ashton wasn’t deterred.

“I don’t know if you’ll still be here tomorrow,” he said softly, his tone laced with vulnerability. “Or the day after that. So, yes, I need to do this now.” He paused, taking a shaky breath. “I love you. From the moment you looked at me with those big doe eyes of yours, I’ve loved you. I’ve always been a stupid kid, and my love for you wasn’t safe from my stupidity.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words striking something deep within you.

“I hurt you,” Ashton continued, his voice cracking. “Time and time again, and you still took me back. But then you left—and you seemed so sure of your decision that I tried to convince myself there was nothing left in my heart for you. Pins and needles, as you used to say.”

A sad smile ghosted his lips, and for a moment, you were both transported back to a time when those words meant something lighter.

“Anyway,” he said with a bitter laugh, “I threw myself at the first girl I could. That just happened to be Eve. For a while, everything seemed fine. But then you came over for my Cal’s birthday party, and everything I’d built crumbled. All my resolve—gone, just like that. I wanted you, Bambi. I only wanted you. And I knew, deep down, that no matter who it was, if you showed up at my wedding, I would’ve run away with you in a heartbeat.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his confession unraveled.

“So I was selfish,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared of losing you again, so I didn’t break things off with Eve when I should have, I kept her as a backup plan. I fucked up. I knew it then, and I know it now. I’m so fucking sorry, Bambi. For everything.”

He finally fell silent, his breathing labored but steady, his gaze fixed on you, searching for some kind of absolution.

“You made me an accomplice to adultery,” you whispered, the weight of your words finally matching the emotions you’d held inside since that night. “You made me hurt another girl—a sweet, completely innocent girl who didn’t deserve it.”

Ashton’s gaze dropped to his hands, shame clouding his expression. “I know,” he admitted softly. “I’ve tried to reach out to her, to apologize, but she never gave me the chance. Not like you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, a flicker of guilt surfacing. “About that,” you sighed. “I didn’t agree to see you because I wanted to forgive you. I wanted to rub it in your face that I was fine without you.”

His small smile faltered, replaced by a look of quiet resignation. “Oh,” he murmured, his brows lifting slightly. “I guess that’s fair.”

You exhaled slowly, your voice softer now. “How do I know you’ve really changed?” you asked, tracing idle patterns on the hospital sheets.

Ashton took a deep breath, sitting up just slightly. “I could tell you about how being a firefighter has taught me to be less selfish,” he began. “How it’s forced me to confront my issues and given me a healthy outlet for all my restless energy. But honestly, that won’t mean much to you, will it?”

You frowned, glancing up at him. “No, because I don’t really know that Ashton, and I probably won’t for a while,” you pointed out gently, careful not to hit a nerve. “You’re going to need time to heal. How do I know you won’t just go back to who you used to be?”

Ashton pressed his lips into a thin line, his hazel-green eyes locking onto yours. Without a word, he nodded toward the small space next to him on the bed. “C’mere,” he muttered, shifting as much as his injuries allowed to make room for you.

Your brows lifted in surprise, but when Ashton pouted slightly, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Carefully, you climbed onto the bed, lowering yourself beside him and resting your head against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat filled your ears, strong and steady beneath you.

“You don’t know,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your hair. “You won’t. And I guess that’s the hardest part.”

You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze for a beat. “I don’t want to be in a relationship with you right now,” you muttered, your voice steady but kind.

You felt him tense beneath you, but you pushed forward before he could say anything. “You don’t need the mess of our love on top of everything else you’re dealing with,” you explained. “But you do need someone to help you. Recovery is going to be long and hard.”

His eyes searched yours, a flicker of hope lighting them. “What are you saying?” he asked hesitantly.

You licked your lips, trying to gather your thoughts. “For now, I’m going to help you heal,” you said firmly. “Make sure you get back to being that firefighter who has his life together. And maybe, just maybe, when you’ve really proven to yourself that you’ve changed, I’ll think about giving us another shot.”

Ashton stared at you, disbelief etched across his face. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” you nodded, a small smile creeping onto your face. “Plus, I think Dani misses her dad.”

Ashton’s eyes softened at the mention of your cat. “My sweet Dani Cattyfornia,” he murmured with a blissful sigh. “That really is the most ridiculous name, isn’t it?”

You smiled, shrugging slightly. “It’s a fire song,” you said softly. “A fitting name for a spicy kitty—even though she’s way more mellow now.”

A faint chuckle escaped him, but it was quickly replaced by a serious tone as his forehead gently pressed against yours. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“Maybe not,” you replied honestly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But we won’t know that unless you try. Everyone deserves a second chance. And a third. And a fourth. And a fifth—”

Ashton cut you off with a quiet laugh, his smile breaking through his sadness. “Alright, alright, I get it,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “But thank you, Bambi. I swear, I won’t waste this chance.”

You hummed softly, your fingers tracing the heart tattoo on the side of his wrist. The thought of giving him another shot terrified you, but not as much as the idea of losing him completely.

As the room settled into a comforting silence, the truth became clear.

The only pins and needles you felt now were from your arm falling asleep, uncomfortably squished between the two of you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if you’re still here, i love you. thank you for reading this monster of one shot, and thank you again to soup for being such an awesome writing partner. as always, thank you for reading pookies <3

watch 9-1-1.

[souperbloom]

dedicated… to the… oh..! okay… yeah… right…

[souperbloom]

ashton x fem reader.

reader is close friends with calum & her and ashton secretly have something going on.

they end up in a situation where they’re at some sort of gathering with all the boys & ash and reader are next to each other kind of being touchy and one of the boys catches on…

tension gets thick and they sneak off together and the rest is all yours 🪿

hella good. [A.I.]

this picture is making me spiral. picture him. PICTURE HIM.

🥃 fwb!Ashton x reader

a/n: heyyy… long time no see.. how y’all doin?— mama soup is feeling awful for neglecting u all. hope this makes up for it <3 sorry she’s kinda rushed this has been a WIP for such a long time and i did not know how to end it <3

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut! (kinda), makin’ out, bit of tension, pet names.

wordcount: ~3.6k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

As a band, team building is important. When you’re stuck on the road together for months at a time, it can be easy to forget the little things in life. The power of friendship can get lost in translation, especially when it’s your best friends who are the ones working beside you.

Love is power, love is important. Love is the glue that bonds you. Love is music.

Love is also a speech that precedes Luke’s third margarita.

“Mate, what are you even saying?” Michael has had enough.

On the other hand, Ashton begs to differ, “Just let him talk, he’s on a fuckin’ roll.”

It was hour three of the band’s ’team building outing’, and you were just along for the ride. Your best friend Calum had invited you out to join them, at a rooftop bar on a Saturday night. And after mulling over all the better things you could do, which weren’t many, you decided it would be fun if you tagged along.

You shifted comfortably in the corner of the large, L-shaped patio couch, watching dumbfoundedly as the four guys you were here with spoke in boyish tongues and laughed until their stomachs hurt.

This wasn’t the first “band-outing” that you had the pleasure of being a part of. Calum and the band appreciated your presence, as you proved time and time again to be the most level-headed of the friend group.

“If he keeps going he’s gonna start fuckin’ crying, watch. It happened last time—”

Calum grumbles to your left, putting his head in his hand. But you place a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from preventing Luke’s lovesick ramble.

“No, no. Let him finish. I wanna hear what spiritual shit he’s gonna say next.” A smile crawls across your face as you watch Luke stumble his way into a train wreck of words and appreciation. You egg him on with your eyes, listening to the rest of the band let out a collective groan.

To your left was Calum. Who had tried his hand at consoling a very emotional Luke the second the tequila hit his bloodstream. Across the glass table, Michael was attempting to sit Luke back down onto his respective cushion.

And to your right, was Ashton. Who had been nothing but a pain in your ass the whole night so far.

You and Ashton had a— thing. As childish and ‘high school’ as it seemed to put it in that way, it was true. You had a thing for him, he had a thing for you. Therefore, the weird flirtatious, unspoken situation that the two of you shared in sworn secrecy could only be described as a thing.

It started off simple. Flirting here and there when the stage lights went down, and when the show opener was distracting enough for the two of you to make googly eyes at each other from across the wings. But the more he looked at you, the more he liked what he saw. And the more he liked what he saw, the more of an issue it became for the both of you.

Throughout this entire outing, that ‘thing’ was hard to ignore. He was hard to ignore. No matter how many times you got up to grab a drink or use the bathroom, Ashton was always one step behind. You wished he wasn’t so obvious about it all, for the sake of your friendship with Calum, and to spare the awkwardness that would follow him finding out.

“You guys— you don’t get it. I love you all so much it fuckin’ hurts! It pains me, really!”

Luke was back again. After a successful 5 minutes of consolation and a few pats to the back, he picked up right where he left off.

“I know, Luke. We love you too,” Calum sighs, frustrated enough already.

“I’m so glad we’re here. Aren’t you guys glad we’re here?!”

“Yes, Luke. We’re all happy to be here.” Michael had given up on physically restraining Luke. He was just grateful for the fact that he wasn’t standing on the table like he did last time.

You enjoyed the boys and their banter, comfortable with certain inside jokes and feeling ‘in the loop’ when it came to their personal lives. As fun as it was to watch, it was even more fun when something went awry. Hence why you sat in amused silence as Luke derailed once more.

“Luke, sit down, please…” Calum reaches out towards Luke’s belt loop, attempting to pull him down as he progressively gets louder and louder.

“Unhand me! Unhand me, I say!”

You can’t help but giggle, hiding your smirk behind your cocktail.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Ashton’s leg slowly creeping towards yours. Not as if he were moving closer, but more so as a little reminder that he was still sitting right next to you.

Although you appreciated the knee to knee contact, you didn’t need that reminder. For her reminded you of all the things on his mind a little over an hour ago.

“Jump.”

“What?”

“You fuckin’ heard me, Y/N, I said jump.”

You obliged to his simple request, jumping up into his hands as his lips attacked at your jaw and hands tangled in your hair. The bathroom counter was cold against the backs of your bare thighs, denim shorts being the most appropriate item to have worn on a cool summer night.

You wished you’d worn something with a bit easier access, but a button and a fly would have to do. The time crunch was inevitable when it came to you and Ashton; you’d done this dance many times before.

Ashton gets you situated on the counter, slotting himself between your legs as his hands explore every dip and curve he could feel beneath your blouse. You sigh, outward satisfaction towards the bathroom tiles as his lips danced from your neck towards your chest.

“Gotta get this off,” he mumbles into your collarbone.

“No. Don’t— don’t have time.”

“Why not?” he groans, popping his head up and fiddling with the spaghetti strap.

“‘Cause I just said I was going to the bathroom. We’ve already been in here for like fifteen minutes. They’re gonna think I fell in the toilet.”

Your words were broken up by staccato heavy breathing, Ashton’s lips were restless against you and the most you could do was moan and wish it didn’t have to end as quickly as it began.

“Fine. Keep it on. But— you owe me later.”

“I don’t owe you shit,” you giggle quietly, but not long before Ashton shuts you up by pressing his lips onto yours.

Back to reality. Ashton’s knee was touching yours.

“What?” He catches you staring down at the holes in his jeans.

“Nothing.”

“Fine! You win!”

Both you and Ashton’s attention snaps towards Luke, who had just gotten done yelling about how he didn’t want to sit down. He’d given up the fight, slumping back down onto the patio couch and tossing his head over the back of it.

“You guys are so booooringgggggg,” he complains, crossing his arms like a pouting toddler.

“Luke stop, you’re acting like a fuckin’ baby.” Michael whacks his shoulder, which makes him flinch.

“God, I need another drink.” You look over at your best friend, index fingers massaging his temples. He glances over at you, and your cheeks go red when you realize that Ashton’s hand was now resting at the top of your thigh.

For the love of God Cal, please don’t look down.

“I’m with ya’ buddy,” Michael agrees, shifting forwards to stand up as Calum does the same, “You guys alright to stay here and babysit?”

You open your mouth to reply, but Ashton beats you to the punch.

“Oh yeah, we’re chilling. Go take a lap, shake out those shoulders. We’ll handle this shit.”

His headstrong answer makes you cringe internally, his hand having left your thigh the moment Michael and Calum’s attention landed on you. You pass them a meek smile and a thumbs up, sneaking a look over at Luke who was engulfed in his phone and curled up in the corner of the couch.

“We won’t be long. I’ll probably get a round of shots. Any preference?” Calum asks the two of you, lowering his voice to ensure Luke doesn’t get the opportunity to ask for more tequila.

“Green tea?” you suggest, but Ashton snarls.

“Gross.”

Michael rolls his eyes, antsy to get over to the bar and far away from Luke for a moment, “Nevermind, then.”

No other words are exchanged between Ashton and his fellow bandmates as they salute and walk back towards the inside portion of the bar. The silence, although not very silent at all, is tense for a moment. It’s almost as if Ashton is begging to make some snide remark, but is waiting for your eyes to land on his face.

You look straight ahead, watching Calum and Michael pull open the glass double doors and disappear into the bar. Almost as though it were on some sort of cue, Ashton opens his mouth.

So do you.

“Did you—”

“Wanna—”

Oh. You spoke at the same time. How awkward.

“What were you gonna say?” you ask, still avoiding the staredown from his hazy, honey green pupils.

“No no, you go first,” Ashton motions with his hand to you, which you only catch out of your peripheral vision.

“I was gonna say, did you wanna maybe— do something after this?”

Despite your many encounters with Ashton in club bathrooms, venue dressing rooms, tour buses, the works— they never fail to be as nerve wracking as the first time. For you, at least.

As for Ashton, he seemed amused by your blundering charm, the way any mention of something sexual or romance-adjacent makes you flustered enough to want to leave the room. He likes to mess with your head, the same way he would with any of his friends. But you were a bit different. He enjoyed the many shades of ruby that washed over your cheeks, the way your hands would clam up and sweat whenever he got too close. It was all a little game, and Ashton loved to play.

“I was gonna ask you the same question, sugar,” the nickname is haunting, but you can’t seem to ignore the way his arm makes its way to the backside of the couch, “Whenever we get the hell out of here, we’ll make a plan.”

You swallow hard, trying your hand at matching his energy, “Wouldn’t it just be easier to do that now? Y’know, while they’re uh— not here?”

Ashton lets out a chuckle, “With the shit we’ve gotten away with while they have been here, I doubt it’d be an issue if you and I— snuck away for a while.”

There it was again. Ashton’s favorite color, spreading across your face at the mention of the two of you, alone together. You muster up the courage to finally look him in the eye, regretting it almost immediately.

“Y’know, I rather like it when you look at me. Makes me feel like shit when ya’ don’t.”

“Stop it,” you murmur, subtly scooting closer to him, but not enough for him to notice, “You know how I get.”

“Embarrassed? Flustered? Red in the face? I’m a walking thesaurus sugar, tell me when. I could do this all night.”

You chew on your bottom lip as the sound of his voice rumbles around in your head. You truly did want nothing more than to pounce on his lap right then and there, let him have his way with you right here on this rooftop patio. But that would be unethical. At least, for the circumstance.

“Stop talking.” You grumble, bringing Ashton to let out a pitiful laugh as his hand slowly creeps towards your shoulder.

“Did that upset you? Oh come on. You know how fuckin’ cute I think you look when you get all awkward n’ shit? You look like the prettiest little basket of red apples in the world.”

As compliments float off Ashton’s tongue as if they were feathers, you glance over at your drunken friend. Luke, still engrossed in his phone, has yet to even turn around to acknowledge you at all. He could’ve been fast asleep for all you knew.

However, the only thing you truly knew was how badly you wanted to tackle Ashton onto that couch.

“God, I wanna’ kiss you so badly right now.” Ashton reads your mind.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You could feel the bead of condensation rolling down your face, the antsiness building in your legs as they start to bob up and down. But before you could respond, make a face, or even process his words, Ashton’s mouth is millimeters away from the sweet spot on your neck. The one that his lips had claimed not long ago.

“Would we be the worst friends in the world if we just— slipped away?”

His words fan across your cheek, his smile radiating a sinister energy that makes you clutch your imaginary pearls, “I—I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? You don’t know if you want to leave with me? Or you don’t know if we’d be exiled for leaving Luke out here alone?

Your mind spins. You felt as though your heart was racing at a mile per minute. It was hard to be unresponsive when it came to Ashton— for he was just too good with his words. His favorite thing to do was to butter you up, and make you sweat.

“I just don’t know, Ash. Sue me for thinking critically, here.”

Ashton chuckles. He’d finally backed away from you, though he was still close enough to raise some eyebrows. You could still feel his eyes burning holes into your blouse and the weight of a heavy hand on your thigh.

“Let’s rationalize this. Let’s say that Luke is down for the count. Cut off from the bar and completely annexed from the tab. Leaving him here to sober up wouldn’t be the worst thing, in theory, would it?”

“What are you even saying?” you scoff, nervously swatting at your shoulder, “Leaving anyone alone while drunk out of their mind is bad. End of story.”

“You aren’t even willing to be convinced. Have you always been this stubborn?”

“Shut the fuck up—”

Oh God, this was it. You were starting to get angry. And the angrier you were, the hotter the sex was. That cheeky fuck knew you hated to argue, even more so about something as stupid as this.

He was doing this on purpose.

“Look, all I’m saying is there’s a somewhat up-to-code bathroom stall out there with our names on it. Pick your battles, sugar. Pick ‘em wisely.”

As you muster up the courage to speak, you hear a familiar sound. Laughter. Michael and Calum were returning from the bar, gaining on you and Ashton while still stuck in this compromising position.

“Ashton, knock it off,” you warn him through gritted teeth, fiddling mindlessly with the hem of your shorts, “They’re coming back.”

“Don’t be like that.”

His words were simple, yet they clawed at your insides.

“What the fuck?”

And just like that, the dominos fell.

“Cal! Hey— hey, buddy,” you wince at your inability to think of anything smoother to say as you scramble away from Ashton’s grip, “Find the bar okay?”

Your tremored laughter met Calum’s unamused face with dismay, a hard lump forming in your throat the moment the two of you locked eyes. You could see Ashton grinning out of your peripheral, motioning up to Michael with his hands as the world around you started to get dizzy.

Michael hadn’t seen a thing.

“What the fuck was that?” Calum leans down to only you, the sweat from his glass dripping down onto your legs and furthering the pit in your stomach.

“What? What was what?”

“Whatever the fuck just happened on this couch,” Calum raises his eyebrows at you, making you feel almost— stupid.

“I— don’t know what you’re talking about,” you defend, shifting uncomfortably in both your seat and your skin, “We were just sitting here.”

“Ah, see! You just ratted yourself out!” his accusatory whisper bites, “I knew there was something going on with you two!”

“Shhh! Cal, stop it! Seriously!”

You had mentally surpassed any amount of embarrassment you’d ever felt. The hushed conversation taking place right now started to feel like a humiliation ritual, meanwhile Ashton had gotten off scot-free with a tipsy Michael and a borderline-blacked out Luke.

Ashton was acting innocent, seemingly minding his own while sneaking glances at you over his shoulder. Though you were being interrogated by your best friend, it was hard not to let yourself get lost in a sliver of those dumb, green eyes.

“You didn’t even deny it! Oh my God, I can’t even look at you right now,” Calum shudders, floating down to his original spot with a roll of his eyes.

“Holy shit, you’re dramatic.”

“I’m about to go wash my eyes out with bleach,” he pauses, finally catching onto the fact that you were still distracted, despite being reprimanded, “Stop fuckin’ looking at him, weirdo!”

The quiet, sour-mouthed dialogue between you and Calum was heating up. It had resorted to name calling, which wasn’t uncommon, and led to you standing up with a huff.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You blurt, out loud. The entire group’s eyes were now on you. Even Luke’s.

Calum’s teeth grit, and his eyes bounced immediately towards Ashton. He knew how this night was going to end, but you were sure that he’d hate to admit it.

“Don’t get lost,” your best friend mutters, taking a large gulp of his drink to watch you walk away.

You sped off to the inside of the club with your eyes glued to the ground, absolutely mortified. You knew that eventually, the secret little wall you’d built around you and Ashton’s rendezvous would come crumbling down. But you didn’t expect it to be so soon.

The nightclub was impossibly busy, you were dodging people and bumping shoulders left and right. The bathroom at the end of a dimly lit hallway was the light at the end of your tunnel. You sought refuge against the wall next to the door, huffing to yourself as you scrambled to pull your phone out of your back pocket.

You expected to feel a little nauseous at this point. However, you did not expect to see a text from Ashton lighting up your phone.

Luke’s standing on the couch again.

Sit tight.

A wave of relief crashes over you. It was pathetic to think that words on a screen could have you feeling so flustered to the point where you started to sweat. A hot summer night was no match for the way Ashton made you feel.

You stood against the wall awkwardly, almost as if you were pinned to it by the straps of your tank top. You scrolled your phone, tapping your foot and watching Instagram posts fly by whilst trying to look busy. A few people walked by you, entering and exiting the all gender bathroom but not long before a slender leg was entering your eyeshot and stepping in front of you.

“Miss me, sugar?”

“God, you’re an asshole.”

Soon enough, you were pinned to the wall once again. This time at the hands of Ashton’s chest pressing against you as he pounces into a kiss. His hands snap to your waist, thumbing the loops of your denim shorts to hold you in place.

“They’re insufferable,” Ashton mutters into your lips, completely unaffected by the people passing by, “But I think I’ve bought us time.”

You attempt to breathe, suffocated by the intoxicating smell of his cologne and the sheer weight of his lips on yours.

“How much?”

“How much what?” he asks innocently, slowly pulling your leg up to rest on his hip.

“Time, Ash. How much time?”

“Fuck if I know. Stop talking.”

You’re engulfed in the kiss once again, Ashton’s teeth sink into your bottom lip and pull it away, his hands now trailing beneath your shirt.

It was far from outlandish to see two people making out against the wall of a club. However, the images of Calum’s reaction to your little rendezvous flashed in your mind like a bolt of lightning.

But despite the embarrassment and emotional turmoil that came to admitting to your crimes, you were too busy to care. Your hands were working at the soft curls that sat against the nape of Ashton’s neck, while he took his time dragging the kiss down towards your neck and chest.

