Hozier Fic - Tumblr Posts

A compilation of what texting with Andrew is like.

Talk

As a famous singer, you find yourself at the same terrible party as Hozier, but you two decide to do something about it.

Pairing: fem reader x Hozier

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, p in v (protected) sex, fingering, 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who waited for this one...I'm so sorry it took so long. Please enjoy, and remember, my inbox is open for requests!

This party sucked.

Somehow, at one of the biggest album release parties of the year, you found yourself bored out of your mind, sipping on a weak gin and tonic. Leaning against a corner wall, the bass of the music from the DJ vibrated through you as you watched other people dance – your bandmates were somewhere amongst them, but for whatever reason, you just weren’t feeling it. Maybe you were just in a mood, maybe it was the music (one good song for every ten awful ones), but you sipped your drink, checking your phone every so often until it became a polite time to excuse yourself. You could already taste the revelry of getting back to your house before midnight – pajamas, Thai takeout, and scrolling aimlessly on your phone while Grey’s Anatomy reruns played in the background.

Suddenly, you saw a head bobbing around the others in the crowd – standing what seemed like almost a full foot above everyone else, his thick, curly hair pulled back in a half bun, he smiled and tilted his head to the music distractedly. Your breath hitched for a moment as you saw him – you had seen Hozier at countless red carpets and events in the past year it seemed, but he was also more handsome than the last time. He turned his head and your eyes locked, making you blush, and making him smile. He gently pressed a hand on someone’s back to alert that he was making his way behind him.

As if the giant could ever go unnoticed.

“Hi,” He said as he landed next to you, sipping from his drink. Something brown and in a rocks glass, one giant ice cube anchoring the liquid.

Of course.

“I feel like I needed to come over and speak to you – we seem to orbit each other at basically every red carpet this year.” He spoke, seemingly reading my mind. You smiled.

“That’s funny – I was just thinking that.”

Hozier nodded and his eyes scanned the crowd before landing back at you. It was like he was staring into your soul. Extending a hand, he smiled, “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m –”

“I know who you are,” You admitted, somewhat bashfully as you shook his hand. “I’m a big fan. I’m–”

“I know who you are,” He echoed, a smirk playing on his lips mischievously, “I’m a big fan.”

You could feel your blush deepen as his smooth words washed over you. His accent was enough for you to want to drop your panties, and his smile was already sending your head upside down.

“Your ‘Best New Artist’ win was well deserved,” He continued. “Your album was one of my favorites this year. Selfishly, I hope you guys are working on another one.”

“Wow, thank you,” You breathed, your heart thumping in your chest, “That means a lot coming from one of like, the best lyricists of our generation.”

“Ah,” Hozier waved his hand, bashful, “Come now.”

You cocked an eyebrow and smiled, “You’re going to write something like ‘I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus when her body was found, I'd be the choiceless hope in grief, that drove him underground’ and not expect to be considered that?”

He simply shrugged and sipped his drink. He was blushing, embarrassed.

“This album was also very good,” He changed the subject, speaking of the current album release party. He cleared his throat, “Even though this party sucks.”

You laughed and gently grabbed his forearm in agreement, “Yes! What is that about?!”

“I think it’s the DJ,” He admitted, leaning into you, “The guys releasing this album are buddies of mine, but I’m starting to think if I need to end our friendship based on the DJ they picked for this party.”

“The music he’s playing is making me feel old,” You admitted, “I don’t know any of the songs, and I don’t seem to really like it, either. Is this what our parents feel like when we were listening to Good Charlotte and Britney Spears?”

“Not mine. My mom loves Good Charlotte.” His eyes twinkled.

You laughed. Your eyes fell on your bandmates dancing to the music, obviously drunk off of the expensive beer being served at the open bar. You were acutely aware of Hozier standing next to you, his heat seemingly radiating.

“Is it an inappropriate time to tell you that I think you look beautiful tonight?” He asked, his breath warm on your ear as he leaned down to whisper it. Shivers were sent down your back as he spoke. You turned your head and looked at him, trying to play it cool with the smile that played on your lips.

“Probably not, considering how I’ve been thinking about how handsome you look since I saw you from across the room tonight.” You retorted, titling your head. He smiled and nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd.

“I’m reminded of your beauty every time I see you at events,” Hozier said, his hand finding the small of your back, “And, admittedly, every time I scroll your Instagram feed.”

You laughed, “Hozier is my internet stalker, eh?”

“Can you blame me? That number you had on at the Grammy’s this year?” He made a face, whistling, “It took every ounce of strength not to follow your account as soon as you were done presenting on stage.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” You asked, almost interrupting him. He seemed taken aback, so you tried to backtrack, “I mean…in a bit. We could go somewhere where…the DJ doesn’t suck? After we finish our drinks.”

