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sapphiccaa · 11 hours ago

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Heyy girl! LOVED the last request!

Have seen a few f1 fics where the reader and x accidentally eat aphrodisiac chocolates and they get really horny (and sexy time ensues 🥵) - was just wondering if you’d be interested in writing something like that for chrismd or athurtv (or both tehe)? Thank you!!

Heatstroke

Chrismd x reader - smut

A/N: this request was fun to write 😭😭

My Masterlist

C/W: Desperate frenzied unprotects boomboyah (stay safe yall), chris challing apart and loving it, aphrodisiac consumption, unreadable levels of horniness ig 😭

It starts as a joke. A dumb little tourist gift from your weekend trip: “L’amour Truffle – Taste the Heat.”

Chris rolls his eyes as you unwrap them on your sofa, both of you cross-legged, sharing a throw blanket and some wine.

“Bet they’re just filled with chili or something,” he mutters, tossing one into his mouth. You follow suit.

Four chocolates later, something changes.

You both go quiet.

Chris shifts uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. You press your thighs together, subtly.

“Little warm in here, right?” he mutters, tugging at the collar of his hoodie.

You force a laugh. “Yeah. Bit much.”

You don’t speak for a few minutes. Just… exist. In thickening silence. Each second another drop of tension in the air.

Then—

“Did you just sigh?” you snap, voice a little too sharp.

Chris looks at you like you’ve lost it. “What?”

“You’re doing that thing where you’re thinking really loudly.”

“I’m thinking loudly? You’ve been squirming like your seat’s on fire.”

“My seat is on fire. I think the chocolates were—”

He stops. Looks at you. Mouth slightly open. Breath caught.

“This is weird,” you murmur, shifting slightly. Your skin feels tight. Oversensitive. Your shirt is suddenly too much, too hot.

“Yeah,” Chris mutters. His voice is low. Rough. “You feeling…?”

He gestures vaguely, then clears his throat, shifting in his seat. His hand twitches against his thigh. You catch it. So does he.

You stare at each other.

“You don’t think…” you glance toward the chocolate box. “L’amour Truffle Taste the Heat.” The slogan underneath: “Lose yourself.”

Chris groans, running a hand down his face. “Fucking hell.”

There’s a long silence. Tense. Heavy.

“Okay,—he says, standing suddenly, too fast. “It’s fine. We’ll just… ride it out.”

“W—what did you—?”

“No—that's not what—I mean—“

You nod

Five minutes pass.

You're on opposite sides of the room. Avoiding eye contact. The air feels thick. Every breath is heavy. Every glance is heat.

Chris is pacing.

You’re fidgeting. Legs crossed too tightly. Clenching your jaw every time a wave of heat rolls through you.

He stops in front of the window, leaning his hands on the sill. His t-shirt stretches over his shoulders. His jaw is clenched.

You’re staring. You know you are. He notices.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

He turns slowly. His pupils are blown open.

“Like you want me to pin you against that wall.”

Your mouth opens. No sound comes out.

Another beat of silence.

Then you snap.

“You’ve been staring at my tits for fifteen minutes,” you blurt, breathless. “Maybe I do want you to.”

Chris moves.

He’s on you in seconds, kissing you like he’s drowning and you’re the only air left. You gasp, pulling at his shirt, dragging your nails down his back. He groans into your mouth — low, filthy, needy.

“I shouldn’t,” he pants, mouth trailing down your neck. “We shouldn’t. We’re friends. We’re—”

“Then stop,” you challenge, tilting your head back. “Stop touching me.”

His hand slips between your legs. You gasp.

“Can’t.”

You’re on the sofa again — or maybe the sofa is on you — you’ve stopped caring. He pushes your thighs open and stares, mouth parted.

“Fuck. Look at you.” He touches you through your underwear, slow and deliberate. “You’re soaked.”

“You’re still talking?” you gasp, grinding into his hand.

He shudders, pulling your underwear aside and sliding two fingers into you in one smooth, devastating stroke.

You arch. Cry out.

“Chris—”

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he murmurs, kissing down your chest as his fingers curl just right. “You’re gonna fall apart for me. Gonna let me fuck you like I mean it.”

You drag him up by the collar and kiss him hard, yanking open his jeans, breath shaking.

“You’re already fucking me like you need it,” you rasp.

His laugh is wrecked. “I do.”

He enters you hard, burying himself to the hilt in one deep thrust that has you moaning into his neck.

“God, yes—just like that—”

He sets a pace that’s all desperation and control slipping through his fingers. One hand grips your thigh, the other tangled in your hair as he fucks into you like he’s been waiting his whole life for it.

“Look at me,” he pants. “Look at me when I come. I want your face burned into my memory.”

You do. You can’t look away.

He falls over the edge with a strangled groan of your name, collapsing against you, both of you gasping, bodies slick, trembling.

Silence.

Then, breathless:

“…Those fucking chocolates.”

You burst out laughing — dizzy, wrecked, completely undone.

Chris’s chest is still rising and falling against yours when you both realize it.

You're not cooling down.

You're getting worse.

His breathing hitches. He props himself up on one shaky arm and looks down at you—your flushed skin, swollen lips, the way your hips roll nearly unconsciously against him even now.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispers. “You feel that too?”

You nod, cheeks flushed, hair wild on his pillow. “I thought—fuck—I thought we’d be fine after that.”

