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[ukytblr]

Could you maybe write where y/n and Arthur (tv) go on the fellas podcast together and chip and cal are asking them a bunch of awkward and kinda inappropriate questions and they both get all blushy and embarrassed

contains: suggestive content, established relationship

arthur frederick x fem!reader

it starts off fine.

really, it does. you and arthur show up early, mugs of tea in hand, both of you laughing as cal and chip greet you like old friends. the studio’s warm, the cameras are rolling, and the intro’s smooth-standard fellas chaos.

but then.

then cal leans forward with a grin so mischievous it should probably be criminal. “right. time to get into it. you two-how long until you shagged?”

arthur chokes on his tea.

you blink. “what?”

“first date? second?” chip adds innocently. “or was it one of those- ‘we’re just friends, oops my clothes fell off’ kinda vibes?”

arthur’s face turns scarlet instantly. “mate-”

“you don’t have to answer that!” you laugh, pulling your sleeve over your face. “but like. no comment.”

“ohhh that means it was quick,” cal teases.

arthur groans, dragging a hand down his face. “i hate it here.”

but the chaos is only just beginning.

chip points directly at you. “what’s the most awkward thing that’s happened during sex?”

arthur practically chokes. “jesus-”

“straight in!” chip cackles.

you slap a hand over your mouth. “can we not start with that?”

“nope,” cal says cheerfully, completely unfazed. “we’re in it now.”

arthur glances sideways at you, then at the boys. “i mean-I don’t think we’re awkward, really.”

“cap,” chip says immediately.

you roll your eyes. “okay, one time, we were in the middle of it, and he knocked over a lamp trying to take his sock off-”

“you knocked it over!” arthur protests, already bright red.

“it was your sock!”

“it was a joint effort,” he mutters, covering his face with both hands.

“was it still sexy after the crash?” cal grins.

“it was,” arthur says dramatically, “until she started laughing.”

you shrug. “to be fair, it was a dramatic fall.”

chip is losing it.

cal’s already reaching for the next card. “okay, okay. who’s the more dominant one in bed?”

dead silence.

arthur stares straight ahead like he’s buffering. you raise a brow at him, biting your lip to hold in a smile.

“it’s not a trap,” you say sweetly. “you can say it.”

“look,” arthur says cautiously, “i feel like it’s more of a team dynamic.”

“sure,” chip says. “but if one of you says ‘sit,’ who’s sitting?”

arthur exhales, long and hard. “i plead the fifth.”

“that’s not how british law works, mate,” cal replies, smirking.

“fine,” you say casually, “he’s got a bit of a praise kink. loves being told he’s doing good.”

arthur groans directly into the mic. “this is abuse.”

“you do!” you insist, grinning. “you go all melty and sweet every time i call you my good boy.”

chip’s slapping the table now, howling with laughter.

“listen-” arthur says, voice nearly cracking, “-it’s not my fault she knows how to get what she wants.”

cal points between the two of you. “so you’re the flustered one?”

“only when she’s being evil,” he mutters, glaring over at you. “which is always.”

you just smile innocently. “he’s cute when he’s obedient.”

arthur’s eyes flick to yours, and that’s it. he’s gone. absolutely ruined. silent, flushed, and completely whipped.

“okay, one last question for this segment,” chip manages, wiping tears from his eyes. “what’s your biggest ick about each other?”

arthur doesn’t even hesitate. “she has a folder of screenshots of me mid-blink, mid-chew, mid-existence. all my worst angles. for fun.”

you’re already giggling. “it’s art. i’m curating a collection.”

chip leans in. “and what’s the goal here?”

“to humble him,” you reply. “also, they’re hilarious. there’s one where he looks like an angry victorian ghost.”

arthur sighs dramatically. “it’s character assassination.”

“it’s love,” you say sweetly.

cal turns toward you. “alright, your turn. what’s his ick?”

you pause for a second, pretending to think. “when he gets dramatic about tiny injuries. like, he stubs his toe and suddenly it’s like a wwl reenactment.”

arthur gasps. “it hurts! you don’t understand what i go through!”

“you whined for three hours over a paper cut,” you deadpan.

“it was deep!”

chip is halfway out of his seat laughing.

“alright, alright,” cal says, “that’s enough icks before they break up mid-episode.”

arthur leans over and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, shaking his head with a smile. “nah. stuck with me.”

you smirk. “unfortunately.”

[ukytblr]

tiaras and sea salt

alfie buttle x fem reader

summary: alfie joins your families annual holiday which leads to a conversation you hadn’t expected.

masterlist | main masterlist

The midday sun beat down across the villa in a gentle golden warmth that made the world around you feel slower, and more peaceful. You were stretched out on the sun lounger beside your mother, with your kindle in one hand and a half drank ice latte dripping on the little table between the loungers. The soft splashing of the infinity pool a few feet away from you and the occasional squeals of laughter from your little sister were the only sounds filling the warm air.

Your eyes flickered up from the screen, the words suddenly becoming obsolete in comparisom to the scene taking place in front of you. In the pool, Alfie was completely immersed in the little world your baby sister had created. He stood in the pool with water sparkling over his tanned skin, his wet curls squished down by a plastic pink tiara and a shell necklace – that your sister had stolen from your suitcase – wrapped around his neck.

“You have to swish your tail more, Alfie!” your sister giggled, flicking water at him with a proud splash.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Alfie replied in the most serious tone he could muster up, before diving under the water with an exaggerated, splashy flip that sent her into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

You couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on your face as your chest tightened with affection. There was something so achingly tender about the way Alfie interacted with her. No patronizing, no impatience. Just pure, gentle presence. He let her boss him around with no fuss, never once brushing her off or making her feel like a silly kid. It made your heart melt.