Hozier quickly chucked back the rest of his drink, putting the glass on the nearest table. “Let’s go.” He took your hand as you chugged the rest of yours as well, finding the spot next to his glass for yours.

He guided you through the party, his hand never leaving the small of your back. You felt heat rushing through you as you made your way to front door, and Hozier handed the valet his ticket. He turned to you.

“Did you drive here?”

You shook your head. “Car service.”

“Great. We can take my car then.”

As the valet pulled up in a sleek Audi, Hozier thanked him and handed him a large bill as a tip. He waited until you were situated in your seat before he slid into the driver’s side, closing his door and pulling into traffic. Some sort of blues-y jazz was coming through the speakers softly.

“So where are you kidnapping me to, Mr. Internet Stalker?” You teased, looking out the window at the lights of downtown L.A.

He smiled, “My hotel,” His voice was a low purr. You exchanged a glance as he leaned his head forward, in explanation, “The bar there is really nice. Live jazz band tonight. It’s mellow.”

You nodded and smiled. As your heart raced, you were trying to calm yourself down, fiddling with the clasp on the purse in your lap. Hozier’s arm was resting on the console in between you, and every so often, his hand inched closer to you. By the time he pulled into the swanky hotel parking lot, his large hand was resting gently on your thigh.

Your stomach was in excited knots.

After another valet exchange, Hozier took your hand and led you inside the hotel. It was grand and beautiful – a $500/night type place. To the right of the entrance was a beautiful restaurant, speakeasy in style. As promised, a four-piece band was set up in the corner of the bar, playing soft tunes and creating the atmosphere of an underground jazz club.

“Told you,” Hozier said, raising his eyebrows playfully, “And the drinks are great as well. Had one before the release party.”

“It’s really nice.” You awkwardly agreed. Hozier stopped for a moment, his face unreadable. He stood before you.

“I also have a minibar upstairs in my room, if you want something to drink.”

“Oh, that sounds much better.” The coil in your belly was itching to be sated, and you didn’t know how much you could play this cat-and-mouse game of will they/won’t they. For a moment, a darkness of lust flickered in his eyes, but he simply smiled and took your hand, leading you to the elevator. He scanned his room card and pressed the button to the top floor.

The air in the elevator was thick, heavy. You both stood facing the door, saying nothing. As the doors open and he led you to his suite, your heartbeat doubled in time. Flicking the lights on, he shut the door behind you, placing the lock in it’s place.

It took all of 30 seconds before your bodies crashed together, teeth clacking and moans erupting.

Hozier grabbed you and pushed your floor length dress up so they he was able to wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bed. Your arms snaked around his neck, fingers finding their way into his hair. You pulled back slightly, your breath ragged already.

“So what the fuck do I call you?” You asked, breathlessly.

Confused, he looked at you, “What?”

“I need to know what I’m saying when I scream your name later…is it Hozier, or is it Andrew?”

He barked out a laugh and bit your lip, “Andrew. Andrew is fine.” He pressed his lips on yours again, dropping on top of you as he guided you to the bed. His large hands ran their way up and down your waist, palming at the skin on your body. He was moaning, grunting into the kiss, as your tongues danced together. You felt his hands leave your waist and slip your heels off, your toes already curling.

Andrew pulled away and slipped off the tweed suit jacket he was wearing. He looked down at you as he shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.

“So fucking beautiful,” He murmured, pressing hot kisses down your neck. “So fucking sexy. Every time I see you.”

You moaned and pressed your hips to him slightly, causing him to gasp lightly in surprise. He kissed down your neck, to your collarbone, gently slipping the thin straps of your dress off of your shoulders. Licking a stripe from your neck to just above your breasts, he smiled, looking at you.

“Fuck,” You breathed, looking down at him. You watched as he stood, slipping off his shoes and socks next to the bed. He unbuttoned his dress shirt and slipped that off, revealing his thin, hairy chest. He was lean, built lithly but strong. Biting your lip, you stifled a moan. He was on you once again, pulling you into a kiss, his hand cradling the back of your neck. His other hand made quick work of the zipper on the back of your dress, and he shimmed it down, before sliding it off of you completely.

Revealing the intricate…shapewear…you wore underneath.

For a moment, both of you stopped breathing, looking down at the ugly, functional corset that covered your body. Embarrassed, you pressed your lips together before looking back at Andrew. Suddenly, both of you were in hysterics.

“I really wish I was wearing some sexy lingerie right about now.” You said, throwing your head back and cackling. Andrew laughed and peppered kisses on your cheeks, shaking his head as he undid the shapewear and took that off as well.

