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slvtforasht0n · 14 days ago

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Jealousy, jealousy

title inspired by Olivia Rodrigo’s track on Sour

.✦ || Boyfriend!Ash x Reader

.✦ || This is your first time being a stagehand at your boyfriend and his band’s show. Even though you couldn’t watch him perform, a particular interaction between him and a female fan piqued your interest. You couldn’t help but look, ought to see what’s happening. Instead, jealousy gets the better of you once you see what’s really going on, your mood permanently shifted. At least, that’s what it felt like.

A/N: first half is highly based on that one interaction that happened in the 5SOS diaries. forever jealous of that girl lol. anyway, i hope you like what i’ve brought out for you for my first post ever. kinda always wanted a tumblr account to post every idea or blurb i get, but ya girl can be very very lazy sometimes.

inspired to write smut ever since i had wattpad. saying this loud and proud. loved duplicity, stall and malignant so there’s that random fact (turn it up for all the other harries/directioners reading this)

i don’t write that much so i’m still trying to improve wherever i need to. ps. english isn’t my first language, so if you do spot grammer/vocab mistakes, it’s not on me sista, still learning:3 sooo i guess i’ll just finish it off by saying this; sit back, relax and enjoy :^)

CONTENT WARNING: fluff & smut, praise kink, oral (m!receiving), spitting, sliiiight dirty talking

WORD COUNT: 5,2k

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As much as you hate your boyfriend in this moment— he wriggled his way to here. His hands all over your frame, reaching to every spot he can find, almost as if his hands have a mind of their own.

His kisses grow more impatient, needy and full of want. Drawing gentle circles against the small strip of bare skin on your back, making you both break the kiss apart with a small gasp.

You weren’t sure of your emotions. Did you want to continue and make him have his way with you? Or did you want to push him away and strangle the living hell out of him?

A faint whimper escapes your lips in between the kiss, his hand traveling down to the heat between your clothed legs. That feeling alone begs to differ. As much as you don’t want to admit to it. You still have that small abhor, but also intense jealousy from what happened prior to all of this.

He breaks the kiss apart, his eyes finding yours. The hazelly green forest almost dispersed into his black pupils, blown out and primed. Fuck… you think to yourself. He looks so provocatively striking, like an erotic sex-god, which is enough to drive you wild— both in a good and a bad way.

“Let me make it up to you, amore mio.” He prompts, his hands finding your waist again to pull you in closer, showing you how induced he is, the want and need inside of him written all over his face.

—

This day has been…chaotic, booked, a haywire of physical and mental exertion that drove you into madness. Almost. You only had a 20 minute break before going back to work, crew following along, five different people guffing into your earpiece that just rubs you the wrong way. Being irritated isn’t even slightly nearing to what you’re actually feeling.

Finally, you walked inside the venue, a moment of calm before the storm. Happy you can let your guard down for another minute or two. You take a deep breath, moving scenery and props along with two other crew members, joining in after your one true moment of silence.

Being a stagehand at a show of your own boyfriend is uncommon, just something you’re not really used to. You’re not sure if you’re able to keep your cool seeing Ashton on stage, beating those drums expertisely, face etched into pure concentration. You always found it to be a work of art, to see your boyfriend practicing at home or somewhere that isn’t on a stage.

But hey, you bite the bullet once it’s showtime, having to face away from the stage, meanwhile he’ll be there to steal the show.

The crew had cued that the band arrived several moments later, and as much as you want to run away to find him, you’re still stuck planning, discussing and arranging tonight’s act.

Hours have passed on and exhaustion seemed to get the better of you. The small gig now filled with a couple of thousands of fangirls, boys, moms, dads, you name it. Two thousand to be exact. You’re not sure if it makes you intrigued, or uncomfortable. Either way, you find yourself lucky you’re not in that crammed crowd.

Playing more intimate, smaller shows was out of the ordinary for the band, something they wouldn’t have done a year ago or two.

The show has started not long after, and your back is facing the stage, eyes on all of these screaming fangirls for their idols in front of them, hands in the air, phones recording, but mainly their loud screams that’s luckily muffled by your in-ears. All you could do is focus on the beat of the drums, imagining his every movement of prowess, how trickles of sweat is already forming on his forehead.

You don’t have it in you not to look, so you do. Just the smallest of sneak-peak. Though, his eyes immediately found yours, like all of his focus was on the back of your head this whole time. Your heart starts to pound faster against your chest, turning your head back to the crowd ahead. Just keep your cool… keep your cool— You have to remind yourself every minute. Or rather every second.