“He’s good with her,” your mum commented softly beside you, eyes hidden by her sunglasses but clearly watching the same thing.

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away. “Yeah,” you murmured, a smile playing on your lips, “He really is.”

Later that evening, after a long, idle dinner in the village, you found yourself back in your room with Alfie. Both of you utterly exhausted from the heat, skin sun-kissed and bellies pleasantly full as you sprawled together on the bed. The window ajar to let in the soft sounds of the sea and the cool breeze that brushed against your skin.

You curled into Alfie’s side, the soft sounds of his breathing filling your ears as he played with the hairs that had escaped the messy bun on the top of your head. It was the kind of soft silence that didn’t need any breaking, it was comforting. His free hand was tucked under his head, his curls a mess from the wind and saltwater. You turned your head up to look at him, that same warm feeling from earlier blooming in your chest all over again.

“You make a very convincing mermaid,” you teased softly, your voice sleepy but laced with amusement.

Alfie groaned removing his hand from your hair dropping it to his face, “Don’t,” he shook his head, voice muffled beneath his palm, “I forgot you saw that.”

“Oh, I saw it,” you laughed, lifting your head off his chest a smirk dancing on your lips, “The dramatic tail flicks were Oscar-worthy.”

He dragged his hand down his face peering at you over it, his cheeks pink, “She made me wear a tiara.”

“You looked bloody dashing in it as well,” You smiled, shifting so your legs straddled his hips, “I think pink might be your colour, Buttle.”

He let out a breathy laugh, still half-hiding his face but clearly flustered, “You’re taking the piss.”

“It was sweet,” you said, gentler now, leaning closer so your nose brushed his, “I mean it. You’re really good with her. It means a lot.”

Alfie moved his hands to your waist looking at you properly, his gaze soft. “She’s a cute kid,” he shrugged, “Just has me thinking about our future yknow? When we have kids.”

A surprised smile broke out on your lips as your fingers combed through his hair, “You think about that?” You asked quietly, kissing his cheek.

“Course I do.” He nodded, smiling in a bashful, crooked way that made your heart ache, “Do you?”

“Yeah, all the time.”

He pulled you down to his chest, his arm winding around your waist as you both settled into the quiet again. The sound of the sea whispering against the shore and the cicadas buzzing in the dark filling the room once again.

As you laid wrapped up in each other, you felt a rare kind of peace.

The kind of peace that was reserved for people who felt like home.

a/n: i know i said that i was taking a break from tumblr for a bit but i’ve decided that i’m not gonna let some sad loser destroy and stop me from doing something that i love. i also wanna say a big thank you to everyone who has messaged to make sure i’m doing okay, it hasn’t gone unnoticed and i realky appreciate you all <333

taglist: @jamiekluivert @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @canyouseethesainz @happyclifford @golden-hoax @tatumrileyslover @wherethezoes-at @themdera @xlovergirlx @smzyyx @bowielovesyou @pretendyoucantseeme @elhotchner @duolingofanaccount @pookietv @ooostarwarsfandom501st @triplefrontierbabe @formulaa-1 @clarkeyscvntymullet @sdmnpact

[ukytblr]

tiktok trend series - AB x reader

summary: you make a tiktok doing the "best brother ever" trend on your boyfriend AB

y'all i am so charmed by AB, he's so fiiiiiiiinnneeee. i need everyone who sees this to start writing about him so i can read it :)

thank you for all the support on this series, i hope you are enjoying my silly little stories <3

-

“Babe! Come film a TikTok with me!” you yelled to Alfie in the other room. 

You heard an exaggerated groan, but the squeak of his chair told you that he had stood up. He appeared in the doorway, meeting your gaze with one eyebrow raised. 

“What’s all this about?” He questioned, watching you prop your phone up against a water bottle. 

You turned to face him, instinctively moving to run your hands up his chest and lock them behind his neck. His hands found your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

You looked up at him, an alluring glint in your eyes, “I need you for this TikTok, all you have to do is stand there.”

He was completely mesmerized by you, “If you keep looking at me like that, I might do anything you ask me.”

You giggled and turned back to your phone, making sure the angle was right, before directing AB into his spot on camera. After pressing record you found your spot next to your boyfriend, who affectionately slung a muscled arm around your shoulders. 

“Yoooo family!” he exclaimed before turning to you and mumbling, “I don’t know why I did that, I swear I’ve been cursed or something.”

You chuckled at his antics, before crossing your arms over your chest, popping your hip out into a power stance, and forcing an intimidating look onto your face.

“If you want to get to him,” you said, pointing your thumb at Alfie, “you gotta get through me first.”

Your boyfriend removed his arm from your shoulders and looked at you with a slightly disgusted look on his face, “Well that was-” You cut him off by grabbing both sides of his face and pulling him down into a firm kiss. 

You kept your arms locked around the back of his neck, and felt his hands slide into the back pockets of your jeans as you turned your head back to the camera. 

Doing your best to stifle your laughter, you said, “He’s the best big brother ever!” 

Alfie immediately moved to hold you by the shoulders, an arms length away from him, and said, “What the actual fuck was that. Are you on drugs?”

You were struggling to breathe through your laughter as AB turned to the camera and addressed it directly, “(Y/N) and I are not related!”

You had moved out of frame at this point. AB stood in front of your phone, hands on his hips, moving his gaze between you and the camera. 

“I’m never going to recover from this. My twitch chat will be bringing this up for years,” he muttered.

-

After posting your video on TikTok, you sat your phone on the table as notifications began to roll in. 