“That was brilliant,” He said, wiping a tear away from laughing, “What a fuckin’ reveal.” As he took it off, you were completely nude, your skin softly pressed against his fingers. He groaned as he took you in, “That’s much better.” His voice was back to husky, low.

He kissed you once more before his fingers found their way to your clit, spreading your legs gently. He didn’t take his eyes off of you as his fingers felt your wetness. Quickly, he inserted two fingers, pushing his long digits all the way in. You moaned and furrowed your brow as he didn’t move for a moment, letting you adjust.

“You’re so wet for me already, darlin’.” He purred, his forehead on yours. You whimpered and nodded. He started to pump inside of you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. Immediately you started to squirm, which made me smile.

“Jesus Christ, Andrew.” You said, your eyes flickering to his fingers moving in and out of you. Heat rose in you as you watched him, the pleasure evident on his face as he licked his lips. When your eyes found his again, you found him looking at you, and not his handiwork.

“I love seeing you like this,” He said plainly, “You’re so beautiful when you squirm.”

He increased his speed, causing you to buck your hips. He nodded, his eyes twinkling, as he continued to pleasure you with his fingers. He leaned down to kiss you – a hot, open-mouthed kiss, with his tongue finding yours immediately. You moaned into it as he curved his fingers inside of you and took your bottom lip in his mouth, sucking gently. Pulling away, he dipped his head and moved his tongue to your hardened nipple, sucking on the bud as your body started to convulse under him.

The coil in your belly was tightening, and fast. Your hips started to buck faster, your wetness pooling out on to his fingers. You started to repeat his name like a prayer, and as you moved closer to the edge, your hand found its way into his hair again, tugging lightly.

“I’m close.” You whimpered.

“I know,” He smiled, moving his mouth to your ear, “Come for me. Be a good girl.”

You gasped slightly at his words as the coil snapped, bucking your hips one last time before your orgasm sent waves of pleasure through you. You moaned loudly, gripping the back of his head tightly as he bit down on your earlobe, never stopping his fingers inside of you.

“That’s it,” He groaned, his voice raspy, “That’s it, pretty girl. Give it all to me. Show me how pretty you are when you come for me.”

Your head swam and your heart raced, your eyes squeezed shut because you could focus. The pleasure that was spreading through you was warm, electric – it was one of the best orgasms you had ever had, and it was only with his fingers.

Jesus Fuckin’ Christ.

After a few moments, Andrew slipped his fingers out, causing you to open your eyes, your breath coming in heaving pants. He was smiling, obviously proud. Slowly, he licked his digits as he stood, moaning.

“Jesus, you taste delicious.” He said, looking at you. He undid the button and zipper on his pants, the obvious tent of his arousal very evident before he slipped them off. Down came his pants and boxer briefs, his large member springing free, wet with precum. He made his way over to a duffle bag thrown on a chair in the corner of the room and rifled through it, finally emerging with a condom in between his fingers. Opening it quickly, he slid it on himself, pumping himself a few times as he walked back to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Are you ready?” He asked, straddling himself in front of you, continue to stroke himself.

“Actually, if you’re not inside of me within the next few seconds I might lose my fucking mind.” You said, watching him. It was silly, but seeing him touch himself in front of you like that made him seem like a god. He smiled and crawled on top of you, slowly positioning himself at your entrance. As his tip teased your wet folds, you whimpered.

Finally, Andrew slid himself inside of you in a single thrust, his forehead finding yours again. Your moans filled the room, and as he started to pump inside of you, the familiar numb feeling of being filled spread throughout you.

“So good,” You said, closing your eyes and pressing your head to the pillow, “So, so good, Andrew.”

“That’s it,” He said, his breath hitching, “Wanna make you feel good. You make my cock feel so good.” He dipped his head in the crook of your neck as he started to slowly increase his pace, finding himself deeper inside of you. The sound of your wet skin slapping together filled the room, matched only by your breathy groans and his primal grunts.

“Fuck!” You shrieked, Andrew finding a particular spot that made your vision fuzzy. Andrew tilted his head up to look at you and he smiled.

“Yeah? Right there, darlin’?” He asked. You nodded, your brows knitted together. His hand found your chin, holding it roughly, “You like it when I fuck you right there?” You nodded again but he shook his head, “Lemme hear you say it, baby.” He gently commanded.

“Fuck. Yes, Andrew, right there!” You said, unable to take your eyes off of him. His eyes darkened as he continued to fuck you, his face flushing.

“My name sounds so good on your lips.” He groaned, continuing to pump in you. Sweat was beading on his forehead as he continued to hit your spot. His hand moved from your chin to your tits, and as he pinched your hardened nipples, you moaned. His thrusts became erratic, irregular.