You’re glued to the spot, making sure everyone’s safe and sound. However, there’s a small interaction going on between a fan and… Ashton. His voice being heard through the microphone gives you some sort of solace, your focal point on every pronunciation and syllable on the words that falls from his lips.

This particular interaction is focused on the fan’s cardboard sign, stipulating that it’s her twenty first birthday and now legal to drink, suggesting Ashton a shot. They expeditiously agree and brought the stunned girl up stage. Your eyes followed hers, turning around to look at the stage ahead. You didn’t have the heart in you to dismiss this and act like nothing’s going on.

Ashton’s change of demeanour, presence next to this fan, and just the overall vibes he’s got going on throws you right off the wall. It’s like he’s throwing her a curveball of coy behaviour, something that doesn’t sit right with you. It’s either that or you’re overthinking it. But then again, you might not be, especially having your eyes glued on him right now, watching him unfold into someone he’s not.

You hate it. You hated every second of it, watching the scene ahead. She gets to be the one giving your sweaty boyfriend a hug, a prolonged hug. Sharing a shot, looking into his eyes- him looking into her eyes. It’s like hot steams are blowing out of your ears by how much you hate seeing this with your own eyes. If it were possible, you’d throw Ashton’s drum kit right to his head out of spite and anger. You can’t believe him.

You’re definitely not overthinking, since you’ve picked up on him being ‘the man of the show’. Trying to seem more charming and appealing, in all the wrong ways. You know he loves getting this type of attention, boosts his ego in the wrong way and you’d love to just kick him right in the nuts.

Once the show’s over, you’re finally in your own privacy, changing your uniform to your day to day outerwear. A knock is heard on the door, catching you out of your hazy thoughts, while also feeling jealous and incensed. You open the door and you’re immediately knocked down with a feather.

“What are you doing here?” you utter, laced in a grim tone, not expecting to see his cheery face. Ashton stands in front of you, eyebrows raised by your surprising outburst.

“Checking in on my girlfriend. What else would I be doing?” He responds nonchalantly, entering the small room without needing to ask for permission. Of course he wouldn’t.

He runs a hand through his damp curls, looking around the room before looking back to you. It’s like he struggles to read you and why you’re not responding to him, why you’re facing away from him. “Hey…” He starts off, walking up to you and placing his hands on your waist, making you turn around to face him.

You push his hands off your body almost immediately, his eyes on stalks. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he counters, his eyes searching yours.

The more he acts this oblivious, the more you want to give into the idea of kicking him in the nuts and walking out of this room. You decide to just tell him before he’s going for the the well known question ‘are you on your period?’.

“The fuck was that up stage?” you angrily mutter, crossing your arms over your chest.

He seems confused, which is one more reason to be angry at him. How can he be so painfully heedless? You desperately need to just knock some sense into that thick skull of his.

“What?” he raises his arms in an ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ motion.

“Oh, so now you’ve got memory loss? Great.” you roll your eyes, facing the other way instead of him. Again. How can a human being manage to piss you off this much? It’s inane.

“Amore… tell me.” He waits for you to say something, anything at all, but all you do is stand there and glare, causing him to take a step closer to you. “Was it the girl who I did a shot with?”

Bingo.

You can’t help but roll your eyes again, as if it wasn’t that obvious why you’d be mad at him about that in the first place.

“Oh come on… Nothing happened, alright? Just did her a favour and probably made her whole night.”

“Yeah, right.” You bite back immediately, not buying any of the bullshit he’s spitting. You can’t even look him in the eyes. You’re deranged in anger, but also so confused and hurt. He’d never gone this close to a girl before in all the months you’ve been dating, so he surely needs to understand why you’re acting the way you are.

“Why are you making a big deal out of this?” he murmurs, managing to boil your blood to the point you could burn anything you touch into ashes.

“Are you kidding me, Ash?” you poss in vexation, glaring through his soul. Words can’t express how tense you’re getting and how much you want to wipe that foolish smirk off his face.

“Babe, you can’t be serious, can you?” He sneers, his eyes giving you a once over. You only let out a frustrated sigh, turning your back to him a third time.

You don’t know what he deserves more, a sucker punch right to his jaw or the infamous silent treatment. Maybe both could give him a well-earned reality check.

