5 seconds of summer preferences

Pole dancer

Michael:

“How come you won’t tell me where you work?” “I don’t understand why it matters so much to you.” “Well, what, are you embarrassed or something? I just wanna be able to surprise you while you’re working something, but I can’t if you won’t tell me.” “Just let it go, Mike,” you warn him. “No, I won’t. I demand you tell me. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not like you’re a stripper or anything,” he says, rolling his eyes. You avoid his eyes and hope your cheeks aren’t shining like Rudolph’s nose. “Wait a minute-” Michael says. “You’re not-” he begins. “I am,” you reply, still avoiding his gaze. “I can’t believe this! While I’m being a good boyfriend, you’re going around being a hooker! That’s just great!” “I’M NOT A HOOKER!” You yell. You hate when people use stripper and hooker interchangeably. You do NOT have sex with guys for money. The only guy you’ve actually been with is Michael. “Sure, sure,” Michael says. “I don’t have sex with people! And you know, it’s not a choice!” “Right. I’m sure the manager is just making you get up there and get naked in front of creepy old horny men!” “That’s not what I mean! I haven’t got money to spend like you! This is my only means of income, so please, just bear with me Mikey. I knew you’d hate it, but I really have no other option.” “If you knew I’d hate it, why are you still doing it?” “I’m sorry, Michael. I know how you are. It’s fine.” “Wait, you know how I am? What does that mean?” “You know, dominating. I belong to you. No other man should see me naked.” “(Y/N), if that’s what you think I’m about, why you think this bothers me, I’m hurt. I just don’t like the idea of those creeps treating you like a item. I hope I haven’t been sending you the wrong message. I just want what’s best for you,” Michael sighs. “I know, but this is all I’ve got to depend on now. It’ll only be for a little while longer. Promise,” you say. Michael pulls you into a hug. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Luke:

You and Luke had gone out on a few dates and were thinking of dating permanently. The problem is, you haven’t told him you work as a stripper. It’s one night when Luke’s older bandmates goad him into going to a strip club that he finds out the truth. “Damn that brunette up on the right stage looks so hot,” Calum points out. “Guys, look away,” Luke says suddenly, jolting out of his seat. “What’s wrong?” The guys ask in unison. “That’s (Y/N), the girl I’ve been seeing.” “And it never came up in conversation that she strips??" Michael asks. "No, she always says she hates her job so she doesn’t like to talk about it." "Well, doesn’t look like it’s all that bad," Calum laughs. "Stop guys, we should leave," Luke says, getting up again. It’s then that you see Luke and his friends from up on stage. You stop swaying your hips, the beads on your outfit stop clinking. You don’t want to wave hi in case he doesn’t see you, but it’s clear when he looks you straight in the eye that he saw you. Later that night when you’re at home, your phone rings and you absent-mindedly pick it up without checking who it was. "Hello?" You say. "I wish you would have told me," comes from the other side. "Luke?" "Yeah, it’s me. Why didn’t you tell me?" "Because I was afraid you’d act just the way you did earlier. Your eyes said you were scared and disgusted." "Well clearly you couldn’t see them that well from the stage. I’m not scared or disgusted. Shocked? Yes. But not scared. I can deal with it, as long as you bring your work home with you," Luke says into the phone. "My moves?" You ask, somewhat surprised at Luke’s brazenness. "Yeah, I’d be fine with that." You let out a sigh of a relief and a small laugh. "Thank God. I was really worried you would be freaked out and bail," you confess. "I don’t want to," he replies. "Good,"

Calum:

You and your boyfriend are just sitting on the couch watching telly when he’s starting to get restless next to you. “Why can’t you sit still, Cal?” You ask. “I’m just so bored. And slightly horny,” he groans, adjusting the slight bulge in his tight jeans. “I think I can fix that,” you say, standing up. “What are you doing?” Calum asks in confusion, but you just tell him, “Sit back and relax. My treat.” You turn off the TV, then sway your hips as you slowly lift your shirt over your head. You toss it in his direction and face your ass to him. You look over your shoulder seductively, then shake your ass. You slip your fingers into your shorts waist band and let them slide down your soft legs. You go over and sit on Calum’s lap, which he’s been fighting to cover. As you grind on him and press your chest out so it’s near his face, he stutters, “Where did you learn to do this?” “Previous experience,” you say curtly. “With guys?” Cal questions defensively. “Just shush and enjoy yourself,” you order, pressing your finger to his plump lips before he can inquire more. “What did you mean by experience? I want to know,” he persists, pushing you off his lap. “I work part-time at a strip club, okay?” You blurt. “What?” “It’s not what you think. In all honesty, I don’t even really need the money. It’s for the moves. So I can use them on you,” you add. At this, Calum perks up. “You promise nothing bad happens?” “It’s safe and I would never do anything with a client, so don’t worry about it. You’re the only man in my life.” “Let’s keep it that way, ‘kay?”

Ashton:

It’s your fiancé’s bachelor party and you know his bandmates have been planning to take him to a strip club, which was okay with you because you secretly work at one, something you haven’t ever told him the whole three years you’ve dated. You’ve got something planned for you and your bridesmaids as well, so Ash and the strip club is out of your head.  Trouble doesn’t come until Ashton arrives at the club—Tiger, where you work. He’s front and center, and a dancer comes up to him mid-dance. “You’re Ashton Irwin, right?” “Yeah, did they these idiots tell you it’s my bachelor party?” He asks the dancer. “No, but I know your fiancée, (Y/N). She told me you were getting married soon. She’s really excited.” “You know (Y/N)?” Ash asks in suprise. “Oh yeah, we’ve worked together for quite some time,” the dancer explains. “Oh, do you have another job?” “No silly, this one! At Tiger…did she not tell you she danced?” The dancer backs away slowly, knowing she’s said too much. It’s then that your phone rings. “Hey babe,” you answer. “Is it true that you work at Tiger?” He asks. “Who-” “So it’s true.” “Babe, I meant to tell you. I just never know when’s a good time and when you proposed I didn’t want to bring it up-” “You couldn’t find a good time to tell me in the three years we’ve dated that you’re a pole dancer???” “I’m sorry! Please tell me this doesn’t change anything!” “Well I’d be lying if I said I see you differently, but I still love you of course.” “Wait, so you’re not mad?” “Shocked, yeah. But it’s your life, just include me in shit like this next time, please.” “So you still want to get married?” “Of course, (Y/N).”