He’s still inside you. Half-hard. Getting harder.

You both feel it.

There’s a beat of panic behind your eyes. Then—

You flip him.

He groans as his back hits the sofa, and you climb on top of him with a heat that has nothing to do with rational thought. Your hands land on his chest. Your body presses close.

“You okay?” you whisper, hovering over him, your breath brushing his lips.

His eyes are blazing. “No,” he growls. “I’m not fucking okay. Ride me. Now.”

You slam down on him in one thrust, and he shouts, head falling back.

“Fuck—you’re so—fuck,—you’re even wetter than before—”

“Can’t help it,” you pant, bouncing on him. “Fucking drugged, aren’t we?”

He meets your rhythm, thrusts slamming up into you, both of you chasing something filthy and raw and uncontrollable.

It’s not sweet. It’s not romantic.

It’s just horny.

The slap of skin. The wet sounds between your thighs. The gasps. The curses.

“You gonna come again for me?” he pants, grabbing your hips, fucking up into you like a man gone feral. “Gonna make a mess all over me?”

You nod, breathless, hands in his hair, tugging just to feel him growl.

“Come on then. Use me. Rub your clit on me. Want to feel you fall apart on my cock.”

And you do. Harder than before. Shaking, screaming, clenching so tight around him he spills inside you with a gasp that borders on a whimper.

He’s trembling beneath you, sweat beading on his forehead.

You collapse on top of him again, both of you spent.

Or…

You think you're spent.

Until his hips twitch.

Until you both glance down.

Until you both realize—

He’s getting hard again.

Your mouth drops open.

His eyes are already on yours, dark and low and absolutely wrecked.

“I think,” he says hoarsely, “we’re gonna need help.”

A/N: sorry if your requests get answered late I have like 8 lol, i will post two more today. requests are open and lmk if u wanna be in the taglist <3

Taglist: @whisperturnedecho @forchencookie @artvscvntymullet @pretendyoucantseeme @tyna-19 @canyouseethesainz @roc-haze @wherethezoes-at @cheekytv @beauty-nd-the-geek @livvymd @dopeysunflowers @formulaal @pookietv @happyclifford @madforgeorge @themdera

#OHHH FUCCKKK #im sweating bro #oh deary me #sosososo good

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sapphiccaa · 11 hours ago

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got you running in circles

arthurtv x reader

cw: suggestive, fluff, flirting, drinking, friends to lovers, submissive arthur xD

an: hey guys!! This is my first fic uploaded directly to Tumblr !!! im super excited to release this because I’m quite proud of it :D

2.1k words

masterlist ★ ao3 link

You peered through the windows of the bar, noticing how dark it had gotten since you arrived. It was mid-summer so the sun usually set quite late anyways. Your first drink was settling into your body nicely, feeling light and airy. The beating music in the room swayed your weight from foot to foot. Arthur, George, and Isaac had all snagged stools at the bar, leaving you to stand. Arthur had insisted you take his stool but you insisted that you enjoyed standing.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit?” Arthur asked. “I really don’t mind.” You hated this, you really didn’t want to inconvenience anyone.

A voice behind you spoke, “Just sit on the poor man’s lap.” It was Arthur Hill, who had just returned from the toilet.

George and Isaac both chimed in, laughing casually and agreeing with Hill. Your eyes met Arthur’s who wasn’t laughing, but rather smiling awkwardly. Oh… he was so cute like this. This will be fun.

“You know what? You’re right,” you said, “Arthur?” Raising a suggestive eyebrow, asking for his permission.

He puffed out a breath of air and nodded, “I guess yeah I don’t mind.” He moved the hand that was resting on his thigh to the wooden bar top, the other by his side holding a pint. You shuffled to sit across his legs, your back resting against the bar. You immediately recognized the warm stiffness of his thighs under yours, skirt riding up just enough that your bare skin was touching his jeans.

You turned your head to Arthur, as if to make the moment slightly more intimate, only for him. “Thank you,” you said under your breath. His sweet smile shone back at you, and you could see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Was he nervous? God, you hoped so.

You turned your attention back to the other guys who were chatting about Hill’s bathroom trip.

“Why didn’t you lock the stall though?” George asked.

“I thought I fucking did, mate!” Hill fought back, “the door was closed. I don’t see why she opened the door.” He looked utterly perplexed, his words slurring accordingly.

“Hold up,” you broke in, “it was a woman? In the men’s toilets?”

“That’s the kind of thing I would do,” Arthur said, his gentle chuckles pressing against you.

Everything was so funny to you now, “What the hell are you talking about, Arthur?”

“Have I not told you this?”

“No!” you nearly yelled. “Wait, let the other Arthur finish his story first. And then you,” emphasizing this by pressing a finger against his chest, “will tell me everything about this.” You turned back to Hill expectantly. He continued to tell his account, but Arthur shifting around under you was pretty distracting.

Arthur’s generally giddy drunken exterior was replaced by a flushed quiet appearance. Your attention migrated to the cup in his hand, nearly empty. “Want another?” you whispered, leaning close to his ear. Before he could respond, you leaned back to grab the attention of the bartender. You ordered two stella’s, Arthur waiting patiently under your thighs. “Returning the favor,” you said, handing him his pint, “for the seat.”

He chuckled, obviously remembering how silly he felt with a pretty girl on his lap. “It’s not a problem, really.”