You swallowed hard as he worked at you, “Maybe we should take this somewhere else.”

He doesn’t reply. He simply ignores you, and bites at your neck.

“You care too much.”

A gasp leaves your lips as his body flushes fully against yours, leaving nothing beneath his clothes to the imagination. You feel the softness of his stomach contradicting the hardness in his jeans— it was all too much. All logic and reason had suddenly flown out of the window.

Ashton was right. You did care too much. So, to make up for it, you tug at his roots, and the action makes him moan.

“I can’t fuckin’ stand you,” you bite, staring into those buggish hazel eyes that were drowning in lust, “You’re such a bad influence.”

“I can be a whole lot worse,.” He smiles, index finger trailing up towards the side of your breast, “I’ll be anything you want, sugar. Just say the word.”

[souperbloom]

Hey! I just wanted to say that I love your work so so much and I hope that you’re doing well:) I was wondering when the third part of the “being in love” Ashton fanfic will be out bc that series is my absolute fave 🫶🏼

hi soup nation! long time no see :’)

i noticed i’ve been getting a few messages like this and i wanted to address the elephant in the room (LOL)

as of rn, consider mama soup on a bit of a ~hiatus~. i’m finishing up my degree at the moment and it’s been really hard to find time to sit down and write without it feeling like an obligation. i don’t wanna lose my sparkle, which is why i’ve taken a (very obvious!) step back.

it’s only for a moment, never fear! i’m just being a diva and want to be able to enjoy the work i put out to share with all of you lovely people who have shown me nothing but kindness in this community.

this post is already so corny, so i might as well end it with a thank you, and i love you! i will be back soon! the third and final part of being in love is in the queue, as well as a lot of other requests and projects that i am so so excited to share!!!

thanks for your patience with me, i appreciate it more than you know <3

xoxo, soupy

[souperbloom]

coming out of hibernation to say HOLY FUCKING BALLS THIS IS SO GOOD MY HEART WAS ACTUALLY RACING

Too Bad You’re Married

MDNI

pairing: ashton irwin x reader

summary: a dangerous meeting with a handsome stranger in a bar leads to the best sex of your life.

warnings: face fucking, unprotected sex, cream pie, squirting, face riding, semi public sex, rough sex, dom! ash, roleplay

word count: 6.6k

a/n: BITCH GUESS WHOS BACKKKKK!! sorry for disappearing chat, it seems as though i had a bit of a writers block. the juice i was running on when i pumped out all of the previous fics seems to have run out, but alas here i am! i can’t promise ill be as active as i was before, but i hope you enjoy this little blurb because IT WAS SO FUCKING FUN TO WRITE. this was inspired by a certain line in the song Mascara by deftones. Stick around till the end, i promise the fluff is worth it.

also, thank u soup for being my other braincell when it comes to writing ashton. you hyping me up helped a ton. ALSO TY FOR CHOOSING THE ASH ERA AND PICTURE AHHHH !!!

anyways leave requests if u want.

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

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The air in the bar was thick—saturated with the cloying scent of cheap perfume and lingering cigarette smoke, all underscored by the raucous echoes of drunken laughter. You tapped your carefully manicured nails against the sticky tabletop, eyes flitting nervously from face to face, cataloging each stranger with uneasy precision.

The thrill of the night buzzed beneath your skin—sharp, electric, almost unbearable. Your heart pounded erratically in your chest as your gaze remained fixed on the bar’s entrance, each passing moment stretching thin with anticipation. Maybe it was the taboo of it all—the unspoken danger, the uncharted territory you’d sworn never to touch—but the butterflies in your stomach had taken flight with dizzying urgency.

The bartender made eye contact with you again—for the third time in ten minutes. You offered nothing back, just lazily nursed your drink, tracing the rim of the glass with a fingertip. Condensation clung to the outside, slick and cool, and you found mild amusement in watching a droplet race downward, faster than the others.

“Must be some evenin’ if you’re entertaining yourself with a damn water droplet.” The voice—low, accented, tinged with amusement—slid into your senses just as he took the seat beside you.

Your eyes flicked to him. Sandy stubble framed a sharp jaw and hollow cheeks, his dark hair falling messily across his brow. And then—those eyes. Bright green, catlike, studying you with lazy precision.

The corner of your mouth curled into a smirk, slow and knowing. Your gaze dropped—right to the glint of a wedding band wrapped snug around his ring finger.

Instinctively, you twisted your own wedding band, the familiar pressure grounding you as a wave of anxiety surged—unwelcome, but far from unfamiliar. You straightened in your seat, spine stiffening, willing your features into something resembling calm.

“I find that the simplest things can be the most surprisingly amusing,” you hummed, voice dipping into something sweet and slow, almost syrupy. Then, you met his gaze head-on. “You’d probably know that if you didn’t strut around like you’re God’s gift to the Earth.”

His eyebrow arched, a flicker of intrigue crossing his face as his tongue dragged across his lower lip. He nodded slowly, accepting the barb with practiced ease. “Terrifying,” he murmured, raising a hand to flag down the bartender.

His emerald eyes flicked back to yours with a lazy sort of confidence, and a single dimple appeared as he smiled. “You want a refill? For a water droplet rematch?”

You took a breath, steady and deliberate, refusing to acknowledge the way his gaze swept over you like muscle memory—lazy, familiar, sure. Like he already knew the answer.

“Get me something stronger,” you murmured, stretching languidly in your seat.

His eyes followed the arch of your back with a quiet, hungry reverence—the kind of look that sent heat cascading through your limbs.

His smile could undo a person. “A woman after my own heart,” he mused, a pleased hum curling beneath his words. “I like that.”

You rolled your eyes as he turned toward the bartender, ordering two whiskeys neat. Presumptuous. But, annoyingly, spot-on.

“I’m sure your wife could agree,” you said, voice cool and edged.

His gaze flickered back to you, the smile still etched effortlessly into his features. “Let’s let bygones be bygones, shall we?”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes trailing down to your lips—lingering—before dropping to your hand.

“Unless you want to talk about that massive rock you’ve got on your finger, too.”

You didn’t reply.

He pressed on, tone light, teasing. “That really is quite the ring,” he said, amusement never fading. His gaze sharpened just slightly, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “You must be quite special, hmm?”

You narrowed your eyes, shifting in your seat. “I thought you wanted to let bygones be bygones?”

“You’re right,” he said with a nod, not even a flicker of shame. “My bad.”

Then he pivoted fully, turning to face you—his body leaning in like he’d known you forever. Like this wasn’t something dangerous.

“My name’s Ashton.”

You paused. Then, evenly, “Y/N.”

Ashton pursed his lips in thought before letting a slow grin curl across them. “Y/N,” he repeated, rolling the name across his tongue like he was testing its weight. The way he said it—deliberate, slow, far too familiar—sent a flash of heat cascading down your spine. “Pretty name.”

You shrugged, biting your lip as you toyed with your glass, carefully considering your next move. “For a pretty woman,” you purred, casting him a look from beneath your lashes. “It fits.”

“Damn right it does,” Ashton murmured, taking a slow sip of his drink—his gaze locked on yours, unwavering. “So, enlighten me, Y/N… what’s a beautiful married woman doing in a hotel bar at—” He glanced at his watch. “One in the morning on a Saturday, wearing lipstick that screams bite me?”

You inhaled slowly, gaze drifting over him with a lazy, deliberate hunger.

“Maybe I’m looking for a victim,” you mused, voice laced with danger and promise. Then you tilted your head, eyes narrowing just slightly. “What about you? What’s a handsome, married man doing alone in a bar… buying drinks for someone else’s wife?”

Ashton raised his hands in mock surrender, though the easy smile on his lips didn’t so much as flicker. “Just being a good Samaritan,” he said with a casual shrug. “You never know what kind of people lurk around at this hour… or the intentions you might encounter.”

“Oh?” you purred, tilting your head as you blinked up at him with feigned innocence. You slowly rested your arm on the table, exposing the delicate inside of your wrist—the soft skin catching in the low light. His eyes tracked the motion instantly, just as you expected. “And what makes your intentions so different from theirs?”

Ashton’s gaze lingered for a beat too long before lifting back to yours, something darker now swimming beneath the surface of his smile.

“Just looking for a way to kill some time,” he said, tone sincere but low. “Something to help with the jet lag, ya know?”

You hummed softly, lifting your glass of whiskey to your lips. “Jet lag,” you echoed, taking a slow, deliberate sip—Ashton’s eyes tracking every movement with the kind of hunger that would put a starved man to shame. A single bead of amber clung to the corner of your mouth. You reached up, wiping it away with the tip of your finger, and let your lips curl just slightly. “And here I thought you were just bored of your wife.”

Ashton let out a quiet, amused laugh—open, easy, a sound that vibrated in your chest. “She does get a little repetitive at times,” he said with a mock sigh, lifting his glass to his lips.

“Excuse you,” you said, feigning offense, narrowing your eyes as you tilted your head. “I’m sure she’s a lovely woman.”

His smirk deepened, eyes flicking once again to your left hand—your very occupied ring finger. “She sure is. Just like I imagine your husband’s quite the catch.”

You rolled your eyes, resting your cheek against your hand. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

Another flash of those damn dimples, and your breath caught just slightly. “The funniest, love.”

You let out a quiet chuckle—soft, reserved, almost unsure. Another sip of whiskey gave you something to do, something to hide behind. “You must be a nightmare at any social event.”

Ashton raised a brow, amused, and leaned into your space without apology. The scent of citrus and musk clung to him—rich, clean, and heady. Your eyes fluttered shut for just a moment, involuntarily letting it sink into your senses.

“Only if the conversation’s dull,” he murmured, glancing down at his glass, swirling the amber liquid with lazy ease. “Or if the wives look… particularly restless.”

“Oh, yeah?” you challenged, leaning in just enough to mirror him. “So tell me, Ashton… what is it that you think I’m looking for?”

He moved slowly, deliberately—lifting one arm and dragging the pad of his index finger down the soft skin of your forearm. The touch was featherlight, but it left a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“I think you’re looking for a thrill,” he whispered, voice dipped in heat. His breath brushed your ear. “Something dangerous. Something to remind you you’re not just someone’s well-kept prize.”

Your pulse spiked.

You turned your head toward him—lips dangerously close, eyes locked. There was no hesitation in your expression. You wanted this. You both knew it.

“Mm. That’s a tempting offer,” you murmured. “You are offering, aren’t you?”

Ashton’s grin was slow and wicked, his head tilting like he was insulted by the question. “Darling, I’m not here to talk about your husband’s diamond preferences—though credit where it’s due, the man’s got taste.”

“Hmm.” You let Ashton hang there, suspended in the tension you both had carefully spun, letting the silence tease him just a little longer. The anticipation only sharpened your craving. “Does your wife know you’re out here complimenting diamond cuts?”

Ashton leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice low and full of intent. “I’d much rather be doing more than admiring a ring on your finger,” he murmured, each word soaked in heat. You could feel the warmth of him, pulsing between you like a live wire.

Then he pulled back, slowly—reluctantly—and stood. He towered over your seated frame, casting you in shadow and possibility. His hand reached out, gentle yet firm, tilting your chin up until your eyes locked.

“You take control a lot in your life?” he asked softly, like he already knew the answer.

Your gaze held his, unwavering. “I’m looking for something that’ll let me give that up,” you replied, voice low, deliberate. “Is that what you’re here to compliment now? My willingness to obey? My need to surrender?”

His eyes darkened, hunger flickering across his features like a spark hitting gasoline. His jaw flexed, tightly restrained, and you could feel the war inside him—between restraint and abandon.

His eyes kept darting to your lips, and his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom one. For the first time, you saw something shift—surprise, almost awe—behind the heat.

“Do you want me to test just how compliant you are?” he rasped. “Or do you think your husb—”

“Let’s go,” you cut him off, the heat between your thighs finally boiling over. The game was over. “Take me.”

The air felt sucked from the room the moment your words left your lips. Ashton’s mouth parted slightly in surprise, but you knew there would be no hesitation. And there wasn’t.

His hand reached for you—delicate, yet firm—as his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The moment his skin touched yours, heat surged through your body, sealing your resolve.

The bar blurred into irrelevance as he led you past tables, past strangers who didn’t matter. His pace was confident, deliberate—like a man who already knew the outcome.

The hallways were quiet, save for the occasional couple stumbling toward their own late-night regrets, not sparing either of you a second glance.

When the elevator arrived, you tugged Ashton inside without a word, blindly slapping the correct floor button as he pushed you back against the mirror.

The door slid shut just as your spine hit the cold glass. He caged you there, body pressed against yours, hands gripping the railing behind you as if to anchor you. His eyes devoured your face—lips parted, breath shallow, pupils blown wide.

And then he kissed you.

No hesitation. No pause. Just heat.

His mouth crashed into yours, fierce and ravenous, like he’d been waiting all night to taste you. His tongue slid past your lips without resistance, drawing a soft gasp from your throat as he explored you—confident, controlled, hungry.

His hands wandered too—down the curve of your waist, to your thigh, lifting it slowly. One hand slipped beneath the hem of your dress, savoring the heat of your skin, rough fingers skimming delicate lace.

A quiet moan escaped as he bit down on your bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth. He groaned in return when your hips rolled against his, chasing friction like oxygen.

One hand came to your neck, strong fingers bracketing your throat—not squeezing, just resting there, feeling your pulse race beneath the skin. It made your head spin.

The elevator dinged.

You pushed him back—breathless, flushed—and grabbed his hand, fingers lacing tightly with his as you dragged him into the hallway.

“Jesus,” Ashton laughed, voice low and wrecked. “Impatient, are we?”

You stopped in front of the door, turned on your heel, and grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking him down to meet your lips again.

“Just open the fucking door,” you murmured into his mouth, already losing yourself to the next kiss

Not surprisingly, one of Ashton’s hands came up to cup the back of your neck, keeping your lips locked with his as his other hand swiped the keycard and swung the door open.

The two of you backed into the room slowly, the door shutting behind you with a soft click that left no room for hesitation.

Ashton pulled away just enough to shed his jacket, letting it fall to the hotel floor. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the city lights seeping through the open blinds—just enough to see by, just enough to want more.

The green of Ashton’s eyes was almost entirely overtaken by the black of his pupils. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths as his gaze dragged down your body, sharp and electric. This was different. This was new.

“Strip,” he said, voice eerily calm. Controlled. “And get on your knees.”

You turned, brow raised in a questioning glance. “What?”

“I said strip,” Ashton repeated, each word punctuated by a slow, deliberate step forward. There was no trace of the charming, cheeky man from the bar. This was something darker—something raw, unfiltered, and burning.

You bit your lip, fingers moving behind you to find the zipper of your dress. The seconds stretched, molasses-thick, as Ashton stood still—watching, waiting, hungering.

You slid the dress down your arms, letting the fabric whisper to the floor and pool at your feet.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, stepping closer. His eyes roamed your body like he couldn’t quite decide where to settle. “Keep going.”

Biting your lip, you reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, letting the straps fall slowly down your arms until the fabric slipped to the floor, joining your dress. Ashton had begun circling you like a predator stalking its prey, and the weight of his gaze alone made your thighs instinctively press together in a futile search for relief.

With deliberate slowness, you slid your panties down your legs, stepping out of the lace and nudging your discarded clothes aside. Ashton came to a stop in front of you, and wordlessly, you sank to your knees—eyes locked on his the entire time.

He licked his lips, head tilted slightly, savoring the way anticipation coiled tight in your body. His steps toward you were slow, deliberate, like he was drawing out your need on purpose.

His rough hand cupped your face, his pinky settling just under your jaw, tilting your gaze up to meet his.

“You look good like this, Y/N,” he murmured, voice low and gruff with want. His thumb ghosted over your bottom lip, then pressed between them, slipping into your mouth without resistance.

“Your husband’s lucky,” he added, dark amusement laced in the words. “Let’s see just how lucky, though.”

Your breath hitched as his hand dropped to his belt, undoing it with the kind of practiced ease that made your pulse stutter. The other hand left your face to pop the button, then the zipper, his movements unhurried and confident as he pushed his jeans just low enough.

He was already hard—thick, glistening, beautiful.

Your mouth watered at the sight.

You looked up at him through your lashes, your breathing shallow as he stepped in closer. Slowly, he pressed the tip of his cock to your lips, the salty taste flooding your senses as his eyes met yours in a silent question.

You didn’t hesitate.

Your lips parted, and you took him in—slowly, deliberately—just the tip at first. Ashton let out a low moan, his head tipping back as he eased deeper into your mouth.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he growled, voice rough with pleasure, one hand sliding into your hair to guide you as he hit the back of your throat.

You let your tongue swirl around him, your hand wrapping around the base to take care of what you couldn’t fit. The weight of him on your tongue was addictive, the stretch of your jaw delicious as you began to move—slow, steady, intentional.

“Oh, fuck,” Ashton groaned, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he watched you. “So fucking pretty… just like I knew you’d be.”

His encouragement only spurred you on. You bobbed your head faster, wrist moving in perfect time as your tongue traced the underside of his tip—right where you knew he was most sensitive.

“God, you look like a fuckin’ dream on your knees,” Ashton gasped, his voice coming out rough and breathless. One hand came to brace against the wall behind you, the other still tangled in your hair, keeping you close.

Your lips were stretched around him, swollen and slick. Spit coated your chin, your cheeks flushed with heat. You let your eyes flutter shut for a moment, savoring the way his hips twitched slightly with every pass of your mouth.

Then you opened your eyes again—wide, glassy, unafraid—and met his with a look that dared him.

Take it. Take me.

Ashton recognized that look instantly. He smirked, a dark and pleased curve of his lips, and then his hips began to move—slow at first, then harder, faster, more demanding.

He fucked into your mouth with purpose, hitting the back of your throat again and again, and you let him. You gave yourself over to him completely.

“Pretty little thing,” he gritted out, breath ragged. “God, your mouth feels so fucking good.”

You moaned around him, and the vibration made him curse under his breath. It only made him go harder, faster, more desperate. Tears sprang to your eyes from the force, slipping down your cheeks without mercy—raw, messy, beautiful.

“Don’t cry, baby,” Ashton growled, fisting your hair tighter, the pace unrelenting. “You look so fucking pretty with my cock down your throat.”

You could imagine exactly what he saw—your body on your knees, mascara streaked like black lightning across your face, lips swollen and glistening, eyes wet and glassy, mouth full of him. Completely ruined, completely his.

And you loved it.

Without warning, Ashton pulled out of your mouth. You gasped, your throat raw, vision blurred as the world rushed back in too fast. The sudden loss made your body ache.

“You’re such a good little whore f’me,” Ashton panted, dropping to his knees in front of you. His hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up until your eyes met his. “But I need to come inside you.”

A whimper escaped before you could stop it. “Please, Ash,” you rasped, your voice hoarse and trembling from the effort of holding him so deep for so long.

“You did such a good job,” he murmured, thumb stroking along your jaw. “Such a good girl. And good girls get rewarded.”

You bit down on your lip, swallowing the moan building in your chest. The slick heat between your thighs was unbearable now, every shift of your body sparking friction you couldn’t ignore. You squirmed, desperate for more.

Ashton leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that stole what little breath you had left. His hand fisted in your hair, anchoring you there as your hands clutched at his shoulders. Your mouths moved together with practiced, hungry precision.

With trembling fingers, you began to unbutton his shirt, pushing his jean jacket off in the same motion. His skin burned under your touch, the heat of him making your own skin feel too tight. His hands found your waist, dragging you into him as the two of you collapsed to the floor in a messy tangle of limbs—your body falling on top of him.

His tongue slid into your mouth again, slow and sure, drawing out a moan that vibrated between your lips. One of his hands roamed your back, the other dropping to squeeze your ass, fingers digging in possessively. The press of his cock between your bodies was firm, heavy, demanding.

You shifted your hips to grind against him, seeking friction, and he groaned against your mouth.

“I want you,” he gasped, pulling back just enough to breathe, “to sit on my face.”

The words knocked the air out of your lungs.

“Ride my tongue,” he growled, eyes dark with want. “Until you fucking come. That’s your reward.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, but Ashton’s gaze was already locked on yours—wide, dark, and desperate. Your entire body buzzed like a live wire, and God, you’d dreamed of this. Of his mouth. Of that stubble dragging along the sensitive inside of your thighs.

“Fuck,” you breathed, voice trembling as you took in the sight of him sprawled beneath you—an absolute dream of a man, waiting to worship you.

One of his hands fell away from your back as he propped himself up on an elbow, his eyes burning into yours as he waited.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmured, voice low, rough, and sweet like sin. “You don’t get to be shy. Not after you choked on my cock like you were fucking made for it.”

You bit your lip as he leaned back against the floor, lifting a hand to gesture toward his face.

“Up here,” he ordered, voice firm. “Bring that pretty pussy to my mouth.”

There was no hesitation. You moved up his body, thighs bracketing his face as you settled above him. The sight of you—wet, glistening, need dripping from every inch—made Ashton groan like he was in pain.

“God,” he rasped, eyes fixed on you. One hand came up, his finger lightly trailing down your slit, making you hiss. “You’re fucking soaked, baby.”

You began to lower yourself slowly, but it wasn’t fast enough for him. Ashton gripped your hips and pulled you down against his mouth in one swift, hungry motion.

The second his tongue touched you, your moan echoed through the room—loud, helpless. He licked a long, deliberate stripe through your folds, savoring the taste, before circling your clit in slow, maddening motions.

“Oh my—fuck,” you gasped, the words dissolving into a strangled cry as your hands scrambled for purchase on the nearby nightstand.

Ashton’s lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently, then with a little more pressure. Your hips jerked in response, grinding down instinctively, chasing the searing high he was building with every flick of his tongue.

His stubble burned deliciously against the soft skin of your thighs, only heightening the sensation. He alternated between languid, lazy licks and pulling your clit between his lips, suckling it like he had all the time in the world—and every intention of wrecking you slowly.

Your thighs trembled uncontrollably on either side of his head as you rode the delicious flicks of his tongue. When Ashton groaned into you, the deep vibration sent shockwaves straight through your core.

It felt so good—too good. Your free hand tangled in his dark curls, your head tipping back in pure ecstasy as a crescendo of moans spilled from your lips. He encouraged the slow grind of your hips against his mouth, both hands gripping your thighs as you chased your high.