“You’re close already, aren’t you?” You toyed with him, taking a moment to bite down on his bottom lip, “My pussy so good you’re gonna come for me?”

“Fuck,” He barked, furrowing his brows, “You’re so fucking tight…you’re so wet…I’m gonna come soon. I’m close,” His face flushed deeper as he stared into your eyes, making your heart thunder in your chest. Suddenly, he squeezed his eyes shut, his head thrown back, voice parted in a silent moan.

You felt his cock twitch inside of you, the condom filling with his orgasm. He jerked his hips, almost a spasm, as he moaned your name. His hands gripped the pillows on either side of you, his biceps flexing. You smiled as he finally opened his eyes, almost in submission as he rode out his orgasm. Your hands found their way to his back, gripping him and bringing him closer.

A few moments went by as he stayed inside of you, trying to catch up with his breathing. He placed gentle kisses on your cheek lazily, finally rolling out of you. Standing, he quickly made his way to the bathroom to toss the condom and clean himself up, but laid next to you again, scooping you up in his arms.

“You’re fucking incredible.” He murmured in your ear, his Irish accent coming out with his tired demeanor. You giggled and looked at him, brushing a sweaty lock of hair behind his ear.

“I’m really glad that party sucked so bad,” You said. He chuckled, his eyes still closed. Opening one, he looked down at you.

“Me too…” He paused for a moment, drawing you closer, “Though, even if that party was fun, I still would’ve made my way over to you.”

“Yeah?”

Andrew nodded and shifted so he was propping himself up on his elbow, “Yeah. I had been trying to muster up the courage for like…three awards shows to come over and say hi to you, now. Months worth of time.” He was somewhat bashful. You blushed.

“Well I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.” He reached out and started to brush his fingers through your hair, and you couldn’t help the fluttering in your chest.

That party sucked. But you were glad it did.

---

A/N: I'm actually kind of obsessed with their banter and relationship...should I make this multiple parts?! I was originally only planning on doing this as a oneshot but I kind love them (teehee).

As always, comments and reblogs mean a lot if you liked this one <3 Thanks for reading

private tutoring 📚

barbecue at your dads best friend 🍖

blue jeans, white shirt

ship: andrew hozier-byrne x cisfem!reader (no use of y/n)  summary: you're andrew's girlfriend and you're at the railbird festival together! you get a chance to catch noah's set together, but get a bit distracted. thankfully, you end up getting everything you want. ratings/warnings: E; MDNI – established relationship, grinding, public makeout, fingering, use of pet names ("my girl", "baby") wc: 2.7k author’s note: the jeans onstage debut did something to me that i fear i will never recover from. definitely potential for part two if y’all enjoy this one :-)  this is dedicated to @perpetuallyyearning for sending me those damn jean pictures while i was drunk at the bar. and shout out to @pendingnomdeplume for being the actual best ever. ily both!!! (title is from lana del rey's "blue jeans", naturally)

– – –

you’re the long-term partner of the one, the only Andrew Hozier-Byrne and this weekend you’re accompanying him and the band to the Railbird Festival in Lexington, Kentucky! three cheers for Kentucky bourbon!

it’s the first day of the festival, and you flew in that morning. you’ve spent the day enjoying the incredible atmosphere of this country/bluegrass/indie rock/whatever the hell else festival. the chilled vibes of the acts, the never-ending flow of bourbon, and the gorgeous June weather is sure to make for a great time. 

but you’re still a little unsettled. as the plus one, you’ve only ever attended stadium shows. and the environment there is totally different. people working there know you, or at least of you. and you know them! it’s much more controlled and stream-lined. 

here, the inherent chaos from the floods of people, multiple stages, and multi-day itinerary intimidate you. but the energy adds a lightness and spontaneity that you think you can come to appreciate. 

you can especially appreciate how much Andrew fucking loves musical festivals. he’s so relaxed here, clearly thriving on all the chaotic pieces that you feel are overwhelming. it almost surprised you – but you know that to him, the music supersedes whatever concerns he has about crowds or socializing. besides, he's been at festivals well before he was known as Hozier, back when his hair was shorter and the world didn't know who he was.

you think more than once about what it would be like to go to one with him where he wasn’t a headliner, and you’re sure it would be just as incredible if not more. you’d have his full attention and could actually watch the acts together. not that you aren’t stoked to see him perform, no, that would never get old. but sometimes, you missed out on the experiences everyone else seemed to take for granted. 

when you’d first seen Andrew today, your eyebrows had shot up. he was wearing too many layers for this heat, but what shocked you the most was that he was wearing jeans. jeans that fit him very well, jeans that he usually reserved for off-duty, casual wear. 