“So,” you mused, turning to face your boyfriend, “What were you saying about doing anything I wanted?”

comments

user1: AB is the funniest person on the planet

user2: someone check on (y/n) i think she may have lost the plot

yungchip: I feel like I should alert the proper authorities

user3: literally the cutest couple ever

mybrotherab: my username is not helping me right now

[ukytblr]

hidden box [will lenney]

you find a mysterious package in the corner of will's closet, and its contents intrigues you more than you'd expected. (as requested by a lovely anon!) (but dedicated to @elhotchner because she would jump off of a PLANET for this man -- no sneaky peeks, surprise ily)

bloody feckin' filth (smut with a little bit of fluff because I tripped, sorry)

18+ / MDNI!!

--

it was finally getting warm out again. a leaf or two had begun to sprout on the tree outside your bedroom window, and you took that as your sign to kickstart the annual spring cleaning of your flat.

"ugh but love, the place looks fine!" will defends, immediately dreading the prospect of spending all weekend elbow-deep in piles of clothes and paperwork that had built up.

"yeah, it's fine, but it could be better," you push.

"hey, what's that thing you always say to me when I get in my head about work. good enough summat... oh, don't let perfect be the enemy of good enough! ha!"

you roll your eyes, mildly concerned that you've created a monster over the years in your attempts to make will take better care of himself. "you dare use my own wisdom against me, william."

will strides over to you, letting out a little chuckle as he plants a big kiss to your cheek. "listen, love. you can clean all ye want. I'll help a bit, but I'm sorry, I'm not gettin the hazmat out. you'd burn the gaff down and build a new one every year if it was up to you."

you sigh. "fiiiine, but I will make you help me with some stuff. nothing crazy." his arms slip around your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. "yes, darling."

--

a few hours later

you're sat on the floor going through the absolute tornado of miscellaneous crap that had accumulated at the bottom of will's closet over the last year. most of it was gifted shit from brands he would never be caught dead wearing, props from videos, clothes he never wears anymore.

you start digging your way through the mess, creating piles of stuff to donate, to toss, to keep. once you'd sifted through it all, then you'd drag will in to make him help you make those decisions.

tucked in the very back corner of the closet, you find a small black box you don't recognize. your eyebrows furrow, and your curiosity piques as you reach to grab it.

bringing it into the light, you slide the package open, and gasp at what you find inside: a fleshlight. why the fuck does will have this?

clearing your throat, you call for him. "um, could you please come in here for a moment, babe?"

he strolls into the room seconds later, inhaling sharply as soon as he sees the box in your hand.

"care to explain, william?"

"ugh," he groans, his head falling back dramatically. "I forgot I had that. it was a stupid gift from fuckin' james. he got it for me when I was single. lad thinks he's sooo bloody hilarious. I've never touched the thing."

you huff out a laugh, shaking your head at his response. you'd expected it to be something like that, knowing your boyfriend too well to suspect anything uncouth from him. "I figured as much," you snort. "sounds like james."

"just get rid of it, love," will decides with a sigh. "summat tells me the charity shops don't accept sex toys even if they are unused," he adds with a chuckle as he leaves the room again.

you nod, but for some reason, you can't bring yourself to put it in the bin. your imagination runs a little mad, and instead, you remove it from its packaging and tuck it safely into your bedside table drawer.

--

later that night

will sits up in bed, waiting for you to finish your bedtime routine. it might be one of his favorite times of the day, his bottom lip between his teeth, watching you through the mirror in the en suite -- braiding your hair, slowly rubbing lotion into your skin, whatever. he just likes looking at you.

you make eye contact with him through the reflection and see yourself go pink in your vanity. "whaaaat?" you giggle, somehow still getting shy in front of him even after all this time.

a cheeky grin spreads across his face at your expression. "you're actually just so fuckin' cute, I can't believe it sometimes."

your little smile turns into an uncontrollable beam as you flip the light switch in the bathroom and rush over to jump into bed, climbing into will's lap immediately.

straddling him, your lips lock together, smiles still on your faces like you can't help it. his tongue slides against yours, hot and sweet as ever. you sigh into him, running your fingers through his soft hair as you grind down against him lightly, nothing but thin underwear covering both of you, leaving little to separate you from each other.

will shuffles down on the bed to move away from the headboard, lying down on his back fully and pulling you on top of him. moving away from his lips, you run the tip of your tongue along his sharp jaw, sucking on the sensitive skin under his ear, a soft groan falling from his lips as he bucks his hips up against you.

kissing, licking, sucking your way down will's chest and stomach, you slip your fingers under the waistband of his pants and pull them down, exposing his hard cock already dripping with pre-cum from your teasing.

your hand wraps around him with a featherlight touch as you graze your lips up his length, your hot breath making him fidget under you. letting a ball of spit form and fall from your tongue onto the head, you coat his cock with a few gentle strokes before wrapping your mouth around just his tip, swirling your tongue slowly as his large palm finds its place on the back of your head.

"ff-fuck, please love," will whines. "need you." you hum around him, reveling in his little begs, and gladly give him what he wants: more. you drop your head down, hollowing your cheeks as you take him in as much as you can, letting his tip hit the back of your throat as you gag slightly. will isn't quiet in his day-to-day life, nor is he quiet here, and fucking hell, it was like a drug.

you pull back after a short while, kissing your way back up to will's face. "wanna have some fun, baby?" you purr, to which will raises an eyebrow.

"what'd you have in mind, pet?"

you reach into your bedside table drawer and pull out the fleshlight you'd found earlier in the day. will's initial reaction is to laugh, but as soon as he clocks on that you're not laughing with him, his eyes go big. "you're serious?"

"I couldn't stop thinking about it, baby... I really wanna watch you use it," you admit, biting your lip, trailing a finger up his veiny arm.

he goes slightly red at the idea, but his interest seems to grow the more he ponders the idea -- your own excitement certainly a contributing factor. "well... what about you?"