The room was filled with the sound of wet, sinful pleasure—his mouth working you over with no mercy. You chased every swipe of his tongue, every deliberate kiss to your throbbing clit, your hips stuttering with every stroke.

A deep throb coiled low in your belly, tightening fast as your breathing grew uneven and your moans climbed in pitch.

“Oh God, Ash,” you whimpered, voice cracking on his name. “Your mouth feels so fucking good. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Ashton hummed in response, the sound rumbling against you as he squeezed your thighs tighter.

“Come for me,” he growled, voice muffled and rough. “Be a good girl and come all over my fucking face.”

That was all it took.

With one last flick of his tongue, your orgasm slammed into you, stealing your breath and darkening your vision. Your entire body shook, thighs quivering as a sob wrenched free from your throat—his name falling from your lips like a broken prayer.

Your spine arched, hips jerking as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Ashton didn’t stop—not for a second—his mouth working you through every pulse, every aftershock, until your cries blurred into whimpers of overstimulation.

By the time you came down, your arms gave out and you collapsed forward, catching yourself on trembling hands. Ashton eased you off his mouth gently, and you rolled off him until you were seated back on the floor, chest heaving.

“Fuck, your wife is lucky,” you muttered, pushing damp strands of hair out of your face as Ashton propped himself up on his elbows, wearing a thoroughly smug grin.

“She is,” he said, voice thick with satisfaction as he sat up and got to his feet. “But I’m here with you… and I’m not finished.”

You blinked up at him, still dazed, trying to piece your mind back together.

Fuck. He never came.

Ashton extended a hand, and you took it. With his help, you stood on shaky legs, and he placed a steadying hand at the small of your back.

“You can handle more, can’t you, sweetheart?” he growled into your ear, sending a fresh shiver down your spine.

He guided you toward the balcony, pushing the glass door open. Warm spring air hit your flushed, naked skin, and you gasped at the contrast—the city lights glowing just beyond the railing, the hum of the night surrounding you like a secret.

“Hands on the railing, babygirl,” Ashton instructed, voice firm as he stepped in behind you and bent you forward.

Your hands flew out to grip the railing, knuckles turning white with anticipation.

Ashton let a hand trail slowly down your spine, the light touch making you shiver. He leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?” he murmured, voice low and dark. “And I need everyone in this goddamn city to know it. Got it?”

You bit your lip, nodding eagerly, the thrill of his words pulsing between your legs.

He moved your hair gently over your shoulder, exposing the curve of your neck. His lips followed, soft and deliberate, as he kissed the sensitive skin. You exhaled a content sigh, eyelids fluttering as he scraped his teeth along your pulse point.

Then he sucked—slow, deliberate—drawing a deep mark that made your knees nearly buckle.

You could feel the heat of him behind you, the weight of his cock as it was pressed against your ass. Gently, Ashton adjusted his grip on your hips, the warm night air doing nothing for the goosebumps that decorated your skin at every minor touch.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Ashton groaned, voice thick with lust. “You look so fucking good like this—bent over, gripping the railing, dripping for me like the cockwhore I know you are.”

His hands roamed slowly down your back, spreading you open with a deliberate touch that made your breath hitch. You were completely exposed, completely at his mercy—and he reveled in it.

“Keep those hands right where they are, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. His voice softened just enough to make you melt before his fingers teased your entrance.

You let out a stifled moan, your body already throbbing for him. When he pushed one finger inside, your eyes rolled back.

“So fucking tight still,” Ashton hummed, pleased, like he wasn’t already obsessed with how you felt. “Gonna feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

A second finger joined the first, stretching you out, filling you. The sensation was intense, especially with how sensitive you still were—your climax from his mouth barely in the rearview.

You clenched around his fingers, hips shaking, legs trembling from the effort to stay upright. His pace was unhurried, torturous, and you could feel the smirk on his face even without looking.

Then, without warning, he pulled them out, and you whimpered at the loss.

You heard the slick sound before you even saw it—the unmistakable sound of him sucking your arousal off his fingers.

“Taste like fucking candy,” he groaned.

“Ash, please—” you started, only to be cut off by the slow, maddening drag of his cock teasing your entrance. He rubbed against your clit deliberately, and your knees nearly buckled.

“Oh, fuck,” you cried, hips jerking.

He chuckled darkly behind you. “You like that, baby?” he asked, taunting. “Look at you—clenching around nothing. You’re so damn desperate.”

“Ashton, please,” you begged, voice wrecked. Your fingers tightened around the railing, white-knuckled, as your whole body cried out for him. “I need you.”

And finally, finally, he gave in.

The air left your lungs in a gasp as Ashton pushed inside—inch by inch—stretching you open in a way that made your mind go blank.

He bottomed out with a low, guttural moan. “Oh fuck, that pussy’s perfect,” he hissed. “So tight around me, so wet. You feel fucking amazing.”

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave bruises—marks you knew you’d wear proudly tomorrow.

Then he moved.

Without warning, Ashton pulled back and slammed into you, drawing a loud cry from your throat. The sound was lost in the buzz of the city below—but you knew you were only going to get louder.

His hips were relentless, slamming into yours with the kind of force that had your body jolting forward, the railing shaking beneath your grip. Your cries mixed with his breathy groans, the air between you thick with sweat, heat, and need.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groaned. “Let them hear you. Let this fucking city know who owns this pretty pussy.”

Your head fell forward, resting against your arm as your body trembled with every deep, punishing thrust. The pleasure was blinding—overwhelming—consuming every thought until the only thing you could register was Ashton’s cock driving into you over and over again.

Your legs barely held you up as Ashton continued to pound into you, merciless and relentless. Your skin buzzed with electricity, every nerve ending alive, your moans dissolving into broken, choked-off cries as each thrust hit deeper than the last.

“Right there, Ash,” you gasped, voice echoing into the open night. Anyone could see you—if they stepped onto their balcony or even glanced out a window, they’d be greeted with the filthy, breathtaking sight of Ashton fucking you senseless.

And Ashton wasn’t faring much better. His composure had shattered, his strangled moans mixing with yours, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the night air.

You were gone—completely undone. Your body no longer felt like your own, just a desperate vessel for Ashton to use, to ruin, to worship with every precise snap of his hips. He kept hitting that spot inside you—over and over—that made your vision blur and stars explode behind your eyes.

Your thighs shook violently, every thrust knocking the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck, yes—right there,” you cried, the words barely intelligible, your mouth working around them between moans. But he understood. Oh, he understood.

His grip on your hips tightened like a vice. He knew from the way you were trembling, the way you clenched around him like a vice—you were close. So fucking close.

“You gonna come for me?” he growled into your ear, voice a low, filthy rasp. Each word was punctuated by a brutal thrust that had your hands gripping the railing like your life depended on it. “I can feel it. This tight little pussy’s begging for it. Begging for me to fuck it dumb.”

A choked sob ripped from your throat just as Ashton’s hand left your hip and slipped between your thighs. His fingers found your clit instantly, rubbing tight, ruthless circles that made your back arch and a scream claw its way from your chest.

The only sounds were your cries, the wet slap of your bodies, and Ashton’s ragged breathing at your neck.

“You’re gonna milk my cock dry, aren’t you?” he snarled. “Fucking wring every last drop out of me, you dirty little whore.”

You bit your lip, mustering just enough strength to nod—but even that felt impossible. The pleasure was overwhelming, consuming every thought, every breath, every nerve in your body. Words were out of the question.

“Come for me,” Ashton snarled, his fingers rubbing ruthless circles on your clit. “Fucking come for me. Make a mess, baby—I wanna feel you soak my cock.”

With one final, devastating snap of his hips, your body seized up and you screamed his name into the night. Hot, blinding, electric pleasure crashed over you like a wave, so intense it shattered every thought. You were reduced to nothing but a gasping, writhing mess—your back arching, toes curling, mouth open in a silent cry.

And then it hit.

Just as your orgasm peaked—when you thought there couldn’t possibly be more—your body let go completely. A powerful gush spilled from between your legs, soaking your thighs and Ashton’s hips, the force of it making you collapse against the railing with a broken moan.

“Holy fuck,” Ashton breathed, voice wrecked, completely stunned. “That’s it, baby—good fucking girl. Squirt all over me. Goddamn.”

But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

The sight of you losing control like that only pushed him further. His thrusts turned savage, unrelenting, and your legs gave out beneath you. Ashton didn’t falter—his hands clamped around your hips, holding you upright as your body went limp.

“Look at this pussy,” he panted, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses across your shoulder. “Fucking soaked for me. You’re a mess, Y/N—the hottest, filthiest fucking mess I’ve ever seen. And I’m not stopping till I’ve come so deep it drips out of you for days.”

You whimpered, exhausted and overstimulated, but fuck if his words didn’t light you up all over again.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, chest pressed to your back, one hand gripping the railing while the other snaked around to hold you still. “You drenched me, sweetheart. You’re mine. You hear me? This pussy—this sloppy, dripping, perfect fucking pussy—belongs to me.”

“Only to you,” you managed to breathe, voice raw as another moan tore from your throat. “It’s yours, Ash. No one else’s. Ever.”

He groaned like he was losing his mind, lips dragging across your skin as he chased his own release. “Fuck, you look like sin,” he growled. “Bent over like a perfect little slut, dripping down my cock, soaking my thighs—you love this, don’t you?”

After a particularly brutal thrust, you let out a strangled gasp.

“I fucking love it,” you sobbed. “I love how deep you are. I love how you ruin me.”

That was all he needed.

One hand fisted in your hair, yanking your back flush to his chest as his other hand slid up to grab your tits, fingers rolling your nipples between them as your head fell back against him.

“God, you’re so fucking filthy,” he hissed into your ear. “Still begging for my cock even though you can barely stand. You squirted all over me and you’re still taking it like a good little whore.”

You moaned loud and broken—speech long gone.

“You want it?” he growled, cock throbbing inside you. “You want me to fill up this tight little cunt? Pump you full until you’re leaking down your thighs?”

“Please, Ash,” you begged, vision swimming. “Come inside me. Fill me up—I want to feel it dripping out. I want your cum fucking everywhere.”

He snapped.

With a loud, guttural groan, Ashton slammed into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his cock twitched deep inside. You could feel the heat of it—thick, hot spurts filling you, spilling into every inch.

“Fuck—fuck, take that,” he gasped, grinding into you through every last pulse. “Take my cum, baby. So fucking pretty when you’re stuffed full. This pussy was made to be ruined by me.”

You cried out, shaking as the warmth of his release spilled out of you, dripping instantly down your thighs. His hips jerked through the aftershocks, unwilling to let go of the moment.

He stayed there, pressed tight against your back, panting hard, fingers bruising your hips as he came down.

Finally, with a low groan, he pulled out—and the slick sound of his cum dripping out of you made him hiss through his teeth.

Before your legs had the chance to give out, Ashton scooped you up effortlessly, one arm behind your back, the other under your thighs. You sagged into him, boneless and ruined, as he carried you back inside.

He kicked the balcony door shut with his foot, his lips brushing your temple as he carried you through the room. Slowly, he walked you over to the bed and laid you down with care, then padded into the bathroom to grab a towel.

Your mind was still a haze of afterglow and overstimulation, but clarity gradually returned. The trembling in your legs faded, replaced by a deep, warm relaxation that spread through your entire body.

When Ashton returned, he wore a dopey, satisfied smile as he sat beside you. He gently spread your thighs, the towel in his hand already damp with warm water. With careful, tender motions, he began cleaning you up—wiping away the mix of arousal and cum with quiet focus.

You hissed when the fabric brushed over your still-sensitive skin, and Ashton’s head immediately shot up. A stray black curl fell over his eyes as he checked your face for any sign of discomfort.

You slowly sat up, your hand reaching for him. With a soft touch, you brushed the hair from his face. His expression softened as your fingertips skimmed his cheek.

“That was fun,” you murmured, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips.

Ashton grinned, setting the towel aside on the nightstand. “Yeah, it was.” He paused, eyes gleaming with mischief as he added, “Too bad you’re married…”

You arched a brow, already bracing for it.

“To me,” he finished with a shit-eating grin.

You let out a dramatic groan, dropping your head to his shoulder. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

He burst into laughter, clearly pleased with himself. “Oh, baby, come on!” he said, cupping your face with both hands and forcing you to meet his eyes. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t the hottest sex we’ve ever had.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned into his touch, pressing a kiss to the center of his palm. “Maybe,” you grumbled. “But did you really have to keep bringing up the wedding band you picked out mid-fuck?”

Ashton grinned, entirely unashamed. “I really outdid myself, what can I say?”

Your glare was unimpressed. “I pity your wife.”

Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, his teasing fading into something tender. He tilted his head, studying you with the kind of reverence that could only come from someone completely, hopelessly in love.

“She loves me,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” you whispered, nuzzling deeper into his hand. “I do.”

Ashton smiled, flashing you a dimple. “I love you too, baby.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

[souperbloom]

fatal attraction. [A.I.]

💋 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.

[souperbloom]

Why Won’t You Love Me?

MDNI

paring: calum hood x reader

summary: your life is falling apart, and in a desperate attempt to find some semblance of comfort in your chaotic world, you end up at the doorstep of one of your best friends.

warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship with luke, mentions of substance abuse, mentions of rehab, weed usage, safe sex teehee, oral (f receiving), fluffy desperate sex, whimpery calum, slight body worship, angst for days, unrequited love

word count: 5.7k

a/n: this story is really nothing like the ones i have up before truthfully, it’s because it wasn’t meant to be published. i wrote this based on some of my own struggles, but i kinda love how it turned out. quick disclaimer, although i use peoples names in this fic, it’s not a reflection of who i think they are as people. this is all in good fun, not meant to be a serious attack on anybody’s character. anyways, enjoy.

as always, thank u to north for editing this ur the best 🫶

Copyright © 2024 kaleidoscopecth. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You weren’t entirely sure why you had ended up at Calum’s doorstep. Your cheeks burned, chest tight with emotion as you hesitated, then rang the doorbell.

You had run circles around the idea in your head, knowing how complicated it would be to show up here. Calum was Luke’s best friend, his bandmate, and the last person you should’ve turned to. But the weight of everything—the withdrawal, the breakup, the utter mess your life had become—pushed you forward, even as doubt clawed at your resolve.

Would he even want to see you? Would he resent you for the way you ended things with Luke? You had wrestled with those questions all day, replaying every bitter moment of the breakup. You hadn’t meant to be so cruel. It wasn’t your intention to cut so deeply, but the withdrawal had stripped you of any semblance of patience or clarity.

And then, as soon as you were discharged from the hospital, you had gone running back to Luke. Desperate, aching, hoping to salvage what was left.

But then you saw them.

The door opened before you could spiral any further. Calum stood there, his brown eyes scanning you with a mixture of concern and surprise. “Y/N?” he asked, a small, tentative smile tugging at his lips. “You’re still here?”

His smile brought you a fleeting sense of relief, though you had braced herself for rejection. After all, if Luke could hate you, why wouldn’t Calum? Your mind replayed the raw memory of Luke’s anger when you begged for his forgiveness. The sting of seeing him move on so quickly still lingered in your chest.

It had only been two weeks since your overdose, yet he was already in bed with someone else—Sierra, of all people. You had known from the moment her name flashed on his notifications that her intentions weren’t pure. And you’d been right.

“I’m leaving for rehab soon,” you said softly, your voice cracking. “And I don’t want to be alone on my last night.”

Calum’s expression darkened, his sadness unmistakable. Without hesitation, he reached out, taking your hand and pulling you inside.

You had managed to keep things normal between you after you had drunkenly hooked up last year, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed the subtle shift. Calum’s gaze lingered too long whenever you were with Luke, his quiet, intense eyes studying you two with something unspoken and unreadable.

“Wanna go out to the terrace?” Calum asked, his voice soft, a faint smile on his lips.

You nodded, taking his hand as you stepped outside into the cool night air. The breeze was crisp, refreshing, and you relished it as a small reprieve from everything weighing you down.

You curled up on one of the couches, pulling your legs to your chest and resting your chin on your knees. Calum slipped back inside for a moment, returning with a rolling tray and a grinder in hand. You laughed lightly.

“I’m supposed to be sober, you know,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“From oxy,” he countered, smirking as he sat down across from you. “Isn’t there a thing called ‘California sober’ or whatever?”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Shut up and roll the joint.”

Calum grinned and got to work, expertly grinding the weed and rolling a joint with practiced ease. He lit the end, taking a long, slow drag before passing it to you. You mirrored his action, inhaling deeply—too deeply—until you erupted into a coughing fit.

“At least I’ll get a decent high,” you wheezed, shaking your head with a small, rueful grin.

“So, rehab,” Calum said, his tone light but tinged with something else—sadness, maybe, or hesitation. His eyes followed yours, searching, as if trying to grasp what wasn’t being said.

You exhaled a plume of smoke, watching it dissolve into the night. “God, don’t remind me,” you muttered, taking another hit before leaning back against the cushions. “Some facility in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, Nebraska. Flight leaves tomorrow.”

The air grew heavy between you, filled with the distant sounds of the city below. You glanced over to find Calum watching you, his brows slightly furrowed.

“I’m gonna miss you,” he said finally, his voice quiet, a casual shrug betraying the weight of his words. “But I guess I’ll see you after?”

Your chest tightened, the lump in your throat rising before you could stop it. You turned to look at him, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Cal,” you began, hesitating for a moment. “I’m moving to London when I get out.”

The words hung heavy in the cool air, their weight settling between you. Calum’s faint smile faded entirely, his expression faltering as your statement sank in.

There was enough space between you that no part of you touched, and for some reason, you hated that.

“You’re leaving?” he asked quietly, his gaze dropping to his shoes. “For good?”

You shook your head, your voice soft. “I’ll be back for filming and work stuff, but I won’t be living in L.A. anymore. I can’t.”

“Because of Luke and Sierra?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You flinched at the name, your stomach twisting with shame and anger. Every mention of Sierra made you feel small, like a fool for ever trusting Luke.

Luke had lied about everything—about seeing Arzaylea before coming to your apartment and claiming to be in love with you, about Sierra, about all of it. If you hadn’t stumbled into his apartment and seen the truth for yourself, you might have still been in the dark.

“Sure,” you sighed, brushing the thought aside. “And my family will be closer. They want to help me stay sober.”

“I could help you.” Calum’s voice was firm, his gaze locked on yours, determined.

Your heart skipped at his words, and unbidden memories of your moments together flashed in your mind—the way you’d gone from indifference to friendship, to that one night that had blurred every line. He’d insisted it remain a one-time thing, but that never stopped him from touching your shoulder softly, or smiling at you like you were the only thing that made the world spin right.

“Cal… no,” you sighed, shaking your head. “I can’t expect that of you.”

A beat of silence passed, heavy and fraught. Then, barely audible, he said, “I’m in love with you.”

You didn’t flinch. You weren't surprised, not really. A sad smile tugged at your lips as you exhaled. “I know,” you murmured. “But this—” you gestured between the two of you, your voice faltering. “How could this ever work?”

He shrugged, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Luke started screwing Sierra despite the fact that she and Ashton had a thing before. It’s not like this would be new territory for us.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “But it’s new for me.”

“So this is it, then? Our goodbye?” Calum’s voice cracked, anger and defeat mingling as his broad shoulders slumped.

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. You wanted to reach for him, to hold him, but your hands stayed firmly at your sides. A fleeting, reckless thought bloomed in the back of your mind—a glimpse of a life where you could stay, where you could fall asleep next to the boy with warm brown eyes and wake up to him every morning, never feeling the ache of leaving again.

Your throat tightened, the words heavy on your tongue. “I can’t say I love you,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of your truth. “But, God, I wish I could.”

The air between you thickened with unspoken longing, a current of electricity passing between your gazes. Calum’s brows furrowed as he took a hesitant step closer, his eyes glimmering with equal parts hurt and hope. “Why not?” he asked softly, his voice trembling.

“Because it’s Luke,” you said, shaking your head. Your voice cracked under the weight of your confession. “You have no idea how badly I wish it could be you. That I could have you in my head every second of every day instead of him. You’ve never hurt me. You love me wholly. You’d never put that love at risk.”

“Then let me be the one in your head,” he pleaded, his voice low and desperate. “Just for tonight.”

Your breath hitched as his words settled in your chest. You looked at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. He was leaning toward you now, his eyes searching yours, desperate.

“Is that really what you want?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“Please, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Let me say goodbye the way I want to.”

Your mouth went dry, and you weren't sure if it was from the weed or the way Calum was looking at you. The idea—the possibility—was strangely appealing.

“Okay,” you breathed.

Slowly, you moved toward him, swinging one leg over his lap to straddle him. You stared at each other for a heartbeat, your hands gently cupping his cold cheeks.

He leaned in first, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed yours, soft and tentative.

The second you registered the kiss, all of your composure unraveled. You sighed against his lips, threading your fingers into his curly hair as the kiss deepened with a fervor that surprised you. His hands slid down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer.

Without breaking the kiss, Calum stood, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you as though you were the only thing grounding him.

He carried you inside with steady determination, the world around you blurring into insignificance. When you finally reached his room, Calum kicked the door shut behind you. The soft rattle set off Duke, who began barking incessantly from somewhere down the hall.

You couldn't help but laugh against his lips, the sound breaking the tension for a moment. Calum pulled back slightly after setting you down in the bed, chuckling as well.

“Duke, calm down,” he called out, his voice amused but firm. Then, turning back to you, a playful smile tugged at his lips. “He always acts up when he knows there's something I want.”

“And what is it that you want?” you whispered, your voice low and teasing as your hands slipped beneath his shirt, your fingers trailing along the hard ridges of his stomach.

Calum's response came in the form of another kiss, deeper and more urgent this time. “You,” he murmured against your lips.

The kiss intensified, your lips moving with a quiet desperation that made your heart race and your stomach flutter. Calum's hands roamed your sides with deliberate care, as if he were memorizing the feel of you.

You matched his fervor, your hands trembling as you tugged at his shirt. This felt different—more intense, more intimate—than the last time. There hadn’t been much hesitation then, just two people driven by pure need, but now, you could feel a semblance of giddy awkwardness in the air.