“outfit check?” he asked. it was a silly ritual you’d set up ages ago: he’d ask your opinion on his outfit, mainly as a cheeky way to fish for compliments or get you worked up for him. (sometimes actual insecurity snuck in, but that happened a lot less lately.)

“hot as fuck, honestly.” you say. Andrew gives you a bemused look, appreciating the compliment but not quite getting it. “one word. jeans.” he looks down briefly, as if he’d forgotten he was wearing them.  

“seriously? jeans?” Andrew’s expression was turning maniacal now, a raw glint in his eyes. you nod sagely, to try and hide how much you want to find an empty trailer and ride his thigh until you fall apart. “huh. jeans.” he’s smiling to himself, much like the cat who got the cream, and you have to give him a playful shove to get him to stop looking at you like he knows precisely what you want. and how to give it to you.

after you finally get a chance to see him late in the afternoon, Andrew excitedly tells you, “festivals are like, such a pure experience for performers and audience members.” you furrow your brow in confusion. 

“but it’s so…” you pause, wanting to find the right words. honesty was a core value between you two (with your schedules and so much time apart, it had to be). “crowded. loud. overwhelming. I mean, three stages?” 

“I know, I know. but there’s also, like a camaraderie to it? we’re all here for the same thing, to appreciate music together. it’s community. besides, I’ve been here at Railbird since the beginning. it’s like a little reunion every time.” Andrew's response is endearing, in a way that is unique to him. and then he’s off on a tangent about his favorite festival experiences, Glastonbury and Austin City Limits being at the top of the list. Andrew also talks about going to festivals before he was onstage, and that one time in 2006 when he saw the dream line-up at Oxegen: Hard-Fi, Magic Numbers, Arctic Monkeys, Strokes, Kings of Leon, The Who, and James Brown.

“too bad you really only get to see one side of it these days.” you say it offhand, but notice how his face falls. but, as if you’ve planted an idea, Andrew gets a mischievous look on his face. 

“wait. what if I show you what I mean? what if we watch a set together?” you know your eyes are lighting up by the way his face mirrors your expression. his smile is warm and sunny, flooded with affection.

“what, seriously? together together? like you’ll be in the audience?” he grins and explains his idea.

which is how you find yourself screaming along with a massive crowd, off to the side stage, for Noah Kahan’s set. you’d met him just a half hour before, when you’d gone backstage to meet up with Andrew. 

Noah had been everything you’d imagined: self-depracating, affable, and instantly easy to get along with. he’d made fun of your accent, you’d gotten to meet Penny the German Shepherd, and then he gave you a hug before heading off to finish preparing. 

“he seems like a good egg.” you had said with a smile. pleased by your assessment, Andrew had called Noah a “good fucking lad” and shared that working with him had been a huge source of joy. then he’d led you outside to the more private area of the audience. 

it was perfect – you could enjoy the show together with a smaller crowd and not worry about much interference. you see Andrew make eye contact with one of his security personnel, who nods once in acknowledgment. their presence was rarely needed, but made everyone feel safe all the same. it being Noah’s set meant you were both excited for and familiar with the music. on top of that, you had a sneaking suspicion (that Andrew refused to confirm or deny) that your boyfriend would make a guest appearance onstage to boot. 

the night only got better as it went on: the sun having fallen beneath the horizon, Andrew standing behind you with one arm wrapped around your torso at all times, Noah and his band captivating the audience. Noah's blunt yet personable energy extended onstage, and you felt yourself tear up when “Call Your Mom” was playing, the crowd lovingly singing it back to him at full volume.

you feel giddy, giddy at being a normal girl with a normal boyfriend at a normal show. it was so fucking fun, elation seeping into your body the longer Andrew kept his arms around you.

Andrew was being respectable, as he often made a point to be (in public). chaste, even. he’d kept a few inches between you, kept his arm on your shoulders. you figured there were probably eyes on you, figured he really didn’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already might be. but tonight was supposed to be about you two, about being normal. 

and what would normal you want to do with your normal boyfriend at a normal concert in the warm, dark summer night with the taste of bourbon still on your tongue?

“having fun, love?” Andrew’s mouth is next to your ear, the scratch of his beard on your neck. the sound of his voice and the feeling of his skin so close makes you almost lose your ability to stand upright. Christ, how unfair. 

“definitely fun.” you lean back onto his solid chest, letting your head fall into the dip of his neck as he leans down to hear you. “but I could be having so much more.” 