"oh sweet boy," you smirk. "your mouth is used for much more than just asking silly questions."

will's face shifts to something completely smug at your reply, a wicked grin stretching across it. "you cheeky little bastard."

giggling, you lean down to kiss him, licking into his mouth as you pull your panties off. unscrewing the cap of the fleshlight, you power it on, watching will's face intently as you slide it onto his hard cock.

he gasps at the sensation, panting and eyelashes fluttering as he experiences something he's never felt before. "oh- oh fuck," he stutters, broken moans falling from him, and you almost don't have the heart to sit on his face lest you muffle his pretty sounds.

almost.

you climb up, facing away from the headboard so you could watch the fleshlight pulse up and down on his cock. he wraps an arm around your thigh, the other hand keeping a light touch on the toy, as his tongue finds its home in your pussy right away. you moan loudly, arching your back as you grind against his face, his own sounds of pleasure sending vibrations through your core.

the lack of headboard in front of you made staying upright a struggle, so you let yourself fall forward into a 69 position, resting your face on his thigh for support. you put your hand on will's where it sits on the toy, telling him to let go, and he promptly grips your other thigh, readjusting your seat with his strong grip to properly bury his face in you. you whine as he sucks on your clit, feeling him tense under you as the toy appears to speed up on his cock, making him let out a low groan under you.

will's tongue flattens against you, licking a long stripe through like he wants to taste as much as he can all at once. he plunges into your hole, fucking you with his tongue as his chin bumps against your clit, stubble rough on your thighs. your eyes roll back as he reattaches to your clit, feeling the fire of an impending orgasm pool low in your tummy.

the lewd noises spilling from will start to amplify, the fleshlight tightening around him, and his buzzing lips send bolts through your nerves. he flicks his tongue against your clit rapidly, making you whimper and writhe, as you both feel yourselves getting painfully close.

finally, will pushes you over, ripping a deep wail from your throat as your orgasm paints his face. he laps at you hungrily as he whines over and over, his chest heaving under you and his fingers digging into your thighs until he follows you off the edge of the cliff, his lips detaching from you to release the uncontrollable groan he couldn't bite back if he tried. his whole body spasms as he explodes inside the toy, and you shut it off, removing it from his body carefully as his breathing slows, evening out alongside your own.

practically falling off of him, you land on the bed at his side. you lock eyes, and he grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips to plant a soft kiss against your fingers.

you give him a small, tired smile, coming down from both the orgasm as well as the slight adrenaline rush of trying something new.

he returns the look, his eyes half-closed. "this is why you make the spring cleaning decisions, darling."

[ukytblr]

see my dreams all die - a. f. hill - arthur hill x f!reader being in love with your best friend has ruined you. and when you tell him, it ruins you even more.

pairing: arthur hill x f!reader genre: angst, angst, angst!!!! warnings: it's very sad... yeah wc: 3.1k a/n: enjoy... i had a blast and made myself cry x

during

the bass of the music made the walls shake. or at least that’s what it felt like. 

the glass in your hand was cold and uncomfortable against your skin and every breath you took stung in your lungs. 

when the sliding door opened you looked up, seeing the face of the man you loved contoured in laughter. he pulled his hand through his hair and slid the door closed, looking at you and giving you an excited wave.

he had no idea what was about to happen. no clue how you were about to ruin a friendship of almost seventeen years. 

“what’s up? why aren’t you inside?” arthur hill’s hazel eyes looked breathtaking in the moonlight.

“i texted you.” you ignored his questions and brought your glass to your lips taking a long sip. arthur raised his brows.

“oh? i didn’t even see that, i just saw you through the window. are you alright?”

you swallowed down the bitter liquor and grimaced, finally putting the glass down on the small table to your right, wiping your hands on your velvet dress.

“arthur,” you started then, head lifting to look into his face.

“y/n.” he grinned slightly. and you felt your heart break and shatter and die.

“i love you.” 

“aw, i love you, too.” his grin turned into a smile and it was so genuine it almost made you sick.

“no, arthur. i love you. i have loved you for fifteen years.”

now, his face changed. 

his smile faded and his mouth slightly opened, staying ajar as he stared at you with a look you had never seen on him before. something in it broke you even further - perhaps the pity that slowly started to form, perhaps the weight of how much changed between you two with just these little three words. 

“you- you love me?” arthur’s voice was merely a whisper and you pressed your lips together, slowly letting your eyes shift to the floor.

“i know you don’t feel the same way about me, i do, arthur. but i just couldn’t- couldn’t hold it in anymore, you know? it was too much.”

your heartbeat was echoing in your ears, hands desperately turned into fists, trying to grab onto whatever composure you had left. 

“y/n…” arthur took a step towards you and for a split, tiny second, you allowed yourself to dream. to hope. “i’m so sorry.” 

the dream shattered and all hope died. 

before

watching arthur with a girl was nothing new and still left the same damage every time. left you with at least five empty glasses in front of you, trying desperately to pretend it didn’t bother you. 

it didn’t bother you that arthur was laughing at everything the girl said. it didn’t bother you that he tugged a strand of hair behind her ear. it didn’t bother you that she whispered something in his ear and he smiled that shy smile you’d kill to get from him. 

and when you watched him kiss her and looked away, it didn’t bother you either. 

watching arthur fall in love was different, though. 

his other friends liked to say arthur fell in love easily. but you knew better. he had only ever been in love once in his life and the girl had absolutely destroyed him. it happened in canada and you had never met her, but you hated little more than her. 

but you remembered it all. how he talked about her, how he smiled in photos with her. everything about him shifted slightly. he was happier on the phone. made more jokes. laughed a little louder. 

not a day went by back then that you didn’t wish it could have been you. 

you wished to fall for someone else. even tried dating arthur’s friend george for a while because, hey, why the hell not. and george was handsome and funny and kind. but he wasn’t arthur.

no one was arthur. 

except arthur.

you and george were a thing for a couple of months, never really labelling it, but also not seeing anyone else. when he and arthur moved out of their old place and in with chris, you helped with everything. packed stuff with george, helped arthur out with his equipment. 

the thing with you and george ended the day of the house warming party. 

somehow all your “things” end during parties.

you were talking to charlotte when arthur walked into the living room, his hand resting on the small of some girls back. you had never seen her before. but somehow, everyone else knew her. they greeted her like an old friend. george went to hug her, chris immediately handed her a drink. 