Calum pulled back just enough to shrug off his shirt, the fabric falling carelessly to the floor. His hands immediately found your face, cupping your cheeks as he brought your lips back to his.

Your hands moved across his bare skin, tracing the curve of his muscles, the lines of his tattoos— a detail you had committed to memory. You tugged him down with you, but he stopped, pulling away slightly with a small smirk.

“Nuh-uh,” he teased, his lips brushing yours. “Your shirt's coming off too, Y/N.”

“Then take it off,” you challenged, your voice breathless and filled with need. “Take everything off. I need you.”

Calum's eyes darkened, his expression shifting from playful to serious in an instant. His hands found the hem of your shirt, and with one swift motion, he pulled it over your head, tossing it aside. One hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you close as his lips claimed yours again.

The other hand moved skillfully to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with ease. The garment slipped away, leaving you bare beneath his touch. Calum's lips moved to your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your skin, his hands sliding down your back and pulling you closer.

His mouth trailed down to your collarbone, grazing the delicate skin with soft nips that made you gasp. Slowly, his lips descended to your chest, capturing your nipple in his mouth with a deliberate tenderness. You let out a quiet moan, your hands tangling in Calum's hair as your eyelids fluttered shut, your breath hitching at the sensation.

“You're so fucking beautiful,” Calum groaned against your skin, his voice filled with awe and desire. His eyes lifted to meet yours, darkened with longing, his pupils blown wide. Slowly, he kissed his way back up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss there before nudging his nose against yours in an intimate gesture that made your chest ache.

But then it hit you—a sudden wave of guilt crashing over you, sharp and cold. What were you doing? Were you just using him? Using his kindness, his patience, and the way he cared about you, all because you didn't want to feel alone? Your body tensed, and you froze, pushing him away slightly.

Calum immediately pulled back, concern flooding his features as his hands cupped your face. “What is it?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, your eyes darting across his face, searching for something—anything—that might tell you he wasn't as sure about this as he claimed. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you asked hesitantly. “I mean, I can't—I can't give you what you want, Cal. I won't even be here most of the time, and—”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “Stop. I want this. I want you.”

Your heart clenched, but you still hesitated, guilt and uncertainty gnawing at you. “Cal, I—”

“Please,” he whispered, his voice dropping to something raw and vulnerable. “Let me have this. Let me have tonight. Just... just let me. Let me give you a proper goodbye. Let me give us a proper goodbye.”

His words hung between you, heavy with longing and unspoken emotion. Your breath hitched, your resolve faltering as you looked into his eyes. There was no hesitation there, no doubt—only a fierce, aching need for you. “Would you let me?” His lips brushed against yours ever so carefully. “Please let me.”

Wordlessly, you nodded, swallowing down your fears, worries, and the ache in your chest.

Calum's smile was soft yet radiant, a quiet reassurance that melted some of your hesitation. You could feel him smiling against your lips as he kissed you again, and before you realized it, your own lips curved into a matching smile. His hands roamed your body with reverence, each touch gentle and deliberate, as if you were something sacred.

With practiced care, he began unbuttoning your jeans, his lips trailing away from your mouth to press heated kisses down your jawline. He lingered near your earlobe, nipping it lightly, and you let out a small, contented sigh. Your hips rose instinctively, allowing him to tug the denim down your legs in one smooth motion.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice rough with want. “You have no idea how long l've been waiting for this.” His mouth found yours again, urgent and insistent, his hips pressing down against your thigh while his fingers trailed lightly down your chest, making you shiver. His lips wandered back to your breasts, lingering there with soft kisses and teasing bites that made you gasp.

“What do you want, Calum?” you gasped, your hips bucking upward, seeking friction with an urgency that made your voice crack. “Tell me.”

When he lifted his gaze to meet yours, the intensity in his eyes stole your breath. They were dark, glazed over, and filled with raw need. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, as though the world could crumble around you and he wouldn't care. “I want to touch you,” he murmured, his voice rough, the words muffled by the kisses he pressed down your sternum.

“Then touch me, baby,” you urged, your fingers threading through the damp curls on his forehead, pushing them back. Your tone was soft, but your words were charged, dripping with encouragement. “Make me feel so good.”

The soft groan that escaped his lips felt almost involuntary, a raw reaction to your words. It sent a shiver through you, straight to your core. His hand slipped beneath your underwear, his fingers finding your clit with precision. He moved in slow, deliberate circles, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

When his fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance, he froze for a moment, as though savoring the sensation. Feeling how ready you were for him, he let out a deep, guttural groan, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, his voice heavy with awe, every word tinged with disbelief. “You're already so wet. Fuck, Y/N... you're perfect.”

His words sent heat rushing through you, your back arching as your body responded to his touch. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatened to spill, but the way he touched you, slow and deliberate yet filled with need, made it impossible.

He didn't wait, slipping a finger inside you with ease, watching your reaction with rapt attention.

You let out a sharp cry, your back arching instinctively as pleasure shot through you. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped, your fingers threading tighter through Calum's hair, holding him close. “Just like that, baby.”

Calum moved with deliberate care, curling his finger inside you, his steady rhythm coaxing soft, breathless moans from your lips.

Every movement seemed calculated to draw you closer to the edge, yet it was laced with tenderness that left you dizzy. The way your body responded to his touch had his lips parting, his breath hitching in admiration as if he couldn't believe what he was witnessing.

“That feels so good,” you sighed, your voice trembling as your nails lightly scraped the nape of his neck. “You're doing so good.”

Your praise sent a shiver through him, and his eyes darkened further, his pupils blown wide with desire. His breath came faster, his hips rutting against you involuntarily as though he needed you even more than you needed him. “You sound so pretty,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with reverence, though there was an edge of desperation to it, almost a whine. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You pulled at his hair, your eyes falling shut in bliss. Calum was working his fingers at a steady pace, moaning as if he too was the one getting off. The fact that he was so worked up by the mere fact that he’d been touching you made a wave of heat rush down your body.

His lips kissed down your torso, leaving no mark of your skin unkissed. “I need to taste you,” he gasped, continuing to inch down your body. He was shaking with anticipation, fingers never faltering. “You’re so wet and so pretty, and it’s all for me. I did that to you.”

You nodded rapidly, another moan falling from your lips. “Need your mouth on me,” Calum’s breath hitched at your words, his kisses down your body growing more sloppy by the second. He didn’t waste any time in pushing your legs open, taking deliberate care to suck at the skin of your hipbone.

You propped yourself on your elbows, watching through half lidded eyes as Calum finally pressed a small kiss to your inner thigh. Already fed up, you let out a frustrated mewl. “Cal, please.”

Calum’s entire body shuddered, and you saw the way his eyes widened momentarily before his mouth latched on to your clit. He let out a moan against you when the taste of you overwhelmed his senses, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes essentially rolled back into his head.

“You’re so dreamy like this,” you gasped, his lips sucking at your sensitive bud enough to make your legs shake around his head. “You make me feel so good— oh, fuck, just like that.”

Calum let out a shaky whine, his hips grinding involuntarily against the mattress as he looked up at you, his wide, awe-filled eyes glistening with unspoken devotion. His movements were uncoordinated, almost frantic, as though he was utterly consumed by you, his tongue lapping and sucking at your clit with an intensity so raw it sent shockwaves through your trembling legs.

“You taste so good,” he panted, his voice unsteady and reverent between his breathless licks. “Your thighs are shaking— fuck, I did that to you. I made you feel like this.”

You bit your lip hard, your eyes squeezing shut as the tidal wave of sensation crashed through you. Every nerve in your body felt alive, strung out on the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you. Calum's hands wandered your torso with a desperation that bordered on worship, gripping your skin tightly, as if grounding himself in the reality of you.

Stars burst behind your eyelids as your body arched into his touch, the sensation cresting to an unbearable peak. The sight of him—his flushed cheeks, his lips glistening with you, his pupils blown wide with adoration—was almost too much. You needed more, needed him closer, needed all of him.

Reaching down, you tangled your fingers gently in his curls, tugging him away from your overstimulated clit. Calum let out a soft, almost pitiful moan of protest, his lips brushing against your skin as though he couldn't bear to let go. Still, he obeyed, letting you guide him back up your body, his warm breath fanning over your skin with each ragged inhale.

Your lips met in a kiss so heated it left you dizzy, your mouths colliding with a fervent need that neither could deny. You could taste yourself on his tongue, a heady reminder of how completely Calum had given himself to you. The realization sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you.

Calum let out a broken whimper against your lips, his whole body trembling as though he was barely holding himself together. “Y/N,” he choked out, his voice laced with desperation, his breath coming in shallow pants. “I need you. I need all of you. Please. I don't know how much longer I can wait.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and your heart pounded in your chest as you looked into his wide, awe-stricken eyes. His pupils were blown with need, his lips slightly parted as he hovered over you, waiting for permission like his entire world depended on your answer.

“Fuck me,” you breathed, pulling him down into another kiss that was all heat and urgency. “Don't wait anymore. Just fuck me.”

Calum let out a soft, broken sound, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he nodded, his curls tickling your skin. He kissed the sensitive spot just below your ear, his lips trailing down your neck with a desperation that made your body ache for him even more.

When he sucked hard enough to leave a mark, you arched into him, your hands tangling in his hair, too far gone to care about anything else.

“Y/N,” he gasped, his voice raw and shaking as his hands roamed your body, both frantic and reverent, like he couldn't touch enough of you at once. “You don't understand. I'd do anything for you. Anything. Just say the word.”

Your breath hitched at the sheer devotion in his voice, the weight of his words crashing over you like a wave. You swallowed hard, your hands moving to cradle his face as you met his gaze. “I just need you inside me right now,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you.

You watched as Calum reached over to his bedside table, pulling out a condom and hardly ripping the packet open with his teeth. Your eyes followed his movements as he rolled the rubber down in his length. Calum let out a shuddering breath, his hands trembling as he positioned himself between your thighs. He hesitated, his gaze flickering up to yours as if silently asking for reassurance. You cupped his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek with a tenderness that made his breath hitch.

“C’mon baby,” you gasped.

With a shaky nod, he sank into you slowly as though he never wanted the moment to end. A whimper escaped Calum’s lips, a sound so deep and guttural that it made you moan. Your nails sank into his back, and Calum’s head fell forward against your shoulder.

Calum was trembling, his breath coming in ragged pants as he pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your shoulder. “You feel so good,” he whispered, his voice tight with strain, barely holding himself together. “I never want this to end.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, the intensity of the moment washing over you as you felt him stretch you in ways that made you gasp.

When he began to move, a sharp hiss escaped your lips, and Calum froze instantly, his entire body going rigid. His head snapped up, wide eyes filled with concern as they searched your face.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent, laced with worry.

You bit your lip, nodding slowly as you forced yourself to take a steadying breath. “Yeah,” you said, your voice airy, cheeks flushed. “It's just... it's been a while, and... you're kinda big.”

For a moment, there was silence, and then Calum let out a soft, startled laugh. The sound was rich and genuine, shaking his entire body as the tension melted from his face. His amusement was contagious, and soon enough, you found yourself laughing with him, the shared moment easing the intensity between you.

Still smiling, you reached up, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging him closer until his forehead rested gently against yours. Your laughter softened into quiet breaths, your noses brushing as you lingered in the intimacy of the moment.

“You can move,” you whispered, your voice steady now, laced with trust and anticipation.

Calum exhaled deeply, his eyes darkening with emotion as he nodded, pressing a tender kiss to your lips before he began to move again. This time, his movements were slow and deliberate, his focus entirely on you, his body attuned to yours as you fell into a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing.

You cried out his name again, your nails digging into his back as your legs tightened around his waist. Calum's movements grew more purposeful, his hips snapping against yours with a need that was almost overwhelming. His eyes never left your face, drinking in every gasp and moan as if they were the only sounds in the world.

“You're so perfect,” he breathed, his voice cracking with emotion. He leaned down, brushing his lips over yours in a tender kiss that contrasted sharply with the intensity of his thrusts. “I don't know how I can-fuck, you feel so good. So perfect, Y/N.”

Your body arched beneath him when he shifted slightly, thrusting deeper and hitting the spot that made your toes curl. A sharp cry tore from your throat, your body trembling from the intensity. “You're doing so good,” you gasped, your praise deliberate as you ran your hands down his sweat-slicked back. “You fuck me so good, Calum. Just like that, baby.”

Calum let out a broken moan, his head dropping against your shoulder as your words seemed to ignite something in him. His hips moved faster now, each thrust harder than the last, as if he was trying to lose himself entirely in you. His hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit. He hesitated for only a moment before pressing against it, rubbing fast, precise circles that made your breath hitch.

“You're amazing,” he panted, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. His voice was wrecked, thick with desperation and adoration. “I just want to make you feel good. Tell me I'm doing it right. Please.”

You let out a whimper, your body seemingly on fire with the intensity of the pleasure. You tangled your fingers in his curls, muttering unintelligible encouragement under your breath. You looked at him, the way his cheeks were flushed with the exertion and desire, and you gave him a breathless smile. “You’re going so good, Cal,” you moaned. “I’m so close.”

Calum’s movements were erratic and eager, desperate to feel you come undone beneath him. His hips stuttered as he tried to maintain the rhythm that had you falling apart beneath him. He was panting hard, moaning your name in breathless pleas. Your nails raked down his back, only spurring Calum on.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his fingers continuing their assault on your clit that made your legs shake uncontrollably. “Please, I need you to come for me. God, I need to feel you clench around me— please baby, fuck. Come on my cock, I can’t hold on much longer.”

Your breath hitched, eyelids fluttering close as you felt the familiar coil begin to tighten in your belly. Sweat was building up on your skin, but you didn’t mind. “Calum— oh my God, please don’t stop.” The combination of his desperation, his eagerness to make you feel good, and the relentless pace of his hips and fingers sent you over the edge.

You came with a loud cry, your lips shaping Calum’s name, your thighs shaking as another shattered moan escaped you. Your vision blurred, your nails digging into Calum’s back as you clung to him, peppering his shoulder with kisses.

“Oh fuck,” Calum groaned, his voice strained with desperation. “You look so pretty falling apart for me, making all my dreams come true.” His thrusts became erratic and messy as he chased his release, his hands gripping your waist like a lifeline as you clenched around him, pulling him deeper.

“Y/N, I'm gonna—” His sentence broke off into a loud whimper, his face burying into the crook of your neck as he feverishly kissed your damp skin.

“Come for me, baby,” you panted, your voice thick with pleasure as your fingers trailed up and down his back before gripping his biceps for support. “You did so good, made me feel so good. Let go for me.”

His body shuddered violently, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he spilled into the condom with a raw, guttural cry. He whispered your name like a prayer, his voice trembling as aftershocks wracked his body.

Shallow, instinctive thrusts carried him through his orgasm, his movements slowly stilling as the tension drained from him.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing. Your bodies were pressed together, skin slick with sweat, and the weight of him above you was grounding, comforting in a way neither of you could fully explain.

Calum finally pulled away with a soft sigh, rolling off you carefully. His hands were gentle as he removed the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the trash can by the bed. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, your gaze tracing the sharp contours of his body, the way the moonlight filtered through the window and illuminated his tattoos in a soft, ethereal glow.

You knew Calum was beautiful—you always had, even when he’d been less than kind to you. But now, there was something different about him, something raw and desperate. You wondered how they had gone from mutual animosity to Calum being so deeply in love with you that he would settle for just one night of your pretending.

But were you pretending?

The thought lingered in your mind, heavy and uncertain.

“You're beautiful, you know that?” you murmured, your voice quiet but full of admiration as your eyes lingered on him.

Calum turned to face you, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He climbed back into bed, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. “I’m the lucky one,” he whispered against your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. His thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone and then the outline of your lips as though memorizing every detail. Your eyes stayed locked on his, searching for something you couldn’t quite name.

“Stay,” he mumbled, his voice heavy with exhaustion and something softer—hope. “Your flight leaves tomorrow. Just stay the night. I’ll take you there.”

You frowned, your hand instinctively coming to cover his. You didn’t answer immediately, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. This night had been one of the best you’d had in a long time, a reprieve from the chaos in your mind. And yet, that knowledge brought an ache you didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Calum…” you hesitated, your voice softer now, almost unsure. “I don’t know if I should.”

His hand tightened gently against yours as he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss so tender it stole the air from your lungs. His palm moved to the back of your neck, his touch reverent, urging you closer. Your bare chests pressed together, his other hand settling at the small of your back, anchoring you to him.

When he pulled away, the weight of reality sank between you. You were leaving—leaving this moment, leaving him—and as terrifying as the thought was, it also carried a bittersweet freedom. Leaving Calum meant leaving behind the pain Luke had caused, a fresh start that felt both liberating and heartbreaking.

“Please,” he whispered against your lips, his voice fragile, each word carrying the weight of his longing. He held his breath, his eyes searching yours for even the smallest trace of hope.

You bit your lip, the turmoil in your chest almost too much to bear. You knew what you should do, but you also knew what you wanted—at least for now.

“I’ll stay,” you finally said, your voice steady despite the storm inside you. “Just for tonight.”

Calum exhaled softly, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as relief washed over his features. For now, it was enough. Just tonight, it could be enough.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

i hope you guys enjoyed, and if you sent in a request just know that i saw it and i’m working on it! there are many writing projects that i’ve been juggling so i’m sorry in advance if it takes a little long for it to be posted <33

[souperbloom]

miss you, i’m looking forward to your next post

i miss you more 🫰 new soup for the soul coming soon!!!

[souperbloom]

kissy face :c <3

Ashton posted on IG — Feb. 4th, 2024

[souperbloom]

YOU’RE FUCKING INSANE.

A Flower Bud In Concrete

MDNI

pairing: ashton irwin x hemmings!reader

summary: a surprising reaction to a negative pregnancy test has you and ashton discovering some new kinks

warnings: absolute filth be warned, heavy breeding kink, dirty talk, slight oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, cum play, fingering, hair pulling, choking, mentions of COVID-19

word count: 5.9k

a/n: LAWD it’s about damn fucking time i write for ashton. the things i would let him do to me YOU DONT GET IT. anyway this is absolutely the filthiest thing i have ever written and i love it, huge thank you to a special someone for helping me out w this, your filthy brain never ceases to amaze me. anyways, hope you guys enjoy some filthy quarantine (post?) smut with black haired ashton because i loved writing it

also, this was inspired by @souperbloom and their AMAZING ashton blurb “island time” which you NEED to read.

Copyright © 2024 kaleidoscopecth. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The word messy didn’t even begin to describe your life. It was almost comical, the way everything had derailed so quickly—like the universe had yanked the rug out from under you, leaving you to scramble in the aftermath.

Your mind spun as you sat in your car, staring at the unopened test on the passenger seat. The small box seemed to glare back at you, taunting you with the weight of fear it carried. Just looking at it made your stomach churn, flashes of a future you didn’t dare let yourself imagine creeping into your thoughts. You shoved them away just as quickly, refusing to let yourself hope for something that felt so far out of reach.

Your phone sat untouched on your lap, the weight of it somehow heavier than it should have been. You hadn’t even pulled out of the driveway yet, but the thought of what you were about to do made you want to retreat into the safety of your car forever. With shaky hands, you picked it up, your fingers hovering over the screen before you numbly dialed the number you dreaded.

Ashton, of course, didn’t take long to answer. He picked up on the second ring, his voice bright and cheerful as always. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, the smile in his tone almost palpable. “Didn’t think I’d hear from you today. You coming over? ‘Cause if so, I should probably clean—”

“You don’t have to clean up anything,” you interrupted, your voice sharper than you intended as you bit down on your bottom lip. You stared at your lap, the words you needed to say catching in your throat. Finally, you forced them out. “I have a test… I’m late. And, uh, I figured I should be with you when I figure out why.”

The other end of the line went silent, the lack of response from Ashton tightening the knot of stress already coiled in your chest. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, waiting, the quiet stretching unbearably.

“Does Luke know?” he asked at last, clearing his throat as if trying to sound casual.

You shut your eyes, frustration flaring at the mention of your little brother. “Why the hell would he know if he has no idea about us?”

“Right, right,” Ashton groaned, his tone sheepish. There was a pause before he continued, softer now. “Okay, well… I’ll see you soon, alright? You’ll take the test, and we’ll figure it out from there. Just like we always do.”

His voice was so kind, so gentle and reassuring that you could almost cry. “Okay,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper as you let out the breath you had been holding.

“Don’t sweat it, babe,” he reassured, the nickname falling off his lips without any hesitation. It sounded almost natural, and it definitely made your stomach tighten. “Everything will be fine.”

You frowned, looking out your window and taking in the relatively sunny day. “Yeah, I guess so,” you mumbled. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

Ashton shifted in the other line. “Drive safe.”

The call hung up with a soft click after that, leaving you once again in anxious silence. You threw your head back against the seat, letting out a long, defeated sigh as your hands came up to grip the wheel.

You first met Ashton when he was just a scrawny kid with hair that swooped over his eyes—your little brother’s annoying friend. Despite being only a year older than him, his friendship with Luke made him feel much younger in your eyes.

When your acting career started taking off, you didn’t give Ashton—or anyone else from those days—much thought. At least, not until their cute little YouTube covers got discovered and their band skyrocketed to fame. Thanks to your close relationship with Luke, you began seeing more of his bandmates.

Ashton always lingered a little closer than the others, his nervous energy unmistakable. The rest of the boys treated you like their older sister—occasionally annoying, but familiar and comfortable. It was obvious Ashton’s feelings were different, but you never dwelled on it.

Not when you met Daniel. He was everything you thought you wanted—kind, charming, and effortlessly sweet. You’d been hesitant at first, unsure if your feelings would match his, but he quickly swept you off your feet.

For nearly five years, the two of you were happy together. Everyone in your life adored him—even Jack, who could be overbearing at times, warmed to him easily.

He was everything to you, his smile brighter than the sun itself. Daniel had shown you a new side of life, filling it with warmth and the promise of forever. But promises are fragile things, and eventually, he broke his—leaving you shattered and alone to gather the pieces of your broken heart.

