#george daniel x reader

[whimsicalpolitical]

yearning 4 george smut rlly

summary: you mark george

warning: 18+mdni, smut, oral (m&f receiving), face sitting, george is gone for you

george is lying flat on his back, hoodie on, phone in one hand, half-scrolling, barely focused. you’re kneeling next to him on the bed, legs folded under you, lid of your lipstick tube clicking shut in your palm.

you’re not going anywhere. not seeing anyone. it just felt right, the deep red colour against the late-night light, the kind of thing that makes you feel like yourself. just a little more you.

george glances up when you shift closer.

“is that for me?” he asks, thumb pausing mid-scroll.

you nod, crawl over slow, until you’re sitting lightly above his waist.

“you look so handsome,” you say, and it’s quiet, like a thought said out loud before you could think twice.

he huffs a soft laugh. “do i?”

“mhm,” you hum.

you smile. lean down and kiss his forehead. then his cheek. short, affectionate presses, just enough to feel the warmth of his skin under your lips. you pull back, settling your hands on his chest, and blink.

“oh.”

he looks up at you properly now. “what?”

you hesitate for a second. then his gaze flicks down to your mouth. he puts it together before you answer.

“you’ve got that on me, haven’t you?”

you nod, biting your lip.

he sighs like he should be annoyed, but he’s not. not really. he tips his head back into the pillow.

“you like branding me or something?”

you grin. “i do now.”

his eyes cut back to yours. “seriously?”

“mm-hm.” you run your finger lightly along the mark on his cheek, half-blurred already into a smudge. “gonna let me continue?”

he licks the inside of his cheek. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you’re not saying no.”

“that’s because i like when you’re like this,” he mutters, hand coming up to rest on your knee, thumb tracing light patterns over the fabric of your sleep shorts. “all sweet and smug.”

“not smug.”

“you are a little.”

you lean down and kiss the corner of his mouth, slower this time, not even caring if the lipstick gets on him again. when you start to pull back, his fingers slide up to your jaw, holding you there for another second. just breathing you in.

“you’ve ruined my face,” he says quietly, lips brushing yours.

“mm. made it better.”

he huffs again, hand slipping behind your neck now, “actually- i think you’ve ruined me way before now.”

“in a ‘i love you so much and therefore i’d do anything for you’ way?” you bat your eyelashes at him.

george chuckles, “yes, in that way, baby,” he doesn’t say anything further. he just pulls you back down again.

“i wanna mark you, g.”

you say it right next to his ear.

his head tips slightly against the pillow, brows lifting like he almost didn’t hear you right.

then he breathes a quiet laugh through his nose.

“you already did, look at my face.”

“i don’t want to mark only your face, george. i’m not nearly done.”

your eyes flick over his hoodie, and you hum, fingers brushing over his ribs.

you shift slightly above him, just enough to let your hands slide under the hoodie. your palms catch skin. he’s warm and still.

“lift your arms?” you ask.

his hands come up straight away, slow, obedient. there’s something almost curious in his expression, like he’s letting you have this moment, just to see what you’ll do with it.

you grip the hem and pull everything up in one go, hoodie, t-shirt, the whole lot. he blinks as you toss the bundle to the floor.

you sit there for a second, just looking at him.

bare-chested now, arms dropped back to the sheets, stomach rising and falling like he’s trying not to react too much. like he’s relaxed but not really.

“you alright there?” he asks, cocking a brow, a small smirk threatening at the corners of his mouth.

“shut up.”

your hands press over his chest and you lean down to kiss just below his collarbone. slow. a drag of your lips, then another, right at the top of his sternum. the faintest hum leaves you.

you feel him shift underneath you.

“jesus,” he mutters, hands sliding back to your thighs. “having that much fun?”

“hm.”

you kiss just beside his nipple, then the other side. lower, just a little. each one slower than the last.

he breathes in deep through his nose. he’s still trying to stay cool. but his fingers tighten a little on your skin, like he’s feeling it everywhere.

you lift your head slightly and look at him, he’s flushed now, lips bitten pink from your earlier kiss, pupils dark. he looks stupidly good like this. yours.

“it’s fading already,” he says,, “think you need to start this over.”

he looks down at himself, the blush-coloured marks you left on his skin barely holding their shape now, a soft blur of red and pink across his chest and ribs. “can’t even see half of them anymore.“

you roll your eyes, reaching for the lipstick on the bedside table. “alright, needy.”

you’re just about to open the cap when he takes it from your hand, fingers brushing yours as he slips it from your grip.

“look at me, gorgeous.”

he’s sat up slightly now. his gaze is warm, a little focused, like he’s watching you more carefully than before.

you tilt your head. “what are you doing?”

“gonna put it on you.”

“bit possessive.”

“yeah. maybe.”

he sits up properly, shifts you further into his lap. his hand finds your jaw, thumb resting just beneath your cheekbone, like he’s lining you up for something delicate.

the lipstick twists with a quiet click.

“open a little.”

you do.

and he brings it to your mouth, slow and precise. starts at your bottom lip dragging the colour on gently, like he’s painting. like he’s taking his time, because he is. his eyes don’t leave your mouth once. even when you swallow. even when your breath hitches a little.

he’s careful with it. surprisingly careful. one corner, then the next. soft strokes. no rush.

“you’ve done this before,” you murmur, lips barely moving.

“nah,” he says. “just like watching you like this.”

he shifts the lipstick away, just for a second, eyes flicking up to meet yours again.

“you’re so quiet now,” he teases. “that a side effect?”

you shake your head, smiling.

“you’re just good at this,” you say softly.

“nonsense.”

he finishes the top lip with a little more pressure, thumb steady at your jaw, holding you still. then caps it with a click and tosses it back on the table behind him.

you don’t even get a second to think before he’s pulling you in by the chin and kissing you full on the mouth.

deep this time. not lazy.

he groans into it, lips slick now with that fresh coat of red.

you hum into it too because it feels good, and because he’s warm and beneath you and his hands are back on your hips again, dragging you in closer like he can’t help it.

when you finally pull back, breath a little uneven, there’s red on him again.

fresh.

better than before.

“there we go,” he mutters, grin low and satisfied, thumb brushing the edge of his lip. “that’s more like it.”

you push lightly at his chest.

“lie back.”

he does. no hesitation.

and you shift with him, letting him sink into the pillows again as you stay where you are, straddling his hips, palms smoothing over the bare skin of his torso.

then you start again.

your mouth on his chest, open-mouthed kisses, trailing down. lips dragging over his sternum, his ribs. slower than before. you lick once, right over his nipple, and he tenses underneath you, breath catching.

“fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, hand gripping lightly at your thigh now, like he needs to hold onto something.

you keep going. your lipstick leaves soft, perfect prints down the centre of his chest, and you follow each one with your tongue. not messy. not fast. just deliberate. he shudders a little when you reach just above his stomach, and that makes you smile against his skin.

“do. you. know. how sexy you are?” you mouth along the line there, just where the muscles start to dip, and then lower.

your fingers go to his belt.

he looks down at you now, “you’re very committed.”

you glance up at him, lips parted.

“i told you,” you murmur. “wanna mark you.”

“yeah,” he says, “i’m starting to believe you.”

you pop the belt open with one slow pull, the leather sliding through the buckle with that low sound you both feel more than hear. you keep your eyes on his when you undo the button next, then the zip. his hips shift slightly beneath you, breath hitching again.

you lean in, press a kiss just below his navel, then look back up at him.

he’s watching you now like he can’t speak. like the teasing’s run out of him and all that’s left is heat.

“still alright?” you ask, quiet.

he huffs a laugh, a little wrecked. “you’re askin’ me?”

you smile.

his hips lift a little and you take the cue. fingers curling into the waistband, you ease his jeans down over his thighs. he helps, just barely, a little flex of his legs, a nudge of his heel until he’s kicking them off, careless and clumsy at the foot of the bed.

his boxers stay on. for now.

but he’s already hard underneath them, straining, the shape of him obvious against the soft fabric.

you glance up at him.

he’s watching. always watching.

so you lean in and mouth at him through the cotton, your breath warm, lips pressing just enough to make him twitch. you hear the breath he pulls through his teeth, and then feel it: his hand sliding into your hair, gentle but there. holding.

“you always look so gorgeous like this,” he says.

you smile against him, lips brushing the fabric. then you kiss lower, to the top of his thigh. then again. and again each one darker, wetter, more of a stamp than the last.

he groans softly when you suck a mark into the inside of his thigh, just enough to see. his hand tightens in your hair a little, just to feel.

“baby,” he mutters.

you shift, mouth warm on his skin, dragging your tongue gently over another mark you’ve just left.

his free hand curls into the sheets. his thighs twitch.

and you keep going leaving proof of yourself across him like it’s your right. like he’s yours to decorate, to unravel, to take apart slowly.

because he is.

then your fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers.

he lifts his hips for you again, wordless, and you pull them down slow past his hips, over his thighs, until they’re off and forgotten somewhere behind you.

and then he’s bare for you.

hard and already leaking, resting against his stomach. flushed at the tip, the kind of pretty you only whisper about.

you exhale slowly, fingers just ghosting over the base.

“fuck, george,” you murmur, “you’re mine.”

your voice is quiet, but it hits him like a pulse. his hand is still in your hair.

he nods. barely. eyes locked on yours.

“yeah,” he breathes. “i’m yours. this is all yours.”

his voice catches slightly at the end, and that makes you smile.

you lean in.

your tongue comes first then. a lick from the base up, just enough pressure to taste him. his hips twitch under your mouth and he groans, quiet but rough, head tipping back into the pillow.

then you start kissing him. just slight kisses along the length of him.

every time your lips part around his skin, you leave the faintest trace of red behind.

one at the base. one halfway up. one near the top, where he’s flushed and twitching now, his stomach tensing under your hand.

he breathes out hard.

“darling,” he mutters. “you little tease.”

you just hum, lips brushing right against the spot where he’s most sensitive, not quite touching again. your hands settle on his hips, firm, holding him steady.

you mouth along the side of him next, slow as ever. kiss, pause, kiss again. no rush. no mercy.

his hand's still in your hair, but looser now almost like he’s dizzy, like he’s losing his grip on himself. he’s looking at you like he can’t believe any of this is real.

“baby,” he half pleads half orders. but he’s in no position to command anything.

“georgie?” you smile up at him.

he rolls his eyes at the nickname and when you lick over his sensitive tip he can’t help but close them.

you glance up with a warm hunger in your eyes, slick coating your underwear just from having him laid in front of you like this, completely at your mercy.

"i’m trying to make you feel good. just be patient.”

he meets your eyes and for just a second he looks a little vulnerable, because so far, he's always taken the lead. his eyes are half lidded, softening as he gives you a short nod, lips parting on a silent exchange of power.

when you're happy he's given over to you, you lower your head, eyes remaining firmly locked on his as you let your tongue pass your lips, licking a slow strip from the base of his cock up to his tip.

you lap at the pre cum still dripping from him, swirling your tongue around the head with a content hum.

“you’re mine?” you ask rhetorically, only to hear him say it again.

“yes, angel. i’m all yours.”

the sound he makes is pure devastation, a groan right from the back of his throat as he tangles his fists even tighter in the sheets beneath him.

you go slow, letting your tongue trace every inch of him, savouring the taste. you open your lips further, taking him deep into your mouth, your hand stroking the parts of him you can't reach, the other splayed gently over his stomach to keep him still as he fights against you to lift his hips.

his restlessness, the harrowed noise that comes from his lips is exactly the response you've been craving, being able to reduce george to nothing but a writhing, deprived mess beneath you.

the power goes to your head a little, prompting you to take him deeper, breathing frantically through your nose as you work him faster, tongue pushed up tight against the underside of his cock.

"fuck, baby," he grunts, hissing a sharp breath through clenched teeth. "feels so good, you’re so-" he cuts off as his hand moves to wrap a tight fist in your hair. "fucking perfect."

the praise lands hot between your legs, the sentiment reciprocated in every possible sense. this, right now, working him closer and closer to release, hearing the way he's mere moments from shattering, it feels like it's what you were both made for. the way your bodies speak in ways words don't dare to say aloud, a dance that burns with a saliacious, primal instinct, requires no effort.

and with every ragged breath he takes, every tremble of his thighs, every desperate sound he makes for you, you know that he feels that too, it's as natural as the air you both breathe.

“oh- fuck.”

you work him a little slower with your mouth, letting the motion drag out as you lift your hand up and down at the base of his cock, earning another tortured sigh from george.

"shit, love', ‘m so close already," he groans, pushing your head down his length, your nose buried in the base.

you can't help but smile around him, a muffled, gentle laugh leaving your lips.

you look up at him and blink like you’re not having his cock in your mouth right now and it drives him mad. he softly rubs his thumb against your cheek.

“so gorgeous,” he breathes, hips twitching.

your lipstick’s everywhere now. smeared at the corners of your mouth, stained along his shaft in uneven kisses. your mouth glides over the marks you left earlier, dragging them out, wetting them again. your spit’s slicking everything now, mixing with the colour.

it’s messy. it’s hot. it’s yours.

he bucks a little, not hard, just needier than before and your hands slide up, fingers splaying across his stomach to hold him in place.

but you don’t stop.

you go faster. your pace steady, mouth warm, rhythm tightening. your tongue swirls when you pull up, then flattening again when you sink back down.

“shit-“ he gasps. “angel.”

his voice breaks on it, hips lifting into your mouth like he can’t help it, like he’s chasing something now. his hand grips your hair tighter, not guiding, just there, trying to ground himself.

you glance up at him. cheeks flushed, lips parted, chest rising too fast.

you know he’s close.

you hum around him, and he groans loud this time, shameless, his head rolling back into the pillows.

“you’re gonna-”

his breath catches. you don’t stop.

his stomach tightens beneath your hands, his thighs start to tremble a lot, how he’s no longer trying to keep quiet.

your mouth works him faster now, lips tight, tongue soft beneath him and the sounds he makes go straight through you.

“christ-” he gasps, voice already wrecked. “i’m- fuck, i’m gonna-“

his hips lift again, sharper this time.

you hum around him again, eyes flicking up to watch.

and that does it.

he comes with a deep groan, low in his chest, hips stuttering into your mouth as you hold him down. it’s messy, thick, hot on your tongue. you take it, let him ride it out, your mouth still working him slow and steady as he spills into you.

“fuck,” he breathes, almost like he’s laughing, head thrown back, chest heaving. “jesus christ.”

you don’t pull off right away. you ease off him slow, lips soft around the tip, one final kiss pressed there like a full stop.

then you swallow.

his eyes flutter open dazed, almost unbelieving and he stares at you like he’s never seen anything like it.

your lipstick’s a mess. smeared at the corners of your mouth, some of it gone entirely, your lips swollen and wet.

he exhales hard. like he’s trying to steady himself.

“you,” he says, “are going to kill me.”

you just smile. and wipe your thumb across the corner of your mouth.

you crawl back over him slow, like you’ve got time. like he’s not already wrecked and boneless beneath you.

his eyes track you the whole way blinking, his lips still shiny and red, his chest rising like he’s barely keeping up.

you settle in his lap again. his dick’s softening between your thighs, but he doesn’t seem to care. his hands come up, framing your face big palms warm against your cheeks, thumbs brushing right under your eyes.

he looks at you for a long moment. doesn’t say anything at first.

just runs his thumbs over your lips, smearing what’s left of the lipstick even further.

then he leans in and kisses you.

he licks right into your mouth like he owns it, tongue sliding over your. you can taste him now, the faint salt and heat of it, and he groans a little when you suck lightly on his bottom lip.

his fingers curl tighter around your jaw. like he can’t help it.

when he finally pulls back, he lets his eyes drag over your face. he huffs a quiet laugh, completely gone.

“now your face’s ruined.”

you giggle a little, flushed and a little breathless and trace your thumb along his chin, where the lipstick has smeared across his stubble.

“so’s yours.”

he grins. something smug, something soft.

“good,” he murmurs. “can ruin it even more. c’mon.”

he’s already tugging at the waistband of your trousers, undoing the button, dragging the zip down. his knuckles brush warm against your skin, just above your hipbone, and he doesn’t even need to look. he knows exactly what he’s doing.

you lift your hips so he can start pulling them down, and he gets them partway over your thighs before you take over, shimmying out of them slow, letting your panties slide down with them in one smooth motion.

when you kick them off the side of the bed, he’s watching gaze fixed between your legs now.

the cool air hits you and you suck in a little breath, body twitching.

he catches that.

“fuckin’ hell,” he mutters. “you’re already soaked, aren’t you?”

you don’t answer. just smile and crawl higher.

his hands slide up your thighs as you move, guiding you forward. his touch is reverent, thumbs pressing into the softness of your skin, holding, helping.

you shift up past his waist. his stomach. his chest.

until your knees are planted just above his shoulders, and your cunt’s hovering over his face.

he groans when he sees you like that, wet and flushed, lips parted above him.

“knock yourself out,” he says, breath catching. “want a fuckin’ taste.”

his grip tightens on your thighs. not rough but like he wants to feel every part of you. like he wants to be held down by it.

you lower yourself slowly. inch by inch. and george doesn't move just tips his chin up, lips parted, eyes dragging from your cunt back to your face.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, “sit, love. don’t be shy. i’m yours, you’re mine, yeah?”

you giggle, even as your thighs shake a little.

his eyes hold the most lascivious intent, one hand slipping over your thigh to tease his thumb through your folds.

"shit... fuckin' look at you, baby," he breathes.

you roll your hips forwards a little impatiently, only to be met with a deep chuckle. george tightens his grip on your legs, lifts his head slightly towards your cunt and presses his nose against your warmth. he nudges your clit with his nose.

"oh - shit, g," you mewl, both the sensation and the incredibly lewd visual warming your spine with a delicious heat.

his lips part as his tongue moves to drag a slow lick through your slick, his warm breath forcing you to keel over, propping yourself upright with tight hands gripping the headboard.

he hums, audibly gratified against your cunt, pressing down hard on your thighs to pull you even firmer against his mouth. his sounds of absolute satisfaction just from frantically devouring you are enough to curb the way you miss the usual filth of his words, the muffled groans and wet noises of his mouth a perfect substitute.

your skin grows warmer with every circle of his tongue at your clit, a pin-pricking heat making its way down the backs of your arms. you writhe against his face, legs clamping tighter against either side of his head.

"fuck, i’m - feels so good, i’m already... so..." you gasp. every slow drag of his tongue makes your vision swim, pleasure building tighter and hotter in your abdomen.

his hands move to cup your ass, fingers pressing into the soft flesh with a bruising strength as he growls against your cunt. you’re half wondering if he'll ever come up for air, but when two thick fingers nudge their way into your hole and curl just right, all concerns for his well-being go out the window - you'd both die right here if this is how good it would feel.

his fingers push, then retract slowly, a third making its way in as he pushes back in, stretching you with a blinding, delicious sting that buckles your knees just from feeling so full.

"george, I'm gonna - fuck, l'm gonna come, don't stop." your legs are sticky, partly from your own slick, the rest slipping against the sweat dripping from george’s face thanks to the insane effort he's putting into making you feel this euphoric.

his tongue works in more focused, quick circles at your clit as he punctuates the thrust of his fingers to match that same rhythm, and by the time your legs start shaking, when he feels the tight squeeze of your walls around his fingers, he knows he's got you there.

you whimper, your head tipping back, hips rocking instinctively against his face, searching for that final hit to push you over the edge.

it crashes through you in a white hot wave, the only sound pouring from your lips an incoherent attempt of his name, over and over, a mantra of enthralled devotion.

your hips buck helplessly against his mouth as he keeps working you with slow, relentless strokes of his fingers that wring every last ounce of pleasure from your body.

you look down at him slack jawed, breath stealing from your lungs as you meet his eyes, narrowed with an animalistic heat.

he groans against you, savouring every second of your release, his tongue trailing one last firm lick through your folds as you come down, breathless, every muscle in your body entirely spent.

together you work your way into his lap.

you peer at him and almost die all over again, at the way his lips are slick with your desire for him, lipstick marks all over him, he looks so fucking good like this, when he's yours.

when his eyes move to meet yours, it's clear his thoughts are a mirror of your own.

"christ, angel," he rasps, "you’re the most perfect girl.”

you huff a soft laugh but before you can say anything in response, he's reaching his hands out, cradling the back of your neck to pull you down flush to his chest, capturing your lips with his.

you taste yourself on his tongue as he brushes it against yours in a slow, somewhat claiming manner, his fingers tightening in the roots of your hair, the sting forcing you to whimper against his mouth.

he breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours with a shaky sigh.

“i love you.”

you smile sweetly and kiss his cheek, “love you, love you, love you.”

you climb off his lap carefully and ease down beside him.

his arm goes around you instantly, instinctual. hand settling at your waist, fingers brushing bare skin under your shirt. your thigh drapes over his, cheek pressed to his chest, and you can still feel his heartbeat going wild under your palm.

you both just breathe for a second. sticky, warm, tangled.

your fingers start moving again, tracing the soft red blotches stamped into his chest. one near his shoulder. one just above his nipple. another just below his ribs.

your lipstick.

your mouth.

your marks.

he turns his head toward you, kissing your hair, lazy and warm.

you lift your chin and press a kiss to his collarbone, soft and slow, and when you pull back, you’re smiling.

“you look good like this,” you murmur, fingertips following a streak of red near his sternum.

he huffs a quiet laugh, “because i properly look like i’m yours?”

“maybe,” you grin, “my masterpiece.”

he doesn’t argue.

just lets your fingers keep tracing across his skin, gently connecting every kiss you left behind.

he hums, soft and content.

“better not wash this off,” you murmur, thumb brushing over the deepest print near his neck.

he catches your wrist, gentle, and presses a kiss to your palm.

“wasn’t planning to.”

[carl1ghts]

heres that edit that you were all asking about, specifically for the clip of matty spitting on the camera.

MADE BY @fracturelight ON TIKTOK, NOT MINE!!

[wreckedandpolemic]

my kind of party - george daniel & matty healy

(mdni) in which three is a crowd, and four is a party. part of the regret me universe and summer75 2024. 4274 words.

warnings (take a deep breath): foursome (f/f/m/m), degradation, oral (f and m receiving), switch!matty, mentions of choking, spit, cumplay, idk this gets pretty gay, incredibly unhygienic use of a hot tub

Sweat prickles at the back of your neck, steam curling from the water surrounding you as a massage jet pummels your back soothingly. Matty’s thigh presses against yours from one side, Sabrina’s shoulder grazing on the other. George leans back on her other side, stretching and deliberately pulling three pairs of eyes to the muscles of his chest. The summer air is thick with humidity, an expectant tension pulling between you; each one of you knows exactly what the other three look like when they come.

The awareness hangs heavy over you, Sabrina’s hand on your thigh an inevitability in the same moment you pull Matty in for a kiss. He’s cautiously eager, hyper-aware of his audience as you slide a hand into his curls. You aren’t entirely sure why he’s so hesitant — George and Sabrina are both very familiar with the way he touches, kisses, fucks. Four, though, is new. But when you hear Sabrina sigh into George’s mouth as she reaches up to untie your bikini top, you can’t find it in yourself to feel anything but a thrill.

You groan softly as Matty takes a greedy handful of newly exposed skin, his fingers rough on your tender flesh. A pleasured moan from Sabrina pulls you from Matty’s mouth, and you turn to see her stripped naked and grinding her hips down against seemingly nothing with George still kissing her feverishly. She breaks away, turning to you with a flushed face and a sleazy grin. “Should just kick ‘em out and— mmh, get off on the jets, babe. Feels fucking good.”

Sliding your bikini bottoms off, you shift your hips experimentally, your vision nearly whiting out when you find the perfect angle and a bolt of white-hot pleasure crashes over you. “You’re onto something,” you smirk, rolling your hips down. “Still, we keep ‘em around for a reason, right? Give us a show, yeah?” you instruct. In a split-second, Matty surges across the hot tub, catching George in a searing kiss, soaking wet hands tangling in his hair

“Jesus, he’s needy, ain’t he?” Sabrina murmurs, eyes trained on the boys even as her hand wanders between your legs. You gasp, and she smirks. “But so are you, huh? Which one d’you think’s the bigger slut, Georgie?” she adds, the meanness in her tone familiar and yet newly turned on you.

“Matty,” George answers unthinkingly. “Never heard her cry and whine for cock the way he does.” Sabrina works two fingers over your clit, eyes wide with interest. 

“You fuck him?” she breathes, warm water lapping at your bare breasts as slow bursts of arousal lick between your thighs. You nod, need thrashing under your skin. “Shit. That, I have to see.” Your reply is cut off by George’s low moan as Matty slides his hand into his shorts and palms his cock, kissing at his neck when George throws his head back in pleasure.

You smirk, climbing over her and settling in her lap. “Next time,” you say, tilting her head up to brush a slow, featherlight kiss to her lips. Her eyes widen. “What? You didn’t think this was gonna be a one-time thing, did you?”

She grins wickedly, arching up so her chest presses against yours, her hand wandering to cradle your ass. “Blow my mind and we’ll find out, doll.”

Behind you, George heaves himself out of the water and you twist in Sabrina’s lap to watch him as he seats himself on the ledge. Dripping wet and gloriously naked, cock half-hard between his legs, he’s a fucking vision as Matty starts to lean in. You cough pointedly, drawing the pair of them from each other sheepishly. “S’not nice to play with somebody else’s toys without asking, George,” you say, dripping condescension as Sabrina’s head falls to kiss over your tits. “You gonna ask for what you want?”

“Want him to blow me,” George groans, muscles tensing as Matty kisses against his inner thighs, mouth desperately close to where he needs it. The sight of them is dizzying, your hips grinding down against Sabrina’s as you moan softly.

“Think you can take him, princess?” you croon, identical, sharp inhales at the sobriquet sending a burst of heat between your legs as Matty turns to you, eyes glazed and jaw slightly slack. He nods wildly, and you laugh. “Greedy little slut. Careful. He’s bigger than me. You gonna choke on his cock, pretty boy?”

In response, Matty wraps his lips around George and swallows him down, gagging when he meets the back of his throat. “Aw, s’that all you can take? Need a hand, baby?” Sabrina teases, lifting you off her lap and settling next to George, wrapping a hand around his cock as Matty bobs his head enthusiastically. You stare, entranced, as George catches Sabrina in a hot, messy kiss, playing with her tits with one hand and threading the other into Matty’s curls.

Matty whines pathetically around George, hips shifting needily with a tent in his shorts visible even through the churning water. You take pity on him, sliding down next to him and palming him through his shorts. Pressing a soft kiss against the damp skin of his neck, the salt taste of his sweat lingers on your lips as you lean to stage-whisper against the shell of his ear. “If you cum from this, that’s it. You get to help the rest of us get off and stay all needy, okay?”

He nods feverishly, George groaning at the moan Matty gives when you slip your hand under his waistband, tugging his shorts off and stroking slowly over his cock. Sabrina’s knees knock against your shoulders as she gasps into George’s mouth, his hand having wandered between her legs. Eagerly, you watch him draw tight, fast circles over her clit, her whines pitching up as she chases the sensation. The four of you must be painting an obscene picture, your head between Sabrina’s thighs while George kisses her tits, his cock in Matty’s mouth while his sits heavy and thick in your palm.

Leaning in slowly, you lick a broad, flat stripe along Sabrina’s cunt, mouthing teasingly at George’s fingertips as he toys with her clit. She gives a gasping, shuddering moan that falls straight to your cunt, thighs clenching. “How come you guys are having all the fun?” you pout up at her, licking over her hole just to hear her whine.

“Get— oh, fuck, yes! Get me off, and we can— mmh— switch,” she says, her free hand sliding into your hair and pressing you into her cunt. The taste of her slides sweetly across your tongue, dripping down your chin as low moans and slick, wet sounds fill the air above you. Matty whines and drools next to you, practically making out with George’s cock as he thrusts messily into your hand. For a moment, all you know are pleasured sounds, Sabrina dripping against your tongue, Matty’s skin against yours, the warm, soothing water around you.

You hear Matty gag obscenely, followed by George moaning out, “God, so good, fuck—” He gives a shuddering gasp, his fingers stilling as he rides out his high. “Go on, swallow like a good boy, yeah? That’s it.”

With Matty’s mouth freed, he leans against you and presses needy, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he can reach, whining when you dig your nail into his slit. George and Sabrina are still sloppily making out above you, her thighs clenching around your head and spurring you into action. You tongue-fuck her hard and deep, writhing at every needy whine she gasps into George’s mouth. Moments later, she comes against your mouth, cunt clenching around your tongue as she whimpers your name desperately. You turn your head unthinkingly, catching Matty’s jaw and licking hungrily into his mouth. The taste of George’s cum lingers on his tongue, smearing with Sabrina’s between your tongues as he moans lowly into your mouth.

“Je-sus,” Sabrina says after a moment, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you. “Let’s take this inside, yeah? Someone’s gotta get fucked into the mattress before tonight’s over, right?” She gets to her feet without another word, deliberately swaying her hips as she tracks wet footprints up to the door, her bikini still discarded somewhere by the water. The three of you share a brief, charged look before scrambling after her, almost pitching over when you slip on the wet tile.