“who’s that?” charlotte asked and you looked over at her.

“no clue.” you replied, eyes glued to that damn hand on her back. 

it was always like this. you were fine dating someone, fine dating george, just as long as arthur didn’t bring anyone around. the second he stumbled into a room with another pretty girl your whole life got turned upside down again. suddenly you’d remember again that it would never be you. that he would never choose you. 

the rest of the night, you could only stare at arthur and the girl, serena, as george had told you. there was nothing you could do. it didn’t matter that george was right there, didn’t matter that he noticed where your focus lay. 

and it didn’t matter that he figured it out. 

when he ended it, he promised not to tell arthur. 

and you apologised you weren’t what he needed. 

after

your phone is upside down on your living room table. it is taunting you, challenging you to pick it up.

but if you do it’ll just show you what it has done for the last two weeks.

nothing.

not a single word from the man who had been your best friend for almost all of your life. 

perhaps it is better this way. getting space from him after all this time. perhaps this was the cure to your disease that was loving him. 

you know that you will never forget the look on his face for as long as you live. now, that some time has passed you figured out what it was - what you had never seen in his eyes before. 

disappointment. resentment. 

because you ruined it. ruined the seventeen years of friendship. companionship. trust. all gone because your stupid heart took a wrong turn. 

you don’t know what hurts more - that he doesn’t feel the same way or that he resents you now for loving him. 

arthur knows it’s not your fault. or at least that’s what you tell yourself. he has to know you would never choose this. loving him has been the worst thing to ever happen to you. it has tormented and broken you over and over again for years and years. he surely must know… 

the first time you leave to socialise is three weeks after. 

it’s a girlfriend’s birthday and get dressed up, ready to go back to normal. or as normal as life will be without arthur as a constant in it. 

for the most part, it’s alright. you drink and talk to the girls and you even find yourself laughing. as dramatic as it sounds - you had kind of forgotten what it was like to genuinely laugh. 

then, the questions roll in. about your musician best friend who is going on tour. about your youtuber ex who just started streaming. 

and it all becomes too much again. so, you excuse yourself with a headache and hurry home. 

you don’t see him for two months. it’s okay. you’re okay. you have to be okay because he is. he doesn’t seem to care much about your friendship ending. or maybe he’s just good at pretending. good at not texting. well, he’s always been shit at that anyway, so. 

it’s his birthday. his and charlotte’s. and for the first time in forever, they decide to celebrate it together. you forgot about it, arthur’s present already wrapped in your closet for months. it was a set of rings you had seen and thought of him before. 

charlotte is the one who invites you. not him. you don’t want to go, but charlotte says she misses you. so, you go. 

and you see chris and george and arthur frederick and isaac. they are nice to you because they are nice to everyone. you can see it in their eyes, though, the knowledge of how different everything is. 

arthur spots you and you spot him and time seems to be frozen. he waves and you wave back. then, he turns away to continue his conversation. 

if your heart is even still in your chest it shatters a little more.

the first drink of the night is strong and meant to numb your pain. it gets disturbed by george who leans against the kitchen island next to you and crosses his arms.

“he misses you.” he says. you choke on your drink and put your cup down.

“i doubt that.” you respond when your voice is back. george’s jaw tightens. 

“you know he does. he just… he doesn’t know what to do. he doesn’t want to hurt you.”

it sucks that you laugh, but you can’t help it. 

“well, it’s a little late for that now, isn’t it, george?” 

you leave him in the kitchen and make your way through the crowd, in desperate need of a cigarette on the balcony. 

now

going back to smoking had been a last resort. some strange way of trying to become someone else. when you smoked at 18, you had convinced yourself you were over arthur. not because of the smoking but.. because of who you were when you stood outside the club with strangers who smoked just like you. talking to them, some of them becoming one night stands or even guys you dated briefly… it somehow made it all easier. even though it never really was. 

“you started again?” 

the noise of the city had drowned out the sound of the sliding door opening and closing. it did a poor job of drowning out his voice, sadly. 

“go back to your party.” you don’t look at him. london is far more interesting. 

that is a lie.

nothing is as interesting as arthur hill to you.

arthur sighs and takes a few steps towards you.

“i am sorry. i shouldn’t have… i shouldn’t have just ghosted you.”

you appreciate it. a little bit. because, yeah, it hadn’t been nice to be ghosted, but perhaps it had truly been the only right thing for him to do. 

you take another drag from your cigarette.

“it’s okay, arthur.”

“no. no, it’s not. you’re my best friend and-,”

“and that’s the problem.” 

maybe it was the alcohol or seeing him again, but somehow all of your pent up emotions suddenly wanted to be freed. 

arthur said your name, hand reaching out, but you turned around, looking right at him, seeing his arm in the air, still. his eyes met yours and a lump formed in your throat, joined by tears burning in your eyes.

