Imagines (5SOS and 1D)

5SOS blurbs

LUKE

Imagine sitting on the sofa, cuddled up against Luke's side, The 1975 playing on the radio.  The music is a low buzz and he hums along, singing the parts he knows you love straight to you.  His arm is slung over your shoulder, hand tracing hearts softly on the skin of your arm.  And love me, if that's what you wanna do, he sings softly in your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck.  You catch him sneaking stares every so often.  And every while he will gently kiss your forehead, cheeks, nose and lips.  Love me, he whispers, his melodies so perfect.  His blue eyes stare into yours and he kisses you so softly on the lips, the pace picking up in seconds and he lays you down on the sofa, hovering above you.  Love me, he breathes against your lips.  He holds himself up with his arms and his biceps bulge.  You hold on, squeezing his arms and his kisses become more fierce, almost greedy as he sucks on your bottom lip.  God I love you so much, he groans.  Your hands sneak up to grip his shirt at the back, clinging to the material as he takes you to heaven.  I can't stop, he grunts.  You always make me want more.  You stare into his eyes and whisper, then take me.  His eyes almost roll into the back of his head as he groans.  And he takes you, there on the couch.  He rips off your clothes, his fingers quick and his eyes drinking you in.  I'll take you baby, he says, his voice raspy.  I'll have you on every surface in this goddamn house!

CALUM

Imagine standing by your locker, sifting through your things when a body slams against the locker by yours.  You jump and turn to see a smirking Calum.  His leather jacket on, sleeves rolled up, he leans back against the red lockers.  You, me, prom, he announces.  You glare at him and his smile only grows.  So self assured, you grumble.  He pushes off the locker and tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, his finger grazing your cheek making you shiver.  You can't say no to me if you tried baby, he cooed.  See you Saturday, he says winking.  And what if I've already got a date, you said, testing him.  He chuckled, standing in front of you.  He gripped your hips in his large palms and leaned in close.  You sucked in a breath and he spoke.   You'll come with me because no one can show you a better time than I can, he said confidently.  And what if I don't want to, you challenged, your eyes squinted.  Oh trust me baby, you want to, he replied.  You can tell yourself 100 times you don't want to, but just that one tiny bit of doubt lingering will make you question how badly you want it.  He touched his nose to yours, breathing in deeply, his eyes closing briefly.  He bit on his bottom lip.  Wear something hot sweetheart and I'll rent a car, just for you, he grinned. Wouldn't want a pretty little thing like you climbing on a motorbike in a sexy dress.  He touches your cheek once more then saunters off.

ASHTON

Imagine making dinner with Ashton.  He stands at the counter beside you, mashing potatoes in a bowl.  His muscles flex under his shirt and he wipes at his sweaty brow.  Who knew making dinner was so exhausting, he huffs.  You giggle and bump shoulders with him.  Just get to mashing Ash, you say.  He groans and continues, tongue sticking out as he concentrates.  Minutes pass and he takes of his shirt, wiping his sweaty forehead and tucks it into his pants back pocket.  You can't help but stare as the sweat trickles down his abs and your mouth drops.  You stare at the little curls on his chest, imagining running fingers through them.  You look at his arms, imagining holding onto his biceps as he takes you to heaven.  You stare at his large hands, imagining them cupping your ass, pinching you cheeks as he came.  You're cheeks flushed when he spoke, knowing you'd been caught out.  Like what you see, he teases, catching your staring.  You nod, words unable to be spoken.  He grabs your waist suddenly, pinning you against the counter, crotch to crotch, chest to chest, and he pants.  Maybe you'll like it better when we're both sweating, he groans, smirking.  His hands rub up and down your sides.  And there will be no barriers between us, he adds, tugging at the hem of you shirt.

MICHAEL

Imagine telling Michael you're pregnant and he falls to his knees in front of you, his hands on your hips as he stares in awe at your stomach.  There's a life growing inside you, he gasps in awe, eyes wide.  You would smile and nod at him and he would touch your stomach so gentle, feather light touches and whisper to your baby.  How big is it? he would whisper.  You would hold up your finger and thumb, an inch apart and his mouth would drop.  I will protect you my little blip, he breathes, kissing your stomach.  Can it move yet? he asks looking up at you under his lashes.  You shake you head and he frowns.  I can't wait till you're born little blip, he cooed as he lifted your shirt.  I'm going to teach you how to play guitar and you're going have your very own band!  You watch him, admiring the way he speaks to the little life growing inside you.  He beams, his fingers tracing circles on your stomach.  After minutes of kneeling and talking to your little one, he stands up and cups your cheeks in his cold palms.  Thank you, he says, with a smile.  For giving me the greatest gift in the world.  He presses his lips firmly against yours, a moan escaping and his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer.  I love you, he breathes.  So so much.