Sabrina is lounging on the bed when you catch up to her, uncaring of her damp hair pressing against the sheets. She smirks at you, beckons seductively, and any semblance of control you might have had burns away as you fall on top of her, her lips greedily searching for any arousal that lingers in your mouth. Then, she looks over your shoulder, past you, locking eyes with Matty. “Mind if I try out your little toy, doll?”

You grin wickedly, climbing off her to gaze over at Matty, hard and begging, his skin flushed with need. “Go ahead. Doesn’t look like he’s gonna last long, though. Fuckin’ gagging for it, isn’t he?” Matty chokes on his inhale, cock twitching at being spoken about like he isn’t there, like he’s a thing the three of you can use for your own pleasure. “Come on, then, princess. Can’t be so dumb already, right? Do as you’re told, yeah?”

Spurred into action, Matty practically trips over himself in his haste, kneeling between Sabrina’s spread legs with an eager smile. “How do you want me?”

She slides a hand into his damp, messy curls. “Oh, just shut up and fuck me,” she growls, a whine pulled from his lips as she tugs hard on his hair. “Rough as you want, babe. Do whatever you want, s’long as you make me cum, yeah?”

Your cunt pulses at her words, an identical flash of arousal sparking in Matty’s gaze. Matty enters her slowly, your eyes trained on her face as her lips part in ecstasy, chest heaving and urging him to go faster. You jerk your chin at George. “C’mere,” you order, climbing on top of him the second he lays down. Leaning down, you kiss him hard, leaving him breathless as you pull away and flip around so your cunt is in his face. “What are you waiting for? My permission?” you grin, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock. He hisses, bucking his hips up and lapping at your cunt.

You inch down slowly, letting George stretch out the corners of your mouth gorgeously. Spit drips down his cock, his tongue insistent against your clit as you swallow around him. You relax your throat, pushing down a gag; taking George is something you have to work for, and you’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. The rhythmic noise of Matty fucking Sabrina beside you makes an obscene soundtrack, George’s moans into your cunt rippling through you as you drip on his tongue.

Your nose presses against the damp, sweat-slick skin of George’s belly and you grin victoriously as best you can around him, his tongue deep in your cunt melting your brain into nothing. Sabrina’s free hand finds your clit and you grind back against her fingers, moaning around George’s cock as he fucks your mouth. An evil idea flickers to life in your mind, your hands moving almost of their own accord. You reach up to tease around Matty’s hole, the muscle quivering under your touch. Sabrina chokes as he jolts, his hand pressing hard at her throat. “Shit! M’sorry, are you—”

“Fuck, yesyesyes, do that again,” she moans, the pure lust in her voice striking directly in your core. The air is thick with arousal, saturated with breathy moans and lewd sounds, Sabrina crooning encouragements to Matty the moment he allows her breath. You’re fucking dizzy with it, drunk on George’s tongue in your cunt, his cock in your mouth, the mattress dipping under the weight of your… boy fucking your best friend as her skin presses against yours.

George is fucking your mouth with abandon, one hand digging into your hair as he laps at your cunt like you’re his last goddamn meal. You melt against him, limp, letting him fuck your mouth as ecstasy hammers hard in your blood, cunt clenching around his tongue and dripping against Sabrina’s fingers. You can hardly think, wrapped in sensation, a marionette dancing on the strings he’s pulling.

Hips rolling against George’s mouth, you swallow around him, moans coming out garbled and pathetic as slick, hot pleasure thumps in your veins. “Shit, m’gonna cum, don’t stop, fuck!” George gasps against you, moaning helplessly when you redouble your efforts, forcing him as deep down your throat as you physically can and moaning exaggeratedly. He moans out your name, hips bucking as he comes in your mouth, the hot salt taste of him intoxicating. Sabrina pinches your clit, the sharp flash of pain in your sensitive nerves kicking your racing heart into overdrive.

You pull off George and sit up, grinding down hard against his tongue and focusing your gaze on Matty and Sabrina. Her chest heaves, skin flushed and eyes glassy, the skin of her neck already bruising under Matty’s fingers. “Oh, fuck,” you moan, euphoria winding tight under your skin and threatening to burst free. One final, deep thrust breaks you, screaming out George’s name and locking eyes with Matty as you cum, cunt fluttering and arousal gushing over his lips. You moan low in your throat, your vision blurred as you climb off George with shaking legs, letting him shift a little to make room.

Drool mixed with cum leaks from the corner of your mouth, and you catch it on the tips of your fingers and press it into Sabrina’s mouth. She sucks greedily on your fingers, smirking up at you when you pull them free and wipe her saliva against Matty’s chest. His mouth hangs open, panting and moaning as he gazes at you with a faraway look in his eye. “Look so pretty, darling. Like a fuckin’ pornstar, just for us,” you groan.

“He fucks like one, too,” Sabrina grins, rolling her hips up and gasping when her clit brushes against his stomach. “Shit, baby, harder. Just like that, good boy…” she groans. Matty’s hips stutter at the praise, striking a spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back in her head.

“You’re a fuckin’ wet dream,” George groans, his cock twitching valiantly as he stares, entranced. “Does he feel good? You like gettin’ fucked while we watch? Gonna look so pretty cumming on his cock, baby.” Even without being addressed, George’s low voice sands your brain smooth, your need an insistent throb in the base of your skull.

“Oh, God, Matty, don’t stop. M’so close, fuck.” Your head swims, delirious with the obscenity playing out before you, your soaked cunt begging for attention and throbbing between your legs. “Fuck, Matty, shit! Oh, m’cumming, m’cumming, yes!”

Ever theatrical, she gasps and writhes under Matty, doing everything she can to make him lose control as he fucks her through her orgasm. Sure enough, it’s barely a minute before Matty gives a low, shuddering gasp and pleas spill from his lips. “Shit, m’gonna cum, m’so fuckin’ close, fuck! Can I cum, please, please!”

It’s impossibly gratifying that he directs his words to you even as he’s bottomed out in another girl. A sick thrill runs through you at the vicious ownership you feel over him. But this is your best friend, not a girl from the bar or a groupie, so you flash a smile and give a delicate shrug. “I don’t know. Does he deserve it?”

“God, fuckin’ look at him. He needs it so bad,” she pouts, and Matty whimpers. “Needy slut. Been so good, haven’t you? Go on, sweet boy. Cum for us.” The permission is all he needs, spilling deep inside Sabrina with a low, desperate whine, practically trembling with the release.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, fuck, feels s’good, fuck,” he whimpers, going limp when he pulls out with a slick, obscene sound. Your eyes fall to Sabrina’s cunt, soaked and dripping with Matty’s cum.

“Look so pretty all fucked out. Both of you,” you grin, nudging Matty out of the way so you can lean down over Sabrina and kiss her messily, swallowing her gasp as you run your fingers over her sensitive clit. You lift your hand and suck the mess off, moaning graphically as their combined taste hits your tongue.

Hooking a leg around you, Sabrina flips you with surprising strength, knocking the wind from your lungs and leaving you gasping and grinning up at her. Her hips shift until her cunt presses against yours, and you whine at the pressure over your swollen, neglected clit. “Shit,” you whimper as she slowly rolls her hips down against yours, heat thrumming under your skin.

“They gave us a show,” she murmurs, tossing a smirk over her shoulder at George and Matty where they stare unashamedly. “Our turn now, right?”

You grind up against her, the flames in your belly leaping higher and higher with every moan that slips from her lips, Matty’s cum smeared between your bodies. Matty is crammed into George’s lap, the pair of them trading bruising kisses as they watch you. Their gaze is hot, a shameless stare that amplifies every burst of pleasure that rolls over you. George breaks away, holding his hand under Matty’s mouth and murmuring, “Spit.”

Matty obliges, and your eyes stay glued to George’s palm as he reaches down, closing his hand around their cocks and pumping slowly. You could almost cum just from Matty’s answering moan, the sight of them disappearing into George’s fist in a languid, teasing rhythm making your head spin. Sabrina leans down, catching your jaw and your attention. “God, they look good, huh? Gettin’ off together ‘cause they know we’re watching. Can feel how wet that’s makin’ you, doll.”

You give a strangled moan, unable to tear your eyes away from Matty and George, moaning into each other’s mouth and grinding sloppily together. Your head swims, drool pooling in your mouth the longer you lose yourself in the scene unfolding around you, rolling your hips ever faster as Sabrina tweaks your nipples, the brief flash of pain utterly intoxicating. Lust-struck, you gaze up at her, a filthy smirk stretching wide across her face as she grinds down against you. “Look at you,” she croons. “Gone all stupid with it, huh? Pretty cunt feels so fuckin’ good, baby. Wanna feel you cum against me so bad.”

Whining, you thrash your head back and forth, caught between watching Matty and George or Sabrina above you. Heat throbs in your skull, your world tunnelled down to the four walls of the bedroom, the four bodies grinding against each other. “Shit, G, feels s’fucking good, you feel so good, I wanna– fuck,” Matty whimpers, moaning helplessly against George’s mouth and grinding in his lap.

“God, he is just– ohh– the sweetest little thing. Trained him up so well, haven’t you, doll?” Sabrina murmurs, leaning down to graze the words against your lips, spit-slick as she licks into your mouth. Your soaked cunts kiss, arousal stringing between you as your vision blurs with lust.

It takes monumental effort to pull together a coherent sentence. “He fuckin’ loves being used like– mmh– like this. Just wanna get us off, don’t you, baby? Such a good little slut.” Your pulse roars in your ears, amplifying every soft, lewd sound breathed out into the heavy, warm air. Your muscles are tense, pulled taut like guitar strings ready to be plucked, waiting to be tuned to that rapturous frequency.

“Oh, fuck, m’gonna– I can’t– M’so close,” Matty moans, writhing helplessly against George as he leaves bruising kisses over his neck and chest.

“Greedy little whore wants to cum again,” Sabrina smirks, cheeks hot as she admires him, eyes lidded and almost black with lust. “D’you think he deserves it?”

Matty can barely control himself, desperate and wanton, flushed all over and quivering with need. “Please,” he says weakly, head thrown back and damp curls plastered to his forehead.

“He looks so pretty when he’s made a fuckin’ mess of himself. Go on, pretty boy. Cum,” you order, and he does. You can see it in his whole body, practically convulsing against George as ropes of cum spill over his fist and splash against their stomachs. George follows a second later, his fist slowing as he paints their bodies white. The whole thing is obscene, and you can feel Sabrina pulsing against you as she watches, the sensation rippling through you and bursting from your lips in a lewd moan.

Entranced, you watch as George, sweaty and panting, lifts his cum-covered hand to Matty’s lips. “So fucking filthy,” he croons. “Gotta clean up your mess, baby.” Matty sets to work eagerly, the sight absolutely pornographic. He moans lewdly as he laps at George’s skin, sucking on his fingers and rolling his eyes back in his head.

“God, tastes so good,” Matty moans, dizzying arousal filling your head as you grind desperately up against Sabrina. The tension pulling tight in your core is begging for release, hot, liquid ecstasy flooding your veins. You lose your grasp on time as you chase your pleasure against her, desire saturating every inch of your body.

“Oh, fuck!” you gasp, your body suddenly collapsing in on itself as your orgasm steals the breath from your lungs. Your brain is melting, liquid that drips from your ears and pools on the mattress, all your awareness cut loose as your high overtakes you. You’re fucking floating, cunt pulsing insistently and tiny, breathless gasps stumbling from your lips.

“Good girl,” Sabrina murmurs. “Such a good girl, cumming all pretty for me.” You can feel her words lulling you into submission, your body weak against the slow, sweet onslaught of praise. “She’s so fucking wet, could just fuckin’ fill her up right now and she’d hardly notice.” You whine out a barely comprehensible plea, begging instinctively before you even process her words. There’s a wicked glint in Matty’s eye when you turn your head, wrenching your awareness onto him as he climbs out of George’s lap. “Shit, you want a turn? C’mon, baby, go ahead. She’s fuckin’ gagging for it.”

Matty climbs over you, filling the space Sabrina left before you even notice she’s moved, her legs in the air under George as he pushes into her slowly. “Fuck, look at you,” Matty says, tone dark and promising. “Shit, y’such a mess. Pretty little slut.” He grips your jaw, pulling your mouth open and spitting on your waiting tongue. You swallow before he even has the chance to instruct you, and you swear the faint taste of cum lingers in your mouth. He grins proudly, giving you no warning before he fucks deep into you.

You can hardly speak, barely think, aware of nothing but Matty’s hips slamming against yours, the slick sounds of sex filling the room. Matty pours filth into your ear, condescending praise sliding against sweet degradation as he fills you over and over. A sound that’s half-scream, half-whine rings out, and it takes a moment for you to realise it’s yours. “So fuckin’ gorgeous all fucked out, doll,” Sabrina murmurs, turning your head to face her. Bliss is painted over her features as she kisses you, your lips slack as you struggle to muster up the ability to reciprocate. She pours whining gasps against your lips as she comes, face contorting as she writhes under George, enraptured. 

All you can feel is euphoria, winding tight around your organs as Matty rubs at your sensitive clit, his frantic rhythm choking you. You whimper what might be his name, your legs locked around his waist deepening his thrusts. “Doing so good, darling. Takin’ me so well. Y’always do,” he praises, your cunt clenching wantonly around him. “Y’gonna cum for me, baby? Fuckin’ soak my cock, yeah?”

He pinches your clit, the heat in your belly reaching dangerous levels. You’re sweating, trembling, your words slurred and pathetic as you teeter on the edge. “Wanna cum, please, need it s’bad, Matty, please!” you cry out, wanton and lust-sick and fucking desperate.

“So pathetic, darling. Such a little cockslut. Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” The words are all you need, tumbling into oblivion as Matty keeps fucking you, deep and hard and punishing as you cum impossibly hard. Your vision whites out, head spinning with pleasure and sensation and pure fucking carnality, the sounds escaping you animalistic in their hunger. Dizzy as you come to, Matty grins indulgently down at you, his pace now languid and relaxed. You clench around him, weak pleas spilling from your dry throat. “Aw, baby. Needy little cumslut. Don’t worry, baby. Gonna give you what you need,” he promises.

All you can do is lay back and fucking take it, letting Matty use you like a toy until he’s spilling inside you, moaning slickly and gasping out your name as his cock pulses. He pulls out of you, panting on his knees, and you finally catch your breath.

“Well, that was fun,” Sabrina chirps, somehow carefree despite her still-heaving chest. “Jesus, I feel disgusting. I need a shower, spliff and something to eat, in that order. Anyone coming?”

Given that you can barely move, you watch George follow her into the bathroom, unsurprised when you hear high, breathy moans echoing off the tile. Matty meets your eyes with a smirk. Fuck. You’re in for a long night.

[i-shouldnt-have-called]

hi! i love ur stories sm, I was wondering if you could do one about when younger daughter y/n moves back in with matty when he’s back from rehab after living with george? maybe george stays over too to help with the transition or something. just matty trying to reconnect with y/n

love it.

I get home on the 23rd.

George came over almost every night for dinner at first. Sometimes your dad would cook, but most of the time George would bring over groceries and the three of you would just cook and hang out in the kitchen.

It was easy with George—like muscle memory. He knew what fork was your favorite, which vegetables you could tolerate, how to pack the best lunches, and how to cheer you up with those terrible knock-off-brand cookies you liked.

But things with your dad… things were still finding their shape.

It was hard to be around your dad.

 It wasn’t that you didn’t love him—it was just that part of you was scared. Scared that the moment everything started to feel stable again, it’d all crash down. That this peace was borrowed, not earned. That you'd wake up one morning and find him gone again.

But you didn’t say that out loud.

 Instead, you let him tuck you in every night. You let him kiss the top of your head and tell you dumb stories about the band. You let him be soft again, even when you felt like you were holding your breath the whole time.

Things were still awkward, especially on days when your dad was sad, but you were too young to understand why.

You watched a lot of movies. Stuff he loved when he was a kid, old Tarantino, weird French ones, the Paddington movies because he swore they were “genius.” You didn't argue.

You didn’t talk much during them, but sometimes you’d laugh at the same line and it would feel like a crack in the tension, like a small warm light slipping through.

You started hanging out in the studio again. Not really doing anything, just sitting in that beat-up green chair with your legs pulled up, listening while he looped things.

 When he was in rehab, George had taught you how to play drums—just for fun at first. It was something to keep your hands busy when you couldn’t sleep. Matty didn’t know that until one night you were messing around on his old kit and he stood in the doorway, watching.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” he’d said, his voice caught somewhere between proud and choked.

You shrugged. “Guess I’m alright.”

“Better than george” he said as he was walking away down the hall. 

For your birthday, he got you your own drum set.

 It wasn’t flashy or new. It was second-hand, already a little dented, but he’d polished it up and changed all the heads himself (if you ignore all of the face timing George). Left a note taped to the snare that just said:

“Might be better than the pad.”

You didn’t cry in front of him. You just nodded and said thanks and spent the rest of the day playing until your fingers hurt.

And he sat on the floor in the hallway outside your door, listening the whole time.

an: (i actually wrote a full fic! it may be short......but! its been a bit, ps. requests?)

[toomuchracket]

dancing like she way out (george daniel x reader smut)

shag the dj shag the dj shag the dj, or whatever the smiths said. basically - a night out takes a turn for the better when you hook up with the hot dj. won't lie, there's use of the d word in here. and choking, because we've all seen that man's hands. enjoy <3

all your friends are wasted, and you hate this club.

no, really - three of them are currently spewing their guts up in the toilets after going too hard on the tequila rose, while the rest flail wildly on the dancefloor in between queuing at the bar to buy yet another round of overpriced jagerbombs. meanwhile, you're doing your best to dodge the extremely persistent man you first swerved about an hour ago, some palm angels-clad twat with shit hair and an inability to take no for an answer, and also doing your best not to spill your vodka cranberry all over yourself in the process.

in short, you're having a shitter of a night.

at least the dj's fit, though. really fit. and, to be fair, he’s spinning some decent stuff. the one saving grace of the night, you'd say.

you watch him from the edge of the dancefloor, empty cup in hand. he's quite focused, more so than some of the wankers you've been dragged to see in this club in the past, only looking up to signal to the bar staff that he needs a refill and to check the vibe of the room. he has pretty eyes, you notice, sharp and dark and clear; eyes that could definitely get you to commit a multitude of sins, quite frankly.

and now? they're looking right at you.

looking isn't a strong enough word, actually. they drag slowly down your body - locking with your own, then travel to your pouty, brown-lined lips, and shamelessly over the curves of your body onto your legs - leaving a trail of thrill-induced goosebumps across your skin in their wake. suddenly, they flick back up to your face, and one closes in a wink. you smirk, and the dj does too.

interesting.

one of your more sober friends nudges you, handing you another vodka. you accept it without breaking eye contact with the dj, wrapping your lips around the straw and smiling with it between your teeth. he raises his eyebrows, still smirking, and you wink; your friend notices, and leans round so you can see her. “are you eye-fucking the dj?”

“maybe,” you reluctantly tear your eyes from him to look at her. “in my defence, he started eye-fucking me first.”

she laughs, tugging you onto the floor and motioning for you to dance. “i think we should keep him looking at you, then.”

“alright,” you down your drink and set down the cup. “let's dance.”

and so, you do, pulling out all the stops. your hair flows behind you as you swing your hips, body twisting and turning and stretching as you lose yourself under the lights and amidst the beat, and you laugh excitedly with your friend as she twirls you. the dancefloor is so empty that you can spin to your heart's content, but that doesn't bother you at all - it means there's less for the object of your efforts to be distracted by, more chance that his attention is on you.

it seems to be completely on you, actually; every time you catch a glimpse of him, his eyes are on you again, and your friend attests to that in your ear as she pulls you in for a hug. “he hasn't stopped looking at you, for even a second. that man wants you, babe.”

you angle your body towards the deck so you can see him. the club lighting is simultaneously sheering out his black shirt and throwing both his stubbled face and tattooed arms into focus - fuck, his arms. 

and he's still looking at you.

“i think you might be right,” you turn back to your friend so she can hear you, deliberately leaning forward and shaking your ass slightly in his direction. “and i want him too.”

she shoves you towards the deck. “go and get him, then.”

with a giggle, you set off, swinging your hips as you all but skip towards the extremely sexy man behind the music. unfortunately for you, some arsey man in too-tight chinos gets to the deck first; folding your arms, you stand behind him, miffed, and wait your turn to speak.

luckily, you only have to do that for a couple of seconds. the guy isn't particularly drunk, but he's annoying. “hey, bro,” he says to the dj, whose handsome face is set in an expression full of what can only be described as ennui. you assume he sees this kind of thing all the time. “can you play some, like, chainsmokers? that would be so sound of you.”

chainsmokers? christ.

clearly, your distaste is showing, because the dj's face slips into a tiny smirk as he looks at you out of the corner of his eye; it disappears, though, before he replies. “‘fraid not, mate…”

his fucking voice. dear god. who is this man, and where has he been all your life?

“...i don't take requests.”

you believe it. everything about the dj screams control, and with every passing second your want to submit to that control is growing. it's not want you have for him any more, but sheer fucking need.

the other guy shrugs and wanders off, and the attention is all on you again. leaning over the mixing board towards you, the dj smirks again. “you, however, can ask me for anything you like.”

fuck. keep it together, bitch.

“anything?” you smile, saccharine, carefully leaning on the side of the deck in such a way that it pushes your boobs up. “even cascada?”

he rolls his eyes. “and here i thought you had taste.”

“whatever made you think that?”

“you picked out that dress to wear tonight, yeah?”

christ. “yeah. you like it?”

he nods, taking a sip of his drink. “it's gorgeous on you. but i think most things would be.”

you blush, revelling in the compliment before shooting your shot. “present company included?”

“jesus,” he shakes his head, and for the briefest of moments you worry that you've lost him. but then he looks up, hunger in those fucking eyes of his, and smirks again. “is that what you want, angel? to go somewhere together and find out?”

the ease with which the pet name falls from his lips is staggering, so much so that you can merely nod. that's not good enough for him, though - “need you to talk to me, beautiful.”

“sorry, sorry,” you compose yourself (with great difficulty). “yes, that's what i want.”

“s'reciprocated,” he smiles, genuinely. “i’m george, by the way.”

you smile in response, and introduce yourself. george says your name, slowly, and you fear that your legs might give way. “pretty,” he replies. “i like how you feel on my tongue.”

the words practically shoot straight into the scrap of fabric you call panties, and your jaw drops. george giggles. “you're cute when you're flustered, angel.”

“shame. i don't tend to make a habit of that.”

“hmmm,”  he clicks his tongue. “i'll need to work on that, then.”

you smile, radiant. “promise?”

“promise,” george smiles. he checks his watch, and you try not to drool at the way his arms flex. or his hands - god, look at his hands! “s'almost closing time. meet me back here in half an hour?”

“looking forward to it,” you blow him a kiss, preening at the way he blushes. “see you in a bit, gorgeous.”

he winks again. you turn and walk back to your friends, who have gathered along the edge of the dancefloor to watch your exchange with the dj. they huddle around you like a rugby scrum when you near them, a cacophony of slurred voices asking what and where and who and when and how; you gesture for them to follow you to the smoking area, where - to much excitement - you relay the details to them in the breaks between nicotine hits, and hug them all goodnight before you have to go back inside, them to the cloakroom and you to the dj.

your wingwoman friend is the last one you bid farewell to - she links arms with you to walk back into the sweaty club, doing the pre-prepared spiel you give each other when you pull. “have fun, but don't be stupid. if it's his place you end up at, then send me your location. i'll phone you in the morning, alright?”

“yeah,” you kiss her cheek. “thanks for all your help.”

“no problem. stay safe, have the best time,” she grins. “and i want details at the pub quiz on tuesday.”

“noted,” you hug her again as you reach the place to part ways. “love you. goodnight.”

“get it, bitch!” she shouts after you; you turn to salute her and giggle, and then she's gone. with a deep breath and a shake of your hair, you dart past the people starting to head towards the cloakroom, butterflies starting to emerge again as you get closer to george.

he smiles when he sees you, eyes raking over your body once again. “you know,” he says, as you reach the deck. “you really are beautiful.”

“i'm already leaving with you, george, you can drop the flattery,” you roll your eyes, then beam at him. “thank you, though.”

“just stating facts,” george turns some sort of dial, and the music fades to silence. as the club staff usher everyone from the room, he sighs happily. “been waiting to do that since you came up to me earlier.”

“really?”

“yeah,” he unplugs his laptop from the deck, sliding it into a backpack. “you're very distracting, you know, looking so good and dancing like that.”

“well, i try,” you hold out a hand. “ready to go?”

george nods, stepping down beside you - you gawk at the the height of him, towering over you. “fuck me, you're tall.”

he laughs, taking your hand in his. again, the size difference is insane, and you find yourself momentarily nervous to get into bed with him; that soon passes in favour of excitement, though. “don't worry, i'll even out the height thing by getting on my knees soon enough.”

the speed with which you tug him toward the exit at that is almost comical. george only giggles and lets you drag him to the door - he stops when you’re out in the cold air, though. “hold on, angel, i need a cig.”

you nod, standing on the step beside the door while he moves down a few to light his cigarette in peace. his hands, so big, are surprisingly nimble as he pulls a fag from the packet and flicks the lighter on; again, it does something to your core, and you lean against the brick wall to keep yourself steady.

after a few (erotic) drags of the cig, george holds it out to you. wordlessly, you accept, holding eye contact as you take a drag and exhale it in his direction. george's eyes flick to your lips, then back to your own - suddenly, he's kissing you, a hand in your hair and one on the small of your back, your arms looped around his neck. it's not a polite kiss, by any means; george kisses like he’s trying to devour you in the best possible way, stealing all the air from your lungs and inhibitions from your brain, tongue and teeth working against your mouth to get you to give in to him.

like you need any convincing.

a trail of spit connects you as he breaks the sloppy kiss, forehead resting against yours as you both breathe deeply. “fuck, angel,” george sighs, kissing you quickly again. “your place or mine?”

“we can be at my flat in five minutes if we walk quickly.”

“shit. lead the way.”

***

your front door hasn't even fully closed behind you before george is pressing you up against it, grabbing handfuls of your ass and lifting you so he can kiss your lips and neck while he grinds into you. every time his hips meet yours, you feel your eyes roll back into your head and the need for him inside you growing. his teeth meet the skin of your collarbone, and you swear you see stars. “george.”

his head shoots up immediately. “no marks?”

“no, leave as many as you want. it's just,” you whimper as he sucks a bruise into your skin. “i really want you to take me to bed. please?”

he groans at that, peeling you off the wall as he turns. “where…?”

“second door on the left.”

no sooner than the words have left your lips, george is kicking your bedroom door open and all but throwing you onto your bed. hands shaking, you do your best to undo your heels and throw them into a corner as george rids himself of backpack and shirt; you mewl at the sight of him, muscles hardened in the moonlight, and sit up on your knees to clumsily undo his belt.

he shakes his head, moving your hands from him. “you first, angel. arms up, come on, let's get that pathetic excuse for a dress off you.”

“i thought you liked this dress?” you frown, even as you oblige and let him peel the dress up your body.

“i do, but - oh, fuck,” george moans as your almost-bare body is revealed to him. “it was doing an awful job of stopping me thinking about you like this.”

his gaze on you is almost predatory, so much so that it makes you sink back onto your knees in submission, legs slightly open and chest forward. “do i live up to your daydreams, sir? no, wait,” you squint, assessing george to see if you can figure him out. “do i live up to your daydreams, daddy?”

you've hit the nail on the head; george’s eyes close as he swears and undoes his belt, kicking his trousers and shoes off before climbing onto the bed, onto you. he pulls you slowly onto his lap, and rocks you back and forth even more slowly. “does this answer your question, baby?” he murmurs, the gravel in his voice liquifying your insides and sending them straight into your underwear. the friction against his hardness is incredible, and all you can do is whine as you look into those obsidian eyes - again, that's not good enough for george, who delivers a sharp smack to your ass. “words, angel. tell daddy what you think.”

“i - ooh,” you whimper, as george changes angle to one that manages to catch your clit with every grind. “i think i live up to them, yes, daddy. think you wanna fuck me, and - shit - i want that too.”

“my smart girl,” he kisses you again, another head-melter that has you moaning into his mouth. “what else do you want, hmmm? want me to go down on you?”

as tempting as having that mouth between your legs sounds… that isn’t what you want right now. “wake me up like that tomorrow, please,” you savour the way george whines into your neck at the thought. “but right now, i just need you to fill me up, daddy.”

“well, i did say you could ask me for anything you liked,” he grins against you, kissing you quickly before softly laying you down. “fuck, look at you, angel, so fucking beautiful. where have they been keeping you from me all this time?” 

your cheeks burn at the way he bites his lip, trailing his hands over your bare chest and all the way down to your panties. “i mean, seriously,” he hums. “i've never wanted to fuck someone more in my life.”

“so do it. please,” you open your legs, showing him the surely-visible wet patch on your silky underwear. “need you inside me, daddy.”