The night continued on, drinks swung down your throat in succession, Arthur following easily along. At one point, you couldn’t place exactly why it had happened, but one of his palms had found its way around your waist. He must’ve not hated how it felt, keeping his grip clamped to you. His nervous semblance was shedding to a more red-faced giggling Arthur. The hand migrated from a safe hold on your waist to a slippery slope against your hip, near the waistband of your skirt. With every opportunity you were given, you leaned close to his ear and whispered jokes and comments. You wanted these to be just for him, creating a secret ecosystem between the two of you.

Possibly it was the booze, but there were increasingly more times when Arthur would trip over his words, commonly after you said something that could be interpreted as suggestive. He would keel over a bit, laughing hard and gripping you a bit tighter. Of course it was to make sure you didn’t fall off his lap, but you’ve got to admit, it felt nice to have him hold you like this.

At one point a woman in a low cut red top approached, offering to buy you a drink. She was quite attractive, you flirted a bit, playing the game of table tennis with your words. There was a moment where she alluded at a threesome with “the cute boy” sitting under you. His breath caught in his throat. You took that opportunity to wrap an arm behind his back, rubbing small circles into his muscles. You swore something shifted below you in that moment, an unmistakable stiffness under my thighs.

The woman ended up getting whisked away by her friends—hopefully you’d see her again. Even with her gone, the nervous energy radiated hotly off Arthur. He wasn’t laughing at all your jokes anymore, it was probably reaching the point of the night for him where he clocked out mentally. But it felt too early for him.

You leaned close to his ear once again, “you alright?”. You swear he shivered, so you ran circles over his back again. His eyes met yours and he adjusted his posture, now you knew what was up. “Do you want me off?”

“No.”

You glanced at the phone in his hand and back to his face, “your phone isn’t in your pocket.” You couldn’t contain your smile.

He stuttered his words, “No I… that’s not…Sorry.”

God he is cute when he’s embarrassed. You wanted to take him home. “I want to take you home with me.” You don’t know why you said that. It was true, but you had no right being that upfront and desperate.

Somehow you didn’t royally fuck everything up. “Yeah.” Arthur is a no-bullshit kind of guy, he’ll tell you how he’s feeling, and thank god for that. “Now?”

“Why not,” you squeezed his shoulder and then slipped off his lap. After hugging George goodbye, you peered back to see Arthur sitting uncomfortably, unabashedly squirming in the spot, waiting for you. There are so many awful things you could do to him tonight.

You walked side by side on the pavement, your hands centimeters away from touching as you got closer to the tube station. The train was basically empty when you got on, the late hour attributing to that. You sat close together, closer than was probably necessary, but you didn’t mind the warmth that radiated onto your body. He leaned slightly, his deep breaths felt against your skin. You restrained yourself from fully turning to admire his pretty face. You wanted to make him work for this.

Not too soon after, you were back outdoors and a two minutes walk to your flat. He started talking about bats, specifically about how he thinks they’re increasing in population in the city of Greater London.

“I know someone who found a bunch of baby bats huddled in the corner of his shed. I know I’d be freaked out if I found those things living in my home.”

“They’re quite cute though, aren't they?” you said. “They have such big eyes when you look at them up close, really. Those fruit bats.” They vaguely remind you of Arthur when he gets quiet.

His voice pitched up a smidge, “That’s the problem! They are incredibly cute and then they spread their arms and it looks like a monster from hell coming to take you down.” He performed an exaggerated shiver, “Crikey I hate thinking of this, especially in the dark.”

He looked so vulnerable, you wanted to hold him like a small puppy. You gently slipped your hand to touch his inner wrist. It waited a moment and then slid lower, your palms pressing together and fingers intertwining. You could get used to the feeling of his uncalloused hand, larger than your own, holding you sweetly.

You eventually reached the destination and obviously Arthur fumbled with the front door, pulling instead of pushing. Bless him, he was so nervous. You wanted to calm him down, so you brushed a hand over his shoulder, letting it stretch along his back to accompany him as you walked up the narrow stairwell.

You could barely react when out of the corner of your eye, Arthur fell, in what seemed like slow motion, on the last stair before your flat. He landed on both knees, hair fluffed up a bit, and wincing at the impact. He looked up at you, on his fucking knees, catching his breath with his mouth hanging slightly open.

You couldn’t help myself, “You look quite cute. Like this,” you finger reaching to tap below his chin, pushing up. His jaw closed with the motion and then opened back again, borderline drooling. “You’re going to be fun for me tonight, won’t you?”

Arthur gulped, “I don’t know why this is doing so much to me.” Never breaking eye contact, you slipped your hand higher to cup his cheek, so so sweet like this.

“Get up.”

He stood up no problem, quick on his feet. Was he going to keep being this good once you got into your flat? You entered, Arthur shuffling his shoes off and waiting for your next instruction as you locked the door.

“So what do you wanna do,” he said in a single breath.

“Want to see my bedroom?” you asked like a little kid. He nodded with a drunken smile, so you grabbed his hand and led him until you were face to face in your locked lamp-lit room.

