This is a book of my favorite smutty stories of 5sos. Most of these stories are from Tumblr. BY MY FAVORITE PEOPLE SO CHECK THEM OUT PLEASE! I will name the author and say where I got it from. But I will have some stories written by me possibly.
Oh...
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I hadn't looked at the clock in hours, ignoring in the pain in my wrists from constant typing. If I didn't submit the article to my editor before midnight, I'd be put back to writing about high school club events and local sports teams. As I went over my notes I'd taken from the show one more time, I decided that I now hated 5 Seconds of Summer and I never wanted to right a review on them ever again.
THEY SOUNDED FUCKING AWESOME AS USUAL SO WHAT I CAN'T WRITE A PAGE ON HOW AMAZING THEY ARE BECAUSE THEY'RE ALWAYS THAT FUCKING WONDERFUL AHAHAHHA SHIT
I slammed my fingers down on the keyboard in frustration, not sure how to expand on the band's wonderful performance anymore. I hung my head, letting out a sigh of relief looking away from the bright screen. Just as I was about to lift my head and get back to work, I felt hands grasp onto my shoulders from behind and thumbs dig into by back, rubbing circles in my tired muscles.
"That article is coming along.." Michael chuckled. "Creatively?"
"I've got an hour to finish three more paragraphs and I have nothing more to say," I replied quietly, letting his hands work their way around my shoulders until his thumbs found the back of my neck and he stopped.
"Aren't you gonna ask why I'm home so late?"
"Sure," I replied, not really caring as long as he kept the massage going. "Where have you been?"
"I made a stop on the way home," He said and I could practically hear his smile. "You're gonna love it."
"Pizza or Chinese?" I yawned. Michael loved acting like getting take-away was this big thing when we really did it three times a week.
"Oh, no, it's not like that." He pulled his hands away from my shoulders and spun the desk chair, grasping the armrests and leaning down towards me. I felt my eyes widen as he smirked, "That article? It's done."
"But I–"
"Quality not quantity, right?"
"Mikey, I–"
Before I could say anything else, he lunged down and pressed his lips to mine. I didn't have time to reject before his hands moved to my waist, grasping my hips tight and pulling me off the chair and against him. I clutched his upper arms and pulled away a bit. He had my attention. "So what did you pick up?"
He didn't say anything, just grabbed my hand and yanked me with him as he ran through the house. He swung me in front of him when we got to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him and walking towards me with a determined look on his face. I stumbled back a bit, surprised by his charisma, stopping when the back of my knees found the edge of our bed.
He grabbed my hips once again, spinning me around and using one hand to bend me over slightly. "That's what I picked up." A black plastic bag with nothing but a red arrow-heart on it sat on the bed. Michael let me go and gave me some space. "Well, open it."