Andrew pauses a beat, the music swelling to a crescendo, and as if he’s read your mind, his hands go to your waist, sliding down slowly to your hips. they linger for just a few seconds before pulling you closer to him. onto him. you hear him let out a shallow breath and feel a slow smile spread across your face. 

“is this what you wanted?” he says, his voice rougher than before. he presses a kiss to your temple, then another on your jaw. they’re slow, lazy kisses, but that doesn’t take away the heat you know is simmering. 

you don’t respond, simply take his arms and wrap them tighter around you so they’re crossing over your chest. you stay like this, pressed together, for a few songs, swaying slightly. Andrew casually kissing you, rubbing lazy circles with his thumb on your arm. 

but eventually, you want more. you’re dancing, letting your instincts take over, the music and adrenaline making your blood pound. you press your ass against him and carefully move up and down, the thrill of feeling him already hard coursing through you. you feel his fingers grip tighter on your hips, but not too tight. just tight enough. he’s pulling you closer and closer, as if by sheer force of will he can make the fabric between you both disappear. 

you continue the movement, guided by the beat of the music, and Andrew keeps his hands and arms tightly around you. you even squeeze together your ass, feeling his hard on straining against you, pushing in closer. you know what he’s thinking about and your mouth waters. every now and then, you hear a whisper. a soft baby and then a not so soft fuck. 

when you put even more pressure on him with your ass, his mouth is suddenly pressing into your jaw again, this time his tongue tracing down onto your neck, sending shivers down your spine despite the warm air. you feel arousal pooling in your abdomen, tight and urgent.

you turn your head look at him, and tell him with your eyes what your words can’t convey. how much you want him. how much you need him, in that moment. you swallow, hard. you can see the dilemma in Andrew's expression: tend to you and help you feel good, or stay put. he glances up to the stage, then shakes his head. “fuck it.” 

Andrew’s pulling away from you now, but keeps tight hold of your hand as he leads you out of the crowd. you see the security personnel from earlier take a step toward you, likely to check in that nothing was wrong, but Andrew holds up his free hand and gives a slight shake of the head. the man nodded, once, and you looked toward where you were being led.

“where are we going?” you ask.  

“somewhere private.” 

you walk further away from the crowd and the stage until you get to rows and rows of parked trailers. he stops, thus you also stop, and he scans them as if looking for a specific one. finally Andrew finds the one he’s looking for and you’re headed toward a big trailer obscured by the twilight. Andrew punches in a code on the electronic key pad and you’re both trailing inside. 

he’s acting with swift, precise movements as you both know you’re playing against the clock with him going to push you down onto the sofa-bench, but you shake your head. you push him down and lower yourself on top of him, straddling his lap. Andrew practically purrs at the sight of you filling his vision and runs his hands down your body, stopping at your hips. he pulls you farther onto him and your mouths meet in a crush of hot, urgent need. 

you’re running your hands through his hair and he’s palming your breasts through your top, making you grind your hips, seeking friction. the bulge in his pants provides exactly what you’re looking for and you move yourself against it, letting out a low whine. Andrew jerks his hips up into you, desperate to give you what you need as you move your mouth to his neck. the jeans are rough against your tender, sensitive skin, but the feeling is driving you mad. you need to taste him, need to feel him.

he’s been whispering words of encouragement in your ear, letting you know how badly he wants you to feel good and how much he needs to feel you come for him. 

“that’s my girl. does my cock feel good for you? even through the jeans?” you nod, pushing further and groaning at the feeling of him, hard and stiff beneath you. “just for you. just here for you to feel good.” you bite your lip and feel his lips on your neck, then your collarbone, before mouthing your stiff nipple through your clothes. you find yourself wishing there had been time to take off clothes, but that had been impossible.

“n-need more. please, god.” Andrew immediately obliges, working his fingers under your clothes and pulling aside your underwear. 

“tell me what you need, baby.” 

“you. more of you.” 

Andrew gives you a self-satisfied smile at hearing this and slides one finger in, testing to see how much you can take. you respond by bucking onto his hand, aching for friction and pressure, so he quickly adds a second. you’re pushing into his palm, and he’s holding the pressure for you – you know from experience that if you could see him, the muscles in his arm would be taut with the strain.

“that’s it. doing so good for me. I know you're close.” Andrew says, voice low. “need you to come for me. need to feel you.”

the trailer is dark with no lights on, and you wish for a split second before you fall apart that you could see his face when you peak. wish you could see the way pleasure and pride change his expression into one reserved for you.

but instead you feel the waves of searing sensation crash over you, pulling you closer to him, your forehead on his shoulder. as you pant his name, you feel his other arm wrap around you, rubbing his hand down your back to assure you’re he’s right there. 

before either of you fully come back to your senses, you both feel Andrew’s phone vibrate in his back pocket. loathe to take you off his lap, he tightens his grip around you and pushes you both off the couch enough to slip out the phone. 

he expression grimaces as he looks to you and says, “we need to go.” 