“Are you seriously mad about some measly fucking interaction? Really, Y/N?” he huffs, seeming more annoyed than amused this time. Which makes you, on the other hand, infuriated by even more rage.

The way he acts so unbothered is insufferable. You turn on your heel, facing him, an angry etched expression on your face he certainly can’t dismiss now. “You were flirting with her, you ass! Right in front of me!” You bark back, sick of his apathetic state. Just utterly sick of him.

“I wasn’t, Y/N! Why would you even think that?” he retorts, his obliviousness turning into annoyance, his arms now crossed over his chest as well.

You don’t respond, only letting out a spiteful scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I really don’t see what’s wrong here. You have no reason to be mad at me. None.” he mutters, which is just the cherry on the cake, isn’t it? You let out another angry huff before turning on your heel and leaving him in the room, despite it being yours.

However, you’re not as quick as you thought you were as he catches your wrist, wrapping his hand around it and pulling you closer to him.

“Don’t run away from me, baby. None of that bullshit. Talk it out with me, curse me out, just don’t ever shut me out, okay?” he calmly explains, his eyes trained on yours with his eyebrows creased together in concentration on you. Only you. You take a deep breath, flicking your eyes in between his.

“Why were you flirting with that girl?” you ask after a long pause, your eyes focusing on that one curl that fell on his forehead.

“I wasn’t.” He responds, and it just made you feel even more obscured from this ridiculous situation that brought tension between you two.

You’re starting to think you might be overdoing it. Might be a bit of the jealous kind and just making this ought to paint you to be dramatic.

“Is that all you have to say?” you mask getting offended by his short, incoherent reply, just by answering repulsively back.

“What more can I say then? You’re making a mountain out of a molehill here.” He crosses his arms again, and it just messes with your head on what type of emotions and feelings are coursing through him. What his thought process is, ‘cause he’s doing everything he can to dismiss the issue. Dismissing your feelings that are as valid as can be. At least that’s what you wanna think.

“Never mind.” You pull away from his grip, sitting down at the nearest couch. You’re done trying to argue to a wall, because that’s the position you feel like you’re in, feeling trapped in a loophole if he continues to act this clueless.

He looks over at you, no remorse whatsoever, and that somehow rises more anger out of you, though you make sure you keep your poker-face. There’s no point anymore if he won’t try to understand you.

“Are ya really just gonna sit there and stare?” he asks. But after a long pause, he just knows there’s not going to be a reply.

“Silent treatment won’t solve anything, love.” he adds, looking at you across the room, his eyebrows furrowed as he runs his hand through his hair again.

“Y/N…Just quit it already, will ya?” he grows more annoyed and impatient by your attitude. However, nothing will make you utter out a word again. Not when he at least attempts to apologise.

“Fuck’s sake, Y/N… I don’t have time for this. I’m sorry, alright? I wasn’t flirting with the girl- would never do that.”

You think to yourself you might have overexaggerated on wanting an attempted apology, cause it just pisses you off even more.

“Talk to me…” he prompts, taking a few steps closer to you.

You don’t respond, and he takes it as some sort of indication to stride closer. He takes your hands in his, pulling you up to your feet and cupping your jaw, making sure you look him in the eyes. “Please?”

You hate him. You hate him so much you’re becoming a tough nut to crack, and he’s fully aware of that. He knows how stubborn and jealous you can get over the smallest things. Still, you don’t know where his mind is.

He pulls you in for a kiss, connecting his lips with yours, catching you by surprise. His hands are trailing down your body and reposing on your waist, pulling you closer than before.

If this is how he ventures his way out to say sorry to you, when you can’t take it as a simple word, you’re not…entirely against it.

You stare profoundly into his eyes after he breaks the kiss, his eyes searching yours—But your feelings are very conflicting. You so want to give in, but you’re still mad. And you still hate him. Well, you’re trying to make yourself hate him.

It feels like it’s been ages since you’ve uttered out a word, but that’s none of your concern as you pull him in for another heated kiss, your hand finding its way through his tousled hair, earning a soft groan on his end. His tongue slips out and swipes at your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter your mouth as you oblige immediately.

He has you fully wrapped around your finger. You can’t even be mad at him anymore, even if it’s play pretend.

His hands are on your waist, but it didn’t take long before one hand slips between your legs, making you instantly weak in the knees.

“Let me make it up to you, amore mio.” replays in your mind over and over when you brought him in for another desperate kiss, pouring out all of your feelings and love for him. The way he said it, the desperation in his voice and his dilated eyes— you can never say no to that. You need him.