The light glowed on the curves of his features, highlighting his cheeks and brow bone. You brushed a hand over the sunny light, trying to push more warmth into his skin. He leaned against the palm, allowing himself to use it as a crutch for his head. Two fingers rubbed small circles into his temple, you kept eye contact like this, no words had to be spoken to appreciate this moment. The corners of his mouth curled into a tight smile, teeth exposing from his excitement. Naturally, he stuck his tongue out to poke your hand with it. He probably expected you to react like he always did when Chris did the same to him. Instead, you paid no attention to it, continuing to brush paths on the side of his head. He chuckled, scrunching his nose which you couldn’t help but find irresistibly cute. Guess he wasn’t done being a little shit, because he stuck his tongue out again, this time running it up your exposed palm in a drawn-out motion, covering as much surface area as possible. When his dark pupils locked into your eyes, you could tell this wasn’t a joke anymore. Sweeping your hand down, two fingers touched his plush bottom lip. With barely any motivation, his jaw fell enough to let you intrude. Skimming your fingers over the tip of his tongue, he allowed more of himself to open up. You didn’t pry too much, the pads of your fingers laying just past the line of his teeth.

“You’re good,” you said. He didn’t say anything but his face visibly blushed, blinking hard at you. “Do you want to sit on my bed?” He nodded eagerly. “No outside clothes,” you curled fingers under the collar of his soft beige shirt, “you were in the bar with these.”

Arthur glanced down at the hand touching him fairly innocently, shocked at the insinuation. “Makes sense, yeah,” he rushed out, reaching to push his shorts off. You turned away and went to find your pajamas. It’d be quite nice to get him to properly unwrap you. As you faced away from him, you slipped your skirt and top off, spending extra time unclasping your bra and dropping it on the floor. You peered slightly to the left, trying to catch if he was watching in your periphery. He was standing awkwardly in his black boxers, hands clasped in front of him, possibly trying to hide something.

You finished dressing and brought yourself back to him, one hand on either of his upper arms.

“I can keep these on, yeah?” He giggled nervously.

“Of course.” You wanted to call him something cute but you weren’t so sure what it would be yet. You rubbed both hands down the expanse of his arms, it’s often easy to forget how built he was under all of his clothes. He glanced down shyly, getting embarrassed from the attention. You leaned close to his ear, “You’re beautiful.” His forehead fell forward and leaned on your shoulder, seeking support. “Is this too much?” you whispered.

“No,” he said simply.

an: fade to black!! So sorry I’ve never written x reader smut before and I’m scared bahhhhh!! anywho i hope u enjoyed and im always open for suggestions/requests so don't be shy ;) any shares are appreciated!!

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sapphiccaa · 12 hours ago

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here are some tweets/tumblr posts i have saved in my arthurtv pinterest board:

#arthurtv #arthurtv fluff #meme #tumblr memes #pinterest #ukyt #ukyt fanfic #uk youtubers #british youtubers #arthur frederick #george clarkey #fluff

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sapphiccaa · 12 hours ago

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sapphiccaa · 22 hours ago

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im cooking my first on-site tumblr fic 😇😇 the plan is to have it posted tomorrow. it’s at 2.3k word count rn 😏

im going to be crossposting my x reader stuff onto ao3 as well but my regular rpf fanfic won’t be posted directly onto tumblr. can’t wait!!

#arthurtv #reader insert #ao3 #fanfic #ukyt fanfic #ao3 smut #ao3 fanfic

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sapphiccaa · 22 hours ago

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rpf and x reader fanfiction is the backbone of this society. just had to put it out there !

#ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 author #rpf #rpf fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #ukyt fanfic #fic writing #x reader

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sapphiccaa · 1 day ago

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i got really high and started reading through my unfinished fic drabbles. one of them truly got me like "damn this is awesome, who wrote this? they should finish it." bro kill me

#ao3 #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #ao3 smut #ao3 writer #arthurtv #george clarkey #ukyt #ukyt fanfic #uk youtubers #chrismd #arthur hill #weed thoughts #high thoughts

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sapphiccaa · 1 day ago

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too much ain't enough -- g. clarke & a. hill & c. dixon x reader 18+

an unfortunate incident leads to you having to move into casa hill-dixon-clarke. obviously, they offered you a place to stay. obviously, you are very thankful. and, obviously, the tension that builds up between you and your new flatmates purely exists to give into it.... right?

pairing: george x f!reader x chris x arthur hill genre: smut MDNI!!! warnings: foursome, unprotected sex (woopsie doopsie), throat fucking, creampie, cum swallowing, oral (m. receiving), boys are a bit perverted but oh well, loads of tension wc: 4.9k a/n: hi there! welcome to... this... shitshow? listen, i am just a whore what can i say. i hope you enjoy!!! don't forget to reblog / comment / send an ask telling me what you think <3

as much as you wish it doesn’t, the burning feeling of guilt sweeps through you as you watch arthur roll your suitcase into his (or now your) room.

“is this really okay?” you ask for the seventh time this hour and arthur chuckles, putting his hands on his hips as he turns to you.

“stop asking already, if it weren’t okay we wouldn’t have offered, alright?” he gives you a smile and you bite down on your lip, hugging yourself with your arms as you nod slightly.

“i just feel so bad for-,”

“kicking me out my room, i know, y/n, you’ve said that about four hundred times.” he walks over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders. the smile he gives you reaches his pretty hazel eyes and you finally give in.

