5sos Preferences

Preference #1 Valentine's Day

Luke:

It’s hard when your boyfriend is away on Valentine’s Day. The band is somewhere doing promo for the new album, and you’re happy for him, but it’s not fun to be alone. So when you walked to the front door earlier today and saw him leaning against it - the sleeves of his plaid shirt rolled up and a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand, you couldn’t be happier. He can’t stay long, only for a few days, but it doesn’t matter to you. You love the fact that he came to surprise you, and he loved the look on your face when you saw him waiting for you in front of the condo you share. “I missed you,” he says lowly, his lips against your neck as you now lie on the couch, talking and making up for lost time. His lips press against your skin, breathing you in and remembering how you smell, how sweet you taste after it’s been so long. Slowly, he turns you around to straddle his lap, the mood heightening as his lips earnestly move up and down your jawline as he slowly grinds against you. “Fuck, I really missed you,” he repeats deeply, a rasp laced in his voice as he fervently pushes down his boxers and your panties and takes you against the couch.

Michael:

He hates Valentine’s Day. He’s never been the sappy, romantic type and just because he loves you doesn’t change his distaste for the holiday. You lie in bed, your bare limbs entwined with his, your hands loosely together as sunlight pours in through the open window and falls against your faces. Neither of you have work today, so all you’ve done all day is watch old movies and have sex and lie in bed and spend time together that you normally don’t get when he’s on tour. “What if we just did this everyday,” he asks off-handedly, trailing his fingers along the skin just above your bra. “I thought you didn’t like Valentine’s Day,” you tease, poking the side of his mouth with your finger. He bites it playfully and you laugh, “I don’t like Valentine’s day, but I like the idea of being here all the time - with you,” he explains, his green eyes looking into yours. Slowly, he pulls you towards him so that you’re sitting on his lap, your legs entwined around his waist. “Because I love you,” he says softly, hoping you know that even though he isn’t the most romantic person in the world, you’re still everything to him.

Ashton:

He’s away on tour but that doesn’t stop him from sending a million and one presents to your doorstep. You open the large cardboard box marked “Priority Mail” and see flowers, candy, a dress, and long dark blue velvet box; all surrounded by miles and miles of white and pink tissue paper. It’s too late in the night where he is to call him, but you can feel tears prick to your eyes as you set aside the small bouquet of long-stemmed white roses and the box of your favorite candy. You know that the boys probably teased him endlessly while he bought all of this for you and you can’t help but laugh at the thought of him running around to find all of this for you. Looking through the box, you can’t believe your eyes when you open the long, velvet blue box and see a diamond-encrusted pearl necklace and hear a gasp fall from your mouth as you pick it up, crying and laughing at the same time. But what makes you the most excited is the thin lavender envelope at the bottom of the box. The note inside is simple and sweet, but it’s one of the best messages you’ve ever received - “Happy Valentine’s Day, babygirl.”

Calum:

Your back presses against the driver’s seat, your legs spread open as he thrusts in and out of you, your ragged breaths echoing around his car, parked along the side of the road. He pulls out all the way, slowly, then thrusts back in harshly - somehow hard but slow and sensual at the same time, and your soft whimpers are driving him insane as your walls clench around him. “Fuck,” he breathes out, kissing along your neck, “Yeah, fuck, just like that.” He arches your back with his hand, pulling you closer to him as he moves back to your mouth with his own, sliding his tongue against yours. It’s not long before you both come, feeling him shudder against your lips and release, filling you up to the brim. Your release is just as hard as his and you lie there afterwards, coming down from your orgasm. “Fuck, I love you,” he says, kissing your lips one last time before pulling your panties back up and starting the car again, not able to believe how beautiful you look like this - your hair tousled, freshly fucked, the sun shining against your face as you continue on your road trip.