“alright, alright,” george huffs out a laugh, one of disbelief, as he trails a finger up your clothed slit. “jesus, you’re soaked already. can i take these off?”

“please.”

he smiles, dragging the material down your legs and his fingers through your wetness; evilly, he slides the same hand beneath his boxers to palm himself, groaning. when you protest, he laughs. “just making sure we're both ready, baby. speaking of… protection?”

you say nothing, and just reach across to grab your pill packet from the bedside table and wave it at him.

“noted,” he leans forward to kiss you, before moving back onto his knees to slide his boxers off. as the fabric drops, so does your jaw: you knew from the feeling of him under you that you weren't dealing with something compact, here, but george is fucking huge. like, slightly terror-inducing huge. that said, though, you begin to salivate at the sight of him - he notices this, and giggles. “like what you see?”

“yeah,” wide eyed, you look up at his face, your own breaking into an anticipated smile; tentatively, you reach out to touch his cock, both of you gasping in tandem when you wrap your hand (as best you can) around him, manicured thumb flicking over the pre-cum soaked tip. neither of you break eye contact as you pump him a few times, the sexual tension in the room too magnetic to do so, and when you speak it comes out in a whisper. “how do you want me?”

“how don’t i want you?” george smirks, tapping your wrist to make you let go of him. he shuffles forward, big hands meeting your chest and squeezing gently, and beams when you whine. “fucking love that sound. lie back for me, angel, wanna watch these tits while i make you feel good. that alright?”

“mhmm,” you do as asked, fanning your hair across the pillow and spreading your legs - george can't seem to decide where to look, eyes darting between your face and chest and glistening cunt, and it makes you feel incredible. “like this, daddy?”

he nods. “perfect,” his lips find yours again  as he settles above you, resting his weight on one hand while the other slides between your thighs again. two long fingers tentatively dip into your cunt, and george groans while you gasp at the fullness. christ, if this is how you react to his fingers, then what on earth will it be like when he's actually fucking you? “jesus, baby, you're so fucking tight,” he hisses, eyes heavy as he looks down into yours. “want me to get you off with my hand first, before you take my cock? i mean, you're wet enough that you should be alright, but… i want you to feel good. comfortable. s'all about you, angel.”

shit. you have a sneaking suspicion that this man might genuinely be the death of you. but at least you'll die happy, yeah?

smiling, slightly dazed, you shake your head. “just want you to fuck me, daddy. need it, needed your cock all night.”

“you're sure?” george caresses your cheek.

“i'm sure,” you nod, humming happily as you watch him pump himself and drag his length through your wetness. “put it in, please.”

“sweet girl,” he kisses you, deep and slow, and pushes into you, the same. “oh my god.”

you're speechless, breathless, completely fucking brainless - all you can think about is the utterly delicious way george is stretching you out. nobody you've ever fucked before has really made you relate to the metaphor “rearranging your guts”, but with him it's crystal clear; he's so gentle and you're so turned on that it isn't painful, but he's definitely ruined any other man for you already and he's - you look down to check - not even fully inside you yet.

you giggle, slightly delirious, at that realisation. george smiles at you, groaning as he bottoms out and stills inside you. “feeling good?”

“so fucking good,” you lean up to kiss him, whining against his lips at the slight change in angle. fuck, he’s deep. “fuck me, please.”

he smirks. “magic word?”

“fuck me, please,” you kiss him again, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip then pulling back and whispering. “daddy.”

“good girl,” george pulls your legs around his waist, slowly sliding out of you and back in; you both moan in harmony as he does. “jesus, you feel incredible.”

you preen, beaming up at him - the smile is knocked from your face as he speeds up, though, in favour of your jaw dropping in pleasure. “yeah, that's it. fucking me so good, don't stop, please.”

“not stopping until i get you off, angel, don't worry,” he shifts slightly again, his next thrust hitting a spot inside you that you didn't think existed; when he does, you whimper, the contact sending another gush to your core and shockwaves throughout your body. “oh, you liked that, didn't you, sweet girl? shall i do it again? yeah, i think i will.”

he does, ripping a cry from your throat in the process. your legs quiver around his waist, the repeated hits to the area sparking them into movement, and you clutch desperately at his forearm beside your head. “daddy…”

“what is it, angel?” george leans down to kiss you, still fucking you relentlessly. “tell me what you want.”

your brain is growing hazier by the second, dopamine and serotonin and god knows what else overpowering all your motor functions, but you still manage to oblige. “want - fuck - want you to choke me.”

“fuck,” george’s eyes roll back slightly. “you're sure?”

you nod, stomach contracting in ecstasy. “need it, need you.”

“you're so fucking cute,” he grins, incongruous with the way his big hand wraps around your neck and presses, just enough for you to sigh happily and clench around him. “think you really might be an angel, by the way,” he pants out, never letting the rhythm of his hips drop. “you feel like heaven. look like it, too. and trust me, later on,” he kisses your neck, dragging his tongue up so he can whisper in your ear. “i am going to get on my knees and worship you for hours.”

okay, it's settled - he's perfect. you can never fuck anyone else ever again. “please.”

“‘please’ what, sweet girl? please do that?” he coos, sucking another mark just under your jaw. “or please make you cum?”

“cum,” you choke out from under his hand, legs practically thrashing from how good you feel. “please, daddy.”

“gonna be a good girl and help me, then?” george looks you straight in the eye, his almost completely shut in pleasure. “touch yourself for me. show me what you're gonna do every time you think about this, about me.”

christ alive. you obey (you're not sure that you'd be unable to resist that voice even if you wanted to), grabbing one of your tits in one hand and sliding the other between your bodies to your clit. as soon as you touch the bundle of nerves, the shockwaves pulsing through your body increase tenfold; if not for george above you, grounding you, you reckon you'd have shot off the mattress by now. through a quivering jaw, you talk to him. “m'so close, so fucking close.”

“me too, angel,” george’s eyelids flutter as he talks. “don't fight it - cum for me, my good girl, cum on my fucking cock.”

your body does as it’s told, a final surge of pleasure flowing through your body so strongly that you actually black out for a second; your fuse is relit by george groaning, gravel and guttural, in your ear, imminent climax signalled by his hips falling out of rhythm for the first time so far and his hand slackening on your neck. “oh, fuck, i'm there. can i… inside?”

“yeah,” you breathe out. “fill me up, daddy.”

“shit!”

with a moan of your name, george buries himself to the hilt inside you one final time, thrusting shallow and kissing you fiercely as he paints your insides white. once he’s done, he carefully lies down on top of you and rests his head in the crook of your neck, still inside you as you both catch your breath. despite finishing last, he’s the first to speak, moving to hover over you and kiss you again. “i'm so glad you decided to go out tonight.”

“me too,” you giggle. “same again next week?”

“absolutely. i'll be the one waiting by the speakers.”

[lonesome-sometimes]

I’ll lock and load

I’m not really sure where this came from but this is part two of your favourite centrefold so enjoy!

you were about to take a drag yourself when it was snatched back from your hold. you were going to make a quick witty comment to him about how you were a big girl and could smoke if you liked. however, matty wasn’t holding it, and you suddenly felt too crowded for your liking.

matty healy x female reader x george daniel

content warnings: rough sex, threesome (??), unprotected sex, dom matty, dom george, semi-public sex, cum play, degradation, daddy kink, age gap, slut shaming, mild praise kink, hair pulling, george is mean!

minors do not interact!

usually you would leave a quick fuck feeling fulfilled, with cum dripping out of you and into your panties and your hair a mess as you made your way back to your apartment, painting the perfect picture of a whore with a smug smile on your face.

this time though, you couldn’t get him out of your head. matty. remembering his name should have been the first sign. endless nights you spent teasing yourself, retracing where his hands left fingerprints on your hips as he used your body for his pleasure, how his voice sounded close to your ear as he put you in your place.

It was both heaven and torture, nothing you did ever coming close to the burning desire that had started when you met him. you went as far as to finding someone else to occupy your mind, going as far as going to another bar across the city to avoid seeing him but it wasn’t enough, nothing was. not your own hands, not another persons touch.

you were obsessed and you needed him.

tuesday came around and you couldn’t honestly help yourself. you spent the whole day pampering yourself, lathering your body in creams and perfumes that screamed femininity. closer to the evening, you pulled the baby blue strapless dress up over your thigh and hips, admiring the way it hugged you in all the right places as you fixed your curled hair. you pushed your feet into your heels, applying the last of your makeup, making sure your lip gloss was perfect and the blush on your cheeks a pretty pink, before grabbing your shoulder bag. you looked beautiful, stunning even, the perfect picture of feminine.

It never took you long, picking this specific bar all those months ago for that very reason. you composed yourself as you reached the building, getting into character as you pushed open the door and the familiarity of the place easing your nerves as you entered further in. you didn’t do your usual glance around at the customers this time though, knowing exactly where you were headed, what you were looking for.

you couldn’t help but smile when you found him, sitting in a booth in the corner of the dimly lit room, a contrast to the light, angelic vibe of your outfit. he pretended not to notice you as you sauntered over to his table, making sure to swing your hips as you did. he picked up the packet of cigarettes, placing one between his teeth and letting his gaze wander up and down your body in fake disinterest like it did the first time you met.

you sat down across from him, making yourself comfortable as he chuckled and put the lighter down, leaning back in his chair. “didn’t I tell you I don’t fuck whores like you?” he questioned, letting the tab hang from his lips.

you put out your bottom lip to resemble a pout, crossing your arms like a petulant child and feigning upset. “a hello would have been nice. are not happy to see me, daddy? I’m so happy to see you. I even got dressed up for you.” you whine, crossing and uncrossing your legs to reveal the white lace panties you wore underneath that matched the stockings adorning your legs to emphasise your point.

“dressed is an understatement.” he commented nonchalantly. “whatever happened to not going in for seconds?” he asked, trying his hardest not to let his eyes linger up your skirt. you guessed people talked, judging from last time when he knew your intentions before even having to say anything. you didn’t mind that, it made your life easier. people still tried though, begging for your number and promising you all you could want.

you always said no though, promising yourself you would never lower yourself to that. promises were made to be broken though, and you had everything you could ever want right in front of you.

“does that make me an exception?” he asked, pulling the cigarette from his lips as he raised his eyebrows at you.

you leaned across the table, plucking the cigarette from between his fingers and holding it between your own. your face was close to his now, lips ghosting yours as you smiled. “you could say that.”

you were about to take a drag yourself when it was snatched back from your hold. you were going to make a quick witty comment to him about how you were a big girl and could smoke if you liked. however, matty wasn’t holding it, and you suddenly felt too crowded for your liking.

“I’m hurt, princess. he gets an exception, but not me?” you whip your head around so fast you swear it could have done a full turn around, taking in the sight of the tall, broad blonde standing above you.

george.

he smirked at the dumbfounded look on your face, not expecting him to be here as well as matty. this wasn’t part of your plan, and while you’re not disappointed, all your confidence was now lost. you turn around again when you hear that same deep chuckle from before, scowling at matty as he takes a sip of his drink.

“surprised, are we? I don’t just come here to fuck little whores like you, although I didn’t exactly do that last time did I?” you blush a deep crimson, suddenly embarrassed now that you were sandwiched between the two men. “I actually want to have a drink with my mate, so if you could get-“

george coos from above you, sliding down into the booth next to you and placing a hand high on your upper thigh. “that’s not very nice, matthew. she’s ready to break her ever so strict rules just for you, and you’re gonna tell her get lost?” he teases condescendingly, power dripping from his tone.

matty sinks back in his chair, also embarrassed from being put in his place so quickly. interesting.

george turns to you now, cocking his head to one side as he drinks up the sight of you. “cat got your tongue? nothing to say for yourself now, hm?” you felt utterly helpless, trying your best to find words but facing defeat. you swallowed the lump in your throat, eyes dancing between the two of them until finally your brain began to somewhat work.

“I guess I could make two exceptions?”

suddenly, you’re being pulled to your feet and towards the bathrooms, the door clicking lock behind you as you’re pushed between the two of them. you feel matty first, his hands making home on your hips and in your hair again as he pulled you flush against his chest. pushing your skirt up, he started to grind his cock against your ass and thighs, a feeling you know all too familiar that had you whimpering. you couldn’t take that again, especially not with both of them here.

you felt george next, his body pressing tightly against yours as he titled your chin up with two fingers. his lips ghosted over yours, so close you could feel his breath mixing with your own. you pouted your lips, silently begging him to kiss you but it never came.

you heard matty unzipping his jeans behind you, a deep groan escaping him as his throbbing cock his the air and bounced against his stomach. you whimpered, desperate for george’s attention as he pushed your dress up over your ass, pushing your panties to the side with it as he lined himself up.

you moaned high in your throat as he finally, finally pushed inside of you. your walls clenched around him, pulling him home as he bottomed out. “fuck, baby! you feel so good hugging my cock just right. was it worth the wait, huh darling? worth whoring yourself out once more?” he pulled almost all the way out of you before pushing back in, precum dripping from your entrance and down the slope of your thighs. he fucked into you deep but fast, almost pulling out each time. It felt like he was rearranging your organs with each thrust, a piece of him making home inside you with each pulse of his cock or slap to your thighs. It felt fucking good.

you felt george’s fingers tracing your glossed lips then, a silent order to open. you did as you were told, whimpering when you felt the thick digits cover your tongue and slide down your throat. you felt so full, but not full enough, completely overstimulated by the two men as you were pressed between them. george continued to open your throat up with his fingers, holding your jaw with his other hand to keep you exactly where he wanted you. “such a whore for matty, aren’t you princess? being such a good girl just for him.”

you shook your head, trying your best to tell him that you were his slut too, that you needed him just as much, but his fingers were too thick and too deep and matty was fucking you so good that you couldn’t form a single thought.

“fuck darling, I’m-“ matty groaned, bottoming out as he finished deep inside you, your walls hugging him tightly as you came on his cock and nothing else. george pulled his fingers from your throat, wiping your spit across your flushed cheeks.

matty slapped your ass as he pulled out of you, cum already starting to drip down your thighs. mesmerised, he gathered the cum on his fingers and pushed it back inside you, making a comment about how he wanted you to feel him as deep as possible.

you whined when you felt the loss of georges touch next, trying your best to stand upright as he moved towards the door. “w-where are you going?”

he looked at you puzzled, as if you had said the most confusing thing known to man. “I’m going back to enjoy my drink and so is he, what we actually came here to do.” he said as though it was obvious, gesturing to matty as he turned towards the door again. matty stood behind him, same look on his face from the first time.

“but you never… george? please?” you never usually begged, that definitely wasn’t your style, but you really couldn’t help yourself. you had been pent up for a whole week, and the idea of leaving with that same need as last time did not sound fun.

“oh sweetheart.” he started, moving back towards you and crowding your space again. he brought his hands to your face, holding it in his hands as he gently left a chaste kiss on your glossed lips. you realise you hadn’t actually kissed either of them, the thought leaving a pit in your stomach. he pretended to feel bad, being gentle with you as an apology he never meant for leaving you here needy, but you could see right through him. “you never came here for me, did you? you came for him. I guess you’ll just have to try again next week, won’t you?”

the feeling of fulfilment never came, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. there was always next week and you were sure you would be back for thirds.

[graciegoeskrazy]

for you are so beautiful

(george daniel x daughter!indian!reader x charli xcx)

warnings: mention (kinda) of absent mother, r is half-indian btw, idrk

a/n: this was requested so long ago it’s actually insane. i’m so sorry anon but i hope u likely and i love u v v much💔🥹🫂 ty @writeslikeabitch for the encouragement as alwayssss. read request here!

Being quiet wasn’t unusual for you. You were a shy kid — able to be yourself in front of those you trusted, but keeping to yourself when things felt too much or when you didn’t feel like those around you could be trusted.

That’s where you were with Charli right now. She wasn’t completely new or scary. You definitely didn’t hate her. It’s just that you didn’t quite know how to navigate things like this.

You were only five, after all. Young enough to feel emotions intensely, but not quite old enough to understand where they came from or how to explain them.

That’s how you felt about Charli.

Your father had sat you down a couple of months ago and told you he had a new friend he wanted you to meet. He’d been different around that time. Happier. Softer. He wasn’t stressing over little things and moved through his days with a kind of lightness you hadn’t seen in a while.

He introduced you to Charli at a house party he and Uncle Matty were hosting. She made sure to come over early so she could meet you before your dad tucked you in for the night. You had hidden behind his legs, your thumb instinctively finding its familiar place in your mouth — a habit that hadn’t quite left you yet. She crouched down gently and offered a small “Hello,” a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m Charli! It’s nice to meet you, Y/n.”

You met her gaze for only a second. George had warned her that you were shy around new people and told her not to take it personally.

“Can you say ‘hi,’ Y/n.?” he asked, gently tapping your shoulder to coax you out from behind him. You stepped out only a little, the soft ruffles on the straps of your nightgown fluttering slightly with the movement.

“Hi,” you finally said, your voice barely audible over the music blasting through the speakers Matty had set up — the noise doing nothing to calm your nerves.

Charli smiled at you. “I like your pajamas. I love purple — it’s my favorite color,” she said, giving you a playful wink.

You looked down at them, brushing your fingers over the little ruffled straps, then back at her. “My daddy got them for me.”

She nodded with a grin. “Well, your daddy’s got great taste, then. Huh?”

You just nodded, eyes falling to the floor again.

“Should we say goodnight to Miss Charli?” George prompted gently.

If there was one thing your father had taught you well, it was your manners.

“Goodnight, Miss Charli,” you said softly.

Her smile warmed. She shared a glance with George — one filled with something sweet and unspoken. “Goodnight, Y/n. It was really nice meeting you.”

George picked you up with practiced ease and told Charli he’d be right back as he passed by her, calling over his shoulder to Matty not to embarrass him or “fuck up anything in the ten minutes he’d be gone.”

You clung to him as he carried you up the stairs, your arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. When he got to your room, you reluctantly let go as he lowered you to the bed.

“Daddy and Uncle Matty are just downstairs. You give us a shout if you need anything, yeah?”

Instead of nodding, you looked at him, frowning a little in thought. “Is Miss Charli your girlfriend?”

George blinked. He nearly choked on his own breath.

He looked between the doorway and your wide, serious eyes. “What makes you say that?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“She smiles at you funny. Like how Uncle Adam and Auntie Carly smile at each other,” you said plainly, your small voice cutting straight through.

A grin twitched at the corner of George’s mouth. “You think she likes me?”

You giggled and nodded. That sound — your laughter — was music to his ears. He’d take a hundred awkward questions if it meant hearing that again.

“How would you feel if she was my girlfriend?”

You paused, your face twitching as your mind tried to work through the question. Your head tilted slightly. “I… I don’t know. I don’t really know what that means.” A flicker of fear started to creep into your eyes, and George’s smile immediately softened.

“Hey… you don’t have to worry about that right now,” he said gently. “You just need to close your pretty little eyes—” he tapped your shoulder with two fingers, nudging you gently backward until you thumped onto the mattress with a small squeal “—and focus on getting some rest, yeah? No thinking about any of that adult stuff right now.”

You smiled up at him, reassured by his calm voice and familiar presence. “Okay, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl.” He pulled the covers up over your tiny frame, tucking them around you the way he always did — snug but gentle. He pressed a kiss to your temple, just like he had every night since the day you were born.

…

A few weeks had passed since then. George and Charli were spending more and more time together, falling harder than either of them expected.

It was tricky when you had a kid — especially one as young as you.

Charli sat next to you on the floor — per your request — coloring in a page from one of your books. A unicorn was happily eating a sandwich under a rainbow. Charli had her legs folded beneath her and her coffee cup beside her, left over from the drink George had made her earlier. She glanced at you, your small frame hunched over the coffee table, tongue poking out in deep concentration.

“I love your picture, Y/n,” she said, sipping her coffee. “Are those flowers?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, not looking up.

“They’re beautiful.”

You reached up to brush the hair from your face and, in doing so, caught sight of Charli’s arm. Your attention lingered there. You stared back and forth between her arm and your own.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly. “Did I do something?”

“You look like me,” you said quietly.

“What?”

“Your arm. The color.” You held up your arm next to hers, lining them up side by side. “It matches.”

Charli looked down, her breath catching just slightly. “Oh! It kinda does, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, still not quite meeting her eyes.

“That’s cool, huh?” she offered gently.

“Why do they match?” you asked, your fingers still holding onto hers.

Charli took a breath. “Well, we’re both Indian.”

“What’s that mean?” you asked, curiosity blooming behind your eyes.

“It just means that our families are from a certain place — a country called India.”

“Oh.” You looked back down at your arms, pressed side by side. “They match.”

“They do, don’t they?” she said with a smile, something warm growing in her chest.

“I like when I match you,” you said, the words tumbling out without you thinking.

Charli blinked, stunned by the simple sweetness of it. Her heart melted right there on the floor.

“I like when I match you too,” she whispered, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You turned back to your coloring book, your tiny face scrunching in focus again. Charli didn’t pick up her crayon right away. She just stayed by your side, watching you for a while with a full heart and quiet admiration.

Eventually, she stood and wandered back to the kitchen, where George had been watching the whole thing unfold from a distance, wide-eyed and quiet, his arms folded but his expression soft.

She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You have a type, Mr. Daniel?”

George’s mouth twitched. “Oh, piss off,” he muttered, trying to hide the smile that tugged at his lips — but not quite succeeding.

[god-has-entered-my-body]

Twist around the lounge - George Daniel & Matty Healy

A/N: i've been writing since 10am also this is barely spellchecked @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff ur a legendary beta thank u for fixing the fuckass formatting xx

wc: 5k

content warnings: super gay, smut, fluff, kissing, power dynamics, fingering, handjobs, blowjobs, begging, teasing, threesome, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, so gay, pain kink, cumplay, sub! matty, switch(?)! george, shy G oh my god, they get high moments before they fuck so tw for that, allusions to pegging (i reckon that isn't even a warning but better be safe xx)

“What happened to ‘girls don’t roll their own spliffs?’” George comments as you drag your tongue along the paper, the question directed at Matty. You roll your eyes dramatically, holding your hand as George passes you the lighter and you flick it on, rotating for an even burn. Matty shakes his head from across you, adjusting his legs under him he wipes his thumb on the glass of the coffee table.

“There's some things I'm willing to give up.” he settles on a vague answer, eyes darting over your face as you chuckle at the implication. Your legs shift over George’s lap to a more comfortable position as you take the first drag, letting the smoke curl around you in pretty patterns.

Passing the lit spliff to Matty, you pick at your nails as you let the hazy sensation take over your body, though it's not quite as strong as you’d like.

A soft breeze from the open window kisses your skin and you close your eyes, enjoying the feeling. George lets his arms splay out on either side in a relaxed manner, sucking in a deep breath as he watches Matty inhale the smoke, his eyes drooping closed when it hits him, a lazy smile spreading onto his face.  

Matty blows an O in your direction and you catch it like a kiss, shooting him a wink. Too distracted by you looking at him, Matty manages to fumble the spliff, letting it drop into the sliver of skin exposed by the mid-length black skirt he’s wearing.

“Fuck– shit, fucking bullshit-” he curses, brushing hot ash off his leg, hissing in discomfort. 

“Hm, I thought you liked pain?” you joke, eyeing him up and down in a teasing manner, giggling quietly. George perks up slightly at your words, his eyes darting between you and Matty.

“Not like that, you know well enough the type I enjoy.” he breathes, wiping his fingers on his skirt to rid them of the black residue from the ash, going to take another drag. 

You expect a fucked off groan from George, the typical annoyed expression you’re used to replaced by one of undeniable intrigue, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. Matty looks up, a bit confused at the lack of conversation, a heavy silence falling over the three of you. George runs an unsteady hand through his hair as Matty blows smoke, his eyes getting visibly redder as the seconds tick by. 

The silence is broken by George’s deep voice, timid and unsure.

“What do you mean he likes… uhm- pain?” The end of his sentence is punctuated by an uncharacteristic voice crack, your eyes narrowing at the odd question. It takes a few seconds for the words to finally register as Matty hands George the spliff, their hands lingering in a way that could be labeled as more than platonic if you looked close enough.

The more you look, the faster the gears in your head turn. You can see a thousand thoughts running through Matty’s mind as George stares at both of you, a faint blush dusting his cheeks at the obscenity of the question. It finally clicks for Matty when he sees him looking at the bit of skin visible over the collar of his shirt, littered with multicolored hickeys and bite marks.

“Oh you know, just like….” you trail off, moving your legs from their position on George’s lap, sitting up in a more normal position.

“I like it when she pulls my hair.” Matty’s bluntness almost makes you cringe, but the feeling of embarrassment is curbed by the look on George’s face, his lips parted in surprise at the answer. The curly haired boy smirks at you mischievously, eyes flicking between you and George, waiting for one of you to answer.

“Oh, uhm– thats-” George stutters, his voice incredibly meek right before Matty cuts him off.

“Really fucking hot? Yeah, mate, you wouldn't believe.” your eyes widen at the conversation being held right now, and you try to gather your words to steer it away from whatever this was, hoping and praying Matty hadn't spooked George into never wanting to speak to either of you ever again.

“Yeah, it is.” George breathes, no stutter in sight as Matty watches his every move, acting accordingly. In what feels like a fraction of a second, you suddenly feel the weight of a body in your lap, and it takes a moment to realize its Matty, straddling you like George isn’t sitting two fucking feet away from you.

His lips catch yours in a searing hot kiss, all tongue and teeth as our mouths work against each other, quiet wet sound filling the space as you feel George’s eyes on you, shamelessly staring. 

“See? I was right.” Matty murmurs against your lips, vaguely gesturing in the direction of an incredibly flustered George, his confidence unfaltering. You pull away for a few moments, cocking your head in confusion as you see him set the spliff down in the corner of your eye, bright pink ashtray glimmering in the dim light.

“Our little Georgie here,” he cuts himself off with another peck to your bruised lips before continuing. “likes to watch, don't you, love?” The pet name makes George visibly twitch, Matty’s sultry words evoking something primal in him, something he’d never felt before. You feel his hand trail down your chest, grazing over your nipples as he caresses your skin, his touch tantalizing. Turning your head slightly, you see a sight that will be ingrained into your frontal lobe until the day you die. Georges nods, confirming Matty’s suspicions and you gasp as curls brush under your jaw, hot lips pressed to your collarbones. 

The energy in the room shifts dramatically as George makes a move towards the two of you. He opens his mouth to speak once, twice, until he finally manages to force a string of words out.

“W-what else–” Matty stops, turning towards him with a look of encouragement, nodding at the clearly nervous blonde.

“What else does she– does she do..?” The question is directed at Matty, his eyes avoiding you at all costs, too shy to even look at you properly.

“Fuck, she makes me hurt so good, m’dizzy even thinking ‘bout it.”

George's breath hitches and you can tell he's turned on by the way Matty moans the words, grinning maniacally at the both of you, this whole situation like a dream come true for him.

“See this?” Matty hooks his fingers into the collar of his shirt, pulling it down to reveal a myriad of bruises and marks, flaunting them to George. You can see a small part of him wish George would touch him, run the rough pads of his fingers over his pale skin, maybe even press down onto the fresh splotches of color.

“Got a bit too annoying so she put me in my place, marked me up all pretty.” Endless nights spent holding him down, murmuring into his ear, your mouth attached to his throat as he whines spin in your head, the memories going straight between your legs as you absentmindedly spread them, and action not going unnoticed by Matty.

“Fucking hell.” George mutters, entranced by the scene in front of him, trying to convince himself he was dreaming. You don't even notice how close he really is until Matty grabs the edge of his half unbuttoned shirt, smashing his lips against his. A startled gasp escapes George before he melts into the kiss and Matty moans, licking into his mouth at a dizzying pace. 

Your heart beats against your ribcage when George threads his dominant hand into his curls, tugging experimentally. The action is tentative, unsure, but Matty’s wanton groan spurs him on, a sudden rush of confidence making him pull harder, earning more sounds from him. A high pitched moan spills from Matty’s lips as George slips his tongue past them, the sight pornographic as you watch them, eyes darting between the two men. 

Letting out a groan of protest when Matty pulls away, you catch the beginnings of a smirk right before George presses his lips to yours, his stubble scratching along your chin roughly. It feels different yet so, so fucking good as he groans into your mouth.

“Fuck, that's so hot.” Matty breathes, running his fingers through his hair, still perched in your lap as George continues kissing you frantically, wanting to feel every inch of your lips. 

You barely notice Matty sinking to his knees while George keeps you busy, your eyes screwed shut tightly as a carnal desire takes over your body, lighting every fiber of it aflame. Both of them can visibly see how worked up you are the moment Matty slides your shorts down your thighs, your hips lifting to help him out. There's a visible wet patch on the front of your panties, one that makes George gasp when he sees it, breaking the kiss. 

“Oh, don't stop on my account.” Matty pouts, not liking this you-and-George-not-kissing turn of events. George catches your lips again, the kiss searing hot as his hand finds your jaw, his chest pressed up to the side of your body.

“Gorgeous, isn't she?” you giggle at Matty’s words, letting one of your hands thread through his hair as he mouths along your thigh, licking over your clothed cunt. His fingers play with the hem of the cotton, making you shiver at the coldness of his fingers against your skin. 