You’re a hot mess, letting out huffs of pleasure as he continues to palm you through your jeans, like an attempt to hear you, even if it’s not through articulated words.

He pulls away from your lips, traveling his heated series of kisses down to your pulse-point, eliciting another hot whimper out of you. You’re dazed and all you want is more. More of him. Just more.

He hoists you up, your legs immediately clinging around his hips as he leads you towards the small couch, laying you down and hovering his body over yours.

He’s such a sight for sore eyes, carrying the grace of dawn and the mystery of dusk. Your eyes wandering over every feature of his face, just taking him in. He bites back a smile, his eyes lingering on your chest, then back to your eyes. “Want me to make you feel good, yeah?” his voice is ragged with desire, low and husky that has such a toll on you.

He goes back in for a fervent kiss before you could even respond, pouring out all of his love for you that makes you forget the anger you once had a thousand times more. Your hands wander over his shoulders, all the way down to his hips, pulling him in closer, trapping him in between your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist.

He lets out a low grunt in between the kiss, his hips grinding against your heat, drawing out another small sound out of you. His hands that has a mind of its own fondling your breasts through the thin material of your shirt, like he couldn’t get enough of you and he physically needs more. You want more of him too, totally entranced by him, the heat of desire pooling in between your legs with an intensified want to have him in ways that’s unrefined. He moves towards the crook of your neck again, marking you up as his.

You’re already impatient as is, your uncoordinated fingers fumbling with his belt, like you can’t stand seeing him in clothes for another wasted second. He lets you, still immersed in marking your neck up, making sure there are angry marks left behind.

Once you’ve found the zipper of his tight jeans, you tug the material down, his hands coming in rescue and helping himself out of his jeans. In an instant, he pulls at the hem of your shirt, dragging the material over your head and throwing it somewhere in the room. Your eyes have wandered off to the door behind him and suddenly you’re too aware that someone could walk in easily.

“Babe… this room has no lock.” you mention, evoking a small smirk on his face. “Don’t you think it’s more fun that way? No one’s gonna come in.” He teases, eyes shamelessly staring at your bra, like he’s trying to smog up the power to disappear things with his mind.

“But-“ he’s quick to pipe you down by a kiss on the lips. “No ‘but’s’, you’re safe with me, amore.”

You pull him back in, sick of prolonging this any longer and seriously needing a good fuck if he’s gonna make it worth the while. If this is his way to at least attempt to apologise, then he better makes it good. Not that he has ever disappointed you in that division.

He hovers over you again, faces inches from yours, his hand snaking under your back to unclasp your bra in what feels like a nanosecond. He pulls the material off your body like it’s some sort of pest- like he’s been wanting it off since the moment he had laid eyes on you. He nips and sucks at your skin, hands exploring every inch of you. He licks a stripe right above your boobs, staring up at you with a well-known grin, eager to have his way with you.

He swipes his tongue over your sensitive nipple, lapping you up and then latching you in between his lips, paying great attention to you with his mouth, suckling and nibbling on your flesh. His other hand wanders to your untended breast, his fingers playing with the other nipple. You let out a soft whimper, already captivated by his fervent skills, your fingers threading through his soft curls.

Your eyes catches his, a sultry grin appearing on his face that has you overdriven with more arousal, more desire for him.

He moves to your other nipple, giving it the same, equal attention, drawing even more sounds and pants out of you.

All you really want is for him to hurry up. Your mind can’t get off of that damned door that has no lock on it, and he’s about to undress you intimately, which has made you apprehensive. He quickly catches on by your stiff demeanour and he lowers himself down, licking a long strip down your bare stomach- trying to make you forget about the door.

You lull your head back, your breath ragged and uneven as you tug at his golden strands tighter than before, earning a low grunt from him. He sure knows how to make you forget about stuff in an instant.

He has his hands on each side of your hips, trailing them towards the button of your black jeans. He works his way to get you out of your clothes, fast and determined, pulling the fabric down your thighs as you help him kick off the material.

“So gorgeous f’me, amore.” he grunts, quickly discarding his shirt off of him, accentuating his perfect, sweaty body to you, the sculputred abs and delicious pecs staring right at you as we speak. You sit up straight on the couch with only the flimsy laced underwear you’re wearing covering three percent of your body at most.