“i’m sorry, you’re right. you wouldn't have offered. thanks, arthur, really.”

all of this hassle and your guilty conscience because one of the pipes in your building randomly decided to burst and leave you with a flooded bath- and living room. the damage was too big for you to move back in for the next couple of weeks (if not months) and when you had cried about it to your friends, they had promptly invited you to stay with them.

you have been friends with chris, george and arthur for over two years now, being in the same circle due to working the same job. the three of them have somehow become your closest friends in the past few months; you hanging around their place with arthur and bach more often than you were at your own place anyways. but you never spent the night, never saw them in the morning, never were part of their daily routines at their flat.

now, that’s about to change.

the first few days go smoothly, even with you around in the mornings. arthur is crashing on the couch for the time being and sharing bathrooms with george while you get his all to yourself. and it’s nice, it’s perfectly fine.

except for the fact that the more chris, george and arthur are around you, the less they can ignore how attracted they are to you. the way you wear your hair, the sweet perfume you put on every morning, your genuine smile and these bloody skirts you love to wear - it’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

it becomes a topic amongst them only a few days after you move in. the first time chris mentions it to george is right after he watched you hurry into the living room with nothing but a very short bathrobe on, your skin glowy from what he assumes is body oil and your hair in wet curls over your shoulders. his ability to breath temporarily left him and he could only return the smile you gave him with the most awkward wave of his life.

he’s leaning over the kitchen island with george eating cereal next to him, seated.

“i am starting to regret this.” chris says and george chews his food, shrugging before swallowing.

“you’re being dramatic. just… don’t look.”

he is punched in the face by karma a minute later when you walk into the room with said bathrobe, laughing about how you got one thing earlier only to forget the second. george chokes on the spoon of cereal he just shoved into his mouth and chris slaps him on the back, giving you another awkward wave.

“what was that?” he then says to his friend who’s still recovering from his coughing fit.

in reality, the boys are just severely under fucked. seeing a beautiful woman in a bathrobe should not get them this excited. but work is rough and their time is already limited. chris hasn’t been on a date in months which, according to his friend group, is an actual scandal.

arthur isn’t much better. he’s been thinking about you sleeping in his bed every night on the couch. he feels like a creep, imagining his sheets smelling like you, imagining waking up next to you. he can’t help it though. not when you’re that pretty and that hot. it shouldn’t be legal to be both, he thinks.

the three of them talk about nothing else in their group chat.

finchy: if i see one of her panties in the washing again i will literally chop my hand off

chris: any specific reason for that particular body part?

finchy: …

finchy: fuck off

george: when i did the washing last week i almost cried

george: she has this pair of like pink panties with white bows and i’m just

chris: i need you to stop talking

george: suffer with me wth

finchy: i need a cold shower

george: also arthur don’t you dare wank off on our couch

it’s the one month anniversary of your move and the boys are out for a football shoot. you take the opportunity to prepare dinner. the last month had been hectic as hell and you hadn’t gotten the chance to properly thank them for their kindness.

you cook your signature bolognese, clean the apartment and decorate it with flowers you bought from the market in the morning. a beautifully set table, delicious food and several bottles of expensive wine, two candles in some pretty candlesticks you found in the cupboards. you turn on some soft music, humming along as you do the last bits and bobs before the boys come home.

it didn’t go over your head, obviously. the gazes, the lingering touches, the awkwardness. and maybe, once you’ve figured it out, you did kind of… do it on purpose. walked around in that bathrobe that made george choke and chris lose his ability to speak. chose some more scandalous skirts from your closet when you left your room for the day. let your underwear lay on top of the washing for them to see.

all of it seems like fun and games to you, but it also opens up a door you never really intended to open. by all means, you never expected to be attracted to your three closest friends, not like this. but living with them also meant seeing them in a way you hadn’t before. george’s bedhead and his bare chest in the mornings when you were already sitting on the couch planning something on your ipad, the way chris’ would stretch before a run and how he’d come back with his cheeks rosy and his hair sweaty, how arthur looked right out of a shower, his hair a mop of wet curls on his head, all his tattoos on display when he walked out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist.

you are just a girl. a girl with eyes and needs and, fuck, has it been long since someone fucked you properly. getting off in arthur’s bed feels strange so you haven’t even done that and the shower… god, it feels wrong, too. so, you haven’t come in a month. your body is on fire, your thoughts are anything but innocent. and maybe, just maybe, tonight isn’t just about thanking them for letting you stay but also trying to see if they were up for… something.

just when you get the spaghetti into the water, you hear the front door unlocking. your head turns to the door, a smile forming on your lips.

“something smells incredible.” you hear arthur say and you giggle to yourself, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear.

a moment later, the three men walk in, all of their jaws slightly dropped.

“surprise!” you grin, walking around the island and over to them. “i thought it was about time to properly thank you for letting me stay here. so, i cooked you dinner and bought some wine, cleaned the place, you know, nothing too grand but still nice.”

chris, george and arthur are speechless. not just because of the delicious scent inside their apartment, but because of you. it’s like you peeked inside their minds, like you scouted every message to know exactly what they talked about.

finchy: if i see her in that tennis skirt one more time

george: don’t even get me started

chris: i feel like the creepiest creep on earth but… same

finchy: like fucking hell

finchy: i vote we burn it so i don’t get another fucking hard on when she’s just standing there

george: i hate that i can’t even make fun of you for that

chris: sigh

chris: same

the white tennis skirt and football jersey over it makes all of their minds go places they aren’t so sure they should.

“that’s…. wow, you- you really didn’t have to.” chris somehow stumbles out but you shake your head.