As if that wasn’t enough, the world began to crumble around you. Whispers of a new illness dominated every conversation, and soon enough, isolation became your reality. Alone in your home, with no one for company but your own thoughts, you struggled to hold on. Work had slowed to a crawl, and seeing friends was too risky.

Ashton had always been the kind of person who would give you the shirt off his back without hesitation. His compassion extended to everyone in his orbit, always checking in to make sure they were okay. So when your phone lit up with his call, something inside you broke.

You poured your heart out, tears spilling as he listened to every word of your pain. He let you cry, soothing you with soft words and a patient ear. You felt terrible about it—he’d only been calling to check in out of kindness, not to become a makeshift therapist.

You apologized over and over, feeling guilty for taking up his time, insisting that what you really needed was professional help. But Ashton wouldn’t hear of it. He reassured you, his voice firm yet gentle, that it was no trouble at all. “I’m happy to listen,” he said. And you believed him.

That’s how it started—a strange kind of pen-pal relationship born out of quarantine. It became rare for you not to be on the phone with Ashton. What began as conversations about Daniel and your heartbreak gradually turned into something lighter. You talked about life, movies you’d seen, and the places you’d go when the world opened up again.

One night, during one of your usual calls, Ashton said something that made your breath hitch. His voice, normally so confident, was uncharacteristically shy.

“Yeah, so… basically,” he started, hesitating for a moment. “I only called you. At first, anyway. I was bored out of my mind, sitting in the house with nothing to do. And—I don’t know—I just found myself dialing your number. I’m glad I did.”

That confession had shifted something inside you. Ashton—who had always just been Ashton—suddenly became something else entirely. You started noticing the little things: the way his cheeks dimpled when he smiled, how a stray black curl would occasionally fall over his face, or the intense focus in his eyes when he drummed.

When restrictions eased, your friendship transitioned from FaceTime calls to in-person hangouts. Being around Ashton felt surprisingly effortless. He had a way of calming your nerves with a joke or a warm smile, and sometimes, you couldn’t help but notice how his touch lingered just a little longer than necessary.

One night, the two of you got carried away, talking late into the night.

“Shit,” you groaned, glancing at the time on your phone. “It’s so late.”

Ashton just smiled, shifting closer to you on the sofa. His eyes were red from the blunt you’d shared earlier, but they still sparkled with that familiar brightness. “So stay,” he said casually. “I don’t see why you should go.”

The thought of returning to your lonely house made your stomach sink. Staying with Ashton, basking in the warmth of his company, felt like the only right choice. But one thing was clear: if you stayed, if your eyes kept flicking to his lips, you would do something you might regret.

And you told him that.

Maybe it was the weed loosening your tongue, or maybe it was the way Ashton looked so unfairly good in his old muscle tee and shorts, but the words spilled out before you could stop them.

To your surprise, Ashton’s lips curved into a slow, teasing smirk. “What if I want you to?” he murmured, leaning impossibly closer. His hand lifted to your face, his fingers lightly tracing along your jaw and down your neck. His eyes never left yours, their intensity making your heart race.

So you gave into your innermost desires and kissed him. And he kissed you back.

The next thing you knew, you were a tangle of limbs on the carpet, the crackling fire casting shadows of your moving bodies across the room as muffled moans filled the space.

That’s how it started—how your unconventional relationship began. You’d made it clear from the beginning that you wanted to take things slow, unsure if moving on from Daniel so soon was the right decision. You and Ashton agreed to keep things casual for now, just hooking up and seeing where it led.

Another mutual decision was to keep your arrangement private—especially from Luke. Your little brother had always been harmless, and you weren’t worried he’d be angry about your relationship with Ashton. But you didn’t want to get his hopes up either. Luke would’ve been over the moon if he found out his best friend and his sister were together, so until you both were certain about where this was headed, Luke would remain in the dark.

For a few months, it worked seamlessly. Life had started to regain a semblance of normalcy as the year drew to a close. That was until your period decided to throw you a curveball.

The drive to Ashton’s place was filled with anxious thoughts and worst-case scenarios playing on a loop in your mind. By the time you pulled up to his house, your hands were clammy from gripping the steering wheel, and the box of pregnancy tests in your lap felt heavier than it should.

You rang the doorbell, clutching the box tightly as if it were a lifeline. Ashton took a few seconds to answer, but when he opened the door, his warm smile melted a fraction of your fear.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he greeted, pulling you in by the waist and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. His easy affection steadied you, if only for a moment.

“Hey, Ash,” you murmured, your voice barely audible against his lips. Pulling back slightly, you met his gaze, searching for any sign of unease or irritation. All you found was concern and affection in his hazel eyes.

Ashton frowned, his hand coming up to cradle your face. His thumb brushed gently across your cheekbone, and he gave you that signature reassuring smile. “Go take the test. Whatever it says, we’ll figure it out together.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning forward to rest your head against his chest. For a moment, you allowed yourself to stay there, wrapped in the safety of his arms, wishing you could freeze time and keep the weight of reality at bay.

But you couldn’t hide forever. Reluctantly, you pulled back, giving him a weak, trembling smile. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“I’ll see you on the other side, Y/N,” Ashton replied with a small nod, his voice steady as he let you go.

With your heart pounding, you walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You avoided your reflection in the mirror, unwilling to face the physical manifestation of your nerves.

Hands shaking, you unwrapped the first test and let out a deep, uneven sigh. The whole thing felt absurdly humiliating—peeing on a stick to determine the course of your future. In another situation, you might have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

But this wasn’t that kind of moment.

You capped the test and placed it on the sink, refusing to look at it as the seconds ticked by and the result formed. There was no use in dwelling on it, or stalling the results, so with a deep breath, you reached out and shakily grabbed the test.

Not pregnant.

The words were blunt and stark, staring back at you with an unrelenting certainty. Yet, a sudden surge of denial hit you. That couldn’t be possible, could it?

You had expected relief to come with those two words, but it didn’t. Instead, tears pricked at your eyes, and you slumped onto the closed toilet seat, unable to tear your gaze away from the test in your trembling hand.

How insane did you have to be to feel sad over a negative pregnancy test? The thought rattled in your mind as a quiet sob escaped your lips.

You had always wanted kids—or at least one. The idea of becoming a mother had been a dream you carried for as long as you could remember. It was a dream that had, in part, torn your relationship with Daniel to shreds. He had made it abundantly clear he didn’t want kids, especially not when you and he had faced a similar predicament.

But you did. You wanted one with everything in you.

Your chest tightened as you shut your eyes tightly, trying to push away the ache clawing at your heart. Maybe it was for the best, you told yourself. After all, you and Ashton hadn’t even defined the status of your relationship. You hadn’t dared to dream of having that kind of conversation, let alone one about kids.

Still, the weight of disappointment was unbearable as you wiped your face and mustered the strength to walk out of the bathroom. Ashton was standing a few feet away, leaning against the wall, nervously biting his nails.

His gaze snapped to you the moment you appeared, his body straightening as he pushed off the wall. He looked tense, his brows slightly furrowed, his hands fidgeting.

“Well?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly with the anxiety he was trying to mask.

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to keep any trace of emotion out of your voice. “I’m not pregnant,” you said evenly, squaring your shoulders as you met his eyes.

For a moment, Ashton’s expression softened, something flickering across his face that you couldn’t quite place. But then, to your utter surprise, you caught a glimpse of disappointment.

Your eyebrows shot up in shock as you instinctively crossed your arms over your chest, your protective wall snapping into place.

“Let’s have a kid,” Ashton breathed, the words tumbling out as if he hadn’t thought twice. His eyes locked onto yours, wide and earnest, his tone full of sincerity.

You drew in a sharp breath, blinking rapidly, your mind struggling to process what he’d just said. There was no way he could possibly mean it.

“Ashton,” you said incredulously, your tone laced with disbelief, “we just lost our shit thinking I might be pregnant. And besides”—your voice rose slightly as your confusion gave way to frustration—“we’re not even together. Not really.”

Ashton shook his head, closing the distance between you in a few determined strides. His hands cupped your face, his breath warm and slightly uneven. “We are now,” he murmured, an excited gleam lighting up his hazel eyes. “So let’s have a kid. You and me.”

For a moment, you were frozen, staring at him in stunned disbelief. This had to be some kind of sick joke. Who in their right mind would randomly decide to have a baby on a whim—especially with someone they were just casually hooking up with?

But then again, there had never been anything truly casual about you and Ashton. Not the way his touch lingered, how his kisses felt like promises, or how his presence made everything seem softer, lighter, easier. It had always been more than either of you admitted aloud.

His gaze stayed locked on yours, wide and earnest, as if begging you to say yes.

“You were freaking out,” you whispered, though the fight had already left your voice. Deep down, you were searching for any sign that Ashton might back out of this sudden decision, that he might have second thoughts.

Instead, he just shrugged, his lips curving into a soft, hopeful smile. “I was,” he admitted. “But then I started thinking—I love you, Y/N. I always have, and I always will. And even though this isn’t the most conventional way, I’d love to make something real with you. And that something?” His voice dropped, full of quiet conviction. “It definitely involves a baby.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your brows furrowing as you tried to process his words. Who in their right mind would agree to this?

Apparently, that someone was you.

“Okay,” you said, your voice soft but steady, a spark of excitement rising to the surface and chasing away your fear. “Let’s have a baby.”

Ashton’s face lit up with pure, unfiltered joy. He let out a triumphant whoop, his hands moving to your waist as he lifted you effortlessly, spinning you in the air. Laughter bubbled out of you, breathless and giddy, as the weight of uncertainty slipped away, replaced by something far more exhilarating.

“I love you too,” you mumbled breathlessly as Ashton set you down gently. You were still giddy, your mind flashing with images of your possible new future. Your hands came up to Ashton’s shoulders, watching him.

His hands lingered at your waist for a second, his eyes softening even more. His smile was radiant, lighting up the room, and he looked almost boyish. Your heart swelled in your chest as you looked at him.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” you breathed, nervous laughter bubbling up inside you. “We’re really going to do this?”

Ashton laughed, leaning his forehead against yours. “We’re doing this,” he confirmed, his voice sure and steady. He brought his hand up to cup your face, his thumb briefly brushing over your bottom lip. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

A faint blush krept up your cheeks, the words lighting a fire inside you that was almost surprising in its intensity. You should have been scared, after all, your life was going to forever be altered, but it was exhilarating.

”What now?” you asked softly, your fingers absentmindedly brushing through Ashton's hair. The jet-black color suited him far more than you wanted to admit, and the sight of him like this-confident, certain, and utterly yours-sent a thrill down your spine. “Where do we even start?”

Ashton's eyes darkened, his lips curving into a devilish smirk as his gaze locked with yours. “We start by making that baby, of course,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. The playful elation in his tone had shifted, replaced by something deeper, more primal.

The heat in his voice sent a shiver racing through you, and you swallowed hard, excitement and nerves dancing in your chest.

Ashton didn't wait for you to respond. Instead, he closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

It was demanding and all-consuming, leaving no room for second-guessing. His arms tightened around your waist, holding you flush against him as his lips moved against yours with practiced skill. You melted into his touch, your hands threading into his hair, tugging just enough to elicit a low groan from him.

Ashton coaxed your lips open with teasing nips and soft bites, his tongue sweeping over yours, tasting you like he couldn't get enough. A muffled moan escaped you as you felt him lift you effortlessly, his grip firm but careful as he carried you through the room.

The world tilted slightly, and before you could process where he was taking you, your back met the cool surface of the kitchen counter. You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, smirking as your eyes met his. “The kitchen, Ash? Can't even wait until the bedroom?”

“Too far,” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky with need. “Need you now.”

Before you could respond, you heard the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing. Your jaw dropped as you looked down to see your shirt now hanging in shreds, the pieces slipping from your shoulders. “Ashton!” you gasped, half-laughing, half-scolding. “You ripped my shirt!”

He pulled back briefly, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “It was mine first,” he said nonchalantly, his mouth returning to your neck to leave a trail of kisses. “You can steal another one later.”

You couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of you, though it quickly turned into a sharp gasp when his lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear, making your breath hitch. His hands roamed your body freely, sliding up your back to unclasp your bra with practiced ease.

When his calloused hands cupped your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze, a soft groan escaped your lips. Ashton took it as encouragement, his fingers teasing your nipple. His mouth followed soon after, trailing hot kisses down your chest before capturing your nipple between his lips.

Your head fell back as he gently nipped at it with his teeth, a moan spilling from you.

Meanwhile, his other hand began its slow descent down your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your shorts. “God, you're gonna look so pretty, all full of my cum,” he growled against your skin, tugging the fabric of your shorts down your legs.

Ashton's mouth continued its heated journey down your body, every inch of you humming with anticipation. The thought of him finishing inside you sent a thrill through you that you couldn't deny, and as he kissed along your stomach, pausing at your hip bone, you couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

When he looked up, his hazel eyes were dark and glassy with lust. His teeth caught the edge of your underwear, and you let out a soft gasp as he began to pull them down, agonizingly slow.

Ashton let your underwear fall to the floor, his hands gentle as he spread your thighs apart. His lips parted slightly as he took in the sight of you, laid out on the kitchen counter, wet and glistening just for him. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, quickly yanking off his sweater and tossing it somewhere in the room without a second thought.

His hands slid up your thighs with deliberate slowness, his touch sending shivers through your body. He traced a single finger along your folds, biting his lip as he collected your arousal. “You're so pretty for me,” he murmured, voice husky. “Such a pretty pussy.”

When his finger slipped inside you, a sharp gasp escaped your lips, and your back arched off the counter instinctively. Heat flooded through you as he added a second finger, curling them just right, finding that spot inside you with practiced precision. A loud moan spilled from your throat, your body trembling under his touch.

His lips found your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin, marking you without hesitation. “Since we're telling everyone we're together now,” he murmured between kisses, his breath hot against your skin, “I'm gonna make sure they know. You're mine.”

“I'm yours,” you whimpered, your voice breathless and needy as his fingers sped up, your legs shaking with the intensity of it all. If he kept this up, you wouldn't last much longer.

Ashton hummed in satisfaction, his lips curving into a smile against your neck.“That's right, baby. You're mine. Gonna fill you up to the brim, put a baby inside you. Isn't that right, pretty?”

You nodded frantically, tugging at his hair for something to ground yourself. His words only spurred you on, the heat in your core building to a fever pitch. But just as you were about to tip over the edge, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty and desperate.

A frustrated whine escaped your lips as you propped yourself up on your elbows, ready to protest. But your words died in your throat when you saw Ashton hastily kicking off his jeans.

When he pulled down his black boxers, freeing himself, your eyes widened. You had been with Ashton countless times, but he had never looked so painfully hard. His cock stood thick and ready, the tip an angry shade of red, glistening with his own arousal.

Before you could fully process the sight before you, Ashton's hands were on your hips, pulling you off the counter. He gave you no chance to protest, spinning you around and bending you over the cold surface.

“You're gonna take all of me,” Ashton growled, his voice low and commanding as he lined himself up with you. “And you're gonna love every second of it. Be a good girl for me. Good girls get my cum.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, and your hands gripped the edge of the counter so hard your knuckles turned white. “I’ll be a good girl,” you gasped, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Ash. I want you to fill me up. Please.”

A smirk played on his lips as his hand slid around your waist and down between your legs, his fingers expertly teasing your clit.

The sensation sent shockwaves through you, making your knees buckle slightly. Your moans grew louder as Ashton ran the tip of his cock along your entrance, the teasing driving you to the brink.

“Beg for it, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dripping with dominance, his fingers working you mercilessly. Every nerve in your body was alight, your need for him consuming every thought.

“Please,” you cried, your voice breaking into a small sob. “I need you, Ash. Fill me up, stretch me out, put a baby in me—please, I'm begging you.”

Ashton groaned low in his throat at your words, his control slipping as he finally pushed into you, slow and deliberate. “That's my good girl,” he rasped, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried himself inside you inch by inch. “And you're gonna take every single bit of me, aren't you?”

The stretch of Ashton finally filling you up was overwhelming, nearly enough to tip you over the edge instantly. You didn't know how you'd gotten so worked up, but as he buried himself to the hilt, the sensation was so intense tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you whimpered, your voice trembling. Ashton's hand trailed up your back, settling around the back of your neck, his grip firm but not overwhelming.

“Yeah? You like being stretched out like this?” he rasped, his voice thick with arousal, his hips unmoving as he stayed buried deep. “You're so fucking tight, baby. You feel so good wrapped around me. I'm gonna come so hard for you, so deep.”

A soft whimper escaped your lips, your frustration building as Ashton still refused to move. His free hand roamed down your body, squeezing your hip before pulling back and landing a sharp slap on your ass.

The sting sent a jolt through your body, making you clench around him involuntarily. Ashton groaned low in his throat, the sound deep and guttural. “God, I wish you could see yourself right now,” he muttered, smirking as he delivered another sharp smack to your ass. This time, the moan that escaped you was loud and unrestrained. “So pretty, bent over a counter for me, taking me so well.”

You nodded eagerly, your eyes squeezed shut, every nerve in your body focused on the feeling of Ashton filling you. “You're so warm,” he groaned, his hips shifting just slightly. “I need to hear you. Every gasp, every moan— want it all. If you hold back from me, baby, you'll regret it. Got it?”

The threat sent a shiver down your spine. His earlier promise not to finish inside you if you misbehaved hung heavy in your mind, the thought alone making your chest tighten with desperation. “Fuck me,” you begged, your voice shaky and whiny. “Please, Ash, just move already.”

Ashton let out a low chuckle, dark and taunting. “So needy, aren't you, sweetheart?” he teased, his words dripping with smug amusement. Before you could respond, he pulled out of you slowly, the sensation drawing a loud moan from your lips.

“Don't whine,” he chided, his tone sharp but playful. “You're gonna take what I give you.”

But mercifully, Ashton seemed to decide your torture had gone on long enough. On his next thrust, he pulled out almost completely before slamming back into you, the sudden force stealing the air from your lungs. A yelp tore from your throat as his hand tightened in your hair, pulling your head back slightly.

Ashton set a punishing rhythm, his hips slapping against yours with every thrust. The lewd sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, mingling with your loud, uncontrollable moans. The delicious friction he created with each movement made your legs shake, the intensity overwhelming.

“That's it, good girl,” Ashton purred, his voice dripping with approval. “You take me so well. Can't wait till you're all round and pretty for me,”he murmured, his thrusts growing harder, more deliberate. “All mine. My perfect little cum slut.”

The possessive tone in his voice made your entire body shudder. His hand tugged at your hair again, pulling you upright and flush against his chest. His other hand slid up to knead your breasts, his fingers tweaking and teasing your nipples as he continued to thrust into you relentlessly.

One hand slowly slid up to your neck, wrapping around it gently before applying just enough pressure to make your head spin. The dizziness only heightened the pleasure coursing through you, amplifying every sensation.

But Ashton didn't hold for long. His hand eased away, and your hearing slowly returned as you gasped for breath. He released your nipple and pushed you back down onto the counter, his voice low and rough. “So fucking perfect,” he groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair again, using it for leverage as he pounded into you harder.

The heat of his movements, his filthy words, and the way he dominated every inch of your body brought you closer and closer to the edge. Your moans and whimpers grew louder, each pull of his hand in your hair sending a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure rippling through you.

“Baby, I'm close—” you choked out, your voice breaking with need.

“Yeah?” Ashton rasped, his hips never losing their relentless rhythm. One hand slid between your legs, finding your clit and teasing it with quick, precise circles. The intensity made your breath hitch, and he leaned in, his voice dark and commanding. “Come for me, baby. Show me how good I make you feel. Show me how much you love my cock.”

You couldn't hold back. Between his unforgiving thrusts, his dirty words, and the way his fingers worked you with expert precision, the pressure inside you finally snapped. A loud cry tore from your throat as you came, your entire body trembling violently with the force of your release.

Ashton's lips brushed your ear as you shook beneath him. “Just like that, sweetheart,” he murmured, his fingers never faltering even as your body slowly began to come down from its high.

“Ashton,” you gasped, your legs trembling uncontrollably. “Fill me up, baby. Please— need your cum.”

His breathing was ragged, his pace becoming erratic as he chased his own release. “I'm close, baby,” he groaned, his hand slipping away from your clit to grip your hips tightly. His movements grew sloppy, and he buried himself deeper with each thrust. “I'm gonna come so deep inside you. Gonna fill you up, make you mine, put a baby in you.”

It didn't take long before Ashton's rhythm faltered, and he let out a broken whimper of your name. His body shuddered as he spilled into you, the warmth of him flooding your core just as he'd promised. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, each twitch of his cock making you moan softly.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, completely still except for your heaving breaths. The only sound filling the kitchen was the ragged symphony of your labored gasps. Your body felt boneless, leaning heavily against the counter to stay upright.

Ashton pressed soft kisses along your shoulder blades, his warm breath fanning your damp skin and making you shiver. “You’re gonna look so hot as a mum,” he teased with a lazy smirk, slowly pulling out of you.

You whined at the sudden emptiness, the loss of him leaving you aching. Before you could protest, Ashton turned you around and lifted you onto the counter. The cold marble against your bare skin sent a jolt through your body as he gently spread your legs wide.

His eyes glittered as he took in the sight of his release dripping from your core. “Can't let any of this go to waste,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

With deliberate care, he slid a finger along your sensitive clit, making you gasp sharply. Then, without hesitation, he pushed a finger inside, catching the white ribbons threatening to spill out and gently pressing them back into you.

The overstimulation had your legs shaking again, and you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him work with hooded eyes. Every touch sent sparks shooting through you, and the satisfaction on his face as he ensured none of his release escaped made you ache for him all over again.

Ashton knelt before you, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with a mischievous glint before he leaned in, running a slow, deliberate stripe along your core with his tongue. His movements were unhurried, carefully cleaning you up without disturbing the evidence of his release too much. He only lapped up the small traces that had escaped, trailing down your thighs.

When he was satisfied, he pulled back, the soft sound of his lips parting making you shiver. Rising to his full height, he grinned widely, his expression smug and satisfied. You returned his smile with a lazy one of your own, reaching up to tug him down into a soft, lingering kiss.

“I love you,” you murmured against his lips, your voice tender. “And this was... definitely fun.”