“i know it’s not fair, arthur. i know it’s nor fair and not right to expect you to feel the same way about me. but, fuck, do you even know how much it hurts to love someone so much and have them not love you back? do you even know… can you even imagine how hard it is to see you everyday and want you? knowing full well you don’t want me? being in love with you has broken me, arthur, and yet i never stopped. i never gave up, foolish, silly me.” 

you sob now, tears freely running down your face and you feel more alive than you ever have before. 

“a part of me just wanted to believe that maybe- yeah, maybe you could love me back one day. see me the way i see you. so, i told you. because all of the hopes began to crush me. all these feelings were too much and i- i just needed to breathe. breathe and not have every breath be for you, for the hope of an us.”

ash falls onto the floor, the cigarette just burning by itself in your hand. 

arthur is stunned, too stunned to say a word. and it proves your mind right again. mind, one, heart, zero. 

but then he moves and he’s right there in front of you and his hands grab yours, the cigarette falling to the floor, about to be forgotten.

“i am so sorry. i am so fucking sorry for being a coward and an idiot and for- for not, fuck, for not seeing you.”

his fingers feel hot and cold against your skin, your brain not catching up with his words.

“the truth is, when you told me how you felt, i couldn’t… i couldn’t really let go off what we were for all those years. you’re my best friend, yes, but- but you’re also so much more than that.”

you barely register when his right hand moves to your cheek, wiping away the tears.

“when you told me you loved me i was scared. so fucking scared. because i had suppressed any kind of feelings for you for so long because i never wanted to jeopardise our friendship, i never wanted to-,” his voice breaks and he tries to find more words to say, to explain, to make you understand. “i am an idiot. an idiot who loves you, too. who loves you and has loved you and will forever love you.”

perspective is a funny thing.

because what you interpreted as resentment towards you had actually been arthur resenting himself. 

“why did it take you two months to say this?” you whisper.

“i was scared. told you, i am a coward.” he whispers back. 

you swallow down the lump.

“are you too much of a coward to kiss me then?” 

“no. i’ll never be a coward again.”

now

going back to smoking had been a last resort. some strange way of trying to become someone else. when you smoked at 18, you had convinced yourself you were over arthur. not because of the smoking but.. because of who you were when you stood outside the club with strangers who smoked just like you. talking to them, some of them becoming one night stands or even guys you dated briefly… it somehow made it all easier. even though it never really was. 

“you started again?” 

the noise of the city had drowned out the sound of the sliding door opening and closing. it did a poor job of drowning out his voice, sadly. 

“go back to your party.” you don’t look at him. london is far more interesting. 

that is a lie.

nothing is as interesting as arthur hill to you.

arthur sighs and takes a few steps towards you.

“i am sorry. i shouldn’t have… i shouldn’t have just ghosted you.”

you appreciate it. a little bit. because, yeah, it hadn’t been nice to be ghosted, but perhaps it had truly been the only right thing for him to do. 

you take another drag from your cigarette.

“it’s okay, arthur.”

“no. no, it’s not. you’re my best friend and-,”

“and that’s the problem.” 

maybe it was the alcohol or seeing him again, but somehow all of your pent up emotions suddenly wanted to be freed. 

arthur said your name, hand reaching out, but you turned around, looking right at him, seeing his arm in the air, still. his eyes met yours and a lump formed in your throat, joined by tears burning in your eyes.

“i know it’s not fair, arthur. i know it’s nor fair and not right to expect you to feel the same way about me. but, fuck, do you even know how much it hurts to love someone so much and have them not love you back? do you even know… can you even imagine how hard it is to see you everyday and want you? knowing full well you don’t want me? being in love with you has broken me, arthur, and yet i never stopped. i never gave up, foolish, silly me.” 

you sob now, tears freely running down your face and you feel more alive than you ever have before. 

“a part of me just wanted to believe that maybe- yeah, maybe you could love me back one day. see me the way i see you. so, i told you. because all of the hopes began to crush me. all these feelings were too much and i- i just needed to breathe. breathe and not have every breath be for you, for the hope of an us.”

ash falls onto the floor, the cigarette just burning by itself in your hand. 

arthur is stunned, too stunned to say a word. and it proves your mind right again. mind, one, heart, zero. 

but then he moves and he’s right there in front of you and his hands grab yours, the cigarette falling to the floor, about to be forgotten.

“i am so sorry. i am so fucking sorry for being a coward and an idiot and for- for not, fuck, for not seeing you.”

his fingers feel hot and cold against your skin, your brain not catching up with his words.

“the truth is, when you told me how you felt, i couldn’t… i couldn’t really let go off what we were for all those years. you’re my best friend, yes, but- but you’re also so much more than that.”

you barely register when his right hand moves to your cheek, wiping away the tears.

“when you told me you loved me i was scared. so fucking scared. because i had suppressed any kind of feelings for you for so long because i never wanted to jeopardise our friendship, i never wanted to-,” his voice breaks and he tries to find more words to say, to explain, to make you understand. “i am an idiot. an idiot who loves you, too. who loves you and has loved you and will forever love you.”

perspective is a funny thing.

because what you interpreted as resentment towards you had actually been arthur resenting himself. 

“why did it take you two months to say this?” you whisper.

“i was scared. told you, i am a coward.” he whispers back. 

you swallow down the lump.

“are you too much of a coward to kiss me then?” 

“no. i’ll never be a coward again.”

now

the air outside is chilly. you finish your cigarette. 

and arthur never steps outside to tell you he loves you.

because he doesn't.

your life goes on and so does his.

and the constant in your life that was arthur hill slowly disappears.

until all that’s left is the memory of what never was and never will be. 