His eyes widen the moment you drop down to your knees in front of him, head-level with the black boxer briefs clung tightly on him. It highlights the swell of his tent that’s covered by the thin material of his Calvin Kleins. Your doe-eyed expression seems to get the better of him, already biting his bottom lip from your sight.

You waste no time, hooking your fingers under the material of his boxers, sliding them down ‘till they drop to his feet. He’s quick when it comes to stepping out of them, eager for you.

You’ve seen him like this before, plenty of times even, but right now— it’s like his arousal is as painful as it seems. His tip an angry shade of pink, pre-cum glazing down to his shaft. His breathing is laboured, his eyes concentrated on you, like he’s trying to moderate himself, keeping everything under control before he snaps.

You wrap your hand around his cock, the smallest of touch already making him hiss in pleasure. With deep shared eye contact, you start to pump him slowly, collecting the pre-cum that’s spilling out of him, whirling it over his tip, eliciting another desperate whimper from his agape lips. His eyebrows are creased, the purity in his eyes completely gone- reciprocated into something more coarse and obscene.

“Baby.. open your mouth.” he demands in a breathier tone, and you instantly oblige. With that, he cups your jaw with both of his large hands, his eyes intensely staring at yours. You don’t know what to expect, but he stars to hover over you, his face significantly closer to yours. He gives you that snarky smirk you know all too well, and then makes sure to lift your jaw a little up higher as he spits into your mouth without caution. Your eyes widen a little, his spit landing right on your tongue.

“Now swallow f’me, amore.” he orders, and you do exactly as he says.

Jesus…even in times like these— he still tastes divine.

His one hand threads through your hair, his other leaving the underside of your chin. “Show me what you’ve got…be my good girl.” he growls, standing up straight. You’re completely gone off guard by this small interaction between you and him, but you quickly shake it off, your trembly hand going back to where it was before.

You lick a strip up over his shaft, swirling your tongue on his tip that has him already writhing for more. You finally take him in your mouth, wrapping your lips sweetly around him and taking him inch by inch, a swall groan leaving his lips in exchange.

You set up a space, sucking him as you wrap your hand around the part that doesn’t fit in your mouth, his hand threading in your hair expeditiously. Low grunts and groans escapes his mouth, totally entranced by your ministrations as he couldn’t help but thrust forward, meeting your pace and rhythm all. He hits the back of your throat at every thrust, tears already brimming in your eyes that eventually seeps down to your cheeks. You couldn’t help but suck him with more precision, eyes deeply concentrated on his breathtaking face.

The desperation and anguish is written all over him, like he couldn’t bear this and needs you in ways where it’s humanly impossible to describe. Sweat already trickles over his forehead, eyes pleading for you, in a way that makes you believe his pupils are contorted into spelling your name- his want like a screeching howl that blares through your eardrums.

In a quick motion, he pulls out of you and you take your time to catch your breath, heaving them out like you’ve ran a marathon, quickly wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He pulls you to your feet, hands on your hips and instantly pushing you backwards on the couch as your back hits the cushions, laying flat on the surface. Hovering over you, he delicately scans his eyes over your whole frame, taking in every detail from your tousled hair to your almost naked self. He traps himself in between your spread out legs, his length making contact with your lower abdomen, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

His arms are on each side of you, a few strands of his curls hanging over his forehead. “Need to fuck you, baby. Need you right now.” He murmurs, his voice hoarse and his tone laced in pure lust.

You bite your bottom lip as he positions you, hands firmly grasping your hips in desperation. “Please…” You utter out, the only thing your lips can form as a sole word, while your mind is going a million miles an hour with how much you have to say.

The warmth of his palms are soon replaced by the cool air hitting your hips, his hands sliding down to your thighs as his fingers prudently play with the lace of your underwear. “So beautiful…” He murmurs in almost a whisper. “I only have eyes for you, you know that right?” He adds, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, examining him. “I know...” you reply in a soft mumble and his lips quirk up in a lopsided smile.

You glance down his body, and the sight alone has you as weak as water. He pumps himself a few times, eyes still trained on yours. He pulls at the laced material of your panties, prodding his length right under the fabric as he teasingly begins to rub himself against you. You let out a stifled moan, eyebrows creased upwards in simple pleasure. He’s fervent with you, fastening his pace ever so slightly that drives you insane. “So wet f’me, yeah?” he grunts, leaning down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss.