Ashton pulled away just enough to meet your gaze, his grin morphing into a playful smirk. “I love you,” he began, his tone laced with mischief, “and about that…”

His hand slipped down between his legs, stroking his still semi-hard cock until it stood at full attention once again. Your breath hitched as you watched him, speechless, as he lined himself up with you once more. With an achingly slow push, he slid back inside you, making both of you groan at the sensation.

Your arms gave out beneath you, leaving you fully leaning against the counter. “Gotta make sure it all stays in there,” Ashton murmured, his voice low and strained. His hips rolled gently, his eyes fixed on where your bodies joined. “Give me a few, and we'll go again. Maybe even one more time after that.”

A soft laugh escaped you, the movement causing your walls to flutter around him.

Ashton let out a deep groan at the sensation, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice breathy but teasing. “We can do this as much as you want.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

hope u enjoyed u nasty freaks. my requests are closed atm but my inbox is open if you wanna chat :)

[souperbloom]

happy new year soup crew sending you all love and peace and wishing a prosperous 2025

[souperbloom]

you are a phenomenal writer!!!!!! i adore every single fic you write!!!!!!!!!!

AHHH! thank you so much friend :’)) i appreciate it more than you know <3!!

[souperbloom]

come out of the darkness and into the day

[souperbloom]

guys this was so good im still shaking

In the Night I Dream of You (Two)

MDNI

paring: poly!lashton x reader

summary: a game of truth or dare in a hot tub with your two long time crushes definitely is bound to go somewhere

warnings: lashtonnnn threesome!! oral (m&f receiving), mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it folks, this is a fanfic), cum play, cursing. lmk if i missed anything

word count: 6.2k

a/n: lord this took me ALL DAY, it was surprisingly hard to write LMAO. anyways this is the first threesome i’ve ever written, i tried my best i’m sorry. anyways thank you to my sweet friend for this request and im sorry to my other friend for the lack of mermen… i did try to keep the water theme LMAOOO. anyways, i edited this myself so if you catch any mistakes lmk. as always, SEND IN YOUR REQUESTS!!!

Copyright © 2024 kaleidoscopecth. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“We kept up the lie the whole livestream,” Michael snickered, taking an exaggerated swig from his beer. “Told everyone Ash was sick, but really, the idiot was just getting laid.”

“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” Ashton murmured with a casual shrug, his eyes flickering briefly toward you.

Luke sat next to him, seemingly lost in his own world, not paying much attention to the conversation. He was absently toying with the lip ring that adorned the corner of his perfectly plump mouth, drawing your gaze and making it impossible to look away.

“When it comes to sex, we’ve all got our fair share of stories,” Calum chimed in, rubbing his eye with his knuckle. “Like when Ash and Luke both hooked up with that Hailey girl.”

Luke’s gaze snapped to Calum, his attention fully drawn back into the conversation as a faint crimson blush crept up his cheeks.

“Wait a minute,” you piped up, furrowing your brows as you looked between Ashton and Luke, zeroing in on Luke’s bashful expression and Ashton’s sly smirk. “At the same time?”

“No,” Luke groaned, covering his face with one hand and leaning back dramatically. “Definitely not at the same time.”

“Missed opportunity,” Ashton quipped, his grin widening as he nudged Luke with his elbow. “Gotta cross that off the bucket list at some point.”

Luke let out an exasperated laugh, dragging his hand down his face. “Not a chance, mate.”

“You say that now,” Ashton teased, winking in your direction. “But I’ve got a feeling it wouldn’t take much convincing.”

You had to admit, the two of them made an undeniably captivating sight. You’d known the boys for a few years, first crossing paths at a party thrown by a mutual friend. Back then, they were just getting started—touring with One Direction and living the kind of chaotic, carefree life only rising rockstars could pull off.

From the moment your eyes landed on Ashton and Luke, that familiar heat rushed to your face. Over the years, they’d only grown more mesmerizing.

Your gaze drifted to Ashton first. His sandy hair was darkened by the water, strands clinging to his forehead, and those ever-present dimples creased his cheeks when he smiled. Rugged and effortlessly handsome, his hazel eyes had a mischievous glint that seemed to see right through you. His hands bore the evidence of countless hours spent drumming, knuckles rough and calloused, a stark contrast to the elegance of his long neck and easy confidence.

And then there was Luke—an entirely different kind of beauty. His piercing blue eyes seemed to put the sky to shame, and the sharp lines of his jaw and the subtle curve of his perfectly slanted nose were enough to make anyone falter. Tall and slightly reserved, Luke carried himself with an air of quiet mystery, the kind that drew people in without him even trying. Yet there was a softness to him, a hesitance that Ashton seemed to balance effortlessly.

“Y/N,” Michael’s voice snapped you out of your daze as he waved a hand in front of your face, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “You good, or…?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you mumbled, forcing yourself to focus on Michael, even as your stomach tightened at the sight of Ashton’s sly grin. He’d definitely noticed the way you zoned out looking at him and Luke.

You cleared your throat, trying to shake it off, but it didn’t help when Ashton leaned over and whispered something into Luke’s ear, making the latter chuckle softly. Their easy banter was magnetic, almost as if they were entirely unaware of just how effortlessly they commanded the room—or, in this case, your full attention.

“I was just going to ask how you were feeling—you’ve been quiet,” Michael said, his expression curious as he studied you.

“So has Luke,” you shot back without hesitation, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Luke, already watching you, let his gaze linger on the curve of your neck, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m actually pretty entertained right now,” he replied with a shrug, his tone casual. “I’ve participated more than you have.”

Calum let out a small yawn, clearly unimpressed by the bubbling banter between you and Luke. “Well, whatever,” he muttered, standing up from his spot beside Michael. He stretched lazily as he stepped toward the stairs leading out of the hot tub. “I’m spent. Think I’ll call it a night.”

Michael pouted, looking at Calum as though the betrayal was personal. “You’re tired? Really?” he asked, standing up to follow him.

Calum turned back with an exaggerated frown, crossing his arms dramatically. “If you stop looking at me like I killed your grandma, we can head upstairs and play some Call of Duty.”

Ashton chuckled, running a hand through his wet hair. “Don’t wanna pass up on that opportunity, Mike.”

Michael looked torn as he glanced between Calum, Ashton, Luke, and you. “Are you guys coming, or not?” he asked, clearly hoping for backup.

“I’m not much for video games, Michael,” you teased, your tone light as you brought the neck of your beer bottle to your lips, taking a deliberately slow sip.

Ashton’s eyes flicked to you immediately, his focus unshaken as his gaze lingered. A sly grin formed on his face, and you noticed the way his fingers absentmindedly drummed against the edge of the hot tub, his telltale sign of interest.

“I think I’ll stay, too,” Ashton said with a grin, tossing you a wink.

Nothing had ever happened between you and Ashton—just harmless flirting. It was mostly because the opportunity never seemed to arise, though part of you held back because of your budding crush on Luke.

Having the hots for two members of the same band felt like too much to unpack. You didn’t even want to think about what could happen if you pursued both.

The idea seemed almost too rapacious, but when Luke glanced between you and Ashton and the corner of his lip quirked up and his eyebrow rose slightly in intrigue, you wondered if maybe it could be possible.

“Me too,” Luke chimed in with a cheerful grin, and Michael rolled his eyes, muttering something before climbing out of the hot tub and following behind Calum. The two quickly disappeared into the night, their figures growing smaller as their conversation faded into the distance.

The night felt much quieter now, the air heavier as reality settled in. You were alone in the hot tub with Luke and Ashton—completely alone, the faint buzz from a couple of beers still lingering.

Oh Lord.

“Okay, so I think we’ve officially hit that point of the night where we can play stupid high school games,” Ashton said with a mischievous grin, his tone laced with challenge. “What do you say?”

“What, like seven minutes in heaven?” you asked, causing Luke to let out a soft snort. The sound sent a jolt of satisfaction through you, and you watched as Luke shook his head in amusement.

“We can do that too,” Ashton replied, completely unbothered by your joke. “But I was thinking something a little less… you know, down bad.”

“Truth or dare?” Luke’s brow furrowed as he played with the ripples created by a nearby jet in the tub. “Could be fun, I guess.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I could definitely be convinced to play truth or dare.”

Ashton’s grin widened, his confidence radiating like the warmth of the hot tub water. He leaned forward, his eyes darting between you and Luke, lingering on you a fraction longer than necessary. “Who goes first?”

“Well, Ash,” Luke replied, leaning back and propping his arms up on the edge of the tub. “It was your idea, so you should go first.”

Ashton frowned playfully. “Is this you stalling for time to come up with something to ask?”

Luke shot him a smug grin, winking. “Exactly.”

Shaking his head with a soft chuckle, Ashton ran a hand through his damp hair, the motion flexing his bicep just enough to catch your attention. You quickly pulled your knees to your chest, hoping to steady the rush of nerves coursing through you.

“Alright, Luke,” Ashton said, his grin turning devilish. “Truth or dare?”

Luke paused, his fingers brushing over his stubble-covered jaw as he considered the question. His lips were slightly parted, his mind clearly elsewhere, and you could barely focus on anything but him.

“Truth,” Luke said finally, his voice calm but laced with uncertainty.

“Boring,” Ashton pouted dramatically but pressed on. “Alright, have you ever lied to anyone in this room?”

Luke froze, his expression tightening as the question sank in. His cheeks flushed, and his gaze flickered briefly to you.

“You lied to me?” you asked, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise as you tried to piece together what he could mean.

“Not about anything serious,” Luke mumbled, clearly embarrassed. “You remember that time I liked that really old picture on your Instagram? I told you Michael had taken my phone and did it to mess with me, but… the truth is, I was just stalking.”

Your jaw dropped, and a stunned laugh escaped you. “Luke!”

“Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his blush deepening. “Not my finest moment.”

“Well, talk about loser central,” Ashton teased, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Can’t blame you, man—she’s hot.”

The casual compliment caught you completely off guard, and you stammered, struggling to regain your composure. Thankfully, neither of them seemed to notice your flustered reaction.

“Is it my turn?” Luke asked, breaking the moment.

Ashton nodded, leaning back lazily against the edge of the tub. Luke let out a sigh, clearly thinking hard about what to say next. Finally, his shiny blue eyes locked on yours. “Y/N,” he said, his voice steady, “truth or dare?”

Without hesitation, you shot back, “Dare.”

Ashton smirked, draining the last of his beer before stepping out of the tub and perching on the edge. “Atta girl.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head as you waited for Luke’s challenge. He didn’t keep you waiting long.

“Tell us someone’s secret,” he said, his lips curling into a mischievous smile, “without saying who they are.”

You let yourself think for a moment, wracking your brain for a good enough secret that wouldn’t give anyone’s identity away. But then your eyes landed on Luke as he titled his head, looking at you expectantly and your mouth went dry.

You could always say your own secret, because neither of them would ever figure out who you were talking about. “Alright,” you cleared your throat, straightening up. “I know someone that has been aching to be in a man sandwich between you two.”

Luke’s eyes widened comically as he leaned forward, his tone dripping with curiosity. “Who?”

“Nuh-uh,” you grinned, shaking your head. “That was not the dare.”

Pouring, Luke’s shoulders sagged. “Fine, whatever, you win.”

Ashton watched the exchange with a wide smile, leaning back on his hands as he studied the scene before him. Your gaze trailed over the smooth, tan skin of his chest and abdomen, lingering on the faint trail of hair leading beneath his swimming shorts.

“Ash,” you murmured, your voice soft, almost breathy. “Truth or dare?”

Ashton’s eyes flicked to Luke for a brief second before returning to yours. “Dare.”

A small smile curved your lips as you considered your next move. Finally, you leaned in just slightly closer. “Alright,” you said, grinning. “Let me draw something on you with a permanent marker.”

Ashton furrowed his brows, tilting his head in disbelief. “Where the hell am I supposed to pull a permanent marker from?”

“My purse,” you replied, shrugging with a sheepish smile.

Luke’s confused laugh broke the moment. “Why the fuck do you have a permanent marker in your purse?”

"You never know what the night will bring," you teased, flashing him a playful look. Slowly, you stepped out of the tub, feeling both sets of eyes on you as you grabbed your purse. Rifling through it, you pulled out a Sharpie and turned back, catching the unmistakable way Ashton and Luke's gazes lingered on your body. A wave of heat flushed down your spine.

Settling down beside Ashton, you gave him a nudge. "Lean back on your hands like before," you instructed, uncapping the marker. Ashton obeyed, a hint of curiosity in his expression.

Grabbing a towel from a nearby pool chair, you wiped at his skin to dry the area. Your fingers brushed lightly against the sensitive skin of his hip, and you didn't miss the sharp inhale he took at the contact.

You bit back a smile, pushing his shorts down just enough to reveal the sharp definition of his v-line. Carefully, you scrawled your name across it with the marker, pulling back to admire your work. Ashton's pupils were blown wide, his chest rising and falling a bit faster than before. Luke, on the other hand, stared at the two of you with an almost fascinated awe.

Clearing your throat, you placed the marker on the floor and slid back into the water. “Who's next?"

Luke's voice cut through the tension as he leaned toward Ashton with a sly grin. "I've got one," he said. "Truth or dare?"

Ashton frowned slightly, his brow furrowed in thought before he shrugged. "Truth."

Luke's eyes darted briefly to you, the corners of his lips curling into a wicked smirk “What's your real opinion on a threesome?"

Ashton raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised at the sudden turn of events in the conversation. He let out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief before meeting Luke’s gaze. “Really? That’s where we’re going? Threesome?”

Luke shrugged unabashedly, leaning back against the tubs edge with a smirk. At some point, he had moved closer to you— his body brushing yours as his arm rested behind your head. Ashton’s eyes flickered between the two of you, and he licked his lips.

“Alright,” He said slowly, running a hand through his dampened hair as he considered the words of his response. “I guess it could be fun. Right group, right vibe… I could be convinced.”

Your breath caught as Ashton’s eyes met yours, the glint of arousal almost unmistakable in the dim light. You briefly wondered if he knew that you had shared your secret, your most intense fantasy.

"Y/N, what about you?" Luke asked, his smirk deepening as he leaned in closer. You could see every detail of his face-the curve of his nose, the subtle quirk of his brow-and it made your mouth go dry.

When you glanced over at Ashton, his eyes were flicking between you and Luke, his chest rising and falling unevenly, as if he were bracing for whatever came next.

With a sudden surge of confidence, you tilted forward, your nose brushing against Luke's. His breath fanned across your face, still tinged with the scent of beer. "It's my turn, pretty boy. Wait for yours."

Luke's eyes dipped to your lips, and you caught the flicker of his tongue as he licked his bottom lip, drawing in a sharp breath. "That's no fun."

"Truth or dare, Lu," you murmured, your voice light but laced with challenge.

"Dare," he replied, his voice low, almost a growl.

You smirked, pulling away from him completely, letting the tension linger as you turned to Ashton. His darkened eyes were fixed on you, and the intensity in his gaze sent a thrill down your spine.

"I dare you to make out with Ashton," you said, your tone playful yet daring.

Everyone went quiet, and for a moment you wondered if perhaps you’d gone too far. But then, Ashton’s mouth quirked into a challenging smirk, and Luke slowly glanced at his best friend.

“Fine,” Luke murmured, pushing up from his sitting position and slowly walking over to where Ashton sat by the edge.

You watched as he lowered himself back into the tub, looking between you and Luke. “You’re not gonna back down?” He asked.

Luke shrugged, his smirk only deepening. “A dare is a dare. Plus, the lady requested it.”

You watched as they closed the gap between them, Ashton’s jaw slightly tightened as he titled his head and met Luke’s lips with his own.

The kiss was slow at first, and you supposed it was only natural since neither of them made a habit out of kissing other men. Still, after a few seconds, Ashton’s hand came up to grip the back of Luke’s neck, pulling him closer.

You watched in stunned silence, your breath caught in your throat as the kiss quickly deepened. Waves of desire washed over you, and you clenched your thighs in an effort to find some semblance of relief.

Luke responded to Ashton with equal fervor, his hands coming to curl into his damp hair— and you caught the hiss he let out as Ashton gently bit his lip ring.

It was over all too soon though, because Ashton and Luke both pulled away. They were slightly out of breath, looking at each other in surprise. Luke was the first to sit back down, his cheeks having a faint flush to them.

“Is that you wanted, Y/N?” He asked teasingly, his expression daring.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to remain composed as you met Luke’s desire ridden stare. Everything was about to change, and you couldn’t be more ready for it. “Oh absolutely,” you grinned, keeping your voice smooth despite the heat that flooded your cheeks.

“Alright then,” Ashton stretched, closing in on Luke and you. “It’s your turn. Truth or dare.”

Your mind was running wild with possibilities of what Ashton could ask of you with either choice. Still recovering from what you just had witnessed, though, you found that you didn’t want to just answer a simple question. “Dare.”

Ashton exchanged a quick glance with Luke, leaning closer and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I dare you to kiss Luke exactly like you just made him kiss me.”

Your mouth went dry, and every nerve in your body seemed to hum with anticipation as you turned to face Luke. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his touch firm yet gentle. A small, cocky smile tugged at his lips as he leaned in, his breath brushing against your skin. "I don't bite," he murmured, his lips grazing yours teasingly. "Unless that's what makes you moan."

Before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours with intensity. Your hands instinctively gripped his shoulders, seeking stability as his mouth worked eagerly against yours. The cool sensation of his lip ring against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and without thinking, you tugged at his hair, earning a low growl from him.

Luke's tongue grazed your lower lip before slipping past, exploring your mouth with fervor. His hands slid from your neck to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. When he bit down gently on your bottom lip, a soft groan escaped you, and his smirk deepened against your mouth.

"Ashton," Luke murmured between heated kisses, his voice dripping with challenge. "Truth or dare."

"Dare," Ashton replied, his voice steady but laced with curiosity.

Luke's lips paused for a moment as he grinned wickedly. "I dare you to kiss what you think her most sensitive spot is."

The words sent a wave of heat through you, leaving your head spinning. Luke's hands steadied you as Ashton moved closer, his gaze burning into yours. When he was within reach, Luke pulled back just enough to slip behind you, his lips trailing warm kisses along the side of your neck.

Ashton's hand ghosted over the knot of your bathing suit top, his eyes dark and questioning. "Can I?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, breathless, and with one swift pull, the knot came undone, leaving you bare before them.

Ashton leaned down, his lips brushing your skin as he kissed along your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone before trailing lower. The cool air made your skin prickle, but it was quickly replaced by warmth as his mouth hovered over your chest.

He blew gently against your hardened nipple before capturing it in his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you threw your head back against Luke's chest, a moan spilling from your lips.

One of your hands tangled in Ashton's hair as his tongue circled your nipple with expert precision, his teeth grazing it gently. Luke's free hand joined in, kneading and teasing your chest, causing a wave of pleasure to ripple through you. A desperate whimper escaped your lips, trembling as you felt Luke's growing hardness pressed against your back. "Truth or dare," you murmured, your voice trembling. "Both of you."

"Dare," they both responded in unison, their eyes locked on you as they continued their ministrations, seeking more of your moans.

"I dare you both to fuck me."

The words lingered in the air, igniting a spark of heat between the three of you as they both nodded in agreement, their gazes heavy with desire.

"Let's get out of the tub then," Luke murmured, his voice low as he nipped at your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine.

The three of you clambered out of the hot tub, steam rising off your skin as neither of their hands left your body. They guided you to one of the pool chairs, their touches gentle but deliberate, the tension thick between you.

Ashton was the first to move, laying you back on the chair with a smirk. His mouth immediately returned to your chest, his lips and teeth exploring with an eagerness that made your breath hitch. Luke, meanwhile, hovered over you, his hands sliding up your thighs as his gaze locked on yours, full of intent.

You watched through half-lidded eyes as Luke kissed down your stomach, his hands firmly gripping your thighs. Ashton momentarily pulled away, his heated gaze flickering to Luke. Without a word, Luke hooked his fingers into the side of your bathing suit bottom, pulling it aside with precision.

"Let's see just how fun this can get," Ashton murmured, his voice thick with amusement and desire. His lips captured yours in a heated kiss, his hands framing your face as Luke's mouth descended lower, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

The anticipation coiled tightly within you, every touch, every breath sending waves of electricity through your body.

Luke's lips trailed up the inside of your thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin and drawing soft moans from you into Ashton's mouth. Anticipation built with every graze of his teeth, every brush of his lips, until his hot breath fanned against your now-exposed clit, sending a shiver down your spine.

When Luke's tongue dragged a long stripe up your heat, your back arched instinctively, pleasure flooding your senses. Your mind was hazy, barely able to register Ashton grabbing your arm and guiding it between your bodies, pressing his cock—still constrained by his swimsuit—into your palm.

Luke's tongue swirled expertly over your clit, his movements drawing sharp gasps from you. Your free hand found its way into his hair, tugging lightly whenever he sucked just right. Meanwhile, Ashton had slipped out of his shorts, leaving his length exposed. You let your fingers trace teasingly along his shaft, earning a shaky groan from him.

“C'mon,” Ashton murmured against your lips, his voice low and breathless. “I dare you to touch me.”

At that exact moment, Luke slid two fingers into your entrance, curling them perfectly to hit every sensitive spot while his tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit.

"Fuck, okay-" you panted, finally wrapping your hand around Ashton's cock and stroking him slowly.

He let out a sharp hiss against your mouth, and you felt the deep vibration of Luke's hum against you as he sucked harder, sending waves of pleasure through your trembling body. “You’re so pretty,” you heard him mutter between licks. “Taste so fucking good— just as good as you look.”

Your hand increased the speed at which it worked in Ashton, your own body growing heavy with desire. “Look at you,” Ashton purred into your mouth. “All needy for us. You thought we didn’t know? You didn’t think we noticed the way you were practically gagging for our cocks? You’re such a whore.”

His lips pressed against your neck, sucking into the skin and biting— no doubt leaving marks. “Your hand feels so good,” he groaned breathily, and Luke’s mouth didn’t falter on you. “You’re such a good girl for us.”

You nodded eagerly, flicking your thumb over Ashton’s tip and relishing the groan that escaped from deep within his throat. “You gonna let us destroy that pretty little pussy?” He asked.