___________________________________________________

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Getting caught 4+1 - [Arthur Frederick (TV)]

Summary: Getting caught 4 + 1 (or, 4 times Arthur an Y/N almost accidentally revealed their relationship, and the one time they did)

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings: sexual innuendos and alcohol, other than that it's fine

Not based on but the first part was inspired by this arthur fic! As well as prompts from the amazing @creativepromptsforwritinghttps that I always love <33 It's a bit of a longer one so sit down and enjoy, I hope you guys like this!

masterlist - main masterlist

It was at their friends' house-warming, Chris’ initiative, when they had their first scare of getting caught.

Arthur and Y/N had been mingling around for a bit before making their relationship official a little over a month before, just days before Y/N left for a few weeks in Italy. Y/N was standing in front of their friends' house with a bottle of gin and a small plant as Chris opened the door with a smile. “Hey! How’s it going?” He asks as he hugs the twenty-four-year-old. “Good, good. Congrats on the new place, by the way, have you and the boys been settling in alright?” She asks as she makes her way inside. “Yeah, it’s different from before, but I’m getting used to it,” he admits as she hands him the gifts. “Oh, I got you some decoration, and something nice for tonight or whenever,” she explains, and he thankfully smiles. “Ah, thank you so much, that’s lovely! You can put your jacket in the closet right there.” He motions to a closet door as she takes off her jacket, which she hangs up. “I’m glad you could make it tonight, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! We need to plan a proper catch-up soon,” she chuckles as they make their way to the living room. “That’s what you get when you decide to be busy right when I come back from four weeks in Italy, mate. But yes, we need to arrange something. Oh, I love the posters, by the way!” 

Chris doesn’t realise why the jumper she’s wearing looks familiar until Arthur walks into the living room. “Wait, doesn’t Arthur have a hoodie just like this?” He asks, interrupting their chat about beers. Her eyes grow a little wide as she looks down at the hoodie she’s wearing, that is clearly Arthur’s. She was in a rush before leaving, as usual, and pulled on the first hoodie she saw, thinking she wouldn’t need it indoors anyway, not considering it wouldn’t be as crowded when she arrived. “Oh, really? I just got this the other day, I had no clue! That's so funny,” she says, half a beat too late, which was just long enough for Chris not to notice. “Yeah, I mean, I guess it makes sense for you to have the same style a bit since you’re a bit alike, although your clothing isn’t that similar,” she simply shrugs, as she glances at Arthur. He was wearing a Fellas hoodie — the one she desperately took off him less than 24 hours ago. He looks her way as he’s making his way around greeting people, arriving at the couch soon enough. Chris stands up and greets him as they have a quick conversation as she stands up and straightens her skirt. “Hi, nice to see you again. How was Italy?” He asks, and she giggles as they hug. “Like you don’t know,” she whispers, making him chuckle, before she answers. Chris softly touches her shoulder, “I’m gonna go and socialise a bit, we’ll plan something proper, yeah?” She nods, “Yeah, yeah, go ahead, they’re your guests!” She exclaims. “Don’t hide and play chess, have some fun, yeah?” He pats Arthur’s back with a chuckle before moving over, making his old friend roll his eyes before turning back to his girlfriend. “We almost got caught, he rec-,” the girl stops her sentence as she notices George Clarke making his way to the pair. “Yeah, I’ll send you the name for when you go to Rome,” she mentions, as George joins them. “Hello friends! Y/N, it’s been forever, how are you doing!” She smiles as she embraces her friend, “It has been! Good, good, good, lovely place you have! How’s everything going?”

As they make conversation and drink, Arthur and Y/N keep locking eyes. She smiles shyly when he nonchalantly bites his lips, and leans against the back couch. God, that’s fucking hot. George leaves to get more drinks, as they were all about half a drink away from being tipsy, and she immediately scoots closer to her boyfriend. “We almost got caught. Chris noticed the jumper,” she quietly says, as he puts his arm on the back of the couch besides her, looking at her intensely. “Hmm, did he,” he says absent-mindedly. She glances around and stands up, her hand softly grazing his leg. “If George asks, I’m going to the bathroom. You can find me on Chris’ balcony,” she says, low enough for no-one to hear. His eyes follow her as she walks away, and he takes the last sip of his drink as she makes her way around the corner to go up the stairs. “Where’d she go?” George asks, interrupting his, admittedly not very faithful, thoughts. He coughs, “Bathroom. Thanks,” He says, accepting the drink George made him. “Ah. They’re playing Beer Pong in the kitchen, d’you wanna join?” He asks, and Arthur shakes his head. “Not today, but you can go. I’ll let Y/N know when she gets back,” he simply says, and George nods. “Alright, alright,” he simply says before leaving the twenty-eight-year-old to sit by himself. 

“Well, hello,” She turns around at Arthur’s soft voice with a smile as he closes the door to the balcony. “Hey baby. How was the meeting?” She asks, and he shrugs. “It was alright. Would’ve rather stayed in bed with you this morning, though,” his comment makes her cheeks flush red. How this man still had her feeling like a girl with a school crush was incredible, but she loved it. “You have me now,” she says, Arthur putting one hand on her wrist, the other around her waist pulling her closer. “Wish I didn’t have to share you, though,” he says when their faces are mere inches apart, pressing his lips to hers. Despite having seen each other every day since, they craved each other as much as they did when he picked her up at the airport after four weeks of not seeing each other. “Do we go back inside before us being gone becomes suspicious, or…” Arthur shakes his head, “no, I’m keeping you to myself for a little longer.”

The second time they almost get caught they were in a similar setting, though this time the party was George’s. 