Your soft moans are muffled in between the kiss as his hand that rested on your hip is now gripping your thigh, quickly hooking it over his shoulder. He positions himself at your entrance, gliding himself inside you fervently with your panties now pushed aside. A soft gasp escapes your throat, head already lulled back by how full he’s making you feel once he’s fully inside. After making sure you adjust to him, he begins to set up a slow pace, hovering over your body even closer as this new profound feeling intensifies, hitting you in all the right places.

“So fucking pretty for me, baby… Let me hear you, yeah? Moan f’me…” he praises, and all you could do in response to that is grow louder- despite still being in a semi-public setting. There’s a small chance someone could walk in, or even hear you through the door, but your mind is elsewhere. It’s on him, totally engulfed in pleasure he gives you.

“Taking me so well…” He pants, heaving out breaths as his thrusts start to become rougher, dragging out more moans out of you. “So good for me, aren’t you? Gonna fill you up so well...” He continues, his hands trailing over every inch of your body, fingers lightly pinching at your nipples, eliciting another whimpery moan from your lips.

He continues to thrust into you deliciously, hooking your other leg over his other shoulder, this newfound angle hitting your sweet spot delightfully over and over again. Moans spill out of you in an overwhelming sensation, that’s probably music to his ears by the way he’s thoroughly captivated by you.

His own moans fall from his lips once your hips buck up to match his rhythm of his thrusts. “I’m so close...” you heave out, eyes rolling to the back of your head. He takes this as a sign to fuck you harder. Rougher. Like he wants to break you in half.

He adds his thumb to your sensitive clit, drawing out louder moans, that has no way of becoming less when it’s only pitching up higher in decibels. “You’re so fucking hot, baby…So perfect.” he praises you, totally wrapped up in utter pleasure, the slapping sounds of skin on skin echoing through the room.

“Please…” you plead in a high whimper, not really sure why, but you’re completely overdriven in ecstasy, his thumb on your sensitivity never leaving you which adds to more pleasure, egging you on.

“Yeah, amore mio? Gonna give it to me, aren’t you? Show me… Show me how good I make you feel.” he groans completely out of breath, his chest glistening with his own sweat. He leans down, folding you in half like a damned pretzel, hitting you even deeper than before. He nips on the skin at the crook of your neck, humming against you.

“Making me feel so good…” he murmurs against your skin, his thrusts piercing more moans out of you, knowing how much you enjoy his rough side.

The bubbling feeling inside your lower abdomen intensifies by the minute, exhibiting that you’re nearing the finish line. He knows by your desperate pants and graphic sounds as he strives to get you to the pinnacle point of pleasure, picking up on his thrusts, fucking you harder against the cushions with fervor.

Your brain starts to feel like scrambled eggs, moving from left to right in a stirring pan as his lips finds yours in a sweet quick kiss, pulling away to look at you. His hands grip your waist as tight as ever, definitely leaving a mark behind. His whimpers like a melody you can never get sick of, no matter how many times you’re willing to repeat the same tune.

A few more thrusts in and you hear the familiar ringing in your ears as you near the edge completely, your climax washing over you like a tidal wave. You scream out his name in the process, clenching sweetly around him as he follows right behind you and finishes, trails of curse words falling from his lips in heavy grunts—filling you with his cum.

He unhooks your legs from his shoulders, pulling out of you with a small gasp. He crashes down next to you, heaving out hefty breaths. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, keeping you close to his glistening body. “See? You’re safe with me, just like I told you.” he breathes, letting out a soft chuckle.

You turn your face to look at him, a genuine smile formed on your lips, despite being completely out of breath. “Mmmh, never said you were wrong.”

He chuckles in response, planting a sweet kiss to your temple. “You felt incredible baby, definitely needed this after the show.”

You smile, all the anger and jealousy from before completely wiped off of you. “I always do.” you counter with a smug grin, giving him a bit of a tease.

“A win-win situation for me, eh?” He eyes you, eyebrows raised with a cheeky smile. You laugh, shaking your head. “Definitely.” You agree, a small giggle followed after.

“So… I take it that you’re not mad at me anymore?” He asks, his voice laced in a sincere tone.

You had almost forgotten about how immensely infuriated you were before this happened. “I forgive you.” you murmur, glancing at him.

“I mean it when I told you I only have eyes for you.” he utters, pulling you even closer than before, pecking the top of your head.

This was definitely a way to end the night, after a very small gig took place and how the man of your dreams next to you can have you riled up in anger as well as desire in the span of two seconds. You’re not complaining about it at all. You wouldn’t have him any other way— even if it means all the ups and downs that comes with it.

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