“Please,” you moaned, feeling the warmth in your belly begin to reach a boiling point. You began grinding against Luke’s tongue, and he moaned into you, his fingers increasing their speed.

Luke was relentless, the rhythm of his fingers and tongue so perfectly in sync that your thighs began to tremble uncontrollably. Pleasure coursed through you in waves, pulling soft, breathless cries of both their names from your lips.

Your hand continued its steady pace along Ashton's cock, the smooth glide drawing low groans from him. Unable to resist, he started thrusting into your hand, his movements needy and unrestrained, a clear reflection of just how badly he wanted more.

“What do you think, Luke?” Ashton asked, his hands coming up to play with your pert nipples and your chest. “Should we let her come?”

Luke pulled his mouth away to answer, and you whined at the loss of contact. However, his fingers didn’t stop moving. “I wanna see how much we can make her come.”

Ashton smirked, leaning forward— his lips brushing against yours in the barest ghost of a kiss. “I think I’d like to see that,” he murmured.

When Luke’s tongue returned to work on you, it became quickly evident that you wouldn’t be able to hold off for much longer. “I’m so close,” you gasped, the hand that was tangled in Luke’s hair tightening slightly.

“Come for Luke, pretty girl,” Ashton urged in your ear, his voice strained.

Ashton’s words sent her over the edge, waves of prickling pleasure crashing down on you as you squeezed your eyes shut, your legs clamping on Luke’s head involuntarily as you rode out your high.

Luke's licks softened into gentle kisses before he finally pulled away, a satisfied smirk playing on his swollen, glistening lips.

The mix of your release and his spit left a sheen that only made his confidence more intoxicating. "I wanna fuck you," Luke rasped, his voice rough as he tugged at the knot holding his swim trunks snugly against his hips. His eyes bore into yours, the heat in them unmistakable.

Still dazed from the aftermath of your orgasm, you nodded, your breath hitching as you turned your attention to Ashton.

"And you're gonna let me fuck your mouth while Luke fucks you, isn't that right, babygirl?" Ashton murmured, his tone a low rasp that sent another shiver down your spine. His fingers brushed your chin, tilting your face toward him.

With shaky hands, you sat up, adjusting yourself until you were on all fours, your body positioned perfectly before Ashton. Your lips parted slightly in anticipation as you waited for what would happen next.

Ashton’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Can’t wait to see what that pretty mouth of yours looks all full,” he murmured, slipping his thumb past your lips beckoning your mouth to open wider.

“That’s it Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with arousal as his other hand gripped his cock, giving it a few strokes before brushing the tip against your lips and pushing in.

The salty taste of him on your tongue made you moan around him, opening your jaw as wide as it could go to take in as much of him as possible. Slowly, you began to work on his tip with your tongue, tracing the underside of it and drawing out a long groan from him.

Behind you, Luke was gripping your waist, his hands wandering. You could feel his fingers teasing your entrance and clit, gathering the moisture on them. “You look so fucking good like this,” he hissed, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock.

You hummed around Ashton, the vibrations pulling a deep groan from his chest as his grip on your hair tightened. His head tipped back briefly before he looked down at you again, his pupils blown wide with desire.

Behind you, Luke slowly pushed in, the head of his cock dipping deeper until he was fully sheathed inside you. The stretch was overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and pain that left your body trembling.

Despite the sensation, your rhythm on Ashton didn't falter. You hollowed your cheeks, drawing him in deeper as he bit his bottom lip, a low growl escaping him. “That's it, baby,” he murmured, his voice laced with praise. “You're taking us both so well.”

“Fuck,” Luke groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he began to move. His thrusts started slow, deliberate, before picking up pace. “You feel so good, so damn tight around me.”

The combination of their movements left you breathless, your body a slave to the pleasure building with each stroke. Ashton's cock slid wetly between your lips, his hips rocking in time with Luke's thrusts.

The air was thick with the sound of skin meeting skin, your muffled moans, and the groans falling freely from both men. Ashton's hand tangled further in your hair, guiding your pace as he watched you through hooded eyes. Luke's grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts becoming more erratic as his breathing grew heavier.

“You're perfect like this,” Luke rasped, his voice rough. “Taking us like you were made for it.”

His thrusts intensified, each of them hitting deeper and deeper inside you, making you moan around Ashton.

Ashton’s hands tightened on your hair, moving your head on his length and you hallowed your cheeks, swirling your tongue. Tears sprang into your eyes, and you could feel Luke’s fingers digging into your hips as he continued his relentless pace.

Shakily, you raised a hand and wrapped it around Ashton’s cock, pulling back to catch your breath as you moved your hand up and down. “Just like that,” he groaned. “Look at you— taking Luke so well, you’re such a pretty slut.”

His hips bucked slightly, meeting the motions of your hand as you let out a small whimper after a particularly harsh thrust from Luke. His hand had snaked between your legs, beginning to rub at your clit in tight circles as he continued to fuck into you.

“God, baby, you’re squeezing me so tight,” Luke’s voice was strained, letting you know he was fighting back his own release. “Are you close?”

You shut your eyes tight, taking Ashton back into your mouth and whimpering. You could feel the tears beginning to stream down your face, the sensation of Luke filling you and the moans falling from Ashton’s mouth were almost too much.

Your body tensed as the pressure built, Luke’s fingers never letting up from your clit and he made stars spring in your vision with every thrust. He was relentless, sending jolts of ecstasy through your body with each snap of his hips. You opened your eyes, meeting Ashton’s.

“Come for us,” Ashton growled. “Show us how good we can make you feel.”

“Please baby,” Luke whimpered from behind you. “Come with me.”

The combination of Luke's relentless thrusts, the pressure of his fingers on your clit, and Ashton's lewd words proved too much. The tension in your core snapped violently, sending you spiraling into another intense orgasm. You cried out around Ashton's cock, pulling back slightly as your body shook uncontrollably and clenched tightly around Luke.

Luke groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release. Ashton cupped your face, guiding you into a needy kiss. His tongue swept over your bottom lip before diving into your mouth, tasting you deeply. You struggled to kiss him back, overwhelmed by the pleasure still coursing through your body.

With a guttural moan, Luke finally reached his peak, spilling inside you as he murmured your name like a prayer. His hips stilled, and his forehead dropped against your back, his breathing ragged. Ashton pulled away from your kiss, his thumb brushing softly over your swollen bottom lip as he studied your dazed expression with a smirk.

“You're so perfect,” Ashton murmured, his voice low and full of desire. He stood, his commanding presence making your pulse quicken. “Now, clean Luke up while I fuck you,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Without missing a beat, Ashton and Luke switched places. Luke leaned back against the edge of the hot tub, his chest still rising and falling from the intensity, while Ashton positioned himself behind you. You turned toward Luke, your hand brushing over his thighs as your lips ghosted over his sensitive tip.

Behind you, Ashton ran his hands along your waist, gripping you firmly as he aligned himself with your entrance. “You ready for me, baby” he asked, his breath warm against your ear.

You nodded, your lips wrapping around Luke's still-sensitive length as Ashton began to push into you, filling you completely. A shudder rippled through your body at the overwhelming sensation of being taken by both men, their combined dominance driving you to new heights.

Ashton didn't hold back, his thrusts hard and relentless as your cries filled the night air. You barely had time to register the shift before Luke's hand gently tilted your face back toward him. “Mouth on me, baby,” he murmured, brushing away a strand of hair that clung to your damp skin.

“God, your ass looks so good like this,” Ashton groaned, his voice dripping with lust. His hands gripped your hips firmly, ensuring you met each of his thrusts. “You're such a little cockwhore, aren't you? One wasn't enough; you needed both of us to fill you up. Dirty girl.”

Each of Ashton's movements sent waves of overstimulated pleasure through your body, leaving you trembling and breathless. The sharp edge of sensitivity from your earlier orgasms only heightened the intensity. “Fuck, yeah,” you gasped, your voice breaking. “Need to be fucked by both of you.”

Your mouth returned to Luke, your tongue tracing the length of him as you tasted the mixture of yourself and his release. His head fell back briefly, a satisfied groan slipping from his lips.

“I'm so close,” Ashton growled, his grip tightening, his nails digging into your skin as his rhythm became erratic. Luke leaned down, pulling his cock from your lips and guiding your chin upward to meet his gaze.

“Look at me,” Luke commanded softly, his voice a low rumble. He crouched before you, his lips brushing yours before trailing down your jaw. His teeth grazed your neck, and he sucked on the sensitive skin just below your ear, making you shiver. “You're such a good girl,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “Took me so well, and now you're taking Ashton like the perfect little thing you are. Making us feel so damn good, pretty girl.”

Ashton groaned behind you, his pace becoming erratic before he buried himself deep, releasing with a guttural moan that sent a shiver through your already trembling body.

Luke's hands cradled your face with surprising tenderness, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he murmured soft praises. He kissed you deeply, his lips coaxing yours despite your shaky, breathless state.

Ashton, still catching his breath, began trailing warm kisses down your spine, his lips pressing softly against the heated skin. You gasped when he dipped lower, his tongue gently lapping at the evidence of their shared release, cleaning you with slow, deliberate strokes.

The sensation sent jolts of overstimulation coursing through your body, and you moaned weakly, your muscles quivering under his touch. By the time Ashton pulled away, you collapsed onto the lawn chair, your chest rising and falling heavily as the last waves of pleasure ebbed away.

"Truth or dare, Y/N?" Luke asked, his tone light as he helped you sit up. Ashton's hands worked carefully to redo the knots of your bathing suit top, his touch gentle as he tried to keep you decent.

Ashton pressed a sweet kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering for a moment. “Truth,” you answered, your voice soft as you slumped back against Ashton's chest. Your legs found their way onto Luke's lap, and his hands instinctively began to massage your calves.

A small smile tugged at his lips, and your eyes flickered to the black lip ring gleaming under the light. “So,” Luke began, his voice teasing, “did we live up to that man-sandwich fantasy you mentioned?”

Despite your exhaustion, a wave of heat surged through you at the memory of what had just happened. You let out a quiet laugh, your cheeks warming as you smirked. “Only if we can do it again.”

The two of them didn’t hesitate when answering. “Deal.”

Ashton laughed. “But let’s get out of here before Mike or Calum realize what they missed out on.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

thank you for reading pookies!! i hope this was a fun read, this really was out of my comfort zone but it was really exciting to write!

as always, send me your requests <33

[souperbloom]

christmas wrapping. [A.I.]

🎁 boyfriend!Ashton x reader

with a busy year behind you and a new one around the corner, you decide to surprise your boyfriend with the greatest gift of all.

a/n: consider this my gift to you, soup nation. merry christmas and happy holidays from mama soup! this is also just a lil somethin to hold you guys over to the new year— lots of fun things happening!

this was rushed. def not proofread. be gentle with me as i am just a girl.

(this oneshot is a stand alone, but it’s set in the same universe as my fic ‘tangerine, tangerine’)

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut!, bratty!ashton, pet names, oral (m!receiving), bondage, festive innuendos, a sprinkle of christmas cheer, etc.

wordcount: ~4k

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂꙳

Christmas Eve.

Not a very special day, and not any more than the day that comes after it.

It was you and Ashton’s third holiday season together. A season spent buried in work, Ashton’s schedule packed tight with sound mixing and whacking the nights away on his drums.

But Christmas Eve, despite its mundane nature in the shared home with your boyfriend, was kind of special. It was the only day of that entire week where the two of you were able to sit at home and just enjoy each other’s company.

“How many cups of chocolate chips are we talkin’ here? One? Three? Seven?”

Although Christmas wasn’t inherently celebrated in your relationship, both you and Ashton tried your very best to be festive in any way you could. You’d just spent all morning wrapping red and silver garlands around the bannister of the staircase and thumb-tacking ornaments to the wall, while Ashton was on his third batch of cookies. After snickerdoodle and peanut butter, he’d finally made it to chocolate chip.

“Put as many chocolate chips as your heart desires.”

After practically breaking your neck trying to line the top of your living room ceiling with Christmas lights, you’d made the executive decision to take a break on the couch while Ashton slaved away by the oven. He’d been there since noon, it was well past four now, and giving up or taking any sort of break clearly wasn’t in the cards for him.

“I can’t make that decision, baby. You’re the Cookie Monster of this house,” he calls over his shoulder, bending down to make sure the oven was still warm.

“Put two. Call it even. How many cookies are in this batch anyway?”

“Two dozen. That’s what the recipe says.”

You could practically hear him shrug from all the way in the kitchen. But you just smiled, partially watching the digital fireplace that Ashton put on the TV. He claimed the smooth Christmas jazz and crackling of wood would set the mood— but little did he know. You had other plans to set the mood.

Gifts were never expected on you and Ashton’s Christmas morning. Neither was any semblance of Christmas spirit. The two of you always just woke up and carried on your day as if it were any other. But this year in particular was a rough one, and you figured your favorite boy deserved some extra holiday cheer for all of the work he’s been putting in.

You came across this little idea when you found an old pair of lingerie sitting in a box at the back of your closet, Ashton had gifted it to you on your first anniversary— it was a red matching set with a sheer tulle slip. You were never presented with the opportunity to wear it, but the feathered trimming on the slip and rhinestone bow smack between the bra cups was just the right amount of festive for the precedent set on Christmas Eve.

Thinking all day about surprising him was what got you motivated enough to deck out your living room in Christmas decor. You couldn’t contain your smile when Ashton offered to bake cookies, since you knew he’d be too distracted to notice if you slipped away for a moment.

The Kitchen Aid began to whir, and you tilt your head to see Ashton whistling to himself as he spins the bowl of dough with ease. You took this moment as your perfect opportunity to sneak away upstairs to the bedroom.

He definitely didn’t notice you had left; he was far too engulfed with getting his cookie dough to the perfect consistency. You felt your heart patter as you reached for the box under the bed, all while the mixer was still working and Ashton was still whistling without a clue.

The lingerie was in pristine condition after all these years— and changing into it made you feel like a million bucks. It was flattering, the way the tulle fell just above your hips and left the red lace panties barely exposed. Once adjusted, you grinned to yourself in the mirror while smoothing out the feathers and scurried into the bathroom for your next surprise.

You found your next hiding spot untouched, thank God, and pulled out the ream of satin ribbon that you left in your bathroom drawer. The ribbon was a last minute idea that dawned on you during a trip to your local craft store.

The ribbon was sturdy, which was perfect for the circumstance. Hell, it was sturdy enough to hold the shape of a perfectly knotted bow on its own— you took the liberty of tying to a lock of your hair at the top of your head to add a bit of pizazz.

If anyone couldn’t tell by now, the gift Ashton wanted most for Christmas was you.

“Hey, baby? Can you come in here for a sec?”

Ashton calls out to you from downstairs in the kitchen, the mixer having stopped and started a few more times.

“What’s up?” You call back, frantically shutting all of your drawers and pushing the lingerie box back under the bed.

“Want you to come try the dough. Make sure the ‘chip ratio’ is to your liking.”

You stifle a giggle as Ashton turns the mixer back on, shutting off all the lights in your bedroom and starting to tiptoe towards the stairs.

“You in the bedroom?” Ashton shouts again, his back facing you as you’re already halfway down the steps.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’.”

You eventually creep down the last step with chills running down your back in anticipation. You couldn’t believe that he still hasn’t turned around to see you all decked out in your holiday getup. It was honestly kind of funny, how determined he was to get these cookies just how you liked them.

“I think this should be fine. But— tell me what you think. Should I add cinnamon? God, I’ve been staring at cookies for so long… I think I’m starting to turn into one.”

You giggle again, audibly this time, and eventually creep your way behind him. You slither your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“That looks perfect t’me,” you hum sweetly, drumming on his hips and admiring the picturesque bowl of dough.

Ashton laughs at your mellow comment, his body shaking as he disassembles the mixer.

“I want you to try it— but don’t eat too much. The raw eggs and shit, they’ll fuck you up.”

“Mmhm…”

Ashton moves fluidly, as if you weren’t even wrapped around his waist and holding him to your chest. You couldn’t believe how enraptured he was by these goddamn cookies.

You almost wanted to smack him.

“Ashton…” you mumble, an attempt to get his attention.

“Yes?”

Just then, you take a step away, releasing him from your arms and putting your hands on your hips.

“Turn around for God’s sake!”

Ashton freezes, dropping the mixer and wiping the remnants of flour off of his pants, “Sorry, sorry, I was just g— holy fuck.”

He had finally seen you. All decked out. Lace, tulle and all, wrapped up with a little red bow.

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

His eyes wasted no time in scanning every inch of your body, pupils dilated to maximum capacity as his hands had no clue what to touch first.

“Oh my God— you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous.”

“Mmmh, thank you,” you coo, melting into his palms as they eventually make it to your waist.

“This is my gift?” He asks, his eyes sparkling like the lights on your tiny Christmas tree.

“Not all of it.”

Ashton pulls you into his torso, hands roaming your sides and lifting the tulle slip in his path. He can’t believe how incredible you look— let alone in a set that he’s been wanting to see you in since he first bought it off the mannequin.

“You fuckin’ spoil me, y’know that? Shit— what’d I do to deserve this? Was I on the nice list? Jesus fuck, I’m spent.” His entire sentence comes out in one hurried jumble, working in tandem with the steps he was taking to walk you backwards into the living room.

“Just thought you deserved a little somethin’ after everything you’ve done this year.”

“Everything I’ve done? Baby,” he interrupts himself with a kiss to your collarbone, “this is the best gift I’ve gotten in years.”

A giggle escapes your throat as you push his eager lips away from their attachment to your neck, “I haven’t even shown you the rest of it yet!”

Soon enough, you have Ashton padding after you like a dog up the stairs, letting him chase you to the top of the staircase before barricading the bedroom door with your body. He frowns as you stop him from bursting through it, taking a hand to caress your waist.

“Baby—” he begins to protest as you anchor your hands to the moulding.

“Ah ah ah,” you tut, “not yet.”

“Why not? I wanna unwrap my gift.”

You chuckle at his childish attitude, lazily slinging your arms across his shoulders and giving him a cheeky smile.

“Patience is a virtue. I’ve got one more surprise left for you.”

Just then, you reach behind and open the door to your bedroom; it was dark, with the exception of the purple and blue lava lamp that backlit your sensual figure.

“Entry fee is one kiss from you, mister.”

Ashton’s lips curve into a sultry smile, still standing over you, “Just one? Why not a million?”

You just shrug, tapping your manicured fingers along the doorframe, “Inflation.”

He stoops down to press a gentle kiss onto your lips, taking a moment to savor the pomegranate flavored lip balm you’d smothered across them in a hurry. He hums into you, wanting to reach out and touch, but barring himself as per your request.

“I’ve paid my toll,” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“Don’t be smart.”

Ashton bounces on his heels as you step away from the door, guiding him into the dark room by the sway of your hips. You reach over to the nightstand and turn on the light to reveal your bed, intact from this morning, with just a single spool of ribbon nestled between your pillows.

Ashton stops at the doorway, scratching his head in confusion, “Our bed?”

“Mhm. Our bed.”

You then take a few steps, making sure to push your arms together and arch out your back as you reach for the red satin ribbon.

“I mean— I’m not complaining—”

“You shouldn’t. This is part of the surprise,” you say these words as if they meant nothing, twisting the ribbon between your fingers and starting to slowly unravel the tightly wound roll.

“You’re so elusive,” he tuts, stepping closer to the bed.

“I haven’t even given you instructions yet.”

Ashton raises his eyebrow, dipping his knee down onto the mattress. You could tell his eyes were still bugged out and wandering across your body.

“Instructions? Did my gift come with a manual?”

“Somethin’ like that,” you murmur, stepping around the bed to meet him, “you’ve been awfully good this year.”

“Have I?” Ashton asks, in complete awe of you. His body stiffens when you reach out to fiddle with the hem of his t-shirt.

“Mhmm, very. You’ve been working so hard all year. Must get tiresome, no?”

In a complete 180 switch, Ashton suddenly seems to know where this is headed. His face, once dawned in pure ignorant bliss, had learned a thing or two within the past few minutes.

“Wait.”

He had stopped his path towards the bed, eyeing you down as you continued to unravel the ribbon until it dropped onto the floor.

“What?”

“What are you trying to do right now?”

With the satin now wrapped into a make-shift spool across your knuckles, you shrug, “What do you mean?”

He shakes his head, slowly working backwards from the progress he’s made getting onto the mattress.

“Is this part of your little surprise? What’s the ribbon for?”

“Why are you asking me so many questions?”

Ashton crosses his arms, meeting you at your side of the bed, “Because I’m impatient.”

You scoff, “Well at least you’re aware of it.”

He shakes his head, stepping towards you and motioning to the ribbon as the smile on your face only makes him more impatient, “And how do you intend to use that?”

“Use what?”

“The ribbon.”

“Oh,” you hold out your hand, stepping closer to him and only leaving an inch between your bodies, “this?”

“Yeah, that.”

You could tell that Ashton was getting frustrated; the subtle way his jaw ticked each time you smart-mouthed one of his questions. Being elusive and condescending was Ashton’s job in the bedroom. It was one of the things you liked most about your dynamic between the sheets. He, however, didn’t seem to like the sudden role reversal.

But tonight, despite your presence being his present, you decided to go for the more self indulgent route.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a choice.

“The purpose of the ribbon is for me to know, and for you to find out. Wanna lay down for me?”

He doesn’t even get the chance to retort before one soft push to his chest had him plopping down onto the bed. He stares up at you, a bit stunned, watching as you slip right between the perfectly sized slot between his legs.

“Fine. No more questions. But you mentioned instructions…?”

“Mhm. They’re very simple.”

“Hit me with ‘em.”

You smile, draping the ribbon around your neck in order to have both hands free.

“Take your shirt off.”

With his bottom lip now tucked between his teeth, he obliges, pulling off his white tee from the back and tossing it behind you. You take a moment to admire his smooth collarbones, still standing between his legs.

“I’m starting to like you from this angle, Ash,” you purr, taking that same hand you used to push him down to grapple his chin and force his gaze into your eyes.

“I’m indifferent.”

“Why’s that, hm?”

“Usually I’m the one barkin’ orders...”