“You should see him in a bit of silk, takes your fucking breath away.” you whisper to George, quietly wondering if he did have a pretty little number on under that skirt of his.

“Fuck, seriously?” George says, almost to himself, looking down and locking eyes with Matty. Matty rests his cheek on your thigh, his fingers slowly pushing the fabric of your panties to the side.

“Shame I didn't have time to prepare, would've even gotten those pretty little garters out. Love those, don't you?” You nod, smiling at George as the mental image flickers in front of his eyes, fantasies running wild in his mind. 

You feel rough fingers against the skin of your stomach, and you realize what the blonde is hinting at.

“Can I..” he trails off before he can even finish his sentence and you nod, urging him to rid you of the unnecessary material. A choked gasp spills from his lips when he realizes the lack of bra under your top, his hands shamelessly groping your tits as you moan, fingers toying with your nipples meanly. 

His mouth finds the space between your tits, leaving aggressive marks in his wake as Matty watches the scene in front of him unfold, licking his bottom lip. Matty’s fingers dip under your underwear, applying pressure to your clit making your hips buck upward, searching for more pleasure as Matty grins up from below you.

“Fuck– you’re so tight.” he murmurs as his digits sink into you, stroking against your walls at a dizzying pace, your head spinning at the blinding ecstasy. 

A desperate moan escapes you as George feels you up, your chest looking eerily similar to Matty’s as your nails dig into the cushions of the sofa, your feeble attempt at grounding yourself. Matty presses soft kisses to the inside of your thigh as you writhe under his touch, sucking lightly and leaving similar marks to George, if not a bit less harsh. 

“Matty, please– m’so close.” you whine, cut off by George’s lips against yours, all the oxygen in your lungs being knocked out of them in a split second, leaving you feeling weightless. Your vision is blurry as your orgasm approaches, the coil in your belly winding impossibly tight as Matty’s hand reaches up to graze your stomach reassuringly. A rough hand grabs yours and you open your eyes fully to realize it's George’s, smiling softly as Matty brings you to that delicious edge.

You cum with a whimper of his name, gripping the blonde’s hand so tightly you might've cut off the blood supply to his fingertips, pleasure washing over you in tidal waves, your hips unabashedly grinding down onto Matty’s fingers.  

It takes a few minutes for you to properly come to, your chest heaving with effort as Matty kisses your thighs sweetly, gazing up into your eyes. A beat of silence passes between the three of you as you and Matty exchange silent conversation, George blinking rapidly at what he had just witnessed. He still felt like he was dreaming, his whole body floating above the mortal plane as you move to get up, Matty shuffling to the side to make his way between George’s legs, giving you space to do the same.

“You don't have to– I can just-” he stutters, so unsure of himself it's adorable, his face flushed a deep shade of red. You smile to yourself as Matty speaks, his confident tone having a visible effect on the boy above you.

“Do you want us to? Because I want you both so fucking bad.” Matty’s hands grope George's thighs, playing with the buckle of his belt cheekily as he peers up at him, his eyes dancing with desire. 

“Let him take these off you, hm?” You trace your fingers over his stomach where his shirt had ridden up slightly, making him twitch. The movement reminds you of Matty, yet still starkly different.

“Yeah, okay– fuck.” he groans as delicate hands unbuckle his belt, the clinking of metal making your heart thrum in your chest in anticipation. Matty’s fingers start unbuttoning his jeans, stealing a glance at your face, signaling you to take over. George’s cock is hard, precum leaking from his tip as he strains against his grey boxers, a sight you commit to memory

Matty’s now free hands grip the back of your head, pulling you into a messy kiss, so clearly for show it makes your head spin at the mere implication that George was getting turned on from watching you. Your hand finds the front of George’s boxers, palming his cock through them as soft groans fill the room, his legs shaking at the sudden stimulation.

“So ready for us, hm? Should've done this earlier if it got me that.” Matty gestures to the blonde's face, scrunched up in ecstasy as you take him out of the confines of his underwear, fisting the base of his cock. Settling into a more comfortable position on your knees, you take the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as George gasps, screwing his eyes shut in pleasure. 

Matty takes the few spare seconds to grab at the hem of his shirt, sliding it off of him to reveal his bare chest, glistening with sweat and adorned in tattoos. The sight of him half naked never ceases to make you stutter, the low rise of his skirt only adding to the inherent erotic energy surrounding him.

It takes effort to take all of him into your mouth, Matty watching intently as you choke, sputtering on his cock with spit dribbling down your chin obscenely.

“Look how well she’s taking you, feels so fucking good I bet.” Matty reaches down to touch himself to the scene in front of him, letting his face fall onto one of George's thighs. Soft whimpers and moans spill from his lips, barely audible over George’s masculine groans, the juxtaposition making you feel lightheaded as one of his hands finds its way to the top of your head, resting there. 

“Please– fuck, feels so good. Keep doing tha- ohhh shit, fuck.” The head of his cock hits the back of your throat, making you gag. Matty presses an encouraging hand to your lower back. One glance up makes your breath hitch. George isn’t looking at you, but at Matty, his hand disappearing under the waistband of his velvety skirt, squeezing himself through his underwear. The air is charged with lust, the eye contact between the two men so intense you can feel it in your bones. 

Matty’s eyes are glazed over with desperation, the sight of you getting George off fulfilling every fantasy he’s ever had. He’s sure nothing could ever top this, silently begging this wouldn't be the last time it would happen. Matty brushes strands of hair out of your face, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek as you deepthroat George, tears threatening to spill at the effort.

You feel his cock twitch in your mouth, a low groan following as his hand goes slack in your hair, his hips bucking involuntarily. Sincere apologies spill from his lips and you pull off him, wiping your mouth and assuring him everything was alright, offering him a sickeningly sweet smile like you didn't just have his cock down your throat. 

“Make him cum, darling, I wanna see him cum– shit.” Matty whines, eyes begging you. You nod, a smirk spreading onto your face as you take George back into your mouth, his immediate groans of pleasure letting you know just how close he really is. Matty watches as you manage to not gag, making George throw his head back in ecstasy, moaning your name like a prayer. 

The thing that finally does him in? Matty’s hand grazing over the skin of his arm, making him spill into your mouth with a cry, the musky taste of his cum filling your senses. George shakes, actually shakes at the force of his orgasm, hair sticking to his forehead. An idea pops into your head moments before you swallow, and you turn your head to Matty, tapping his bottom lip with your index finger.

Matty’s eyes widen as he realizes what you want to do, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he opens it. You let cum drop into his mouth, some of it missing and hitting his lips, a pornographic moan ripping itself from Matty’s throat at the salty, distinct taste of George.

“Love tasting you on my tongue, shit.” Matty mutters at George, growing impossibly harder at the eroticism of it all, his cock visibly tenting his skirt. 

You lick a stripe up the side of his neck, bringing your wet lips to his ear and whispering into it.

“Get up on the sofa for me baby, let's get you off.” you speak, your words sultry and coated with thick honey, making both Matty and George shiver. 

The curly haired boy nods frantically at your request, scrambling up to find his seat next to George, still panting from his recent orgasm, and the proximity to Matty definitely not helping his current state. You let out a sigh Matty knows all too well, searching your expression to decode what you really meant. It clicks for him when your eyes flicker over to George’s lap, grinning wildly as he clocks it, draping one of his legs over George in a heartbeat. 

Using his body weight to hoist himself to a sitting position, he relishes in the surprised sounds George makes, stuttering over his words while trying to process the events unfolding. Something shifts when Matty makes direct eye contact with him, that sight probably the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“God, you’re so pretty.” George mutters, his lips inches away from Matty’s as they both breathe heavily.

“He is, isn't he?” you grin, your thoughts running wild as your eyes dart around the space, your breath hitching when they land on the discarded leather belt right in front of you, innocent and unassuming.   

Matty is the one who initiates the kiss, immediately taking George’s bottom lip between his teeth, biting down meanly as the blonde gasps into his mouth, pupils completely blown out. Both of them are completely breathless, too caught up in each other to notice you get up and circle around to stand behind Matty, leather in hand.

Matty’s eyes fly open when he feels you grab his arms suddenly, the belt clamped between your teeth as you pull them back, a small yelp spilling from his lips. George notices your movements, knitting his eyebrows in confusion before he realizes that you’re restraining him, the thought making his heart race. The metal clinking is deafeningly loud as his movement is restricted, a high-pitched whine leaving Matty.

“He loves this, look at how hard he is.” you say, your lips pressed to George’s ear as Matty’s hips twitch, bucking up against nothing, desperate for any kind of friction. He’s been hard for the better part of an hour now, watching and talking but never getting off. You see George hesitate, his hand ghosting over the bulge under his skirt while Matty yearns for his touch, eyes pleading with both of you simultaneously.  

“Touch him baby, promise he doesn't bite.” you coo, letting your fingers linger on the leather, tracing the small designs of the belt.

“Unless you want me to.” he bites his lip at George, earning a chuckle from both you and him. The lip bite, despite being ironic, still made something in you stir. 

“I don’t know how– i’ve never-” George whispers, deathly afraid of messing up, afraid of ruining this perfect moment.

“It's alright love, just–” Matty speaks, cocking his head in a sweet manner as George looks at him, red dusting his otherwise pale cheeks.

“Do what you do to yourself when you’re alone, yeah?” Matty reassures him, writhing against the restraints as George tentatively palms his cock over the velvety material.

The thought of George getting himself off is something you file away for later, the mental imagine making the heat between your legs grow exponentially, and you squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of that pressure.  

“Ah, fuck.” Matty whimpers, and you see the blonde flipping the fabric of his skirt up against his stomach, the clothing bunching up at his waist.

“Look how much he wants you, basically begging for you to get him off.” you speak slowly, drinking in the scene in front of you with a primal hunger, the bulge in Matty’s boxers adorned with a wet patch on the front of them. 

“So responsive, isn’t he?” 

Matty whimpers as George finally reaches into his boxers, taking him out and wrapping a hand around his leaking cock, beads of precum bubbling at the tip. George mirrors the movements he uses on himself, eyes searching the other boy’s expression for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he’s met with a blissed out Matty, face contorting in pleasure as George’s hand works him, using his precum as lube.

“Hear that?” you speak, taking in Matty writhing against George, wet lips parted as his eyes droop shut in ecstasy, wanton whines filling the room. You can see abandoned spliff in the ashtray across from you, last remnants of smoke curling in the air as the weed goes to waste, reminding you of how this situation even came to be.

“Those are the same noises he makes when I fuck him.” Your inflection makes the sentence all the more erotic as George stares at both of you wide-eyed, scenes playing out in his mind like a film.

“Y-you-” He stutters and you nod, Matty’s face flushing in a way you don't quite recognise. He’s embarrassed. A smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth as you realize this, finally finding his Achilles heel. That spot was George.

“Yeah, and he takes it, takes whatever I give him. He’ll take whatever you give him, too.” A choked whine leaves Matty’s lips as you speak about him like he isnt even there. He leans forward, resting his cheek in the crook of George’s neck as he makes eye contact with you, fucking panting like a dog in heat. 

“Shit, your hand feels so fucking good.” Matty whimpers, his cock twitching in George's grip as he speeds up his movements, basking in the curly haired boy's praise. Sweat makes Matty’s curls stick to his forehead, his bare chest glistening in the dim light of the living room. You watch as George gets him off, so blatantly turned on by the boy in his lap that it's genuinely laughable. 

“Let me see you, wanna see your pretty face.” George mutters against Matty’s hair, catching you both by surprise. Matty pulls back, a clear look of arousal at the boy’s words, his lips parted in a way that shows you he’s so, so close to the edge it's physically painful for him. 

“Make me cum, please– i’m so fucking close, feels so good, G, fuckk.” Matty braces himself as you trail your fingers up and down his spine, shivers blooming through his whole body as his orgasm rushes at him full throttle. George’s hand squeezes his cock roughly, the slight note of pain sending white-hot pleasure straight to Matty’s lower half, making him moan desperately as George murmurs against his jaw.

The audible sounds of frustration as Matty pulls at the belt restraining his arms is incredibly hot, your tongue darting out to lick a stripe along his throat as he gasps, the stimulation feeling like pure heaven

“That's it, baby, let go for us, doing so well.” George groans, his commanding tone of voice sending Matty hurling over the edge, his orgasm crashing over him so violently tears start to stream down his face as he cums all over George’s stomach and his own, panting their skin as you watch, a soft noise slipping past your lips.

George works Matty through his high, watching every reaction, expression, and movement he offers him, his hand steadily slowing down as Matty’s full body twitches subside, high.pitched pants and whines spilling from his lips as he closes his eyes, basking in the afterglow.

“Fuck- that was.”    

“The hottest thing you’ve ever seen?” You smirk, finishing his sentence for him with a cheeky wink. It takes a few beats for George to fully come down from his power trip, eyes darting between you and Matty as he registers the compromising position he is currently in. You notice his slight panic, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, acting as his tether to reality. 

“Is this going to happen again?” The question is heavy on the three of you for a moment, but eye contact with Matty tells you he already has an answer.

“Do you want it to?” Though he is still restrained, Matty is as cocky as ever, raising his eyebrows at George in a teasing manner. You watch as George gathers his words, your heart thrumming against your ribcage in anticipation. 

“That depends,” George says, sounding confident. 

“Depends on what?” Matty cocks his head and you mirror the movement, equally as confused at his statement. The curly haired boy is still out of breath, his panting ruining the calm and collected demeanor he tries so desperately to portray.   

“Depends if you take it as well as she says you do.” he gestures to you, your smirk growing as Matty flushes a deep shade of crimson, squirming under George’s touch as he rests his hands on his velvet covered hips. You chuckle quietly before answering, making deliberate eye contact with George and George only.

“Oh trust me, my sweet G, he does.”  

[abiiors]

the ball's in your court - george x reader (ft. matty tihi) ˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🔆:✧˚.🍉⋆𖧧🐚

a/n: aka the challengers au threesome aka utter summer filth. this is mostly george, matty's just in it because he's pretty cw: very pathetic descriptions of tennis because i know fuckall about it. men kissing (happy pride month), semi awful flirting i guess but it's not too bad this time, threesome, cumplay, joint fingering??? blowjobs, masturbation, no actual p in v sex though wc: 4k

sweat. that’s the first thing you remember. sweat dripping on the hot tennis court on a blistering day in june, running down their faces in rivulets and flying off in droplets whenever they jump and run and swing and breathe. 

sweat, soaking their t-shirts, making it cling to their sculpted bodies. their sun-tanned arms move beautifully. they’re visually appealing, at least, even if their tennis skills are a bit pathetic. too much twisting of the wrist, too much swish, a shot that’s too wide, a shot that’s not wide enough. 

at least they’re good entertainment if not good players. the joy of watching country club brats fall flat on their asses is like no other. 

you pop the gum in your mouth, and watch them from the shade. matty and george. george and matty. 

they’re regulars, and they might not know you or your name, but you know them. in the same way you know the creak in a stair—not because you’ve tried to look for it and made an effort, but because it’s a force of habit. 

you’ve watched them so many times too, right here on this court, taking out their aggressions on their rackets and tennis balls. their t-shirts ride up each time they jump, exposing their tattoo-covered torsos, the bands of their underwear. the muscles in their thighs are pulled taut too—they’re nice to look at, you think. certainly easy on the eyes. 

“we have audience,” george says, his eyes trained on matty, his mouth curved upwards into a smirk. not once does he look at you. 

matty looks at you from the corner of his eyes. his gorgeous, dark curls are plastered on his forehead, the bridge of his straight nose glistens with sweat. you bite your lip in anticipation. 

you should have gone straight inside after making sure all the balls on the empty courts were collected. you should’ve been making sure you’re not needed somewhere else. and yet here you are… indulging. 

“what do you do? just watch?” george asks loudly. suddenly, his dark gaze is trained on you. the sun might be on them directly but it’s you who feels dizzy. 

you push off the wall, walk a little further and out of the shade. “i work here.”

for a bit he doesn’t say anything, he just looks at matty who seems to be barely stifling a smile. you can’t quite decipher what happens between them then, a nod and a coy smile, like it’s their little secret code. it’s about you, that much you’re sure of. 

and your point is proven a second later when george sets his racket down and walks up to you. 

up close he’s huge, tall enough to tower over you and leave you craning your neck. the hollow of his throat is pink with a hint of sunburn, glistening just like the rest of his forehead. his white uniform is stained with grass a little, but you doubt that bothers someone like him, someone rich enough to afford a year long membership at one of the top country clubs. 

you don’t back away from him though. if anything, you wonder if you should take a step closer, wonder if you should give matty a show since he’s so busy gawking at you and george. 

george, to his credit, doesn’t try to cross the boundary. although he certainly toes it. 

“no, i can see that,” george thumbs the top button of your uniform, the one right below your throat and just above the dip between your breast. he toys with it a second, until it threatens to pop open. “i mean what do you do on the court? just watch? or…” 

“do i play, you mean.” you place your thumb over his, pop the button open easily since it’s already so precarious. when george raises his eyebrow, you shrug. “what? it’s hot.”

george rolls his eyes, but there’s a ghost of a smile on his face too. “oh, do you?”

“a little, we aren’t allowed, technically,” you admit, “but the patrons…” 

“old, sleazy men who like pretty girls in tennis skirts?” 

you laugh. “yeah, them. the managers can’t say no to patrons. and i can’t say no to tips.” 

the club’s not being very subtle either, what with your uniform being a literal tennis skirt, not one that might be functional in the slightest, not for its actual purpose anyway… 

george takes a moment to look you up and down. you can’t lie, it’s certainly flattering to steal his attention like this. 

“george!” matty calls out for him, shitting-eating grin stretched wide on his face. “quit flirting and come back for the next set.”

“yeah, go back for the next set, george,” you tease, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. he doesn’t move an inch. 

“come play a few sets with us.”

“there’ll be three of us. a bit crowded, no?” 

“why?” he cocks an eyebrow, “afraid you can’t take both of us on?”

you look him up and down, lingering especially on the t-shirt sticking to his stomach and his broad chest. then you click your tongue. “the real question is… can you take me on?”

george is distraction personified. 

you decide it’s best to play against matty first—george decides it, more like and you agree. except now that he’s sat in a chair, legs sprawled wide and t-shirt discarded on the ground, you regret it.

the tattoos covering his arms glisten under the sun, his tanned sweaty chest makes your head turn every few seconds, and every time george catches you staring, he smirks. insufferable, annoying, fucking hot. 

focusing on matty’s no better for you. he’s worse than you at tennis, that much is a fact. you’ve already won the first set against him, but then he has that way of staring at you across the net, curls dropping in his eyes, and his crooked smile on display. it’s disarming, if you’re being completely honest. 

“a break?” george calls out when you set your racket down. you are panting a little, but it has little to do with the sport and more to do with the other kinds of heat coursing through you. 

“maybe…” you begin walking off court, toying with the idea of undoing another button. it would be crass… 

across the court, matty takes his t-shirt off too, throws it on the ground and takes a swig out of his bottle. you sit closer to george. 

once your breathing returns a bit to normal, you train your gaze on him, on the way he looks at you with barely concealed interest, subtly flexing his arms while he leans forward, elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists. his jaw looks sharp enough to cut like this, and yet you have the strongest urge to run your finger along it. maybe even your tongue. 

“my friend’s dying for your number.” his tone is so nonchalant that you almost miss it. 

“matty?” you steal a subtle glance at him, lying there on the court shirtless, sun warming his skin. “and he told you this…when?”

george pokes his tongue in his cheek, concealing a smile. “we don’t always have to talk, love…”

“i see…” you mirror his pose, leaning forward with just as much interest, relishing in the way his gaze dips to your cleavage and then back up to your face. a quick glance, a stolen glance. “and you’re not? dying for my number?”

“would you like me to?”

“would you rather i go home with your friend?”

“oh who said anything about going home?”

an image flashes in your head. you, george, matty—in the locker room that would be empty this late in the day, but of course there’s always a chance someone might walk in. someone might see… quickly, you cross your legs together. george notes the movement with much interest. 

“what would you do? just watch?” you steal another lingering glance at matty, who’s sitting up by now, forearms on his knees, watching this exchange with a kind of intensity on his face that you haven’t seen yet. 

“there are worse things than watching, won’t you agree?” george steals your attention away again. 

“and is that what you do? watch?”

george laughs, leaning back. then he hooks his foot under your chair, swiftly pulling you closer somehow on the grassy turf. 

“where?”

“the lockers are free.”

“i’m serious…” he looks at matty, nodding subtly, “we are serious.”

“who says i’m not?”

matty gets up then, dusting off his shorts and walking up to you, right behind you, until his hands are on your shoulders, lightly massaging. you can’t resist a low moan that slips out of you, rolling your head back and closing your eyes. you hope he’s just as good with his hands everywhere else…

“have you decided then,” matty asks, “picked one of us?”

“why not both?”

matty grins, all sharp teeth and wicked smugness. “if that’s what you wish.”

“aren’t you so bold on the court,” george’s breath is hot on your neck, his arms circling your waist, fingers trailing under your t-shirt and up, up, up until the graze the underside of your boob. you hiss, matty falters in his step. 

still, he doesn’t turn, surveying the locker room like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “matty?”

george’s hand still. “oh is that who you want now?”

“want you both,” you moan, “like i was promised.”

“you were promised—” george whirls you around, manhandling you like you weigh nothing to him until you’re pressed flush against his chest, and he’s close enough for you to kiss him “—nothing.”

“come on, now…” matty’s there suddenly, pressing his chest against your back, grabbing your hips until you can feel his hard dick against your ass. “let’s not lie.”

“mmm i like matty,” you smirk at george, then turn your head sideways so matty can grab your jaw like there’s no tomorrow. at this angle it’s an awkward kiss—teeth against your lips and his tongue on the inside of your cheek, but you gasp just the same, throwing yourself into it. 

george takes the opportunity to kiss your exposed neck. it’s more than just a kiss, if anything you know it’s going to leave a mark impossible to hide. his teeth graze over your pulse point, tongue circling it until you moan loudly into matty’s mouth. 

george pushes against you. “shower. now.” 

his voice is a growl, low and urgent, and not one bone in your body is capable of disobeying him. you break the kiss and turn back to george, walking backwards toward the open showers, making sure not to break eye contact. you do however undo a button of your shirt with each step until it’s completely off you, leaving you in a cream lacy bra and the tiny tennis skirts. matty whistles appreciatively, about to take his shirt off too. 

“no,” you object, almost inside the cubicle. “i want george to take off your t-shirt. go on now.”

matty raises an eyebrow and turns to look back at george. his eyes are still trained on you however, glittering with a challenge. 

“oh you want a show, darling? she wants a show matty…”

matty hmms, “go on, do it then.”

you bite your lip, eyes trailing on their bodies with barely concealed lust. george grips matty’s jaw. it’s not forceful or harsh, but it is enough that his eyes widen. he doesn’t move away though, he just lets george pull him closer and tilt his chin up. he just lets george pull him into a kiss. 

it’s a sloppy kiss—teeth colliding against each other, mouths moving out of sync—it’s a mess, frankly. and yet you can’t look away as george holds onto matty’s neck, fingers tight around the nape and lips hot on his jaw and for a moment it’s like you’re not in the room at all. 

matty whimpers. it’s a pathetic little sound that sends a bolt of thrill straight to your cunt, and you rub your thighs together, clenching in anticipation.

they only break the kiss so george can pull the t-shirt off matty and discard it into a rag. you’ve had enough of being ignored. 

“oh you are greedy,” he taunts, gripping your wrist tight just when you try to undress him. something tells you he’s used to getting what he wants, inside the bedroom and outside. 

“you’ll have to earn it though,” matty joins in. 

earn. yes. 

breathlessly, you nod, blood pumping through you at a dizzying pace. you know what george wants as he stares at your mouth, far longer than before. and so you give in, eager to please and to taste him, and you kneel, right there on the cold bathroom floor. 

“is this good enough?”

“much better,” he smirks, tracing your lip with his thumb. it would almost be a loving gesture if it weren’t for the utter and complete lust written all over his face. 

george looks eager, exchanging glances with matty, who stands against the wall, watching. his shorts are almost pulled down, exposing the v of his pelvis and the boner that he palms. matty is content watching. you turn your attention back to george. 

george leans against the wall, discarding his t-shirt somewhere and letting you pull his shorts down until they’re around his ankles, until he’s completely exposed with his hard cock centimetres away from your face. your mouth waters at the sight of him, but you choose to put your hand around him first. around his base, holding him in one hand while the other rests on his thigh. the bathroom tiles dig into your knees, but george groans and suddenly it’s all worth it.

he moans when you move your hand—a trail of your finger up along the thick vein that runs along his underside. you stare at him through your lashes, making sure he’s looking at you when you lick up his slit, already leaking with precum. 

“fuck…” matty groans behind you. 

you rather like this attention, like the fact that he’s getting off to the sight of you on your knees, about to get face-fucked by his best friend. 

george tries hard to keep his eyes open, to watch you as you put just the tip of his cock in your mouth. your hand is wrapped around his base, pumping lightly. you know it feels good because a moment later, his eyes flutter shut. 

his soft sighs turn into groans as you take him deeper into your mouth, only halfway through, still pumping him with one hand and swirling your tongue around his tip. the weight of it feels delicious on your tongue, the taste and the smell of sweat and grass and remnants off his cologne. it’s an odd mix, one that wouldn’t appeal to you otherwise. but here, now, it breaks through any semblance of control you feel over yourself, even as you try to take it slow, tease him mercilessly before you give him anything else.

but george is getting desperate, his hips bucks as he thrusts into your mouth reflexively, making you gag slightly. instead of apologising, george smirks. matty whimpers too, the sound of skin on skin and you look up at george, at his eyes that flit between you sucking him off and matty pleasuring himself. 

“do it again,” you tell him, clenching your thighs together for at least some friction. 

george raises an eyebrow. “that how wanna be treated?” his voice has almost turned into a growl, something so deep and feral, it has you taking him deeper into your mouth, all the way until you gag around him once more. 

“she’s asking so nicely,” matty taunts, breathing harshly between words. 

whatever hold george has on himself snaps at the encouragement. his fingers tighten in your hair, holding you in place as he thrusts his hips again, faster than before, harder. and with each thrust you feel more of his control slipping. 

you feel the saliva pooling in your mouth each time his tip hits the back of your throat, feel the burn around your mouth from his thickness. feel the ache between your legs that grows stronger and stronger. 

“oh fucking! shit—” he moans, cutting himself off as you hum around him and hollow your cheeks. your scalp stings from his hold, mixing pain and pleasure, making you hiss each time. 

somewhere in the meantime, matty has walked up to you, completely naked now and so much closer, closer still when he kneels next to you. you whimper, pleading to be touched, even if it’s just a little. matty seems to understand what you want. 

“such a perfect girl,” he coos, words falling carelessly off his lips while he pumps himself slowly. matty waits a moment, then unhooks your bra, letting it fall off you before he grabs one of your tits in his hand, pinching the nipple between his fingers and rolling it until white hot pleasure zings through you. your jaw grows slack and george groans in frustration. 

“did i tell you to stop?” 

you come back to the present, back to matty touching you while he’s touching himself, back to george with the tip of his cock resting on your lips, back to the ache between your legs. 

you take him in deeper as frustration builds in your body, a need for release so strong that you might almost be on the brink of insanity. 

both george and matty pant, their breaths coming out harsher, and even when your jaw aches and saliva dribbles down your chin, george keeps going, fucking your face like your nothing but a blow-up doll to him. 

“good girl,” he grunts between them, “perfect, perfect girl.” and you know it’s not long now, you can feel him twitching inside your mouth, can feel the way his hips buck and his moans grow louder. you hollow your cheeks again, moan again to let the vibration do its job. 

matty moves to stand behind you, breathing loud and almost irregular.

“shit shit shit—” george pants, eyes rolled to the back of his head and jaw slack from pleasure, “gonna cum,” he moans, “gonna cum in your mouth okay?”

you want to say yes, nod, something to let him know how badly you want to taste him, for him to fill up your mouth. 

his entire body tenses in that moment, stomach tightening visibly before you feel the thick, warm cum shoot right into your throat and all the way down. you try to keep up with him, swallowing everything he gives you but some of it dribbles down your chin anyway, mixing in with the drool, making a mess. 

almost exactly a second later, ropes of cum shoot down your back, your spine. matty, reaching his own orgasm. it’s utterly pornographic, the scene—you on your knees with cum dribbling down your chin and your spine. two men staring at you with lust-riddled eyes, in complete and utter awe.

“pretty little mess,” matty sighs softly, as if reading your mind. george still thrusts in your mouth, gentler now as he rides out the last waves of his orgasm, his cock leaking with the last drops of cum. 

you keep your mouth open when he pulls out, letting him see his release on your tongue—thick and white and milky. then you turn to matty. “wanna share?”

matty nods, crashing his lips against yours. the moment his tongue slips inside your mouth you moan. he can taste george on your tongue, can taste every drop of his cum you failed to swallow. you bite his lip, enjoying his hiss a little too much. matty lets you though…

he’s too busy digging his fingers in your jaw and your neck, almost squeezing the sides of your throat. it’s not enough to cut off air completely, but it’s enough to make your head spin. 

when matty pulls back, milky release almost coating on his lips, you feel the breath leave you in a whoosh. 

george kneels next to you, hand on your hip. 