“no, no. i wanted to. dinner is ready in like fifteen minutes, yeah?” you give them another wide smile and turn around again, grabbing your phone from the counter.

the boys exchange looks. how on earth was this night going to end?

the dinner goes smoothly. after the boys all take their well needed showers you gather around the dining table. the wine flows, the bolognese gets complimented and laughter continuously fills the air. it almost feels like it did before you moved in, almost. there is this new addition to the mix, a tension that lays above you all like an invisible blanket.

it’s in the way george’s eyes linger on your lips when you talk, in the way arthur pours you wine and smiles at you and how chris’ fingers brush against yours when he hands you the salt. perhaps it’s also in the way you speak to them, how you can’t keep your eyes off their handsome faces when they talk, how you thrive on their attention on you.

after dinner, when arthur and george begin cleaning up the table and chris opens another bottle of the wine you bought, you find yourself seated on the couch, wondering.

not long and the boys join you. george and arthur on the carpet, chris on the couch with you. the conversation from before continues, but it’s different somehow - the tension is thick and heavy and you wonder how and when it’ll become too much.

“how about a little game?” you finally propose and the boys look at you with slightly raised brows.

“what game?” george asks and you shift on your seat, taking a small sip of your wine glass.

“i was thinking… never have i ever?” you grin.

“cheeky.” chris laughs, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“you start then.” arthur clinks his rings against his wine glass absentmindedly.

the first few rounds are tame. but with time passing and more glasses of wine getting emptied… it’s no surprise the spirits change and everyone feels a little bit bolder.

“never have i ever touched myself in a bed that isn’t mine.” arthur’s words reach your ears and your eyebrows raise up. oh, this was surely aimed at you.

“cheeky, arthur.” you chuckle, but keep your glass down. “but i fear that hasn’t happened.” you tilt your head and arthur’s eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and disappointment in them.

george and chris press their lips together, suppressing a laugh.

“never have i ever imagined someone touching themselves in my bed.” you then continue, gaze fixed on arthur, who feels his own throat go dry for a second. then, he raises his glass and takes a sip, never breaking eye contact. you smile wider.

“hm, interesting.”

“but wait, i have a question.” chris leans forward, curiosity playing on his pretty face. “just purely out of curiosity… the shower, then?”

“christopher dixon, are you actually asking me where i’ve masturbated in your apartment right now?” you reply laughing, throwing one of the pillows at him. george and arthur chime into the laughter, but all of you know it’s not really a joke. it’s the start of something else, something that should feel forbidden but somehow doesn’t.

“i mean, yeah. if it’s not in arthur’s room it surely has to be the shower, right?”

you lean back, eyeing chris for a second. then, you shake your head.

“i fear you’ll have to live with the fact i have not done that in your apartment as of right now.”

the silence that follows your words is louder than any words. you’ve been living with them for a month. and as far as they know you haven’t been shagging anyone. does that mean…?

“you haven’t gotten off all this month?!” arthur finally breaks through the silence and you turn your head towards him, raising a brow.

“what? like it’s hard?” you stop for a second, grinning. “because it’s not.”

the boys all laugh at your stupid joke, shaking their heads at you. still, the atmosphere-change stays. even with the laughter, with the playfulness - it’s all somewhat feign.

when the laughter finally dies and all that stays is a loaded silence, the boys, while not communicating openly, know they are all sharing the same thought.

“perhaps,” george now starts, wetting his lip, “we should change the game. fancy a round of truth or dare?”

it’s a farce. you know it, they know it. but you play along, nodding as you bring your glass to your lips, taking another sip.

“sure.” you wait for one of them to ask you, to make you say the words all of you need to hear.

“truth or dare?” arthur breaks the moment of silence, his pretty eyes focused on you. butterflies go crazy inside your stomach as you lick over your lips, the remaining drops of wine coating the tip of your tongue.

“truth.” it’s probably not what they want to hear - or maybe it is. maybe they want to know what you truthfully feel before daring you to do anything.

“would you like it if…,” arthur’s eyes flick from you to chris and back, “if chris kissed you right now?” his voice is merely a whisper, sending shivers down your spine. you slowly move your head, seeing chris look at you from the other side of the couch, his hand still holding his wine glass. he looks so pretty in this light, green eyes sparkling and the white jumper hanging off his frame. you bite your lip and finally nod, giving arthur an answer to his question.

“yes… yes, i would like that.”

with every second that passed, the tension in the room seems to grow thicker. the invisible blanket is about to suffocate you in the most delicious way.

“chris? truth or dare.” george’s voice chimes in now and your heartbeat picks up speed.

“dare.” a no brainer, of course. he is already moving forward, the wine glass finding its way onto the small table separating you from george and arthur.