“now?” you hope it doesn’t sound like a whine, but fuck, you just came so hard you could still feel it and wanted more than anything to let him finish what had been started.

“now.” he kisses you, tender and soft, but hot with desire all at once, full of everything he doesn’t have time to – and doesn’t really need to – say. you understand, and you’re carefully climbing off his lap and standing up, stretching.

“oh my god.” you realize it then, remember why you had been so rushed in the first place. “you have to go onstage.” you bark out a laugh and then so does he, and you’re both cackling like someone just told you the funniest dirty joke in existence. 

he’s standing then too, adjusting himself as best he can despite the raging hard on, and you’re both making your way out of the trailer.

“I hope it’s a long enough walk.” you hear him mutter from behind you as he closes the door. 

you suppress a smile and shrug. “we’ll just have to take care you later.” 

he comes up behind you and presses a kiss into your cheek before saying with a devious lilt, “’m s’posed to be calming down. don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” which causes another bout of laughter between the two of you, you doing your best to stifle the noise with your hand.  

you walk back to the stage area, hand in hand. you watch as he turns from you and heads to the backstage area, leaving you in the crowd to watch him join Noah onstage for Northern Attitude. 

you do your best to school your shit eating grin into something more neutral.

you fail miserably.

Moment's Silence

02/03/2023

Pairing: Andrew (Hozier) x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,699

Warnings: rpf, language, oral (m receiving), mentions of future sexy times

Summary: Tired and overworked, Andrew has promised not to stay up all night again. When he still does, there is only one cure to ease his mind.

A/N: What is there to say? That song really is rather inspiring...

Picture by kirklai via Unsplash (edited)

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

She awoke with a shiver. Instead of his arms, she was wrapped in darkness. The gentle sound of his soft breathing substituted with the whooshing of heavy rain. She didn’t need any light to confirm that the bed beside her was empty, but to find that it hadn’t been touched tonight at all startled her a little.

It wasn’t unusual for him to work at this hour and then sleep through most of the day, but he had promised to go to bed earlier tonight, and Andrew was the kind of person who valued a promise.

She couldn’t deny that his recklessness angered her a little, maybe even more than the broken promise. He had looked so tired and worn already, still over the past days he had dedicated even more hours to his work, hiding himself away in his studio until—as she feared—he would hit the point of complete exhaustion.

With a huff she pushed the blanket off of herself and a silent curse escaped her lips as the cold night air hit her bare legs. This was insufferable, she thought, as she tiptoed her way through the nightly house, wave after wave of goosebumps rolling over her body.

She had almost made it, only a few more steps to the studio, when the soft sound of his guitar suddenly reached her ears. From far away, it seemed, hearing how faint it was, and from the other end of the house.

Her forehead wrinkling in astonishment, she turned around to follow the tune. It lead her straight to the living room where the sheen of dim light that fell through the door gave her the second clue to his whereabouts.

Gently she laid her hand against the wood and pushed it open, slowly, quietly, even though she felt more like storming inside like an angry mob. But she reminded herself that she wanted to have a stern word with him, not scare him to death.

He was sitting on the sofa, guitar in his lap, strumming away while humming a sweet melody. She loved when he did that. There was something magic about the soft vibrations that rose from his throat, something so soothing that her anger washed away in an instant. Even more so when he noticed her and a pair of tired eyes found her still standing in the doorway. The hint of a smile curled his lips, just a bit, but the affection it held was clear to see. But then, together with the music, it fell away and guilt washed over his face.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

His voice was tender and genuine, enough to silence even the last remains of her anger.

“You didn’t. Technically, it was more of your absence that woke me.”

The pained expression on his face told her that didn’t make a difference to him. He had disrupted her sleep by breaking his promise and it bothered him.

“Andrew, what are you doing still up this late? You’re already running on empty.”

“I know, I just can’t wrap my head around…”

He halted mid-sentence as he watched her walk over to him.

“And you won’t tonight. Not with how drained you are.”

She wasn’t met with any resistance as she took the guitar out of his hands and sat it down on the ground. With the instrument out of the way, she didn’t hesitate to take its place and straddle his lap. Loving hands welcomed her, gliding along her exposed thighs with a contented hum. Further and further they ventured, disappearing underneath the hem of her sleeping shirt, travelling across her hips until they found their final resting place on her behind.

He smiled up at her, obviously very pleased with his trove, and there was no way she could resist the lure of his enticing lips any longer. They were as soft as ever, moving unhurriedly with hers, and she could feel the first signs that he finally began to relax.