“take this off, yeah?” his fingers taps against the waistline of your skirt. “your turn now.”

“touch me,” you whimper, grabbing george’s hand and moving it up your thigh until his fingers are practically at your aching cunt. he stills and looks at you with a grin. 

“matty can help, can’t he?”

“wha—”

“you’ve been so good to us” he whispers right into your ear, nips your earlobe while he’s at it too and you moan just from the thought of it—both their fingers stretching you out, making your see stars, the taste of cum still linger on your lips and you nod, breathless, spreading your legs to bare everything to them. 

“please,” you nod eagerly, letting matty part your legs wider, letting him graze your thigh. george, not one to be outdone, joins in a second later. 

this time when you kiss matty, you make sure to slip your tongue inside, something he seems to enjoy a little too much, and you take advantage of his distraction. 

“like that,” you moan in his mouth and grab his hand, pushing a finger inside and searching for george’s hand right after. 

“want more?” he smirks. his eyes look pitch black, blown out wide and so dark, it sends a thrill down your spine. 

george presses a kiss on your neck again, mouth rough, all teeth and tongue until you’re close to a blackout and grinding on his hand. you feel the stretch when his fingers enter you, right alongside matty’s. their hands work in tandem, pulling out and pushing in, and the burn of the stretch is divine. your eyes close of their own accord, hips undulating, back arched. 

“please d-don’t stop,” you beg, moving your hips faster and faster, matching the thrust of their fingers, “i’ll die if you stop.”

your voice is raspy and rough, like you’ve been screaming unintelligible things for hours. and maybe you have been; your body certainly feels like it, on fire with a current running down your spine every time their fingers push in deeper. 

“won’t” george promises, at least you think it’s him. his voice has morphed into something you barely recognise. but his hand moves faster and faster, thumb circling your clit, and that’s all you seem to care about. 

“ohgodohgodohgod,” you chant like a blind devotee, drunk on them both, pathetic and desperate. matty’s moves, kissing the other side of your neck, teeth over your earlobe and tongue against your collarbone. if tomorrow you woke up covered in hickeys, you won’t regret it one bit.

heat burns hotter in your chest, the bottom of your spine as you clench around their fingers, stretched out and almost at the edge 

“that’s it baby, look at me,” george says. no…it’s almost an order, “look at me when you cum.”

instinctually, you open your eyes, look right at him—at his face that is so close to yours you can practically feel his breath fan your cheek, at his completely dilated pupils and swollen mouth. he kisses you hard and rough, probably tasting himself on your tongue and that tips you over the edge. 

with a cry you cum all over their hands, panting and breathing hard. it’s barely even audible over the rushing blood. 

“fuck—” matty chokes, utterly speechless. you feel no different. 

instead, when matty pulls his hand out, you take a hold of it, place it in your mouth. he makes a sound at the back of his throat—a choked moan like he can’t take it anymore. the moan frees itself when you swirl your tongue around his fingers, licking every inch of them, sucking them clean, not breaking eye contact even once.

you turn to george next, almost expecting him to stick his fingers in your mouth, shoved deep down until you gag around them too but he’s quicker, eager enough to swirl his tongue around them while you and matty watch. 

“at least you’re better at this than tennis,” you mock, earning an eye roll from george and a laugh from matty.

the showers stink of cum and sweat. 

your uniform is probably unusable now. fuck.

with shaky legs you get off the floor, utterly naked, with no idea how to go back outside and how to do your job. 

“shower?” matty asks, utterly nonchalant. 

george looks at you for an answer. oh well… “and a smoke after that,” you add. 

“that’s the plan then,” he agrees and turns the shower on. 

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[whimsicalpolitical]

could u do something about sick day george fluff ?

of course!! ❤️‍🩹 ty for your request!!

you cough again, a little sharper than before, and george’s hand stills where it’s been tracing circles on your arm. his eyes flick down to you instantly, brows drawing in that subtle, familiar crease of worry he tries to hide from you.

“still a bit too warm, i think,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper, like he doesn’t want to startle you. his fingers brush gently against your cheek, checking again, even though he’s done it maybe five times in the last hour. “might swap out the cloth soon.”

you nod a little, or try to - you don’t really have the strength to move much. you feel heavy, the kind of tired that sits deep in your bones, and being curled into george like this is the only thing keeping you tethered to the world.

“do you want more tea?” he asks quietly. “or, i dunno… a bit of toast? something small?”

“don’t think i could eat,” you rasp, throat still raw. “but thank you.”

“i think you have to eventually,” he speaks, “can’t just not eat anything for the rest of the day.”

you groan which makes him smile. you’re really not in the mood for food.

george hums, “you don’t have to eat now,” he leans over to press a new kiss into your hair, he’s been doing that a lot today, like it’s instinct, then shifts carefully to reach for the bowl of water on the coffee table. he doesn’t move you off his lap though, just manages it one-handed, swapping out the warm washcloth with a freshly cooled one.

you sigh as it settles against your skin, and george smiles softly.

“there we go,” he says, brushing a thumb under your eye. “you’re doing good, baby.”

you breathe in, slow. “you don’t have to sit here the whole time, you know.”

george tilts his head. “where else would i be?”

you don’t answer, just blink at him, too tired to explain the way it makes your chest ache, the quiet kindness in him. you’ve never had someone take care of you like this. not just physically, but… gently. patiently. like you’re something fragile he doesn’t mind holding.

he must read it on your face, because he leans down again, closer this time, his lips just brushing your temple.

“you do know i like taking care of you right?” he murmurs, “love, i’m going to be here all night.”

you try to smile, and manage half of one. “you’re too good to me.”

“not possible,” he says, “you’d do the same. i know you would.”

you nod. it’s true.

he rests his hand on your chest for a moment, light and steady, just feeling the rhythm of your breath beneath it. “you wanna try and sleep a bit more?” he asks, “i think you’ll feel better after.”

“mhm,” you hum.

you shift a little against him, wincing when your back twinges again. it’s not that his lap isn’t comfortable but your body’s aching now in that deep, dull way that makes every position feel wrong after a while.

“mm,” you murmur, eyes still half-shut, “my neck’s starting to hurt.”

george’s hand pauses where it’s been running through your hair, and you feel him glance down. “yeah?” he says, “why didn’t you say anything?”

you make a faint noise of protest, somewhere between embarrassment and stubbornness. “didn’t wanna move. you were being nice.”

he lets out a quiet, breathy laugh, “i can still be nice if you’re comfy,” he says, carding his fingers gently behind your ear. “come here, then. lift your head for me, please, baby?”

you do, letting him ease the cloth off your forehead and set it aside. you sit up just enough for him to shift beneath you, stretching out fully on the couch. he opens his arms and waits for you to settle.

“c’mere,” he says, “lay down with me.”

so you do. you curl into him carefully, tucking your face against his chest, one leg draped over his, your arms slipping around his waist. george’s legs stretch out comfortably beneath yours, his chest rising steady beneath your cheek, and it’s instant - the way your body settles, your muscles melting into the warmth of him.

he presses his lips to the crown of your head, hands already back in your hair, smoothing it down with slow, steady strokes.

“is that better now?” he murmurs, fingertips brushing along the nape of your neck.

you nod against him, lips barely moving. “mm. way better.”

“good,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice even through his chest. “i like having you this close better anyway.”

you hum sleepily, barely conscious now.

“i’ll make something to eat when you’re asleep,” he adds, “some soup or pasta or… something easy.”

“don’t need anything,” you mumble, already halfway under.

“don’t argue,” george whispers, kissing your temple. “you’ll eat when you wake up. then i’ll hold you like this again, yeah? ‘til you’re better.”

you don’t answer, you’re drifting, already breathing deeper, but your hand curls into his shirt like a thank you, like a promise.

george exhales softly and lets his head fall back against the pillow, his fingers never stopping their gentle rhythm in your hair. the sun’s all but gone now, the room dipped in muted twilight. outside, the city is quiet.

inside, everything you need is right here, chest to chest, warmth and comfort and love humming low between every breath.

it’s quiet for a long time. you’re barely awake now, mind flickering in and out of sleep, but george is still tracing the shape of you, his fingers brushing lazy paths down your back.

you shift a little, and he adjusts immediately, letting you tuck your nose further into the crook of his neck. he smells like laundry detergent and skin and that faint edge of bergamot from his cologne and cigarettes.

“you alright there, angel?” he murmurs, lips grazing your hair.

you hum. barely a sound.

his hand moves up to cup the back of your head, thumb stroking slow against your temple. “you’ll feel better soon,” he says “i think you’ve already been through the worst of it.”

you let out a croaky little noise. “i think i am in the worst right now.”

george huffs a quiet laugh, “m’sorry, yeah?” he tilts his head to press a kiss into your forehead. “doing everything i can to make you better.”

“you’re doing an okay job,” you joke, voice muffled against his collarbone.

george grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. “you’re very brave,” he says, “poor baby.”

you pinch his side half-heartedly and he laughs again, then pulls you closer. you feel him shift, nudging your chin up gently with his knuckles. his lips find yours - soft, slow kisses, warm and unhurried, like he’s got nowhere else to be. because he doesn’t. not tonight.

you sigh into his mouth, the kind of sigh that gives everything away, the tiredness, the relief, the way his presence is the only thing grounding you right now.

“better?” he murmurs, nose brushing yours.

you nod. barely. “mm. you’re good medicine.”

“’course i am,” he whispers, kissing you again, slower this time. “gonna hold you right through the night, alright? not going anywhere.”

you believe him, “love you.”

“i love you, darling. now try to sleep.”

and when sleep finally takes you, it’s to the feel of george’s arms tight around your waist, and his lips still brushing softly against your forehead like he’s trying to kiss the fever right out of you.

you sleep through the whole night. george didn’t want to carry you to the bedroom because you were in need of a good night sleep, so you just slept on the couch.

you wake up slowly, eyes barely open, body heavy in that soft way that only comes after real rest. the fever’s gone, or nearly, the chills dulled to a light warmth under the duvet. you’re not shivering anymore.

you cough once, dry and scratchy, and wince at the sound.

the couch is still soft beneath you, the blanket george must’ve pulled over you tucked up to your shoulders, but he’s not there. your head’s no longer on his chest. there’s space where warmth used to be.

your nose wrinkles, eyes cracking open just a bit.

the flat smells so good. you shift a little, blinking at the soft spill of light pouring in from the kitchen.

then you hear him.

“ah,” george calls gently, “look who’s awake.”

you blink blearily toward the kitchen doorway, trying to push yourself up a little. “mm.”

he rounds the corner a few seconds later, tea towel slung over his shoulder, grey joggers hanging low on his hips. smile already tugging at his lips.

“morning, angel,” he says, “you look slightly more alive.”

you frown at him, lip puffing out without you really meaning to. “you weren’t next to me.”

george’s face softens immediately. “aw, baby.” he crosses to the couch in a few quick steps, crouching down beside you. “m’sorry. you looked so peaceful. didn’t wanna wake you. thought i’d make something to eat.”

you sniff, still pouting. “was cold.”

he chuckles, brushing your hair back off your face, fingertips grazing your cheek. “you were roasting when i got up. nearly sweated me out of the blanket.” he leans in to kiss your forehead. “but you’re not as warm now, i don’t think. that’s good.”

“my throat hurts,” you croak.

george kisses the corner of your mouth. then again, properly, right on your lips, “mhm, sorry,” he murmurs against your mouth. “you’re still all raspy. but you look a bit better. colour in your cheeks.”

you nod, letting your eyes flutter shut again for a second. “feels better. just missed you.”

he smiles, impossibly fond. “yeah? well. lucky for you, dinners almost ready, soup’s nearly done.” he stands up and leans over you, bracing one hand on the back of the couch to kiss your forehead again. “come sit with me in the kitchen. let me feed you?”

“you like that,” you mumble, letting him coax you upright.

“i do, actually,” he says, “i want to spoil my perfect, sick darling.”

you don’t even have the energy to argue, not really.

you just let him tuck you under his arm again as you shuffle into the kitchen, cheeks warm, but this time, it’s nothing to do with the fever.

[grocerystorelist]

night, midnight, lose my mind – george daniel

a stranger lights your cigarette outside the club, setting something else in you aflame. what follows could burn you down with it. inspired by this from @toomuchracket <3

minors dni. dom/sub, lots of d word, unprotected sex, overstimulation, choking, breeding a bit (not sure where that came from) and way too much possessiveness for a hookup

wc: 3632 thank u @think0fmehigh for reading this over and finding me the 2nd pic!! ok enjoy everyone <3

You lean against the brick outside the club, cold biting through the back of your jacket. A few people are milling about and chatting, smoke clouding the air. Beside you is a man with buzzed bleached hair, jawline cutting through the chill of the night as he takes a drag from his cigarette. He stares down the street, seemingly fixated on something in the haze, and you bite the urge to shuffle closer to him, to ask him what’s on his mind. Rolling your ankle, you let out a content sigh as you slide down the wall, digging for the lighter in your pocket. After a few flicks, you frown. It’s not working. 

The man tilts his head down. “Hey,” he says. You look up. He nods his head towards the lighter in his hand, holding out a hand to help you up. “Need a light?” You accept it gratefully, hoisting yourself up. You fumble out the pack from your pocket, hanging one from your lips as you slide closer to him. He raises his eyebrow as he holds up the flame. It’s a challenge. Another step closer, and you can feel the heat of his breath on your cheek as you dip your head to touch your cigarette to the light. He smells like whiskey and his own cigarettes, and you slip under his outstretched arm to lean against him as you inhale the first lungful of peace.

The muscles of his arm flex around you, the quiet display of strength renewing the blush on your cheeks. The two of you smoke in silence, but you swear you can feel the burn of his gaze on your face as you look resolutely ahead, unwilling to betray just how hot you think he is. A huff of air ghosts over you, and you snap, bringing your head up, staring at his lips.

“Let me kiss you,” you breathe. A beat. He groans and snakes an arm around you, pulling you into his body, pink lips crashing into yours. He takes a step to cage you into the wall, a broad hand rising to cushion your head from the brick, to press you further into his embrace. He kisses hungrily, and you wind your arms around his neck as his other hand travels up your leg to grab your ass, pushing and hitching you up. Dizzy, you pull away to catch your breath, a string of spit stretching between you for a moment as you giggle, looking up and down the street to see if there are still others around.

He sets you down, a grin spreading across his face as he takes in just how disheveled you are from your brief kiss. You smooth your hair and tug your skirt down, wiping across your face to get the rest of the lipgloss he hasn’t kissed away.

“I could really use another cig right now,” you laugh, pulling your pack back out to grab one, winking as you motion for his lighter. You’ve barely exhaled the smoke before he’s kissing you again, tongue desperately searching for a taste of the tobacco in your mouth as his hand cups your jaw. It’s brief, but combined with the nicotine it sends you into a headrush, vision clouding over as his tongue swipes over yours.

He steps back and pockets the lighter with a smirk, crushing the end of your cigarette under his sneaker. “See you back in there, princess. I’m George, by the way. Let me know if you need another light.” The door shuts behind him. The bubbles in your chest grow until you spin around, dizzy from the feel of his arms around you, the press of his forearm slung around your neck. You want his hands pushing into the flesh of your throat, long fingers wrapped all the way around your fucking neck.

You tilt your head back against the wall, laughing at the absurdity of it. Coming back in, you text your friends, before you swipe open your phone’s camera to look at the state of your makeup. Lips ruined, but otherwise relatively intact. You wonder what you’d look like if you went home with him.

Back in the club, you find your friends dancing in the same spot you left them, and you drag them to a table to get them a round as you tell them what happened outside. You lean forward on your elbows on the sticky tables as your best friend bats your arm, the group of them looking around to try and spot him. He’s tall, but low light and music make it hard to focus on one face for longer than a second.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get his number,” drunkenly exclaims one of them, craning her neck to look into the dark corners of the club. You haven’t spotted him either since you came back inside, but you’re resolved to make the most of the night. 

“Come on,” you say, swiping more lipgloss on. “Let’s go dance.”

You get down to the old pop blasting through the speakers of the club, spinning around and round until you’re dizzy. Every time you spot someone ridiculously tall out of the corner of your eye, heat shoots between your legs, only to be met with a twinge of disappointment when you realize it’s not him. Your friends try to distract you, pulling you closer to dance with them, laughing and singing along as you move together.

“He was probably a boring lay anyways,” one of them shouts, shaking her head. You nod with assent, eyes wandering now to see if you can salvage this night. But before you can land on another target, you feel the heat of a hand on your hip, pulling you away from your friends to spin you around.

“Was worried you forgot about me, princess,” George breathes into your ear, hips moving in time with yours. “Thought you found someone else.” You grasp his shoulders and grind into him, rolling your hips into the growing bulge of his jeans.

“I’m all yours for tonight if you want me.” You can feel his smile against your forehead, lips stretching to press a kiss there. “But what is it you want, darling?” George asks, biceps flexing as he grabs your ass, the black fabric of your skirt bunching in his fist. You know he can feel the lace of your underwear beneath them, pink lace growing damper by the second the longer his hand remains that close to your aching core.

“Want everything,” you gasp into his mouth, finally kissing him again. He breaks away before you can tug him further into you. “Gonna give me a name, first?” George teases, intertwining your fingers together. You reply with a wince, internally cringing at your haste, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He starts to tug you in the direction of the door, hands practically encircling yours.

“Wait,” you shout over the music, gesturing behind you. “Let me tell my friends I’m leaving.” Weaving through the crowd with George in tow you spot your best friend looking utterly blissed out, dancing without a care in the world. Tapping on her arm, you blush as she does an almost comical double take, eyeing George up next to you. “We’re going,” you say, letting out a laugh as she blinks.

‘Have fun, darling,” she responds. “See you soon!” The two of you turn to go, and you’re turning on your location as George opens his rideshare app, swiping through it. You burst into the cool night, the quiet of the street making you even more aware of the rush in your ears as you look at him, stark features highlighted by the single lamppost illuminating the two of you.

“Mine or yours, sweetheart?” George asks, thumbing open the address bar. “I’m fifteen minutes away.” He stands patiently, a far cry from the intensity you just felt in the club. You can tell he wants you to feel safe – letting you go back to your flat even though it would be a much longer drive.

“Yours,” you insist. “Shorter drive.” The car pulls up almost immediately, sleek and black as you pile into the back. George puts his hand on your leg as the two of you wait, the heat in the back of the car almost so stifling you want to roll the window down. Every bump in the road has you clenching around nothing, wishing he would slide his hand just a little further up your thigh to relieve you.

Soon enough you’re at the front door of his flat, hands clasped as he unlocks the door, ushering you in and closing it behind you. The two of you pause for a moment before he has you up against the door, kissing along your neck.

“I want to mark this pretty throat up,” he groans, pausing in one spot to suck a red mark on your flesh, the line of his body pressing you hard into the door. You want to be utterly overwhelmed by him tonight, for him to take over your body and clear your mind until there’s only one thing it’s filled with.

“You can do anything you want.” You mewl as he gets a leg between your thighs, grinding against him, his denim against your lace as you rub your clit on his leg. He lets you take control for a moment, letting out a low laugh when you give up, frustrated that you’re not getting what you need.

“Let me take you to bed, princess.” He carries you to his room, licking up the salt on the side of your throat. The heat of his tongue sends shudders down your body, clit pulsing with need. The denim of his jeans juts out, and you grind your hips onto the rigid line of him, wet underwear sticking to you.

“Please, George, need you,” you whimper, head falling into the crook of his neck. He sets you down atop your sheets, kneeling between your legs as he guides your head to the pillow. His eyes are practically black, pupils expanded to drink in the sight of your heaving chest and the purple now littered across your neck. “Please, Daddy.”

That’s what gets him – he lets out a low moan as he palms himself over his jeans, broad knuckles and glinting silver rings groping the dark patch you left on him. “Say it again, princess.”

“Want your cock, Daddy.” You whine, damp hands fisting the sheets below you for any semblance of sanity, of stability. You feel like you’re on another plane of existence, hurtling somewhere where you’re reduced to a single pinpointed sensation between your thighs.

“Such a greedy little slut, aren’t you? Need Daddy’s cock to keep you happy?” George groans as he unzips his jeans, precum dotting his white briefs as he slips a hand below the elastic, lightly stroking as his other one comes up to rub light figures on your clit. You moan, hips jolting finally at the stimulation, and you realize he’s drawing letters across your folds. “R - G - E,” you catch, and he begins his attack anew on the bundle of nerves. “G - E - O - R - G - E.” His mouth remains slightly open, shiny and swollen pink lips betraying the pants he lets out as his eyes devour the sight of your puffy folds.

“Going to be a good girl and take my fingers, yeah?” You sob as his manicured nails tease your hole, finally working one in, stroking across your soft insides. George kneels above you, frantically shoving his briefs down as he maintains the rhythm inside you. His thighs bracket yours, tensing in time with his strokes, with the squeezes to his cock.

Your eyes widen a fraction, somehow even more turned on at the fact of finally seeing just how big he is. George catches this and tugs at himself again, the angry red tip disappearing into his fist. “Gotta get you nice and stretched for Daddy’s cock, need you to come again for me, princess.” He slides another finger in, the burn of the stretch radiating throughout your body as your cunt clenches around George’s two fingers, trying to accommodate them.

He bends down to lick at your clit, continuing to massage the soft spot inside of you, relentless as your legs kick under his frame. You wail, finally falling apart, pulsing around his digits as he fingers you through the aftershocks of your orgasm. “So pretty falling apart for me, princess.”

“Need more,” you mewl, legs shifting farther apart to situate him between them. George slowly pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them up to lick at the slick stringing between them. The milky white of your juices swirls atop the black of his nails, bursts of your pleasure disappearing as his tongue laps them up. 

“Fucking love your pussy.” George kneels over you, hand grasping at your jaw as he stares intently into your eyes. “Be a good girl and open up for me, now.” Your jaw drops open, and you stick your tongue out, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. He spits red-hot into your mouth, wet fingers digging in to shut the taste of you into your mouth. “Taste how sweet you are.” 

“Going to be a good slut for Daddy?” He murmurs, “Open your legs again.” You spread yourself under his gaze, cunt still glistening from your orgasm, clenching around nothing. “Wider.” He grunts, grabbing your thigh and pulling it over his shoulder, sucking at the soft flesh.

“Do you have a condom, baby?” He holds himself still above you, eyes intense as he searches yours for an answer. You shake your head resolutely no, tugging him down.

“On the pill, Daddy, want you to fill me up.” George moans as he fists his cock, sliding the head through your slick folds. His tip catches against your hole, and you involuntarily clench, trying to draw him into you finally. Your back sticks uncomfortably to the sheets, damp with your sweat as you shift, anticipating George.

“Going to put it in now, going to be good for Daddy?” You nod furiously, hands running up and down George’s arms as he finally guides himself inside. He slides in slowly, carefully, pressing kisses back and forth across your cheekbones. 

“So fucking tight, princess,” he groans, biceps trembling as he stills inside you. “So wet and tight, all for me.” You whimper, overwhelmed, mind clouded in a haze of George. As the moments pass, you feel your insides practically rearranging for him, welcoming him into your dripping cunt.

You drop a hand to dip into his lower back, pressing in to tell him to start, to claim you as his. He draws out slowly, leaving only the tip of his dick nestled in your folds. You whine at the sudden loss, grasping at the sheets, clenching around air. He thrusts back in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, ” you moan. You’ve never felt more full in your life, the throbbing pressure inside your cunt leaving you squirming up the bed, only to be tugged back down onto George’s cock. Tears spill out of your eyes as he builds up a steady rhythm, damp chests dragging across each other, your tits sticking with the sweat from both your bodies.

He rails into you, alternating between harsh, quick thrusts and deep ruts that leave you gasping, every ridge of his cock dragging along the most tender parts of you. “It’s all for Daddy, isn’t it? Cute little hole all mine to use." You grab at the sheets again but your palms are too damp, your body jolting as George pounds into your body.

You feel dirty and overwhelmed, everything reduced to the singular point in the body where you connect, feeling the drag and pressure inside of you. You press down on your lower belly, crying out “I can feel you, Daddy, so big in me.” George’s hand dwarfs your own, holding it down as he pushes further, the slight bulge appearing and disappearing as he rails into you.

“Taking me so well baby,” he groans, and he spits down at where the two of you are conjoined. “Want to come inside you princess, stuff you full.” Dazed, you can only nod, hurtling towards the edge. He reaches down to touch your clit, calluses rubbing as the fire in your lower belly suddenly roars over you. Your vision goes white as you come, a supernova as your slick leaks out around his cock, the walls of your cunt fluttering. George has been slowly rutting into you as the last of the shockwaves roll over you, but he picks up the intensity as your eyes refocus, no longer glazed over. All you can do is lie there and take it as his thrusts shift you up the bed, his burning eyes never leaving yours as he plays with your tits.

“Fuck, gonna make you mine,” George rasps. You can feel when he starts to come, his whole body tightening up as he curls into your neck, shooting warm spurts of cum inside, your body still pulsing with the aftershocks of your own orgasm. Everything in your brain stops as his cock pulses in your overstimulated cunt, leaving you satiated and blissed out, eyes sliding shut as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to keep him close to you. Eventually, he slips his softened cock out, kissing you hard on the mouth as you wince, suddenly so empty.

You feel his release start to seep out, trickling through your folds and adding to the damp mess on the sheets below. Entranced, he pulls back to watch his translucent cum spill, dripping beads falling like nectar from the sweetest fruit. He reaches out to touch. 

“Can’t take anymore, Daddy,” you sob, throwing an arm over your eyes as you try and close your legs against the thick fingers swiping through your core. “Gotta make sure it takes, princess,” George says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before lifting himself off of you.

George moves down the bed to lie on his stomach between your thighs, hooking an arm under each to pull them apart, baring your glistening entrance again. He lets out a ragged breath before he starts lapping at your folds, getting everything that’s been lost already. You wail, already so far gone from your first two orgasms that another one seems impossible.

“Daddy knows what’s best for you,” he snaps, reaching his hand up to shove two fingers in your mouth. You keen around them, writhing against the sheets as his tongue fucks in and out of your hole, the tip of his tongue repeatedly hitting that spot inside of you. His nose rubs against your clit and you put a hand on his head, trying to hold him there as you rapidly approach another peak.

“Naughty little slut, I thought you couldn’t take another one,” George says, his tongue running flat over your folds. “Need you to shut up now, so I can focus.” His hand slips out of your mouth to wind around your neck, saliva-slick fingers smearing over the delicate flesh as you struggle to get another breath out, completely overwhelmed by him. He’s not putting any pressure on your throat, but the suggestion of his massive hands choking you has you on the edge in seconds, gasping at the thought. 

“Choke me, Daddy,” you plead, “make me cum.” George dives back into your cunt with a fervor, sucking and fucking his cum out of you, wet and messy and utterly filthy. His hand tightens around your throat and you can hear his tongue go in and out, laving over spots that have you seeing stars. You’re lightheaded, weak as you teeter on the precipice, anchored only by the feel of his hands holding you down on the mattress.

Your orgasm shoots through you, spasming around his tongue as you arch against the sheets, covering the lower half of his face in slick. You’re practically floating in the sheets, reaching some higher level of existence as you finally close your thighs to turn on your side. When you finally come to again, George has a clean pair of briefs on, sitting up against the headboard as he strokes your arm. A glass of water sits on the side table, and you can see your phone plugged in next to it. A groan rips out of your throat as you sit up, the ache in your core already apparent as you shift.

“Do you think you can stand, babe?” George asks, hand on your lower back. You nod, swinging your legs over the side of the bed to stand. He leads you to his bathroom, setting you down on the toilet as he busies himself finding a washcloth. The water has found its way into the bathroom with you, and you take appreciative gulps as he kneels before you, murmuring apologetically at the first wipe of the cloth through your folds.

“Sorry princess, gotta clean you up,” he says as you hiss, the coolness jarring against your skin. He pecks your knee when finished, and you wrap your arms around his neck to lift yourself as he slips a pair of his boxers over your hips. You feel like you could burst from the tenderness – surprised that a bar hookup is treating you so nicely after you’ve just been calling him Daddy in bed. “We should do this again,” you chuckle, fingers exploring the new bruises across your throat as you look into the mirror. He pulls you back against his warm chest, kissing the marks he left as you smile at the girl in front of you. Yeah, you could do this again.

[kennedy-brooke]

Dress

George Daniel x (Fem) Reader

Summary: You’ve been best friends with George Daniel for as long as you can remember, but your relationship has always suggested something more. The pining and waiting quickly becomes too much to handle, and you finally decide that something has to be done. A night out with your friends is the perfect excuse for you to wear the dress you bought, with the only intention of having him take it off.

heavily based on the song dress by taylor swift

Word Count: 9.9k

Part 2

a/n: hello lovely people. after many setbacks, my George Daniel fic is FINALLY here! shoutout to @imagine-that-100 and @alovesreading for making me finish it and helping me when i got stuck (i would have given up without the peer pressure support). There is a serious lack of George Daniel fiction, so here is my shot at fixing this problem. I got extremely carried away, and though it was originally meant to be a oneshot, THERE IS A PART 2!! so no worries, the good stuff is on the way and will be here @ 12 est on monday, august 21st ;)

You had been friends with George Daniel for ages, long before the band had gotten big. The pair of you had been through all of it together.