“i dare you to kiss her.”

chris doesn’t wait long. his hands find your waist and you’re suddenly so close to him, the smell of his lemony body wash fills your senses and leaves you wanting more. his breath hovers over you for just a second before his lips finally touch yours. what starts out sweet, lips slowly moving against each other, becomes more heated with every fleeting moment.

your free hand moves to his nape, fingers curling into the hair at his neckline, your eyes shut close. chris tastes like wine and warmth, his tongue tackling yours skilfully. feeling arthur and george’s gazes on you only makes the whole thing hotter. you feel their eyes burning on your skin, can only imagine how much they want to be in chris’ stead or just.. participate in any way.

parting from chris feels like the hardest thing you ever had to do, but you do it, looking at george and arthur. their faces are flushed and they look even better than you had anticipated. without saying another word, you slowly get up, setting your glass onto the table as well, lowering yourself onto the floor and straight onto arthur’s lap. his breath gets stuck in his throat when he feels you close in, his eyes fluttering shut when your hands land on his cheeks and your lips on his.

george and chris watch you and arthur hungrily, their best friend’s making out, your legs straddling him, his hands on your hips.

arthur’s kisses are intoxicating. they are surely going to get you more drunk than any wine ever could. the way his lips feel against yours, the way his mustache rubs against your upper lip, the way his tongue feels inside your mouth…

but there is a third person, someone you can’t leave hanging. so, with all the selfcontrol you can gather, you get off arthur’s lap just to move over to george, who’s already awaiting you. his blue eyes stare up at you, lips slightly parted and, god, he’s so hot.

his big hands move to your waist, practically dragging you on top of him. having waited the longest, he dives into the kiss right away, one hand now grabbing your face, lips crashing against yours. he devours you deliciously, a moan slipping through your lips as your fingers dig into his pretty curls.

chris and arthur watch, arthur slowly moving closer and chris getting off the couch. nothing matters anymore, nothing but you and this moment and what they want to do to you - with you.

it doesn’t take long for you to feel another pair of lips on your body - arthur, you guess - pressing kisses against your neck. and then there is another pair of hands, caressing your sides, slowly moving underneath your shirt.

it’s all too much and yet not enough. all the unspoken words, the longing gazes, the lingering touches. the pent of frustration of not touching yourself in a month has you drenched, your hips grinding down on george, who groans against your lips, hands now both back on your hips.

“someone’s eager,” he breathes with a smirk and you bite down on your lip, looking up at him with wide eyes. just that alone almost makes him beg you to let him fuck you. instead, he dips forward again, kissing you passionately.

someone needs to touch you, you don’t care who. and as if he can read your mind, arthur moves even closer, lips still kissing your neck, nimble fingers finding their way underneath your skirt. that god forsaken tennis skirt he has fantasised about so many times.

he can’t stop the moan when he feels your drenched panties.

“fuck, you’re so wet for us, aren’t you, love?”

he shoves them to the side, fingers gliding over your folds, thriving on the way you feel,on how easy it is to slip between your legs, and on the sounds you make when he finally touches your throbbing clit.

chris, meanwhile, frees your tits from the restraints of your bra. his thumb and index squeeze your nipples and you arch your back against arthur.

“fucking hell.” chris feels like he’s about to explode. his cock is straining against his underwear and joggers and he can only imagine arthur and george feel the same way. after all the dancing around it, the conversations in the group chat… it’s kind of a miracle neither of them came in their pants so far.

your hips begin to move against arthur’s hand, your senses not your own anymore. fingers dig into george’s shoulders now as the latter continues to kiss you like he owns you. his lips and tongue chase yours, hot breath and saliva, too much and yet not enough to satisfy your yearning.

“take this off, will you, darling?” chris’ voice echoes through your mind and all you can do is nod and part from george for a second to let them get your jersey off of you. your bra falls down onto the floor with it, leaving you in just your skirt and underwear. neither of the three men know how on earth they deserve this. deserve you.

“jesus christ…” george moves forward, lips catching one of your nipples, his right hand grabbing the other breast, cupping it possessively. arthur is now right behind you, thumb still rubbing circles on your clit while his lips suck marks onto the delicate skin of your neck and shoulders. and chris? chris takes george’s place, claiming your lips with his, hands grabbing your face.

all their attention on you, their lips, their hands… it’s about to make you explode in a load of fireworks. noone has ever made you feel this way and you doubt anyone but them ever will again. while you have absolutely no idea what this means for you and them in the future, the prospect making slight worry creep up your spine for just a fleeting moment - right now it doesn’t matter. not when you’re about to have your first orgasm of the night, the first orgasm in a month, the first of many to come.

“oh, fu-fuck!” you cry against chris’ lips, his tongue licking over your bottom lip and just when his teeth sink into it, you feel it hit, the high you’ve been craving for a whole month.

arthur leads you through it with his thumb, pressing down as you grind down on him and george, as your head begins to spiral and your body shakes from the intensity of your orgasm.

“good girl, came so prettily for us,” george kisses his way up, licking along your skin and you whimper, eyes fluttering shut and open, stars dancing in front of you.

you find yourself laying flat on the carpet next, george in between your legs, arthur and chris kneelings by your sides. from here, you can see that all three of them are clearly… struggling and you lick over your lips, reaching out for arthur and chris.

“let me take care of you…” you whisper, palms pressing against their very present erections. they groan and nod, shoving down their pants and briefs, freeing their cocks - finally. your pussy throbs at the sight just as your mouth waters. you look from one to the other, sure you’re about to wake up from yet another wet dream.

but no, when you let your thumbs swipe over their sensitive tips to gather precum for the glide, you’re still here and don’t wake up. and when you begin to stroke their cocks, when you hear them breathe heavily - you’re still not waking up.

george watches you, eyeing you like you’re his prey and perhaps you are. his fingers move to get your panties off your legs and this time he doesn’t feel any ounce of shame when he brings them to his nose, taking in your perfect scent.