Not enough though. If she were to ask him to come to bed with her now, he would still decline. She knew him long enough to know that it would need more to make him see reason and tear him away from his beloved music for a few hours.

And so her lips left his, her body gliding through his hands on her way down until her knees met the ground between his feet. Eager fingers went to work immediately, unbuttoning his jeans and slowly pulling down the zipper while her gaze held his.

“What are you doing, love?”

“Helping you relax, Andrew,” she breathed against his stomach before her lips pressed to the small line of hair that vanished underneath the hem of his pants. Carefully she freed him, pulling his clothes all the way down into a pool around his ankles. He moaned, his eyes falling closed for a moment as her hands eased up his legs again. First over his calves, enjoying the flex of his muscles underneath his fuzzy skin, then even slower along his thighs. She could see him twitch in anticipation the closer her fingers got, already growing, hardening under her avid gaze.

A sigh broke from his lips when her mouth found the inside of his thigh, kissing its way up the length of it at a torturously tardy pace. She could feel his eyes on her long before she decided to abandon his silky skin and wasn’t surprised in the least to find them begging her silently to end his anguish.

She had never been able to resist the mossy green of his eyes, and so she yielded. Warm fingers wrapped around his half-hardened erection, stroking, pumping until it had reached its full size. The sight made her mouth water and even if she had wanted to make him wait a little longer, she couldn’t. Lips opening to welcome him inside, her head dove down into his lap.

She hummed the second she could feel him on her tongue, hard and heavy, the familiar taste sending a rush of desire through her whole body. Warmth flooded her core, her hunger for him doubling the second his response invaded her ears.

He sighed her name, so shaky and needy, turning into a hiss as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked him in deeper. With a thud his back hit the soft cushions behind him while his face vanished behind his hands. But just like she couldn’t resist bringing him more pleasure, it seemed he couldn’t resist the view in front of him, and so his hands fell away and he watched in awe how her tongue swirled around him, licking up his shaft, gliding over the tip before it retreated and her lips wrapped around him once more.

She took him in deep this time, a harsh curse breaking the silence as he hit the back of her throat. With a pop she pulled away, gasping for air before she repeated the ritual, then again, and again, and again.

“Baby, please. I—”

He groaned as her free hand found his balls, cupping them, slowly kneading the sensitive area. All the while she kept on pleasuring him, her hand stroking up and down his cock, taking turns with her mouth that sucked him in, tongue hitting his tip every now and then as an extra treat.

It wasn’t long before she could feel him tighten in her hand, just a little at first, but then more and more with every stroke. His sounds of passion grew louder as well, the perfect litany of sweet hums and sighs mixed with lewd curses, an enchanting song he only ever sang for her.

It crescendoed in a beautiful, drawn-out moan and she answered with the same sound of appreciation when he started to pulse on her tongue. She took everything he gave her, savouring each thick drop until the tension finally left his body and his song ebbed away.

Slender fingers cupped her cheeks, still a bit shaky, but drawing her attention nonetheless. He was just looking at her with a placid smile, watching as she released him from her mouth. His mouth fell open a little, just like hers when his thumb found her bottom lip in a gentle caress.

“Come here,” he whispered and it didn’t escape her attention how wonderfully low the tone of his voice had become. Low and honeyed, a bit hoarse as well, and that was all her doing, her triumph.

He helped her up, his hands finding her face again the second she had taken her former position on his lap to pull her in for a deep kiss. He moved slowly, devouring her properly. Her reward for being so good to him. But hidden beneath all his love and affection, she could taste the weariness on his tongue.

Still, despite the adamant claim of his body, he tenderly whispered against her lips, “Let me return the favour.”

Oh how she would have loved to give in, to feel that strong muscle pressed against her needy sex, feasting on her until every last thought was cleared from her mind and all that remained was pure, calming nothingness. But one look into those overtired orbs of green was enough to remind her what she had to do. Why she had left her bed and come down here in the first place.

“Not now, my love. What you need right now is sleep.”

He scrunched his nose, clearly displeased with her answer. She of all people knew that he liked his woman satisfied, blissed out and spent before she fell asleep in his arms. But not tonight.

“You know, there’s always tomorrow. And I sure wouldn’t mind waking up to the sight of your gorgeous face between my thighs.”

Her lips pressed to his forehead in a tender kiss and when she drew away, she found the most beautiful smile on his lips.

“You’re right, love. Let’s head to bed.” He sat up, still he refused to loosen his embrace just yet. Instead he leaned in until she could feel his lips softly brush against her ear. “Sunrise can’t come soon enough.”