You had been there while his hair was flowing and damaged, and you had cried when he decided to buzz it off - while he simply held you and laughed at your reaction.

Just as he had been there for your mid-life crisis, when you decided bleaching your hair was the only way to get through it, and he looked right at you and lied to your face saying that it looked good.

You’ve always been the closest of friends - and fame has done little to change that fact - but when it comes to your dynamic duo, there has always been an undercurrent of something more.

While you’re just as close with the other boys, your relationship with George has always been different. Friends don't banter quite like the two of you. They don’t openly flirt like you do. They don’t share longing looks with one another, or take any opportunity to make physical contact with each other the way you two do. It wasn’t normal. You knew it, he knew it, hell, everyone knew it - they watched as the pair of you danced around the connection, the overwhelming and obvious chemistry, waiting to see who would finally make the first move.

You would balance precariously along the tightrope marking the barrier between friends and something else, something more, slowly tilting towards free falling into the unknown, before hastily shifting weight and falling back to the safety net of friendship. It was painful to watch - the boys individually giving the pair of you shit for the obvious harbored feelings - but it was never as painful as it was to experience.

Being as close as you were, you watched as George brought home girl after girl, trying your best to be the supportive friend you were while simultaneously trying to keep your own emotions in check. Nodding as he went on to Matty about his latest shag, telling Ross you were fine as he looked at you with concern written across his face.

It wasn’t as if the two of you were together. Why wouldn’t you be fine?

George sat back and watched as guys came up to buy you drinks at the bar that you’d happened to stop at. He scoffed and looked away as you threw your head back laughing at something the new guy said - it couldn’t be that funny - and Matty shot him a knowing look that screamed go do something about it.

He never did, though. He watched and watched, and when he had finally had enough, he found a distraction in someone else.

The game went on for years. An uncomfortable, tension-filled game that was by no means enjoyable for any party involved; but recently, there was something that had shifted.

Just before the boys left for “At Their Very Best,” you and George continued to be practically inseparable, but it wasn’t in the same way you had been before. Where your secret moments in a crowded room had been subtle and the touches fleeting (or so you both thought), they were now blatantly obvious.

You sat pressed against him, his arm around your shoulders holding you close. He stood behind you, arms around your waist, gazing at you while you rambled to Matty about some book you had just read. You leaned against the doorway to the studio, looking on as George messed with the tracks, unknowing to your watching eyes. You played with the rings on his fingers while he chatted with the boys, not letting go even after you finished fiddling with the metal. He placed his hand on your thigh, too high to be a friendly gesture, as he drove you to Matty’s place to meet up with the rest of the band.

The tension had continued to build, leading up to the party being thrown in celebration of the release of “Being Funny In a Foreign Language”. The night hadn’t gone to plan for either of you - rather it was thrown off course by a simple interruption and only proceeded to go downhill from there.

Everyone had been having a lovely time, really. Shots had been taken, more drinks had been poured, and you had found yourself on the settee watching as Matty approached.

“Where’s your loverboy?” Smirking, Matty sat himself next to you and threw his arm over your shoulder.

“Hello to you too, Ratty.” Rolling your eyes, you offered nothing in response to his antics, watching as he threw his hand over his chest in mock offense. “He’s in the kitchen, I think, and he’s not my ‘loverboy’, Matty. We’ve been over this.”

He gave you a knowing look. “Ah, but you knew exactly who I was talking about, didn’t you?”

You brought your glass of wine to your mouth, swallowing down the last of it and leveled him with a glare. “I need another drink.”

“Y/n, come on now! Don’t be like that - I was only messing.” He shook your shoulder a bit before drawing you into his side for a hug. “I was just wondering where our Georgie had disappeared to and figured you would have the answer, seeing as I haven’t seen the two of you apart for weeks.”

Sighing, you pouted and let yourself relax into Matty’s side hug. You knew he was right, if anyone was to know where George had gone off to, it would be you - and to be fair, you did know where he was - but you also knew that Matty’s comment wasn’t as innocent as he made it seem.

He was prying. They all had been, and it didn’t help that you had made the drunken mistake to confide in Matty one night a few months back.

He knew how you felt. How in denial you were about having feelings for your best friend. How you were too scared to do anything about it because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. He knew you thought it was ridiculous and cliched, and he knew that you hated it - but he also knew that those feelings weren’t going away and that the recent clinginess between the both of you was only making those feelings more intense - whether you wanted to admit it or not.

“How’s all of that going, by the way?” Matty prodded, feeling a need to break the silence since you had yet to respond.

You rolled your eyes again, “I’m not sure what you mean, Matty, seeing as there isn’t anything going anywhere.”

“You know exactly what I mean, y/n/n. Neither of you are exactly subtle.” At that you cut your eyes at him, to which Matty just chuckled. “I’m not wrong, and you know it.”

“Well, nothing has happened and it’s probably not going to, so maybe you are.” You huffed and sank lower into your seat, staring at your wine glass as if it would refill itself if you looked at it long enough.

“I highly doubt that. I know George and he wouldn’t just be acting like that for the fun of it. And I know how you feel - you’ve told me as much yourself. What I still don’t understand is why neither of you have done anything about it, it’s simple enough.”

You look over at Matty exasperated, “Matty, I love you, but he’s my best friend and it’s really not that simple. You don’t know the half of it and I wish you’d all just leave it be.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant-”

“I know, Matty, and I appreciate it - but I’d like to enjoy myself tonight and not talk about my pathetic love life.” You smile tightly at him before looking at your empty glass once more and pushing yourself up from your seat. “I’m getting another drink.”

Matty doesn’t utter a word as you get up and make your way to the kitchen - smart man, you think.

Sighing, you make your way around the other party-goers, finding yourself deep in thought. You knew that he had good intentions. Matty can be a dick, but he has a kind heart and has always been a good friend to you.

The issue was that everyone keeps talking like they know exactly what the problem is and how you’re feeling about it, acting as if your situation has an easy fix - when in reality they know absolutely nothing about whatever is going on between the two of you.

George Daniel has been your best mate for ages, you weren’t about to mess all of it up because of some measly feelings. Even if that meant pining in silence, reminding yourself that it’s for the best, trying not to think about what it would be like to be with him in that way. To hug him, but not as a best friend. To spend time with him, but not as a best friend. To kiss-

No. You weren’t going there tonight. You were going to enjoy your time with the boys before they went on tour. There would be no daydreaming about George Daniel and his eyes… and lips… and hands… and-

God. You needed another drink.

Reaching the doorway to the kitchen, you looked in and saw George having a conversation with Ross, his back turned towards where you were standing. He seemed fully immersed in whatever he was talking about and was completely unaware of your presence in the kitchen.

It would be so easy to scare him right now, and just as the thought came to mind, you decided to do just that.

Quietly, you sat your glass down behind the coffee pot and began to slowly walk towards him. Glancing up, you made eye contact with Ross, who quirked his eyebrow upwards. You quickly placed your finger over your lips in response, signaling for him to stay quiet as you crept up slowly behind George.

Realizing what you were trying to do, Ross swiftly looked away from you and began talking to George again, trying to distract him so you could carry out your plan. Once you made it directly behind him, assuring you were completely out of sight, you waited for the perfect moment. And as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, you struck.

You quickly brought up your hands, spreading them open just to snap them closed on George’s waist, aggressively whacking him on either side of his body and letting out a loud yell, “AH!”

“Fucking HELL-” George jumped up in place, swiftly spinning around and fighting off your hands’ attack on his sides by flailing his free arm, the other being occupied by his drink. His face showed nothing short of utter bewilderment, stunned by the sudden attack. His eyebrows pulled down and his mouth gaped open and closed like a fish, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

His reaction, and the expression of shock on his face, sent you into a round of obnoxious laughter - to which Ross joined in on at the expense of his best mate.

“You little shit,” unimpressed, George glared at your laughing figure, bent over at the waist and trying to recompose yourself. “It’s honestly not that funny.”

“Oh, but G, it really was. Your face - absolutely priceless. I wouldn’t have thought your sides would have been so sensitive - you practically levitated off the ground.” Slowly catching your breath, you smiled up at him.

Ross, wanting to stir the pot, gave his own input. “He definitely did - should have seen his face when you got him. Swear I’ve never seen him jump so high.”

George, looking completely unamused, was less than impressed with you and Ross teaming up against him. “I did not. You startled me is all-” He turned to look you dead in the eyes before continuing “-and you’re one to talk. My sides are sensitive, hm? Mine?” George began to smirk and sat his drink next to Ross as he slowly started making his way over to you.

The mischievous glint in his eye was alarming, and you immediately started backing away. You knew what he was up to, and you weren’t about to simply stand there.

With every step he took forward, you took one back, desperately trying to get out of the hole you had just dug for yourself. He kept moving forward, and you kept moving backward - until your back hit the counter and there was nowhere for you to run. However, that didn’t deter George from moving closer still. He continued to walk toward where you were standing, pushing his way into your personal space and pressing you further against the counter.

He looked down at you and smirked, “What was it you said about sensitive sides?” and that's when he struck.

He quickly brought his hands up to your sides, giving you no time to react before he’s started aggressively tickling you. You squealed and burst out laughing, releasing a loud cackling sound that you had no control over.

“George- G wait- GEORGE STOP-'' Your laughter enveloped the kitchen, and caused George’s smirk to slowly turn into a genuine smile. “no NO STOP IT I'M SORRY”

Laughing along with you, George continued his attack. “What was that, darling? I don’t think I heard you- you’re sorry?”

“Stop - STOP YES IM SORRY - IM SORRY PLEASE. George- GEORGE PLEASE NO MORE.”

“See? Was that so hard?” George chuckled at you as you tried to catch your breath and he slowly stopped his attack on your sides.

You looked up at the tree of a man in front of you, trying to hide your smile as you gave him your best attempt at a glare. As soon as you made eye contact, though, your smile broke loose and you couldn’t help but release a half-giggle, half-chuckle at the man you had grown to adore.

The eye contact went unbroken, developing from a look of amusement to a sticky sort of fond look that continued to be passed between the two of you.

“That was nasty of you, G.” You narrowed your eyes at him, pushing on his chest and looking away for a brief moment before your eyes unconsciously drifted back to your best friend.

“I wouldn’t say that I’m the nasty one here, love. Don’t try to sneak up on me next time and you can avoid this mess.” Completely unphased by your light-hearted shove, George simply moved closer, placing his hands on the counter top by each side of your waist, effectively caging you in and bringing your bodies closer than they had been before.

“It was too good of an opportunity, G. I had to.”

The new distance, or rather the lack of such, sent a nervous, giddy feeling straight to your stomach. You and George had been dancing around the tension for weeks, waiting for the other to break - to finally make the first move - but nothing had happened yet and you were getting antsy.

There’s only so much flirting without any effect that you can take before you explode, and tour was starting up in the next week. He would be out of reach then - untouchable until the band was back home for a break. Their return would be months after they leave for tour, and the distance would provide you both with no consistent communication, what with time zones and work.

The pressure was laying heavily on the both of you and the close proximity was making your head fuzzy and your stomach turn - or maybe it was the wine you had been nursing all night - you weren’t sure anymore.

The renewed eye contact had become too much to handle, so you diverted your eyes downward and came face to face with George’s neck and chest. You couldn’t help but slowly drag your eyes across his frame, taking in his chiseled jawline and letting them roam down the expanse of his neck until they caught on an unfamiliar piece of jewelry hanging around it.

Reaching up, you softly slid your finger underneath the necklace and pinched it between your fingers to get a closer look at the piece. It was a simple chain - nothing outrageously large or bulky, but rather a thin, lightweight gold that laid nicely around his neck and had been neatly tucked beneath his shirt.

“Is this new?”

George hadn’t been paying a bit of attention. He was too focused on the smell of your perfume and the soft look that had taken over your features now that you had finally calmed down. You were beautiful. You always had been, but God, if you didn’t look unreal standing so close to him. He was intently committing your features to memory, as if he hadn’t already done so many times before, when you pulled him out of his daze.

“What?” He glanced down at your hands, now holding the thin chain and examining it. “Oh - that? yeah I just got it last week. Hadn’t found a chance to wear it yet, decided tonight was a good time. Do you like it?”

“Mhm, it’s nice.” You weren’t lying, it looked good on him - more than good - but you couldn’t help but tease him a bit. With the chain still between your fingers, you hooked your index finger beneath it and gave a quick tug, bringing his face closer to yours. “- think I could pull it off better, though.”

“Is that so?” George glanced at your face and found you looking at the gold necklace, a small smile gracing your face.

“Oh, definitely. I could pull it off way better than you do.” Your smile turning into a smirk, you tugged on the necklace a bit more, looking up at George to find his eyes trained on your own.

“Mmm, I’m sure you could.” His eyes flicked down to your lips, the smirk there morphing back into a smile, and he couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like pressed against his own.

You had found yourself in a similar situation. You caught him looking at your lips, causing a flush to crawl up your neck. Later, if anyone asked, you would swear it was because of the wine, NOT because your best friend was looking at your lips like he was dying to explore them with his own.

On their own accord, your eyes had drifted downwards and were staring at his own lips. They had a small upturn to them, a content smile gracing his face as he continued to look at your own.

“Y/n -” It was barely there, a whisper of sorts that you wouldn’t have caught if you hadn’t been intently staring at his lips to see them part as he spoke your name.

With that one breath, everything stopped. You were no longer in the kitchen at a friend’s house, and it felt as if there was no one else around you for miles. It was just you and George sharing this one small moment.

Without noticing, you had both started leaning in. Your stomach started tumbling - was this going to be it? Finally, it was finally going to happen - fuck the consequences - and there was nothing that could stop it, nothing at all -

“Ahem-” Looking positively sheepish, Ross broke the bubble the two of you had created.

In all honesty, you had forgotten that Ross was even there and once broken out of your daze, you realized how close your faces had become. The two of you quickly jumped apart, eyes diverting to look at anything but each other.

“So sorry for interrupting, um, whatever that was -” and to be fair he did look distraught for having been the one to burst your bubble, “- but Matty has been calling George’s name for a bit now and i figured you wouldn’t want him to be the one to break you two apart.”

You and George both grimace. He’s right, you definitely did not want Matty witnessing whatever just happened.

“Plus, it was getting a bit uncomfortable just standing there in silence while that played out.”

You stood there blinking, still trying to come back from your previous daze - which caused George to be the first to respond.

He looks panicked and more than a little distressed. “No- Yeah- I mean no, it’s alright. I- um I should go see what he needs.” And without sparing you another glance, George grabs his drink and walks away.

You watch him walk out of the room, your mouth hung open in disbelief. You had almost kissed. You and George had almost kissed and he just walked away. What the fuck just happened?

“Y/n, listen- I’m sorry for-”

“What? Oh, no it’s um- it’s alright, no worries- Have you, um, have you seen my glass? I don’t, uh, I don’t know where I set it.” You were beyond flustered, and a bit upset. George walked off and it all hit you at once.

You were in love with George Daniel, you had almost kissed him, and now everything was all sorts of messed up. You were absolutely screwed.

Ross, not knowing how to make any of this better and wanting to kick himself for interrupting the moment, just stood there and watched as you flitted about the kitchen - mumbling about where you may have set your glass.

After spending a few minutes half-heartedly looking for your glass, you stop and sigh. “You know, what? Fuck it.” And with that, you walk over to grab the full wine bottle sitting on the countertop next to Ross and hurry your way out of the kitchen to find somewhere else to drown your sorrows. So much for enjoying the night.

Helpless, Ross watches you with wide eyes, before looking around to see if anyone else had just seen that. He makes a mental note to check on you later to make sure you were okay, before walking out of the kitchen in the opposite direction - deciding to give you some time to process what just happened.

In the living room, the party was still in full swing and after being roped into a conversation with Adam and Carly, Ross had forgotten about checking in on you.

Almost an hour had passed, and Matty had yet to see you come back from the kitchen. He looked around the room once more, scanning the many faces to see if he recognized yours amongst them. When his eyes found George across the room and didn’t see you anywhere near him, he excused himself from the conversation and set off to find where you had gone to.

After searching the outside patio, the kitchen, one hallway closet, and two bedrooms, you were still nowhere to be found. Matty had absolutely no idea as to where you could be and was growing more worried by the second. He knew you could take care of yourself, and he knew you could hold your liquor - but if he wasn’t mistaken, you had been drinking red wine tonight and you tended to get yourself into unfortunate situations when red wine was added to the equation.

He began walking back down the hall, passing the bathroom before an idea came to mind. Backtracking, he went back to the closed door and knocked twice, calling out to see if anyone was inside. “Hello? Anyone in here?”

When there was no response, Matty tried the door knob and found it unlocked. He opened the door and stuck his face inside, glancing around the bathroom and finding it to be empty. He sighed and was about to leave the bathroom once more when he heard a scuffle come from the shower and -

“Shit.”

Matty stopped in his tracks at the all too familiar voice and pushed the door completely open. He slowly walked over to the shower, before grabbing the curtain and quickly pulling it back only to find your figure awkwardly curled in the bathtub, clutching a mostly-empty wine bottle.

“Um, hi?” You looked up at Matty with a guilty look on your face, giving your best attempt at a smile - one that was none too convincing based on Matty’s responding grimace.

“The fuck are you doing?” Matty looked at you expectantly, glancing from the wine bottle and back to your face.

“Well- you see… I don’t, uh, I don’t know. It was just so calm and quiet, Matty. And the wine was making me just a little dizzy and so was George and - Oh god, George - Matty I really want George but I think I just fucked it all up - oh god. ” You started rambling, your words beginning to slur together into a whine - and if Matty didn’t already think you were drunk when he first saw the bottle in your hands, he was sure of it now.

“Christ, Y/n - how much of that have you had to drink?”

“Only -” You brought up your free hand and pinched your index finger and thumb together, leaving a tiny space between them and squinting to look through it, “- thiiiis much.”

Matty sighed for what felt like the millionth time that night. Since when did he become the responsible one between the two of you.

He walked back to the door, shutting it behind him, before turning back around and sitting down next to the tub. “What happened, love?”

“Oh, nothing really - I just scared George in the kitchen and he tickled me and then we almost kissed but Ross interrupted and then G all but ran out of the room and i couldn’t find my glass and I really needed a drink and so i just grabbed the whole bottle and wanted to go somewhere quiet and so i came in here just in case I had to pee and i ended up in the shower and i can’t stop thinking about George an-”

“Fucks sake, Y/n. Take a breath for me.” You had started talking a mile a minute, gesturing your hands while still holding the bottle of wine and somehow managing to spill some of it down the side of the bathtub.

“Ah, shit. I’ve gone and spilt it again.”

Matty was staring at you with wide eyes, trying and failing to hide his shock. He hadn’t a clue what was going on and was sure this would be a shit-ton to unpackage later - but he’d already had a few drinks and there was no way he was processing any of this tonight.

And you - you were completely plastered and doing a poor job at hiding it. Not that Matty could blame you after everything that had just tumbled from your lips. He watched as you tried to clean up the mess you had made with the corner of your shirt before huffing and letting your head fall back harshly against the shower wall.

The contact made a loud thump, making both Matty and yourself wince. “Y/n, love, are you okay?”

You gave a short, empty chuckle in response and leveled him with a deadpan look. “Oh, I’m just lovely, Matthew. Thank you so much for asking.” You sigh again, lifting your head just to let it fall once more as you groan.

Reaching out for you, Matty stopped you as you went to lift your head. “Okay- maybe don’t be doing that again. Do you need anything? Want me to get you something? Some water maybe?”

“Can you get George for me pretty please?” You closed your eyes, opening them back up when Matty had yet to respond.

He was searching your face, trying to see if getting George was the best idea.

“Matty, please? I’m not gunna do anything stupid, ‘promise.” You gave him a dopey-looking drunk smile, and held up your pinky trying to convince him.

“But-”

“Just because I’m in love with him doesn’t mean I can’t act normal after a few drinks. Please? He’s my ride home.”

Matty’s eyes widen, not expecting that to come out of your mouth. You had never explicitly said how you felt about George before, only that your feelings for him went past platonic and that you were too scared to act on them. It didn’t seem like you were aware of what you had just said, though, so Matty decided to let it slide and store it away for a later time (along with everything else that had happened that night).

He sighed, yet again. “Yeah, okay. I’ll - I’ll go get him, but I need you to stay here, alright?”

Nodding sluggishly, you watched as Matty stood himself up and went to leave the bathroom - assuming he was going to find George.

Once Matty had left and shut the door behind him, you - carefully this time - laid your head back to rest against the wall and closed your eyes. The room had started to tilt and your stomach had started to turn; but you’d be damned if you threw up now.

You had overdone it with the wine, you knew that already, but who could really blame you? After almost kissing the man you were oh-so-unfortunately in love with (who also happened to be your oldest and closest friend) and having him practically sprint out of the room to get away from you, you figured you were entitled to get just a little drunk.

To be fair, you were much more than a little drunk - having downed the majority of the bottle of wine that was full once upon a time - but you needed to not think for a moment.

You didn’t want to think about George’s hands at your sides, or his arms caging you against the counter. You didn’t want to think about how he looked at you so fondly before staring directly, and not-so-subtly, at your lips. You didn’t want to think about his broad shoulders and chest, or that stupidly attractive gold chain necklace that was hanging so beautifully around his neck. You didn’t want to - yet here you were thinking about it anyway.

At this point, your head had started to pound. God, how much had you drank for your head to already be hurting before the hangover had even started? You went to open your eyes, but the lights were blinding and you immediately shut them again.

With the room silent and your eyes closed, you took a moment to look over your night.

You weren’t sure why you had almost kissed him, but you could have sworn he wanted it to happen too. It couldn’t have been all in your head - you were delusional at times, but that was too cruel even for your own mind. That didn’t explain why he had bolted, though. Maybe he was embarrassed to have wanted to kiss you, or maybe he was drunk and thought you were someone else.

The night had become a disaster, and you prayed everyone else was at least having a good time. You had come tonight so you could enjoy some time with your friends before they left on tour, not so you could wallow in self pity over the fact that you wanted your best friend in a completely non-platonic way. How you had managed to get to the point where you were spilling wine in a bathtub was beyond you, however one thing had become extremely clear tonight: you weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to hide these ridiculous feelings before you quite literally exploded into 1,975 tiny little pieces.

You huffed and brought your arm up to rest it over your eyes. This train of thought wasn’t helping your mood one bit. If anything, it just made you want to cry, but you were far too wasted to push yourself off the path of self-destruction.

When you heard the bathroom door open, you didn’t move an inch and kept your eyes closed, assuming it was just Matty again.

“Matty, I really just want George,” you mumbled into your arm that was still draped over your face, while the other hand brought the wine bottle closer to your chest.

“You have me, Darling. I’m right here.”

Your eyes shot open at the familiar voice that most definitely did not belong to Matty Healy, only to find your best friend leaning against the door frame.

“Georgieee-” And by that nickname alone, George knew you were extremely drunk.

Matty had warned him of your state, briefly telling him that you were far from sober - but he hadn’t said it was this bad. You only ever use that name when you’re wasted, it was G or George otherwise

“Hello, Darling.” Your insides turned to mush at the name, physically sinking further into the bathtub and whining.

“Oh God, don’t do that.” You drug your hand down your face, as if you could wipe away the alcohol’s effect. You had no control of what was coming out of your mouth right now, and you probably wouldn’t remember most of this by morning. It was a recipe for disaster and you swore his presence was only making you feel more drunk.

“What- do what?” George looked at you with genuine confusion. Had he done something?

“Do that thing. Y’know - with your eyes and your voice and the ‘Darling’.” you dropped your voice as low as you could at the word ‘darling’, mocking his voice before proceeding to groan loudly. “ugh- that thing that makes me really want you and your attention.”

George chuckled at your words, looking down at you with that same sticky sort of fond look that made you want to melt under his gaze. “You have me, love. I’m paying attention - promise.”

You groaned again, “No - Stooppp.” You immediately looked away from his face and threw your hand over your eyes.

Laughing at your childish actions, George reached over to pry your hand away from your face, smiling as you gave in almost immediately. “Stop what? I’m giving you what you wanted right? You wanted me and my attention - so here I am.”

Apparently you had become one to make many noises tonight, because you simply whined in response, weakly trying to pull your hand from George’s grasp. “No- George you don’t get it. I don’t want it like that. I don’t want you like a best friend.”

At that, he let go of your hand and stared. You obviously hadn’t registered your words, too drunk to realize what you had accidentally let slip, and George didn’t know how to react. He had a gut feeling that you had gotten this plastered because of him, and with it came an unwelcome feeling of guilt.

Of course he wanted to kiss you back in the kitchen, he would be a fool to have wanted otherwise. But he was drunk and you were his best friend. Just because he wanted to kiss you then and there didn’t mean he had the right to ruin your friendship over some complicated feelings.

He doubted you knew what you were saying, anyways. You were drunk. It didn’t mean anything.

“Alright, Y/n. Let’s get you home.”

Sighing and pouting slightly, you reached both arms outwards and made grabbing motions with your hands, signaling for George to help you up. George huffed out a laugh at your actions before grabbing your hands and pulling upwards to get you in a standing position.

Once standing upright, you started feeling dizzy and began to wobble on your feet. Yeah, you had definitely had too much to drink.

Reaching back out to stabilize you, George lightly held both of your hips. “Woah, there Y/n/n. You alright? Can you stand by yourself?”

As soon as the question left his mouth, you felt the room spin and you immediately started to shake your head. “Um nope - no, definitely not.”

George looked at you and sighed. “Okay then, hold on.” And with that, he bent down, placing one arm behind your back and the other behind your knees, before lifting you up bridal style and bringing you into his chest.

You gasped, bringing your arms up and around George’s neck. “What are you doing, I’m fine-”

“Y/n. No you're not, you can barely stand, much less walk. So I'm carrying you outside to get a taxi, and you are going to let me.”

You balked at him for a moment before responding, “yes sir!” and giving him a quick salute. You placed your arm back around his neck as he began walking out of the bathroom and through the house.

You barely registered his good-bye’s as he quickly made his way through the now small crowd of people. How long had you been in that bathroom?

As if he had read your thoughts, “You were in there for a while, most of them already headed home. Mainly just the boys left now.”

You nodded your head as George stepped outside, walking to the road where a taxi was already waiting on the two of you. He set you down, helping you maneuver your way into the car before sliding in next to you.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, you sluggishly slid over to sit in the middle seat and rested your head on George’s shoulder. You twisted, dragging your eyes to look at him, when they caught on his gold necklace again.

You slowly brought your hand up and started messing with the chain. “‘Really like your necklace, G,” you mumbled sleepily into his shoulder. “Think I want one for me, too.”

You glanced up at your best friend - giving him a small, tired smile - and found him already looking down at you.

The eye contact was soft, lacking the heat and tension that was present earlier in the night. George watched as you tried to hold it, but ultimately failed as you grew too tired to keep your eyes open any longer.

That’s how you fell asleep, with your head lying on your best friend’s shoulder and your hand on his chest, lightly gripping his gold necklace.

You vaguely remember being woken up so that George could help you into your flat and being led to your room where you quickly stripped out of your clothes and put on a t-shirt from the top of your drawer before climbing in the bed.

By the time your head hit the pillow, you had already started dozing off again; but you could have sworn you felt your hair being tucked behind your ear and a kiss being pressed to your face.

A soft, “Goodnight, Darling” was the last thing you heard before succumbing to a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.

• • •

When you woke the next afternoon, it was with a horrendous headache and no recollection of what had happened after you ran from the kitchen with a full bottle of wine.

Groaning, you had rolled over to look at the clock when you felt an unfamiliar weight around your neck. You brought your hand to the hollow of your neck, grabbing at the weight and lifting it far enough away from your chest to catch a glimpse at the item. What you saw made your breath hitch as you brought your other hand up to cover your mouth.

It was George’s gold chain necklace.

You checked your phone, finding one notification from George himself:

Don’t be mad - you kept saying how much you liked it, so I just left it with you.

I can always get another one

You softly smiled, thumbing at the gold now lying around your neck. You were absolutely, positively smitten with your best friend, and you hadn’t a clue what you were going to do about it.

That was two months ago, and while you wish you could say that you gathered the courage to make a move before the boys left for tour, you hadn’t been given the chance. Things had gotten busy for you at work and the lads had been preoccupied with tour preparations, leaving you all with no time to get together or speak before they were heading off to the states.

You had exchanged a few messages with them, of course, and you had tried to call when time and work allowed, but it wasn’t quite the same. You missed your friends. You missed George.

The two of you had messaged each other almost daily, however you never seemed to be able to catch each other at the right time - narrowly missing his messages and calls by mere minutes and then being unable to reach him again afterwards.