“i fear you’ve opened a door you’ll never get to close again, pretty girl.”

your eyes meet his and you watch him free himself as well, watch his pretty cock slap against his clothed stomach and, fuck, why are they all still wearing so much clothes? You can’t really complain though, not when george grabs your thighs and pushes them back, eyes now glued to your glistening folds.

“you have no idea how many nights i’ve dreamt about this.” his words make another shiver run down your spine and you cry out his name when you feel his tip enter you. his big hand is wrapped around his cock, pushing more and more of him inside you. you had had a hunch that he was on the bigger side, but this? fucking hell.

it takes him a good while to bottom out, your hands still wrapped around his flatmates’ cocks, stroking them. arthur and chris have their heads thrown back, enjoying the way your hands feels around them.

“what a perfectly tight cunt you have, love.” george groans, both hands now back to pushing your thighs back. when he does his first thrust, you can’t stop the loud moan, your whole body shaking with lust.

“oh, oh, isn’t someone a loud one?” george teases. “perhaps someone should stuff your mouth, hm?”

the thought alone makes you whimper, tears beginning to well in your eyes. chris and arthur exchange a glance, but finally chris is the one who moves, your hand slipping from his cock, now replaced by his own.

“we don’t want to disturb the neighbours, do we?” he smirks, his cock now right there in front of your mouth. you open obediently and his eyes sparkle with hunger. you are going to end him, he just knows it. he lets his tip glide over your tongue, the sensation already almost enough to make him burst. when you close your lips around him, sucking him deeper into your mouth, he thinks he might be in love with you.

“holy shit.” he groans once he’s fully buried inside your mouth, his cock feeling right at home inside your pretty mouth.

“don’t you look pretty with chrissie’s cock in your mouth, darling.” george licks over his lips. “let’s see how pretty you are while you get your pussy and mouth fucked at the same time, yeah?”

they go mayhem on you.

and you love it.

love the way george pounds into your pussy like he was meant for it.

love the way chris sounds as he fucks down your throat.

love the way arthur grips your hand with his to move faster around his cock.

their sounds make you stumble over the edge again, all too much and still it never feels like enough.

george feels you clenching around him, his grip on your thighs tightening. holy hell, you truly are a sight to behold. tits bouncing with every thrust, your skirt risen up, hair a mess on the carpet. not to mention the view of chris inside your mouth.

picking up his speed, george lets his eyes wander over your body, finally reaching where he keeps fucking into you. his breath hitches and he can’t hold back any longer, his head tipping back as his hips chase his high.

“fuck!” he feels his climax rush over him, quickly pulling out and watching his cum paint your stomach in pretty streaks of white. he falls back, leaning against the couch, his chest heaving.

“who’s next?” he smirks, pulling a hand through his hair. chris, too focused on your mouth and the way it’s all warm and perfect around his cock, doesn’t even think about switching to your cunt, which leaves the musician of the group to take the spot between your legs.

“hold on.” he beckons chris to stop for just a moment, turning you over on your hands and knees.

“much better.” arthur’s eyes can’t get enough of your body, his hands caressing your backside as he jerks himself off a few times before finally bringing his tip to your entrance. you whimper at the contact, your mouth back to being claimed by christopher.

it’s like music, arthur thinks. the way you sound, the way you work with him and chris. your body reacts perfectly to them, plays along with their rhythm, meets every thrust like a champ.

“you’re perfect, love, so fucking perfect.” he whispers as he begins to pick up the pace, his hands caressing your back as he fucks you. chris knows it won’t be long until he hits his high, your throat continuing to restrict around him. he is obsessed with the way you choke around his cock, with the way your eyes water when you look up into his eyes. this is everything he had ever hoped it to be and so much more.

and when you swallow around him, your choked moan like a symphony in his ears, he can’t stop himself from croaking out your name as he comes deep down your throat, hungrily watching you swallow it all, not letting even one drop go to waste.

“yeah, take it all, bloody hell…” chris’ hands hold your head steady, gripping your hair tightly as he rides out his orgasm, finally pulling out and catching his breath.

which now leaves arthur last. and with your mouth now free… he grips your hips tighter, thrusts growing periodically harder again. you moan, pussy fluttering with an nearing third orgasm. his hips chase yours and your body is once again shaking from pleasure. everything feels hot and sweat is running down your temple, hands beginning to grow tired underneath you.

but arthur behind you makes it all worth it. and when he pulls you back by the shoulders, your back now pressing against his chest, when you feel his lips on your neck, his tongue licking along the marks he left earlier, you can’t stop yourself from coming a third time, hard and final around arthur’s cock.

“good girl, such a good perfect girl.” he whispers into your ear as you orgasm, his own climax only seconds away. he fucks you through your high and finally feels his own washing over him, allowing himself to come inside your pulsating cunt, once, twice.

he’s done for. all of them are. just as you.

you collapse back onto the carpet, arthur right next to you.

“good god.” you stare at the ceiling, feeling chris lay down next to you. only george is still seated against the couch, chuckling at the image before him.

“now, who would have expected this?” he grins. you shake your head. not you. definitely not you.

“george?” chris suddenly says next to you.

“yeah?”

“i think i just laid down in your cum.”

silence.

then bursts of laughter.

the faint worry from before was for nothing as it seems. because when they help you get cleaned up and you fall asleep in arthur’s bed with not just him but chris and george next to you… you feel like it will all find its place.

#OHHHH GOD YES #george freak clarkey fr #need this in my life!#love u so much #thank u for writing this dear god

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