Before he can explain himself any further, you grab at the ribbon and point to the headboard.

“Lay back. Arms up.”

“Are you about to tie me up?”

He asks this question as he slowly maneuvers to where you told him to, curiosity sparkling in his eyes yet still a fool to your soft, sultry tone.

Somehow, some way, despite the vehement pleading of his facial expressions and the desire to put up a fight, you’re straddling his hips, and he’s holding his arms up like you asked him to.

“Just lay back and look pretty.”

“Yeah? That’s what you want?” Ashton chuckles, “how the tables have turned…”

“I wish you’d stop being such a smartass,” you hum, reaching over him to tie his left wrist in place.

You wished you could’ve taken a picture of his face when the second bow was tied— his face was priceless. You loved how the bows keeping his wrists steady to the bedposts matched the one you’d tied into your hair, you loved how gorgeous he looked beneath you, completely at your disposal.

The way his eyes narrowed when you called him a smartass, it was obvious he was holding back a smile.

You were starting to think that he loved it too.

“Baby—” as Ashton whines, he tugs at your knots, causing your antique bed frame to creak and bang against the wall.

“Yes?” you reply, perching on his lap with an innocent smile.

He seems to have more to say, but all vices are lost as he seems to just give up, and sigh.

“—Oh— forget it. Do what you want. I’m yours.”

You break the tension with a kiss, pressing your lips against his and feeling his chest shudder as he breathes beneath you. It was obvious that he wasn’t accustomed to being restrained. Each time you rolled your hips against his flannel pajama pants there was a knocking at your wall, signifying the willpower he was exercising as to not uproot the bedposts from the floor.

You continue your slow trail, taking your time and peppering open-mouthed kisses along the side of his neck and down towards his chest.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby. How do you do this shit?” The frustration laced through his breathy voice made your stomach turn.

“What, stay tied up? It’s easy,” you hum, mid-kiss to his pec, “I just play by the rules.”

Ashton huffs, growing more and more antsy as your travels lead you towards the waistband of his pajama pants. His supple, gravelly moans were the only thing keeping you from tearing off his pants and having your way with him— because one thing that Ashton Irwin lacked in this life was patience.

And one thing you lacked in this life was the ability to deny yourself a good time.

“Baby, c’mon.” His hips jerk upward, along with his hands, his crotch hitting your clothed core in all of the correct places. But rather than visibly showing how much his fully hard dick had an effect on you, you just smile, and reach up to smoosh his lips together with your index finger.

“Stop pulling, you’ll break the bed.”

“It’s gettin’ really fuckin hard not to.”

“Hush. Don’t wanna hear another word from that mouth.”

Just then, you tap your cool fingertips along his pelvic bone, and watch as the goosebumps rise along his tanned stomach. Living in Los Angeles definitely had it’s perks.

“Yeah?” You can tell how hard he was trying to keep the status quo, but now your fingers were dancing beneath his waistband and causing him grief, “You–God, what have you done to me?”

A catty smile dances across your face, still enjoying how much he absolutely fucking hated not being the one in control.

“A Christmas miracle, maybe?” you tease, finally getting a start on pulling down his pants, “Lift those hips, pretty boy.”

With a disgruntled moan, he does as he’s told, his eyes locked in on your figure and tracing every single curve with his pupils.

You eventually free him from the confines of flannel, his cock springing out like it was being held captive. It was hard not to let your mouth water at just the sight of him; your old ways were awfully invasive.

“Mmmmh,” you hum at the way he twitches, his tip leaky and just begging to be touched.

“You’re fuckin’ murdering me with those eyes, baby.”

“That’s the point, silly. You always like to tell me how patient I am. Why not give you a taste of your own medicine?”

You reach out to hold his cock, antagonizing him by wrapping your fingers around him and remaining stagnant. He hisses at your gentle touch, the headboard knocking against the wall once more.

“God damnit— you gonna make me beg for it?”

“Maybe. That’d be fun,” you hum sweetly, starting a slow rhythm of pumping his cock while staring deeply into those honey green eyes.

“In your fuckin’ dreams, sweetheart.”

In order to hush those sweet lips of his, you take your tongue and drag a line up his shaft. He grunts, loudly, wrists now tinged with red to match his restraints and his incapability to sit still.

“Fuck you— you’re such a tease,” he mutters, his breathing picking up at merely the sigh of your lips near his cock.

“Fuck me? Isn’t that the goal?” you joke once more before dipping your head down to ever-so daintily suck on his tip.

Ashton then lets out a sound like you’d never heard before— it was loud, and beastial. You’d never thought you had it in you to make a grown man cry, and yet here you were, with your boyfriend's sanity at your fingertips.

“Y/N, baby, please… Take it all. God I’m— I’m dyin’ t’feel that fuckin’ mouth.”

With your lips still pursed around his tip, not giving him the full satisfaction just yet, you hum, sending vibrations from the hollows of your cheeks directly into his body. He jolts again, cursing and muttering at the feeling of satin setting fire to his wrists.

His sounds alone have you enthralled by this whole scenario. Hell, you couldn’t believe you didn’t think of this sooner. Tying Ashton up and teasing him in the most seductive piece of lingerie you own? Sold.

In the midst of feeling bad for your poor poor boyfriend, you decide to up the ante, and take him fully into your mouth without warning. Another gasp catches in his larynx, finally releasing some of the pent up tension that had been building since the moment you tied a knot around his wrist.

“Ahhh, fuck. Fuck, yes sweetheart. God you feel so good—”

Expletives and moans fill your bedroom wall to wall, a familiar buzzing sensation hits your stomach as he mutters your name like a prayer.

“Just like that, baby. Not gonna last long if ya’ keep—fuck— suckin’ me off like that.”

It was now an attempt to beat the clock as you felt Ashton’s abdomen tighten. You knew he was close, he knew he was close, it was just a matter of when.

You continued the rhythm that hit him just right, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks whilst his mercy ran thin.

“That pretty mouth— s’good to me. Fuck, you’re an angel.”

With his words, you pop your head up, releasing his cock and replacing his your cock-full mouth with a smile.

“Keep talkin’ pretty boy, you’re so close, aren’t you?”

Ashton’s eyebrows furrow, but they don’t stay angry for long.

“You piss me the fuck off.”

A giggle slips past your steely demeanor, enjoying the ability to banter with your boyfriend while his head spins.

“I know. That’s the best part,” you coo, narrowing your eyes as your hand pumps his milks his cock to an imminent orgasm, “Now are you gonna cum for me, or what?”

One final tug at the headboard left Ashton spent, his release spilling onto your knuckles as you watch him with your bottom lip between your teeth. His breathing was shallow, in time with the rhythm of the last few strokes of your hand.

“Jesus Christ—” he sighs, his head thumping back into the pillows, “You’re a fuckin’ animal.”

“Still a merry Christmas?” You ask, your eyes half-lidded as you take your free hand to massage his shaky thighs.

“The merriest,” he breathes out, still trying to collect himself by running his hands through his now sweaty hair, “but just wait ‘till next year.”

After you’d cleaned up the mess you made and freed Ashton from his festive ligatures, the two of you sat, cozied in bed, staring up at the ceiling as you ruminated on the past year together.

“You know, if you wanna start up the tradition of having a real Christmas, I wouldn’t be opposed,” Ashton mumbles into your hair, still traipsing along the red tulle of your slip.

“Really? What changed your mind?”

“Don’t know. I guess today had me feeling ‘holly and jolly’, if ya’ catch my drift.”

The two of you giggle, feeling the warmth of your body heat combining to shield how Ashton blasted the AC to compensate for your longing for a real white Christmas.

“Maybe next year we’ll have a Christmas party. Invite a few friends, do a secret Santa, cook some dinner?” you shrug, mindlessly sweeping his hair off of his forehead and tucking it behind his ear.

“Hell no. Entertaining those losers is the last thing on my wishlist. But you and me? Alone together?”

“Yeah? What about it?” You hum.

“That’s at the top of my wishlist.”

[souperbloom]

NEVER MISSESSSSS

keep my stocking filled.

ashton irwin x reader; SMUT

a/n: happy holidays and merry christmas to my loves who celebrate 🤍 i hope your holiday season is going wonderful so far, i’m here to give you my gift to all of you for being so patient with my crazy posting schedule. i’m not the most consistent, but you’ve all been so wonderful either way. this year has been crazy and i think the perfect way to end it is with some fluffy, lovey ashton smut. enjoy!!

words: 3.1k

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The first thing you did that morning was snatch your phone off of the bedside table and open up your emails and search for the long awaited confirmation you were looking for.

“Your order has been shipped”

You smiled to yourself, clicking the link that brought you to the tracking page and seeing that it was on its way.

“Package has arrived at carrier office”

Some of the most exciting news you could get, it kept you bouncing around the house until the hour it got to your doorstep. The squeal of excitement you let out made you glad that you were by yourself in the empty house.

What was concealed behind the dull cardboard was the brightest piece of lingerie you could ever own. Red satin with ties for the front and instructions on how to tie the panels together in a bow shape, but was also easily taken apart. The two little cats you had together, Beans and Toast were meowing curiously and already occupying the box. This was your Christmas present a few years ago, Ashton suggested he go through immunotherapy before you moved in together so you didn’t have to get rid of your babies.

“got a present for you when you get home ;)”

Your fingers glide across the keyboard of your phone like they never have before, quickly sending a text to your boyfriend with a picture of the Christmas tree you had set up and a small peek of the red silk just barely in the corner of the photo. What sparked the idea for you to buy this in the first place was the first reaction you got from Ashton seeing you in a matching piece specifically designed for being sexy, not just some undergarments, you bought and wore them with purpose. So now, it was time to add to the collection. There would be nothing like seeing his eyes sparkle so intensely when he got to unwrap that bow.

“It better be you sitting under that tree.”

“… Preferably with no clothes on. xx”

He replied back with a red heart emoji following his second text message, you giggled to yourself before typing again.

“even better”

You said with a heart of your own, then set off on your mission to try on the lingerie and practice tying the knot a few times until it was perfect. Now a waiting game, trying not to be too impatient for Ashton’s arrival. The ribbon stayed tied, wandering around with it but also making sure it was easy to come apart.

—

The moment finally came where you were covered up in a fluffy black robe, standing at the counter while trying to place some saran wrap over a batch of brownies you made just moments prior. The front door camera notification came up on your phone and you could hear the eager clicking of the front door, you had to hold back turning to look over your shoulder. When you heard his hushed voice speaking to the cats and the door shut once again, your heart skipped a beat… but god it seemed like so many.

You held your breath, but after hours of waiting you felt Ashton’s strong arms wrap around your middle from behind. He leaned his body weight against you, pressing your frame into the counter as you giggled quietly. Ashton was cold, the fabric of his jacket wasn’t too heated but you could still feel the chill sink through the fluff of your robe.

“Hi.” You said simply, gently pushing the tray of brownies off to the side and turning around with what little room you had to face him. Your arms draped lazily over his shoulders, cupping the back of his neck and lightly grazing the tufts of hair which poked out from his beanie.

“Hey, baby.” Ashton replied in this relieved tone of voice that had you blushing in seconds, the brown curls of his hair laid over one eye.. but you couldn’t bring yourself to push it away.

“Felt like forever you were gone.” You breathed, pressing your forehead to his just as he briefly reached up to take off his beanie and return his hand to your waist.

“It was forever, I missed you.” He didn’t bother ruffling his hair to fix it, but instead pressed a sweet, tender kiss to your lips while his hands massaged your hips in slow circles. You spent a few moments like this, basking in each other’s presence which doubled as warming him up due to being out in the cold. It wasn’t very long until Ashton was sliding his hands back to the front of your robe to try and undo the knot, but you hurried to stop him.

“Hold on.” You had a hand on his chest, meanwhile his eyes drew shapes all over what skin you had exposed… but he was confused. “Go to the couch.” You instructed him quietly, watching as he slowly pulled away from you and raised his eyebrows. At this point you were grinning wildly, following close behind as Ashton wandered through the open kitchen over to the sectional sofa in the living room. Now the cats were preoccupied with something else, whatever it was, you were glad that you didn’t have to shut yourselves off in the bedroom to avoid the awkwardness of two little faces staring at you.

“The anticipation is killing me.” Ashton sighed, settling into the couch and looking back at you still standing behind him. Your manicured fingertip traced the soft linen of the blanket draped across the cushions, walking around the furniture. His gaze never once broke from your sauntering figure, taking a deep, silent breath as his tongue ran over his bottom lip.

“You waited for me all day, you can wait a few more seconds.” You giggled at him, eliciting a whine of your name past that pink pout which you longed to kiss again. Finally, you stood between his knees where his legs were spread wide off of the couch cushions, socks planted firmly on the floor so you had a comfortable place to stand. “Wanna see?” You began taunting the tie to your robe with your fingers, slipping your index in the knot to loosen it further.

“Come on.” He frowned, his flaming eyes burning into yours as you finally gave into the temptation and let the tie fall loose. The robe was now slightly hung to the side as it slid from your shoulders, left first, then right, then a light thud as it hit the carpet. Ashton was in awe, reaching out to run his hands along the sweet satin bottoms and the stitch where they met your bare skin. Another shy giggle slipped past your lips when his touch tickled you and made you squirm, forming into a hum as Ashton firmly placed both hands on your hips to hold you in place.

“Was it worth the wait?” You asked, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth just while your hands fixed themselves in his hair.

“Fucking was it…” Ashton breathed, pulling you closer and motioning for you to get in his lap, to which you obeyed immediately. “How do I enjoy this properly?” He whispered, keeping eye contact as he pressed a kiss to your chest right above the center of the bow.

“That’s your choice, make Christmas your own.” You giggled, gasping once the position changed and you were on your back against the soft couch cushions. Ashton seemed to take it as a challenge, his finger hooked in the knot of the bow with a few more kisses along your collarbones… then he stopped.

“Not yet.” He muttered to himself, the movement of his lips against your skin made you sigh.

It was the warmth of the house, the smell of that sweet cookie scented candle on the coffee table and the lotion that you had put on after washing your hands while handling the brownies. Underneath the festive atmosphere was your erotic scene on the couch, Ashton’s lips had somehow reached every inch of your skin that wasn’t concealed by the satin. He blew a playful raspberry against the flesh of your hip, you gave a squeal of laughter accompanying the kicking of your legs.

“Ash!” You giggled, Ashton used this opportunity to firmly grip your thighs and hook your legs over his shoulders.

“Can’t resist you, you smell like fuckin’ cookies.” He grinned back at you, his fingers hooking in the nice trim waistband of your panties.

“Well I tried to go for vanilla… it’s the lotion you got me.” You whispered, propping yourself up on your forearms as you looked down at his smiling face.

“Hm, it only means you smell good enough to eat.” Ashton started to pull your panties down, only teasing himself as you lifted your hips to help him.

“Is that what you’re gonna do to me?”

“Mmhmm. Lay down.” Ashton mumbled against your hip, one hand moving up your core to gently press down. So you gave in and laid down all the way with a soft smile on your face, the lace was finally gone and Ashton was back to kissing you. He traced shapes on your inner thighs, hips and lower stomach, just teasing and making you arch into his touch.

“You’re so gorgeous, do you know how gorgeous you are?”

“Shut up,” you whined. Ashton’s lips got way too close to your core too many times for you to count, you weren’t going to wait much longer.

“That’s not nice, I thought this was my gift…” He squeezed your thighs and hid his smile behind another few kisses, but no response came to mind so all you did was huff and lay your head back again.

Finally, just finally after a tug on his hair Ashton pressed his lips to your entrance and kissed again. Not much, but close.

“Oh my god…” You choked out in half frustration, but Ashton was getting the hint and picking up the slack. His tongue moved tentatively, fingertips leaving rough indents in your thighs as he buried himself in your heat. Those frustrated groans melted away, he had you moaning and arching your back to get more and more out of him. Ashton obeyed with every cue, never letting go of your legs for a second… something in you gave a slight feeling that he wouldn’t be done with you after this.

Ashton was a man on a mission, not giving a single thought to the way his stubble might start to rough up your inner thighs due to his aggression, not like it was a problem. The problem was that it drove you further to your finish, making the moment shorter.

“W— Wait! No… not yet—“ You gasped, trying hard to tug on Ashton’s hair and pull him off. He didn’t relent, he kept going until you were holding it in and finally letting the overstimulation crash down. Ashton was clearly enjoying it, he groaned with satisfaction at your taste and slowed down to guide you through that orgasm. When he poked his head up, he had this cheeky little smile on his face. The one where his dimples showed, the one that made you smile back despite how breathless you were.

“I think I’m going to unwrap my present now…” He hummed, his hands following the curves of your sides. You were about to speak, but he shook his head. “And don’t you say anything either, I’m taking my time.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “So much drama.”

“Mhm.” Ashton hummed to shut you up, leaning down over your quivering form to kiss you softly, stark in contrast to how he was just using his mouth moments before. His fingers played with the bow, running his fingertips over the knot and giving it a playful tug. He had to stop kissing you in order to focus on the bow, his eyes darting down to pull it loose with bated breath. The bottom hem stayed around you, which meant he had to carefully unclip the front as well.

“Merry Christmas.” You giggled at the childlike wonder on his face, his eyes roaming over your body and taking in every small detail.

“Best present ever, you’re just… always the best,” Ashton was fumbling, it was so cute… you laughed again and shook your head.

“Don’t make this sappy, we’ll be sappy tomorrow.” You sealed that promise with another kiss to his lips, and he came back with another.

“I can be sappy and fuck you into the couch, don’t you know how good at multitasking I am?” He sassed, nudging his nose against yours as your hands ran over his jaw and gently scratched his cheeks.

“I guess you have to be if…” You looked down, his belt was undone and his jeans were to his knees. The only telling sign of this was how much he was moving around to get them down.

“Merry Christmas.” Ashton mocked you, he grunted once he earned a playful smack to the chest.

“I don’t see a fancy bow down there.” It was your turn to sass back, but no matter how much you bickered or teased each other, nothing was bumpy. It was all smooth sailing and you moved along just like normal, Ashton was very good at multitasking, since his boxers were gone in a few seconds as well.

“I said I’m good at multitasking, not this whole… show like you put on.” He propped one hand next to your head, but his statement made you laugh before realizing he had just slipped between your legs in one motion. You choked out a breath in the middle of your giggling, eyes closing as you got used to the feeling.

“Oh—! F.. Fuck you…” This had to have been the second time that he caught you off guard, Ashton smiled that mischievous little smile again and kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Sorry, precious.” He whispered, continuing those kisses on your cheek and along your jaw. You gasped as he moved his hips a bit further, hands on his shoulders, gripping tightly and digging into his shirt.

“Mh, take it off— take it off.” You pleaded, Ashton obeyed and practically tore his shirt off over his head, immediately getting back into position. Thank god, was all you could think. Your hands returned to his shoulders, drifting towards his collarbones as Ashton started to thrust and thoroughly pleasure you. He made a sound, like a quiet growl against your neck with both hands planted firmly on the couch cushions. Whatever it was, it was hot and got you moaning back in response.

“Squeezin’ me, baby. Like I’ve never fucked you before.” He muttered, latching onto your pulse point to muffle a moan. The only lights that were on were the Christmas lights and the ones above the kitchen counter, the living room only holding a soft glow which made the contours of Ashton’s back and shoulders look delectable.

“I… I really love you,” You whimpered, trying to speak but each thrust almost made you unable to form a coherent sentence.

“‘M trying to dirty talk over here, baby. Thought you said no getting sappy?” Ashton smiled against your neck, nibbling at your skin to make you stumble over your words again.

“Wasn’t… hm— jus’ say it back.” You protested, your nails leaving scratch marks down his chest as you gathered enough strength to hoist your legs up a bit higher around his waist.

“I know, I know… I love you too.” Ashton whispered, his own words failing to sound out together. His breathing picked up, hot against your neck as did the pistoning of his hips.

You were left in a haze, tilting your head to bury your face in Ashton’s hair and moaning against those soft, sandalwood scented curls. Just a little more, you begged him quietly for just a little more to get you through to your second orgasm.

“Ashton…” You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck as he left you with no choice, his chest was pressed to yours so he could whisper in your ear.

“Shh, let it go.” He kissed your hair, his hips stuttering. “I’ll be right behind you, sweetheart, Paint my pretty girl white, how does that sound?” Ashton cooed in that tone that had you melting, you were putty in his hands as you whined and came around his cock. That delicious pulse inside you, you knew he would keep his promise. He smiled like you had just made him proud, straightening his arms and pushing himself up. “My good girl. I won’t make you flip over, as long as you promise to look at me.”

“I promise,” you whimpered, maintaining eye contact as Ashton pulled out. You let out another sound at the loss, but quickly brought back on track as he cupped your face and wrapped a firm hand around his shaft.

“Stay just like that, exactly, look at you…” He praised, chest heaving with each labored breath he took. The sight of your flushed cheeks and watering eyes drove him mad. Plump, kiss swollen lips that he had bruised from his affection, it all made him feel so possessive. With one final moan he covered your torso in his release, making sure you got every drop as the warmth made you shiver. Ashton got down again to kiss you one last time, to claim those gorgeous pink lips and securely wrap both arms around you. Just a bit ago you were so well put together all for him, it was quite award winning to see you such a mess after he was finished with you.

“This is what I like to see…” Ashton hummed, suckling on your jaw and leaving one last dark mark of his property. You were still in a bit of a daze, only speaking when he pulled away to look at you.

“Merry Christmas?” You giggled, having said that for the 5th time tonight. Ashton laughed along with you and helped you adjust your position on the couch so you were both lying comfortably.

“You got any more fun surprises for me?” He traced your cheekbone. You tapped your chin playfully, looking up at the ceiling.

“Mm… the brownies are done?” You offered, that got Ashton hooked.

“Okay, okay. Let’s lay here for just another minute.” He promised, having to reel himself in from the temptation of brownies as you laughed at him and held him a bit closer than before. It was too nice and warm to leave your cocoon under the Christmas lights, apparently, the chocolate wasn’t tempting enough.

[souperbloom]

he’s just a babyyyyyy🐻🐻🐻💋💋💋 (grown ass man)

Ashton in a friend's IG post — Dec. 19th, 2024