His gold necklace had found a permanent place around your neck, you rarely took it off - your friends joking that it may as well be a tattoo permanently etched into your skin - but it had become a comforting presence in the absence of George.

When you missed George - which was almost constantly - or when things became a bit much, you would find yourself gripping the necklace, rubbing the gold chain in search of comfort. It was nowhere near the level of comfort George himself brought you, but it did well enough.

You werent, however, moping about just because George was gone. You were a proud, strong, independent woman, and you could function perfectly fine without him. This wasn’t his first tour, and you weren’t new to the overall lack of George. Your world didn’t revolve around him - you had a job and a life outside of the boys - but that also didn’t mean you didn’t miss your closest friends when they went away.

You were fine, honestly, but sometimes you simply wanted to chat with the boys about nonsense or complain about your days like you often did when they were home. On their previous tours, you had been able to still talk to them - but your new job had made it almost impossible and you were struggling.

However, it was the barely missed messages from George that made this tour more difficult than the rest.

It was the simple “Miss you, Darling &lt;3” text that made you unbelievably giddy and the quick voice messages he would leave when you inevitably missed his call - each starting with a “Hello, Darling” and ending with “Love you, Darling. Talk to you soon.”

It was two long months of poor communication and getting flustered by the smallest bits of attention you would get from him. You had missed him before, but the longing that came with his absence this time was different and you were acutely aware of it.

You would tear up watching the clips from the end of their latest show as they bowed to the crowd, George wrapping Matty in one of his hugs that you desperately craved. Your stomach would turn, imagining him out at some club with a girl that wasn’t you, hugging a girl who wasn’t you, kissing a girl that was not you.

It was envy. It was jealousy. It was longing and wanting. You were in love with him, that much you had come to terms with, but it was two weeks before they were due back home that you came to the gut-wrenching conclusion that you weren’t okay with not trying something.

You decided that you couldn’t sit back and watch anymore - you were going to make him realize that you were a fucking catch. You were a fucking catch and you had been there the whole time, through thick and thin, for worse or for better, and you fucking loved him.

When you got a message from George, one inviting you out once they got back, you jumped at the opportunity.They were wanting to get a group together - you, the band, and some other close mutual friends - to go out for a night of fun a few days after Christmas and you were practically buzzing at the thought.

You hadn’t had a proper night out since before the lads had left for tour, and paired with the prospect of seeing your best friends again after months apart, your nerves were completely shot.

Never before had you been nervous to see the boys. You’d known them for years, and you were sure that it was mostly excitement that was keeping you awake at night, but there was still that small bit of anxiety that crept in when you thought about seeing George.

You were so happy to be seeing him again - but now that you were aware of how you felt about him, you were worried that things would change for the worse. What if you were awkward? What if you got flustered and embarrassed yourself? What if those messages were just to his best friend and you had been reading too far into them? What if you put yourself out there to be rejected?

You were spiraling. Why were you spiraling? It’s just George. Your George, your best friend. You were completely overthinking all of it. It wasn’t like you were going to confess your undying love the first time you see him after months. It would be fine - so long as you didn’t freak yourself out. It’s a get together with a bunch of friends, not the end of the world.

Even so, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of pressure to at least look your best. It wasn’t a need to impress anyone, honestly. You just wanted to get dressed up, to look nice after wearing the same boring clothes every day for work - and this outing just happened to give you that opportunity. George being there was just a happy coincidence.

Plus, it finally gave you a reason to wear the new dress you had bought.

You hadn’t intended to buy anything while you were out last week, you just wanted to get out of the house and do something not work related. But then you saw it through the window and you knew you had to at least try it on.

The dress was a far cry from your usual getup - not one for dresses and frilly things - but something about it was calling to you.

It was a simple, silky black dress with a deep v-cut in the neck that perfectly displayed your breasts. The top of the dress was lined with gold and the straps came up and around your neck before zig-zagging down your back and lacing up the dress, forgoing the struggle of any zippers. There were two meticulously placed slits above each knee, giving a clear view of the sides of your thighs and allowing for movement in the fitting material.

It was gorgeous, and you felt powerful in it. The way it emphasized your curves in all the right places, molding to your body and showing off all of your assets had you head over heels for the dress. Overall it was a relatively plain dress- but it fit you so well that it looked like it was intricately made just for you.

And maybe you had George on your mind when you tried it on, maybe you saw an image of it lying on the ground after he had taken it off of you. It wasn’t exactly the worst thought.

And so you bought it. You had no clue when you planned to wear it, you just knew you had to have it - in hopes that maybe, just maybe, that fantasy could come to life.

When George invited you out, you decided it was the perfect opportunity to wear it. So you put on the dress, along with a pair of heels that lace up your legs, and left your flat feeling more confident than you had in months.

All of which brought you to where you are now, at a table in the corner of the club, clutching your drink and watching on as George chats up some girl at the bar.

You watch as she places her hand on his bicep before laughing a little too enthusiastically at whatever it was George had been saying.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think they were getting on just fine and that George was going to have a successful pull tonight; but you do know better.

You see how his eyes go wide when she looks away for a moment, removing her hand from him to grab her drink. The way he looks at her like she's grown two heads and is likely thinking what the fuck is going on.

And when she places her hand back on his arm, you see how he tenses ever so slightly and doesn’t seem to relax.

The sight makes you grip your glass tighter. Any confidence you had when you left the flat had all but disappeared once you caught sight of your best friend. You had been so excited to see him, you didn’t stop to think about whether he would be preoccupied with someone else.

Someone else who is so conventionally pretty that you feel like your dress pales in comparison - even if George seems uncomfortable with all the attention she keeps trying to smother him with.

“If you grip that glass any tighter I think you might break it.”

The unexpected but familiar voice breaks you out of your sulking, if only for a moment, as you sigh before glancing at the man who was now cockily leaning against the post next to your table.

You look him up and down before sighing, “Matthew.”

His response is immediate, “Y/n.”

“To what do I owe the displeasure?”

Matty gasps, throwing his hand over his heart in mock offense and looking at you with wide eyes that show the amusement and mischief dancing in them.

“Now, y/n/n, is that any way to greet your dear friend after two long months apart?”

You shoot him an unamused look in response.

Matty, however, ignores you and continues on. “I couldn’t help but notice your brooding and decided that I’d come save the glass from imminent destruction.”

You roll your eyes and put as much sarcasm as possible into your response. “Wow, Ratty- you’re a true comedian.”

He simply smirks at your tone. “What can I say? I’m a natural.”

You huff out a laugh, unable to stop yourself. You had to admit, you’d missed having him around - regardless of how insufferable he could be.

Matty had a tendency to be so obnoxious that it easily took your mind off of whatever you were originally thinking about, and you knew he acted this way with that exact purpose in mind.

Coming up next to you, Matty smiles as he reaches his arm around your shoulders for a side hug and gives you a shake. “Oh, didn’t you just miss me so much?”

You give a good laugh at that before turning to look him in the eyes and giving him a deadpan look, saying, “Oh, yes. So much, Matty. Not sure how I survived these two, absolutely horrible, months apart.” with the most sarcasm you could muster.

Matty lets out a loud cackle and pulls you closer. “Oh, how I've missed your cheery self.” You can't help but smile at him. “How’ve you been, Y/n/n?”

You shrug, "Alright, yeah. How've you been? How was tour?"

And that question alone sends Matty into a long winded explanation of what they had gotten into during tour and what it was like this time around.

It was somewhere between his description of their Madison Square Garden show and the afterparty that you stopped listening.

It wasn't on purpose by any means, you truly did want to hear about how everything went this time around, but you were distracted.

Distracted because George was still talking to that girl - more like she was talking to him and he was being forced to listen - and he looked like he was growing more uncomfortable by the second. Couldn't she see that he wasn't interested?

Matty was still talking as you continued to watch them interact. You watch her say something and see George's eyes go comically wide as he looks around to see if anyone else was seeing this - or maybe he was looking for an escape.

You see her go to grab his hand and watch as he swiftly moves both hands

away to clutch at his drink. She seems to only pause for a moment before she decides to place her hand on his thigh. His thigh. And you see the way George stiffens under her touch, making you tense up yourself.

"You really might break that glass if you don't let go - that or you're going to burn a hole into that poor girl's head with all your staring."

You jump a little at Matty's sudden comment, not expecting him to direct the conversation towards you again. You look down at your glass, finally realizing that you had, in fact, been gripping the glass so hard that your knuckles had begun to turn white - and you immediately let go.

Looking back at Matty, you see both amusement and sympathy in his eyes, making you let out a scoff. 

"Don't know what you're going on about, Matty - what was it you were saying about the afterparty?"

Matty chuckles at your poor attempt at changing the topic, he wasn't letting it slide this time. "Oh don't go pretending like you were listening, Y/n/n. I moved on from the Garden afterparty a good bit ago, you just weren't paying attention.

You make an indignant sound at that. "That's not true, I-"

"Don't even try, love," Matty smirks at you before glancing over at George and patting your shoulder. "No worries, you were distracted - understandably so, he looks a bit cozy doesn't he?"

You scoff immediately. “No, he does not.”

Matty grins at you, “Oh?”

“He looks ridiculously uncomfortable right now, just look at him,” gesturing your arm over in George’s direction.

Matty directs his attention to his best mate, watching as the girl bats her eyelashes and lays her hand on George’s arm. He sees the way George tenses under her touch and the way his eyes widen to whatever she’s just said. 

“That’s the fifth time she’s tried to touch him, and he basically freezes every time.” You huff. 

“Five times, huh? You keeping count, y/n/n?” Matty turns to head to look at you, entertained by your mood.

You make an indignant noise at his words, “What? No- I- I'm just being a good friend is all.”

Matty nods his head exaggeratedly in false agreement, turning back to watch George. “Right, yes- a good friend… that you happen to be in love with.” Your jaw drops. “Definitely not jealousy.”

“How did you-”

He cuts you off, “Did you know, Y/n -” he briefly glances your way, “that red wine makes you rather talkative?”

You let out a loud groan, placing your head in your hands. 

Matty chuckles at your reaction, “Easy now, it’s alright- we already knew as much.”

“We? Oh my god, does George-” Your head shoots up in time to see Matty shaking his head. 

“No, you didn’t tell him and he doesn’t know - at least not unless you told him once we left you alone.”

You let out a sigh of relief, slumping into your seat and placing your head back into your hands. Being drunk wasn’t the way you wanted to tell George how you felt. 

Honestly, you had hoped to do it tonight, but any confidence you had to address the situation has long since disappeared. 

You keep your face in one hand while the other subconsciously starts fiddling with the necklace around your neck, thankful for its presence and the comfort it offers.

“He does look like he’s having an awful time doesn’t he?”

Matty’s words break you out of your head, and you look up to see George with his head thrown back and staring at the ceiling as if he was wishing for it to swallow him whole, paying absolutely no attention to whatever it is that the girl happens to be saying.

“It’s actually painful to watch.” You shake your head at the scene.

“If it’s so painful, why don’t you walk your perky self over there and help him?”

You turn to look at Matty, giving him a glare for his choice of wording. He really thinks he’s funny, doesn’t he?

To be honest, you aren’t sure why you hadn’t gone over there to help him yet. You’d been debating it for a bit now, and there’s every reason to go over there and get him out of the mess he’s found himself in - but there was something still holding you back. 

You sigh, “I don’t know, Matty.”

Matty purses his lips and looks back at the bar as his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

“Not sure what you think could go wrong - he’s definitely not enjoying himself.”

He makes no move to get it, even as it buzzes a few more times. You open your mouth to snarkily respond to his comment, but the short spaces of silence turn into a long, consistent buzzing sound - completely cutting you off.

The sound is beyond irritating, even more so because Matty still chooses to ignore the vibrations in his pocket. “For fucks sake, Matty. Will you answer your damn phone? At least silence it if you aren’t going to respond.”

“I’m sorry, is it bothering you, y/n/n?” Matty gives you a cheeky smile, to which you stare back unamused, as he finally reaches into his pocket.

He pulls his phone out and unlocks it with every intention of just turning off his phone for a bit - that is, until he sees who the messages are from. He pauses to read the incoming texts and lets out a loud chuckle.

“Well then, y/n. I’d consider this a sign if I ever saw one.”

You look at him confused. “What- What are you going on about?”

He simply glances up from his phone smirking and says, “Looks like your loverboy needs saving.” 

He turns the phone around to show you his phone screen where you see 23 messages from George, and you watch as one more comes through that makes you let out a breathy laugh.

Help

Mate seriously

Get me a glass of milk

Asap

Milk me, seriously

Help

Now

Please

At this point come throw a glass of milk on me

So she will fucking fuck the fuck  o f f

Matty I’m spamming you for a reason

I know you’re laughing

Stop it

Can you actually be a good mate for once please

Matty

Matt

MATTHEW

You fuckhead why don’t you have your phone on you

THIS IS WHY HANN IS BETTER THAN YOU. 

I need you to

HELP ME NOW

Cunt. just now

You read over his messages, laughing at the panic that you can practically feel emanating through the phone. “Oh you are absolutely gonna hear it later.”

“Yeah, yeah - I’m very much aware. It’ll be fine, he’s going to like my solution better anyways.” You’re still chuckling at George’s messages and you look back at Matty as he speaks, pulling his phone back. 

“What?” You watch as he quickly types something out, pressing send and putting his phone away. 

You’re still staring at him in confusion while he looks at you expectantly. “Well?” He huffs, “Why are you still sitting here? She’s on your man.”

And you don't have time to overthink what it is that you’re about to do before you stand up.

• • •

Part 2

a/n: Okay, that's it for part 1 of 2 - up next is the fun part and my personal favourite half of the story. I hope you guys enjoyed!! see you same time next week <3 xoxo - K

[wreckedandpolemic]

friends - george daniel

(mdni) titled for friends by the japanese house, for reasons that will become apparent. part of the bartender!au and promptober75 2024. 2246 words.

warnings: drunk sex, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), praise, v mild degradation, voyeurism/exhibitionism

George takes a long, slow drink of his beer, and you fight to keep your thoughts under control when he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s good,” he remarks, passing you the cup. “We should start stocking that,” he adds, and you scoff.

“You’re not the bar manager yet,” you tease. “Who put you in charge of what we stock?” But you eat your words seconds later, sipping the beer cautiously. “Oh, fuck. That is good.” You drain the rest of the pint eagerly, tugging George in for a kiss that gets a little indecent.

You spend an hour or two wandering through the park with one of your hands laced through George’s; the other is clutching a pint glass like it could escape your grip. Your shoes are caked in muddy grass, your nose red from an early-October chill you can’t feel through the alcohol coursing through your body. George is remarkably sober by comparison, having, for some reason, only sampled each of the drinks before passing them straight to you. You giggle as George tugs you onto a bench, passing you a box of cheesy chips and shaking his head fondly. “You’re hammered,” he laughs, and you pout.

“Am not,” you scoff, kicking his shin under the table. “Besides, you love getting me drunk. Or d’you not remember shift drinks last week?” you add, smirking as you watch the memory visibly flood back on his face. You’re a horny drunk, and he knows it all too well; he’d been plying you with cocktails all night, teasing you and only bringing you home once you were damn near begging on your knees for it. Thinking back to how he’d thrown you onto the bed and fucked your mouth wildly is making you dizzy and needy, and you turn wide, pleading eyes on George.

He takes a long sip of your beer, the muscles in his neck tensing as he swallows, and you’re suddenly starving for him. “Yeah, sweets, I remember,” he grins, the expression familiar and dangerous. His eyes glint with lust, and he leans forward to speak lowly. “Needy girl. If I take you home right now, are you gonna be good?”

Heart jumping to your throat, you nod. “Mhmm. I’ll be so good for you, Daddy. Do whatever you want,” you murmur, frenzied desire pulsing in your veins. George downs the rest of his drink and gets to his feet, and you follow suit eagerly. You stumble as you scramble after him, and he laughs, catching you and pulling you in for a slow, deep kiss. Body melting against his, you surrender willingly, let George sweep his tongue into your mouth and swallow every drop of the desire pooling there.

The walk back to his flat feels agonisingly long, interspersed with needy, hungry kisses and groping that’s frankly inappropriate for how public you are. The second you’re inside, you kick off your shoes and leave them in a pile with your coat at the front door, clumsy fingers fumbling with the buttons of George’s shirt. He laughs condescendingly. “God, you’re desperate, aren’t you, sweets?”

“Yes,” you moan. “Please, Daddy,” you whine, giving up on his shirt and discarding your own instead, breaking out in goosebumps as cool air brushes your skin. George grabs your hips, slides one hand into your panties, brushes over your clit.

Your entire body jolts, pleasure creeping up your spine as he rubs circles into your sensitive nerves. “You’re fucking soaked,” George remarks, annoyingly casual, and you grind down against his fingers. “Sweet girl needs Daddy to fuck her stupid, huh?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, letting him walk you into the living room and push you gently down onto the couch. When he climbs on top of you, you get a little more purchase on his shirt buttons, finally tugging it free with a happy little sound. Your hands map the expanse of George’s back, locking your legs around his waist as he kisses you hungrily, head spinning with a combination of alcohol and desire and a lack of oxygen.

His fingers find the button of your jeans, slowly pulling them down your legs and leaving you in just your underwear. “How do you want it, sweets?” George asks, sliding a hand behind your back to unhook your bra and grinding his hips down against yours. You can feel his cock straining against you even through his jeans, whining as he leans down to suck on your tits. His tongue is sandpaper-rough over your sensitive nipple, and you forget he’s even asked a question until he nips at you gently and repeats it.

“I wanna— fuck, George— I don’t wanna do any work. Just wanna lay back and feel good. Please?”

George grins down at you, slides your panties down your legs and tugs off his jeans and boxers in one movement. As ever, your mouth starts to water at the sight of his cock, hard and flushed and dripping, and you arch your back needily. He pins your hips back down against the sofa. “Ah-ah-ah,” he chides. “You wanna lay back and get fucked like a little princess, y’gotta let me do all the work, okay? That means staying nice and still for Daddy, yeah?”

“Okay,” you murmur, widening your legs a little so George can fit himself between them, brushing the head of his cock against your clit and covering your mouth with his. “Mmh, please,” you whine, arching your back as he kisses the tip of his cock against your hole teasingly. You’re whining and begging, his instruction already forgotten in a haze of desire and lingering drunkenness. 

George doesn’t seem in the mood to make you wait for it, though, filling you up in one fluid, delicious motion. It always takes you a minute to adjust - he’s so fucking big - but you’re quickly back to begging desperately. “Needy fucking girl,” he says, fingers coming down to rub your clit. “Yeah, I know y’are. S’okay, sweets. Gonna fuck you just how you need, promise,” he murmurs, pulling out of you and slamming back in all at once.

Crying out, you wrap your legs around him and rake your nails down his back, panting hard into his mouth as he fucks into you relentlessly. “C’mon, Daddy, harder. I can take it,” you plead, head thrashing back and forth and hips grinding down against his.

“I know you can, sweets,” George croons, kissing your neck and circling your clit. Pleasure rolls over you as he fucks into you, deeper with every thrust, so deep that you’re almost choking. Wet, obscene noises fill the room, mixed up with sounds of pure pleasure; yours pitchy and drawn-out and his low and staccato. Screwing your eyes shut, you lose yourself in sound and sensation, the weight of George’s body on yours, the sweat sliding between you, the pure ecstasy spilling under your skin.

Heat spreads through your body, your cunt aching gloriously where George slams his hips into yours, groaning into your mouth as you clench around him. “Fuck,” you moan against his lips. “M’close, Daddy,” you whine, driving your hips down with abandon and carelessly chasing your high.

George’s fingers speed at your clit, his callouses rubbing quick, tight circles that bloom into unbridled pleasure racing through your blood. “Fuck, I love this pussy so much, sweets. Gotta make it cum for me before I fill you up, yeah? C’mon, baby, cum all over this dick. S’all yours, you know that, right?” He buries his head in your neck, still fucking you in a wild, unpredictable, perfect rhythm. “You feel so fucking good,” he almost whines, your cunt pulsing at his words.

You’re fucking throbbing, so close you can almost take your climax in your hands, reduced to a babbling, pathetic mess under George. He’s kissing and licking and biting your neck, your eyes rolling back in your head, and all at once it’s just too much. You break apart, your entire body disintegrating at the seams, melting into a puddle of pure euphoria in George’s palms. A scream of his name echoes off the walls, and you dimly feel his cock pulsing inside you, painting your insides white as he gasps against your lips.

“Shit,” you breathe, gazing into George’s eyes as you come down from your high. “Fuck, I think that’s some of the best sex we’ve ever had,” you laugh, sighing happily as he bends his head to kiss you, sweet and sloppy and lazy.

George works his way down your neck, lips roving over your chest. He takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks gently, and you arch your back and squirm at the sensation. “Fuck, I wanna eat you, sweets, please,” he murmurs, his eyes wide and beseeching. “I need it,” he adds, sucking a bruise into the inside of your boob.

You giggle. “Mmm, okay. Can I sit on your face?” A month ago, you wouldn’t have dreamed of asking that question, but George has made it very fucking clear how much he loves it, how much he’d welcome suffocating in your cunt, and it’s quickly become your favourite way of getting oral. George grins, tugging and flipping you so you’re straddling him, your stomach lurching at the movement. You grind your hips down against George’s abs, moaning at the messy slide of slick and cum smearing between your bodies.

George grasps needily at your hips, pulling you towards his mouth. You shuffle awkwardly up the length of his body, giggling when you almost slip. There’s really not enough room on this sofa for the two of you, but as you lower yourself onto his face, you can’t begin to care. His tongue swipes through your folds, lapping up every drop of his cum as it drips out of you.

“Fuck,” he moans into your cunt, tongue flicking insistently over your clit. You’re still sensitive, already close, and you moan his name helplessly as you grind down against his tongue. The air is thick with sweat and sex, a struggle to pull into your lungs. You grip the arm of the sofa for dear life, George’s tongue fucking in and out of you gorgeously. Head spinning, you arch your back, the blunt pain of George’s nails digging into the fat of your hips delicious. “Fucking love this cunt,” George groans, the vibrations of his words rippling through your entire body, your muscles tensing and toes curling. “Taste so fucking good. Think y’taste even better from this angle, sweets.”

You don’t even have it in you to blush, just tipping your head back and whining needily. “I wanna cum,” you whimper. “Please, Daddy, I need you to make me cum.” George sucks and licks at you with furious hunger, devouring you like you’re his last goddamn meal, moaning like your taste is a fucking delicacy. You’re teetering on the edge, sweet, blissful oblivion reaching out to you, and you’re so, so ready to give in to it.

Then, a key turns in the lock, and you freeze. George either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care - it’s likely some combination of both, and mostly the former - grabbing at your thick hips to try and urge you to keep moving. You’re stock-still, eyes locked on the door as it swings open, Matty’s face contorting into a near-comical mix of lust and horror when he spots you. A silent flash of something passes between you, and he smirks as George drives his tongue deep into you and pulls a gasp from your lips. 

A sweaty, grease-stained tank top clings to Matty’s chest, a hint of his tattoo just about visible. Unmistakeable, too, is the line of his cock just starting to fill out his jeans. “Shit, don’t stop on my account,” Matty laughs, making no move to leave the room. George, ever the exhibitionist, takes that as a fucking challenge. And you’re so fucking close that you can’t hold it back, can’t do anything but close your eyes and let your orgasm overtake you. Knowing Matty’s watching sends a dirty thrill up your spine, this orgasm somehow more intense than your last. Whimpering and gasping, you can’t even find it in yourself to feel self-conscious; it just feels too fucking good. Your eyes crack open to see Matty palming himself through his jeans, subtly grinding against his hand as you cum against George’s mouth.

He’s gone when you’re back to Earth, climbing off George with a shocked sort-of laugh. “I can’t fucking believe him,” you giggle.

“He’s just come off four clopens in a row, he probably thinks he’s hallucinating,” George snorts, pulling you on top of him and kissing the taste of you into his mouth. You swallow greedily, moaning a little as he swipes your sweat-soaked hair away from your face. Then, he seems to sober slightly. “Does it bother you? That he’s, y’know, the way he is? ‘Cause I can talk to him about it, if you want,” he offers.

You smirk wickedly against his mouth. “You’re sweet. No, it doesn’t bother me. Actually, I think it’s hot as fuck that he’s in there, getting himself off, thinking about us. Don’t you think that’s hot?”

George grins. “You’re so filthy,” he says admiringly, pulling you to your feet and steadying you when your knees buckle. “C’mon, sweets, we need a shower.”

You relax into him, stretching up to kiss along his jaw. “Only if you let me suck your dick in there.”

[i-shouldnt-have-called]

you better wise up kid. (part 3)

paring: Matty healy x daughter!reader

tw: rehab, addiction, poor mental health, mentions of self harm (not graphic)

p1, p2, p3,

an: this is a long one, my b send in requests plssss

Youve been doing great. You were still clean, your grades were good, you made some new friends, all things considered your life was good. You slowly got your freedom back, you could hang out with your friends as long as you were home by certain times and you didn't have to always be under constant supervision. Things were looking up and then one day your father delivered the big news, he and Gabi were engaged.

You were thrilled when you learned that Matty and Gabi were getting married, you were surprised but still happy. You never thought that your dad would get married. Sure you were happy for them but there was a little voice in the back of your head telling you that you should be worried. That this is the start of a new family, a family that wouldn't have room for you. You felt like a burden, a product of a one night stand. You knew that your father loved you, you knew that Gabi loved you and you loved them too.But you managed to talk yourself into believing that you made their lives harder. Your father never asked for you, yet he got stuck with you, a teenager with a drug problem. You thought that you had caused your father too much pain. You thought your dad would want a fresh start, to be able to forget his other relationships and be happy in his new life. But as long as you were in the picture, he couldn't start his new life. You were the only thing preventing him from moving on. You were the only barrier between your father and happiness. 

The rational part of you knew that was a lie, but the other part of you was really really good at making you believe. You started to distance yourself from them, just in case. You talked yourself into believing what was in your head and now there was no turning back. You started to hang out with your friends more, sleeping over at george and charlis whenever you could. You planned out every second of every day to minimize interaction with your father. You figured its what he wanted. You filled your schedule as much as you could, you joined new clubs, started practicing more, just anything you could to keep yourself out of the house, to keep yourself out of the way. 

On the rare occasion that you and your father would be home at the same time you would do what you could to stay out of the way. You stopped leaving your shoes by the door, took your blanket off the couch in the living room, you slowly were erasing yourself from the house.The only way you could tell that a 15 lived in the house was the pictures and the white board calendar that hung on the fridge. 

Your dad just thought you were just doing normal teen things. That's what kids do when they get older right? Matty didn't realize things were wrong until Gabi brought it up when they were getting ready for bed one night. 

“Y/n isn't ok, matty”

“What do you mean? Nothings wrong with y/n”

“She's been so distant lately, its like we never see her.”

“Well part of that is probably because I've been at the studio more so our schedules just don't line up. It's always this way when we work on an album. She's a teenager, that's what teens do.”

“When's the last time we all ate dinner together, when's the last time where you’ve actually had a conversation with her matty, and i mean a real conversation! One where she actually talks, not just shrugs off questions and offers mumbly one word answers.”

Matty looks at the ground trying to figure out how to respond but gabi beats him to it. 

“Matty, she's your daughter, not some roommate who you only see once every couple days as they head out the door! This isn't normal and I know I haven't known y/n all that long, but I know her well enough to know that this is not the y/n who's happy. This is the y/n who is hiding from something, she hasnt been like this since before rehab, matty.”

Matty tenses up at the mention of your stay at rehab “Ok, ill talk to her in the morning.”

Gabi looks at your father hoping that he realizes that there's something going on with you and that it needs to end. “I want our girl back matty.”

“I do too.” 

They both go to bed, but matty cant sleep now. Hes decides to go down to the kitchen and make some tea to help him fall back asleep. As he walks down the stairs to the kitchen he starts to view the house in a new light. He realized that almost all traces of you were gone. Your backpack wasn't in its usual spot, but the more he thought about it he realized it hadnt been there in a while. Once he got into the kitchen and started the kettle for his tea he thought about what he had to do the next day. As he glanced at the fridge calendar he realized that you had stopped adding your activities, and in that moment he knew that gabi was right.

It had been weeks since you asked him or Gabi for a ride to school or practice, whenever he asked you if you needed a ride or if you wanted him to take you, you would just mumble something about a friend giving you a ride or that you felt like walking. Matty felt like shit, how had he not noticed that something was going on, he was your dad for fucks sake its his job to take care of you. The guilt quickly transformed into worry, he knew something was wrong but he just didn't know what. 

Your father remembered what it was like the first time he got back from rehab, how it was easier to distance yourself than to confront the people around you. Even the people who loved you could never look at you the same again, it feels as if you were nothing more than damaged goods. Matty saw the similarities between his path and yours and it broke his heart. Matty knew firsthand that isolation is one step closer to falling off the wagon. Your dad didn't get any more sleep that night, in fact he didn't even make it back upstairs. He just sat in the dark kitchen with his tea hoping to god that whatever was happening wasnt that big of a deal. 

Gabi woke up to your fathers side of the bed empty, but she wasnt that surprised. Gabi walks to the kitchen to see your father sitting in the kitchen with his computer open working away. 

“Whatcha workin on?”

“Uh couldn't sleep last night but i had an idea for a song so i wrote some stuff down.”

Gabi opens her mouth to respond but sees you silently walking past the kitchen trying to get out the door on your way to school. “Y/n wait a sec”

Gabi knows you have a bit before u have to leave for school so she wants you to just be around them for at least a few minutes.  You slowly turn around and slump back towards the kitchen, once you get there u dont look gabi or your father in the eye you just observe. Thats all you do anymore, you dont engage when your at home, you just watch.

Gabi just wants to know that your ok, that your eating enough, that your happy, that you havent completely checked out. “Do you want some breakfast”

“No thank you, i put a granola bar in my bag last night.” 

Gabi hesitantly nods “Ok, but i can make you something quick if you want, i was planning on some toast for myself already? Or I can give you a ride to school or im sure matty could.”

“Um no thank you, im fine with what i have and i was planning on walking. I should probably leave” 

“Oh ok. Well, have a good day ok?”

You don't offer more than a silent nod as you walk out the door. Your father still hasn't looked up from his computer, he's worried, but he wants to believe that you're ok. If he looks at you he's worried that he will be forced to confront the cruel reality in front of him. Matty looks at Gabi and hopes that she can make it go away, that she can bring back the old you. 

“You said you were gonna talk to her, you said you were gonna make sure she was ok matty.”

Matty closes his computer and rubs his forehead. “I….i don't know what to say. Last night I realized how much she was pulling away and it hurt gabi. Its like she isn't even real anymore, she….. She's never actually here, and  when she's physically here she just checks out. I haven't had an actual conversation with her in weeks. I know i need to do something, but what do you say to your daughter who won't talk back? 

“Just something matty, sit her down and talk. She cant disappear if you dont let her.”

“Cant you help me?”

“I’ll always help you matty, but I think that as her father you're the one who needs to have this conversation with her, you understand her the best.”

“I used to understand her gabi. I understand y/n, but i don't understand this new y/n. I miss when she was little, when I didn't have to worry about her staying clean. I miss not having to worry about her trying to hurt herself, I miss the old y/n but she can't come back gabi, she’ll always be gone.”

“It’s ok to miss the old y/n but you have to be proud of how far she's come matty. Its been almost 5 months since shes gotten back, and she's managed to stay clean. That takes guts matty, and you should know that. If you keep focusing on what she used to be then thats just gonna keep hurting both of you .”

Matty nods “ok, i'll talk to her tonight”

“Thank you matty.” Gabi says as she talks to Marty's hand in her own. “Its gonna be ok”

At school you can finally breathe, you talk a little more and just let yourself be alive. Your plans are working, you're slowly erasing any trace of you from the house, you're making it so that one day it will be like your not even there, and when that day comes, your parents can finally be happy. You've been clean for over 5  months. Well you've been a type of clean, you haven't taken drugs but you needed a way to numb the pain still. Your thoughts had always been too much and the pills were your way out, but now that you didn't have those, you had to turn to other things. 

And those other things was the box cutter you stole from a drawer in your dads office. You thought that this was better, that you where in control. To you it was this or relapse, but you couldn't see that this was just as bad. You can feel the cool metal of the box cutter in your pocket and in some fucked up sick way, it comforts you. You know that should probably shouldnt do this, you knew that this is replacing one thing for another but what are you supposed to do. The pains still there, you need a way to stop it and this seems like your best choice.

You get home from school later than you typically do. You notice your father in the living room and try to sneak past him to get to the stairs, but he stops you before you make it. 

“Hey kiddo, come sit with me, yeah?”

You refuse to turn in his direction and instead take a step closer to the stairs. “I..i uh have homework i need to finish.”

“Youve had alot of homework lately.”

“I missed alot of school this year, just trying to catch up.”

“Ive been talking to your teachers and they told me that you were doing good. That you finished your makeup work weeks ago.”

“Are you mad at me for trying to get good grades?” trying your best to keep the anxiousness out of your voice, instead replacing it with the careless nonchalant persona that youve perfected over the years.

Your father has gotten better at figuring out your lies in the past year. “Sit down.” 

You set your bag by the stairs and sit down on the couch, your gaze still refusing to meet your father's eyes. 

“Whats been going on with you lately? We hardly see you anymore and the rare occasion that we do interact its like your not even there, like your just trying to find a way to get out of the conversation.”

“Nothins been going on, weve both been busy. I have school and therapy and youre always in the studio. Its just what happens when were busy, its always been like this.”

“It hasnt though. Sure when ive got an album in the works things change a bit but never this much. You still typically dont shut yourself off from everyone., and its not just me whos noticed this, everyone has y/n.”

“I think thats a bit of an exaggeration….” 

“No its not. Its the truth. George and charli who typically see you almost every other day are complaining to me about how you wont answer there calls, how they havent seen you in almost two weeks. Adam says that you havent been over to see the baby in almost a month and a half, and ross misses you in the studio.” 

You dont know how to respond, so you just sit there keeping your gaze on the floor hoping that something comes to mind.

“You have to talk to me y/n, this is how this works. Dont tell me that you didnt think i’d realize that your drifting away. You can hardly tell that you live here anymore! Theres no trace of you in this house. Why y/n, why?

“Because I needed to.”

“What do you mean you needed to, why on earth would you need to start ignoring your family?!”

“It's because I wanted you to be happy, ok!”

Matty turns his head towards the window and scoffs. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Why would you want me here dad? Ive done nothing but make your life harder, you didn't ask for a child but you got stuck with me. You and gabi deserve to be happy, you worked hard to have a good life, and i cant be part of that life.” 

The more you speak the more you see the pain present on your father's face. “Y/n healy, absolutely not. I know you're a smart kid but that's just plain stupid.”

You cant even look at your father, all of your energy is going into trying to prevent yourself from crying because you don't know if you can handle that right now. “I’ve made your life so hard, dad. You didnt ask for such a fucked up kid. You got stuck with an addict as a daughter, and now the last six months of your life have been hell! You can't be happy when I'm here dad!” 

Your efforts to hold back your tears have failed and you can feel the warmth of them as they stream down your face. You meet your fathers eyes for the first time since the conversation started and you notice that hes crying just as much as you are. Your dad is at a loss for words, he hates that you're so much like him, so much to the point that you refuse to accept that people love you, you allow yourself to believe that you're a burden to the people you love. Your father watches as you take a step closer to the stairs. 

“I promise you it would be easier if i wasnt here. I promise dad.” 

Your father tries to stop you as you walk up the stairs, but he cant form any words. He just stands there and lets the tears stream down his face, he barely registers you grabbing your backpack, sliding on your coat and slipping out the front door. 

He manages to make his way to the couch, where he sits and wonders how he didnt notice. He dosent really register gabi opening the door and setting her keys on the couch. 

Gabi notices how theres no lights on in the living room but still manages to make out your fathers figure slouched over on the couch. 

"Matty?" Gabi's voice is softer now, filled with concern as she approaches him, but Matty doesn't respond immediately. His head is buried in his hands, his shoulders trembling with the weight of guilt and sadness.

"Matty, what's going on?" Gabi sits beside him, her hand resting on his back, feeling the cold tension in his body.

"I… I fucked up, Gabi. I didn't see it. I didn’t see how bad it was. I let her slip away, and now… now I don't know where she is."

Gabi’s heart tightens as she listens to him, her own thoughts racing. She had known something wasn’t right, but she hadn’t realized just how deep the pain ran for you. 

“Matty, you’re not the only one at fault here. Y/n… she’s been battling things that you couldn’t have seen. She’s hurting, too. But she needs you, just like you need her.”

Matty shakes his head. "I thought she was okay. I thought I could give her space. I thought if I just let her be, she’d come around. But instead, she pulled away further. She feels like she’s not enough, like she’s a burden to me. I don’t know how to fix this. How do I fix this, Gabi?"

Gabi’s eyes well up with tears as she watched him unravel, and for a moment, she just holds him, offering the comfort he’s desperate for.

 "You don't have to fix it all at once. But you do need to go after her, Matty. Go find her. Don't wait. She needs to know you're there, that you haven’t given up on her."

"I can't lose her," he whispers hoarsely.

"You won’t. But you have to show her that, Matty. She’s a kid, scared and lost. And she’s still your daughter. You’ve been through it, and now you need to be there for her, to show her she’s not alone."

Matty nods, the determination beginning to build inside him. He stands up, wiping his face. "I’ll go after her. I have to. She won’t be alone."

Gabi watches him with a soft, sad smile. “I know you will. Just remember, she needs you to be real with her. Don’t hide behind what you think she needs. She needs to know she can trust you, that she’s loved, no matter what.”

Matty takes a deep breath, wiping the last of the tears away, and walks toward the door. His heart is pounding, but he knows what he has to do.

You’re sitting on the curb a few blocks from home, your coat wrapped tightly around you, your arms crossed. The chilly air bites at your skin, but you don’t care. The numbness in your chest is so much colder. Maybe your dad and Gabi could finally live the life they deserved.

You pull out the box cutter from your pocket, your fingers grazing the sharp edge, but before you can make another move, a voice breaks through the fog of your thoughts.

“Y/n.”

You freeze, heart skipping a beat. Slowly, you turn around, and there, standing a few feet away, is your father. His face is filled with a mix of pain, worry, and something else—something you haven’t seen in a long time. Love.

“Dad…” You whisper his name, feeling the lump form in your throat.

Matty doesn’t move closer immediately. He’s not sure if that’s what you need right now, but his eyes are fixed on you, and his voice is steady, though there’s a vulnerability you’ve never heard before.

“I’m here, okay? I’m here. I dont want you to go, i cant handle that y/n.”

His voice cracks, and that’s when the floodgates open. The tears you’ve been holding back spill over, the emotions you’ve buried for months finally breaking free. You take a step toward him, and Matty doesn't hesitate—he pulls you into his arms, holding you tight as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away again.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, your words barely comprehensible through your sobs. “I thought… I thought I was just making things better by staying away. Youll be happier when im gone, ok? I promised you.”

“Y/n, no, listen to me,” Matty says, his grip tightening around you. “You’re never a burden to me. I don’t care about anything else. I care about you. And I know I’ve fucked up, but I’m not going to let you go through this alone. You don’t ever have to hide from me. You’re my daughter, and I love you. And I’m so fucking proud of you. I don’t care if you're struggling. You’re still the same Y/n to me, the one who never gave up. And I won’t give up on you.”

"What about Gabi? She’s been really good to me. She deserves to be happy, Dad. You both do."

He lets out a long breath, his hand still gently resting on your shoulder. "Gabi does deserve happiness. And you know what? You’re a part of that. I’m not going to pretend like I’ve got all the answers, but one thing I do know is that she loves you like her own. She’s been worried about you, too, Y/n. And so have I."

You wince at the thought of causing more pain for them. "I didn’t mean to… I just thought if I made myself disappear, I could make things easier for you guys."

Matty’s face softens, his voice steady and reassuring. “Y/n, you are never the problem. Not now, not ever. You’re my daughter. And no matter what happens, we’ll figure it out as a family. You don’t have to fix everything by yourself, okay?”

The sincerity in his eyes is enough to finally make the knot in your throat loosen. You nod, but there's still hesitation in your voice."I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”.

"You haven’t hurt me," your dads voice is firm yet soft, like he’s trying to erase the weight of the years of self-doubt you’ve carried. "You’ve hurt, but not me. You’ve been fighting your own battles, and I should’ve seen that. I should’ve been there sooner."

"I didn't want to be a burden”

"Stop. You're not a burden. You’re my daughter. I’m not going anywhere. And neither is Gabi. We’re all in this together. You don’t have to push us away anymore. Just… come back home, yeah?"

Your eyes start to tear up again, but this time it's not out of shame, it's relief. You feel like you're finally able to breathe. "I missed you, Dad. I really did.”

Matty reaches over and pulls you into another hug, this one tighter than before. "I missed you too, Y/n. And I’m so sorry. I should’ve noticed. I’m here now, though. For everything."

You both sit there for a while, just holding onto each other, the world outside fading away for a moment .As you walk back toward the house with your father by your side, something inside you shifts. The weight of the past feels a little less heavy, and maybe, just maybe, you can start to rebuild what was broken. You’re not alone anymore. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like that’s enough, But the weight of the box cutter in your pocket reminds you that it isnt gonna last.

[toomuchracket]

family dinner (sweetheart!george x reader fluff)

part of promptober75 2024!! a cute little fic set just after you and george have reunited, with cameos from everyone's favourite flatmates. enjoy <3

“more wine?”

“please,” you smile at your friend - as politely as you can through a mouthful of bread, that is - as she tops up your glass. “this chicken is really nice, by the way. the whole evening is, actually - thanks for letting me intrude on it, guys.”

matty scoffs. “you're not intruding, mate. we missed you! why wouldn't we wanna spend time with you? right, darlin?”

he nudges his girlfriend, who nods enthusiastically. “of course. i’m so glad you agreed to eat with us tonight,” she nudges matty in return, grinning, and you watch, also grinning, as he kisses her nose. “i've missed flatmate friday dinners. they're so special to me.”

“i did quite like when it was just the two of us, though,” matty caresses her face; a beat later, he sits bolt upright and looks at you, panic-stricken, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the familiarity of the expression. “i didn't mean it like that, by the way, i just meant that-”

“you liked pretending that you were having date night before you were actually together?” you nod sympathetically as matty goes scarlet. “oh, you've not changed a bit, matty, you lovelorn little sap.”

he hides his face in his hands, voice muffled. “shut up.”

“no, keep going,” his girlfriend laughs, wrapping her arms around him and pressing a kiss to his head. “i like hearing about how much you fancied me before you finally cracked and admitted it. after, y'know, seven fucking years, baby.”

“oh, babe, it was serious,” you dramatically take a sip of your wine, gazing off into the distance as you recount one of your many memories of matty being hopelessly in love with her, while the boy in question groans. “the time he broke into george's at half six in the morning and quite literally wriggled between us in bed so he could analyse the ten-minute phone call you'd had the night before is a personal favourite of mine.”

your friend throws her head back, cackling, while matty sits up just to scowl at you. “i didn't break in - i used the spare key.”

his girlfriend snorts. “but you did wriggle between them? in bed?”

“well, yeah.”

“cockblocked us and all,” you pipe up.

“you were literally fully clothed and dead asleep. both of you.”

“george was fully clothed?” your friend's brow furrows. “was he ill?”

“dunno. i didn't talk to him, really, in that instance,” matty nods at you. “she was the only one who knew everything about how i felt. even when she moved away.”

“really?”

you nod. “really. so, y'know, getting to see the two of you together like this… it's really special,” you take another drink of wine, sighing contentedly. “i love love.”

matty laughs, reaching across to squeeze your hand. “how's your love life going, by the way? any developments to share?”

you sigh, taking a long drink of wine as you ponder your response; you could be honest, and say really bloody good. george and i are back together. but no - better to discuss that with him first. “it's… promising, i think. that guy i've been seeing, well, he and i are exclusive, now.”

“oh, amazing!” your friend claps excitedly. “i want to meet him. oh!” her face lights up, and it becomes glaringly obvious both why matty fell in love with her and just how much you missed her when you were away. “he should come to friday dinner next week. or the week after. just so he can meet us properly, you know?”

matty laughs. “alright, emily gilmore.”

“fuck off, matthew,” she rolls her eyes while you and matty giggle, smiling at you once the glee subsides. “seriously, though, you should bring him. we don't bite.”

her boyfriend raises a brow. “the marks on my collarbone would like a word.”

“matthew, for fuck's sake,” she shakes her head, as you do your best not to spit out your wine laughing. “sorry, babe. promise i'll have him housebroken soon, and you can invite your man over.”

“oh, he won't mind,” because he's known matty longer than either of us have. “i'll text him now and ask, yeah?”

“please do.”

you nod, sliding your phone out of your pocket and tapping onto your text thread with george. you've been formally invited for dinner at the flat next friday btw. well, the mysterious person i've just gone exclusive with has lol

he replies almost instantly, cry-laughing emojis preceding have i to dress up?

you: suit. tie is optional xxx

george: oh you'd love that wouldn't you, i remember you after prom 😈

fr tho have i to dress up

you: nah

you DO have to be on time tho. 6pm on the dot

george: sweet

can i stay over lol

you: if you're good x

george: what you talking about i'm always good for you

but yeah i'll be there

phone me later?

you: defo. ly <3

george: ly2 <3

you giggle as you lay your phone down; matty notices, and smirks. “good news?”

“he'll be here at 6 next week,” you can't help smiling when they cheer, but you shush them so you can keep talking. “and you both better be nice to him. like, normal-nice.”

your friend nods. “of course.”

“s'not you i'm worried about, babe,” you turn to her boyfriend, looking him dead in the eye. “please, matty, don't be fucking weird next week. i don't wanna fuck this up,” you catch yourself before again slips out. “i really like this one.”

“all the more reason to ask him what his intentions are with you, then,” matty shrugs - his face softens when he sees your fraught expression, and he reaches across to hold your hand again. “i am joking, by the way, darling. i'll be nice. you know i just want you to be happy, yeah? we both do.”

“yeah, i know,” you squeeze his hand. “i hope next week goes well.”

“it will. here, let me get you more wine.”

the rest of the meal passes without further mention of next week, save your friend asking what sort of food your new partner likes. given that she and matty are too busy gazing lovingly at each other to think logically, neither of them seem to realise you're rhyming off george's favourites and least favourites in your reply, which is common knowledge to everyone who's ever spent five minutes trying to decide on a takeaway to order from with him; in fact, you think you've managed to completely dispel any connections between the upcoming dinner and george at all, until you're settled in your room an hour and a half later and your tv watching is interrupted by a knock at the door.

at your word, your friend inches round the doorframe, ring binder in hand. “hey. d'you have a minute?”

“course,” you mute the tv, pulling yourself out of your blanket tangle. “what's up?”

she sighs, waving the folder. “work stuff. how good's your latin?”

“shite. you used to help me, remember?”

“fuck, you're right,” she laughs, dragging her free hand down her face. “work's melting my head, honestly.”

you pat the space on the bed beside you. “can take your mind off of it by watching this with me, if you like.”

she steps further into the room, brow furrowing. “what even are you… oh my god,” the folder thwacks against the mattress, forgotten as she clambers onto the bed beside you and sighs at the screen; the déja vu of the moment is so strong you have to blink a few times to remember what year you're actually in. “i haven't watched the o.c. in so long.”

“really? you were obsessed.”

“shut up, you were worse than i was,” she lightly smacks you on the shoulder, then rests her head on it. you don't have to look at her to know that she's smiling when she next speaks. “reckon we used to drive the boys mental with this, you know.”

“we did. george actually banned me from saying the words ‘seth cohen’ at one point.”

“fuck off,” she giggles, the sound fading into a hum. “i think matty preferred him in gilmore girls, to be honest.”

you roll your eyes. “of course he fucking did. being in a band and making a girlfriend out of a friend because of it? that was, like, his biggest dream,” your voice softens, and you nudge her. “he's loved you a really fucking long time, you know.”

“yeah. me too, you know, with him.”

the confirmation makes your heart glow - still, you can't resist poking fun. “and yet you told me fuck all.”

“i was worried you'd tell george! and he'd tell matty! and… well, we might've ended up like this a lot sooner, actually,” she huffs out a laugh, while you giggle at the way her defensiveness faded to acceptance in the span of about a second. suddenly, though, she turns to look at you properly, face serious. “speaking of him, by the way - does he actually know you're seeing someone?”

you chew the inside of your cheek as you deliberate on the best answer, teeth finding the scar tissue left over from the wire of the braces you had at thirteen as they've always done since then; the irony of returning to an imprint from your teenage years in this moment isn't lost on you. with as casual a shrug as you can muster, you reply. “i've brought it up to him.”

“how'd he take it?”

this one is easier to answer. “well, you know george, he keeps things close to his chest. but,” you shuffle position slightly, a means of distracting your friend from the grin you know you're doing a dreadful job of biting back. “he seemed happy. for me, you know,” you tag that on as an afterthought. and, because you can't resist - “he told me he's seeing someone, too, actually. early days, i think.”

“oh,” she's taken aback, it’s clear, but she recovers quickly and gives you a small smile. “well, that's good.”

you raise a brow. you know her better than this. “but…”

she sighs. “but… alright, just hear me out, yeah? promise?”

“promise.”

“good,” she exhales, playing with her necklace the way she's always done when she's nervous. “you know i love you, and i am so glad you're back - we all are, we missed you so much - and i'm also really glad you're happy, and that you're seeing someone. it's just that, well,” she grimaces. “i'm worried about george.”

oh, bless her. “you are?”

“yeah. just, y'know, what with you back and dating and,” she cuts herself off, shaking her head. “you weren't the only friend i lost after you moved away, babe. not being with you… it fucked george up, really fucked him up. and of course i know it must've done the same to you, but…” she smiles sadly. “i didn't have to see that with you, but i did with him, and i truly, truly can't go through it again. basically,” she takes your hands in hers. “i want you to see this guy, and have fun, but to keep george in mind, yeah?”

a genuine smile finds its way onto your face. “i will, babe.”

“good. thank you,” her relief is palpable, even stronger in the way she squeezes your hand. “and i really am excited for next week, you know, dinner.”

“yeah, it'll be good.”

you're mentally repeating that to yourself with somewhat less optimism when friday night actually rolls around, though. matty's been on a mission to take the piss out of you the whole day, accompanying his frequent mentions of the dinner with a shit-eating grin and bursting into dramatic renditions of love is in the air at regular intervals, despite both you and his girlfriend yelling at him to “shut the fuck up, matthew”, and you're forced to retreat into your room just to escape him. of course, that means you're extra pernickety about your hair and outfit and makeup to the point of overdoing it, and it gets to a point where you have to sit on your hands until they go numb to stop yourself applying any more mascara.

at quarter to six, and after several texts from george telling you he's on his way and responding to your selfies with “beautiful”, you take a deep breath and shuffle out of your room towards the kitchen and your friends. matty smiles at you as you enter, which elicits a suspicious glare from you and a laugh from your friend. “relax, he's done taking the piss out of you,” she slides a glass of wine to you; you take a long, eager drink. “or at least he is if he actually wants to have sex any time in the next three weeks.”

matty rolls his eyes. “still think you're bluffing, baby, there's no way you can go without me that long.”

you grimace, and she smiles coolly at her boyfriend. “wanna risk it and find out?”

his cheeks go scarlet, voice going small. “no.”

“s'what i thought,” she ruffles his hair, turning to you and beaming. “you look hot, babe. really hot.”

“oh, thanks,” you tug awkwardly at the hem of your dress. “i hope he likes it.”

matty smiles, genuinely. “he will, darling.”

you smile, just as your phone buzzes - looking down, you see it's george, with an i'm outside. and really fucking nervous lol. buzz me up pls. “well, we're about to find out.”

“he's here?” matty bolts out of the room without waiting for a reply, and you hear the quick ring of the external door and the click-buzz of him responding. his girlfriend sighs, holding her arm out to you; wordlessly, you loop yours through it, and the two of you follow matty to the front door, a strange cocktail of excitement and apprehension mixing itself in the pit of your stomach.

and then the door goes. and then matty opens it. and then you see george, standing as bashfully as his height allows, and all the fear in your body dissipates completely.

you stay silent, biting back a grin. your friend sucks in an almost-inaudible shocked gasp, arm tensing in your own. matty's the one to greet his best friend, bewilderment tinting his otherwise cheerful voice. “oh, hi g. what are you doing here? just round to hang out?”

george grins. “sort of. i got a text last week inviting me over,” he nods at you. “it was 6 you said to be here for, yeah, angel?”

“on the dot. perfect timing, babe,” you wander down the hall towards him, tugging your seemingly-frozen-in-shock friend past her equally-shocked boyfriend, leaning up to kiss your own boyfriend's cheek. “bit disappointed you didn't wear a suit like i suggested, though. but you still look fit.”

“and you look beautiful,” he kisses your head, before turning to your friends with a smirk. “you guys look a bit weird, though. you alright?”

the two of them stare blankly at your smirking faces, matty's jaw dropping more and more as realisation presumably sinks in; it's his other half who speaks first, though, dropping your arm so she can slowly point between you and george. “this… is this… real?”

“you mean is george the person you're meeting as my date tonight? the person i just went exclusive with?” you smile so widely your cheeks ache, snuggling into him and practically fizzing with glee when his arm wraps around your waist. “who the fuck else would it be, really?”

a beat passes, then all hell breaks loose - matty actually bursts into tears, and his girlfriend slaps you on the arm. “you! you dickhead!”

“ow!” you rub your stinging arm. “what the fuck was that for?”

“for not fucking telling me!” she hits you again, softer this time, before tugging you and george into a hug, soundtracked by matty sniffling in the corner. “you fucking idiots. i love you,” she releases you both, tears filling her own eyes, and then pulls you into another hug, just the two of you. “m'sorry for hitting you, babe.”

“and for being a hypocrite?”

she laughs, watery. “that too,” keeping an arm around you, she wraps the other around her boyfriend. “why the tears, my darling?”

he sniffles, wiping his tears and looking between you and george; a weak gesture follows, as if emotion has completely overwhelmed him. “just… they're back.”

“and so are your nightmares?” george quips, resting his head atop yours.

matty shakes his head frantically, tears threatening to flood over his lashes again. “no, george, of course not. s'just,” he sniffles again, reaching for george's shoulder so the four of you are in a strange sort-of huddle. it's not unpleasant, though, far from it. “we all wanted this for ages, you know? the two of us together, the two of you together… and now it's real. and i'm just so happy.”

he collapses into sobs again, falling forward dramatically; given the geography of the huddle, it's up to you to catch him, so you hug him gently and pat him on the back. “you really are a sap, matty,” you huff out a laugh, half-formed because of the lump in your throat. “but we love you for it. and you're right, y'know - we really have all wanted this for a while,” you let go of your friend, steadying him before turning and wrapping your arms around george. “i love you. i'm so glad you agreed to come over.”

“you know i'd do anything for you,” he presses his lips to yours, and you melt; you're vaguely aware of your friends cheering in the background, but aside from that everything is just george, george, george. “i love you,” he pulls back. “and i love you two as well. slightly less than i do her, but…”

matty scoffs. “traitor. but whatever,” he sighs, face lifting into a smile as he turns towards the kitchen. “follow me, lovebirds. we've got some catching up to do.”

you wince. “please don't call it that.”

“what? why?”

“because that's what george and i have been calling our hookup sessions since i got back, that's why.”

your boyfriend and friend both giggle, while matty turns to look at you in affront. “wait a fucking minute. every time you went out and said you were catching up with people, you were just going to shag him?”

george smirks. “too fucking right she was.”

“christ alive,” matty shakes his head. “there had better be none of that tonight, you hear me? i'm not wearing earplugs to bed just to avoid listening to you guys fuck. heard enough of that in my life, thanks,” he reaches into the fridge for the champagne you stashed there earlier; when he returns, his face is bright in the way you've come to recognise as his i've got an idea that i think is great but is actually fucking awful mode. “actually…”

his girlfriend groans, the expression on her other half's face familiar to her too. “don't, matty.”

“no, let him talk,” george is perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, his best friend's face not a deterrent for him. the fucking pair of them, honestly. “tell us, mate.”

“well, how about a bet?” matty's eyes are locked onto george's; dread begins to build in your stomach out of sheer habit. “person who gets their girl off most times tonight gets free weed from the other. for a month.”

it's not the worst idea he's had, by any means - honestly, you'll take as many orgasms from george as you can get - but it still warrants a facepalm from both you and your friend. you sigh. “i don't think…”

“and how would we know the other isn't lying about the number?” george is incredibly still, hyper-focused; quite sexy, if you're being honest. “you thought about that?”

matty nods. “the girls write it on a bit of paper each and sign it, without conferring, and then we swap them and reveal.”

“for fuck's sake,” his girlfriend nudges him. “matty, don't be fucking stupid, there's no way…”

george just smirks, cutting her off. “alright, then. game on.”

[tillthelandslide]

Lou's Fic Recs (new)

Matty:

piercer Matty! Part 1 & part 2 by @sugar-coat-it

does it matter by @procrastinatinglikeapro

mechanic Matty by @noacfslut

and I'm petrified of being alone, now by @heyidkyay

hot to go @noacfslut

white and gold & the nsfw alphabet by @wreckedandpolemic

George:

dancing like she way out by @toomuchracket

one for the road by @abiiors

night, midnight, lose my mind by @grocerystorelist

car head by @wreckedandpolemic

subby matty by @think0fmehigh

Ross:

bunny by @abiiors

this by @abiiors (anything she writes is gold btw)

pierced by @wrestletotheground

workout ross by @wrestletotheground

the spring curse by @abiiors

new writers ( this is a new thing im doing but everytime i'll be including some new writers -to me, that ive read, that i think you should check out <3 )

@abboutross has some great ross fics and im enjoying her new series anywhere you go

@coucous-ballad posted this recently and i hope she writes more bc i love her