It was their six months anniversary, and although they didn’t necessarily want to celebrate every single anniversary, they did tend to spend every 10th of the month together. They’d much rather be cuddled up with some comfort food with a movie on the background, simply enjoying each other’s company and chats — instead, they found themselves chatting to friends as they’re waiting to go home tipsy. She’d asked before they left, getting ready at Arthur’s flat after ordering in. “Are you actively drinking tonight?” She turns away from the mirror doing her makeup for a second to look at Arthur rummaging through his closet. “I mean, I don’t think I want to get too drunk. Maybe if we don’t make it too late we can come back here, maybe have a drink by ourselves to celebrate half a year?” You nod, “Yeah, sounds perfect. Just a few drinks, I would like to get to enjoy you tonight,” she smirks, and he sends her a smile through the mirror. “Oh! Before you get dressed, I got you something,” he realises, quickly getting out of his room. He returns with a pink and white striped bag, “just something small,” he says, a bit flushed. She looks up at him before she takes out the wrapped present, and looks at him with a sly smile, “Ohhh this is exactly the right colour. Oh my god that’s so nice,” She smiles as she takes out the lingerie, and looks at him nervously smiling. “Is it good? I didn’t know if you’d like the model,” She nods, “yeah, yeah. It’s so beautiful,” she says, moving towards him. “Suits you,” he whispers as he grabs her hips. She chuckles, putting her arms around his shoulders. “Thank you,” she says, giving him a kiss. “I was going to take you out to dinner today, but you know… We’ll do that somewhere this week.” 

She's simply chatting with George, pulling down her shirt to show her tan they were talking about. “Wait, did you get that bra from Arthur?” He chuckles, and her eyes go wide. “What? Why’d you think that?” She asks confused. “I swear he bought something in the colour just like that, he said his sister needed it to be picked up in London so he picked it up for her,” She quickly shakes her head in denial. “No, I got this for Christmas last year. Don’t know why Arthur would give me it,” She explains, and he looks at over at him and back at her. “Hmm, I don’t know, either,” he says suspiciously, taking another sip of his drink before she swiftly changes the conversation topic. “Oh, I saw you did the Sidemen video we were talking about before I left, how was it?”

Y/N nudges Arthur as she sits down next to him on the couch, “Want to explain why George knew about the bra?” She asks. He looks up from his phone in surprise, “What?!” He asks, and she giggles. “He said, and I quote, ‘Did you get that bra from Arthur?’, because you bought it when he was there,” She explains, and he chuckles. “Yeah, I did buy it when he was there. Wait, no, actually, why did he even see it?!” He asks in surprise. “We were talking about tanning and I showed him my tan line, so he saw the bra strap,” Arthur nods suspiciously at the explanation. “Uh-huh. Well, I won’t buy it when George is there next time. And you shouldn’t show him your bra!” She jokingly rolls her eyes, “I wasn’t just showing my bra!” Arthur laughs at her reaction and looks back at her with a smile. “Hmm. Well, I do want to see it. Should we go?” She looks down at the time. They’d been here for about three and a half hours, and it seemed socially acceptable to leave. “Yeah. I’ll grab my bag, and we go say goodbye.”

The third time, was the closest it ever got, at the Sidemen anniversary party.

They were glad it wasn’t someone already suspecting something, because if it was the couple definitely would’ve been found out. It wasn’t even a special evening to them, they’d already spend the entire week together and wanted to treat it as a casual night out with friends. It was going to be a fun occasion to get drunk, but Arthur knew that idea was thrown out the window when he saw her in a casual-chic black dress that suited her way too perfectly. He was glad the other boys weren’t there yet when he arrived at her place, where the group had agreed to meet, because he was just too stunned to speak. He was wearing a matching black shirt, with some casual white pants underneath. God, he looked insanely hot in it, and Y/N couldn’t help but voice the thought the second he took off his jacket. The rolled up sleeves, the two top buttons open, the little bit of chest — this outfit was really doing it for her. The same could be said about Arthur, who couldn’t keep himself away from her, constantly whispering compliments, touching her dress or staring at her. It was a dangerous game they were playing that evening, and they knew it all too well.

The party was very much going when they both had to use the bathroom, and they walked through the crowd holding hands. The bathrooms were not in the view from the dance floor, in a seemingly deserted hallway. So when Y/N had come back from the bathroom to Arthur just standing there, on his phone, she couldn’t resist. He looks up at the sound of her walking over, “You look so god-damn handsome,” she expresses, fixing his collar. “You look just as beautiful,” he says, softly grabbing her waist. He shamelessly scans her body for the umpteenth time that evening, and she simply looks at him, grinning. She gets closer to his face, making him gulp. “We make a hot looking couple, don’t we?” She questions, and he nods in response. “We sure do,” he lowly whispers, feeling her breath. Unable to resist any longer, he pulls her closer, pressing his lips on hers. The entire evening full of tension waiting to be released was felt as they passionately kissed each other. All they want is to pull each other as close as physically possible, only pausing to take a quick breath. Arthur has just turned them around, pressing her against the wall as a form of support, when they hear a cough. “Oh, sorry guys, sorry, sorry!” She gasps as she hears Harry’s voice, moving away from Arthur the second she hears the door lock. “Oh my god,” she says, and she looks at Arthur, who seems a bit stunned. “I forgot this wasn’t just an abandoned hallway, oh my god. Should I go in to like, talk to him?” She bites her lip as she fixes her dress. “Hmm, don’t bring it up, and if he didn’t recognise you, you didn’t see a thing. If he did see you, act like I’m a random influencer. And in the worst case scenario that he saw me too… He’ll keep quiet. I hope.” Lucky for them, all Harry asked Arthur is if he also saw a couple making out in the hallway, to which he said no. 

The fourth time was perfectly avoidable, if they hadn't been in the same room.

Sharing a room during the friend group skiing trip was a bad idea. They knew that. But George and Chris were sharing a room, and Harry and Will were, it was a logical thing. It would be, at least, if Y/N hadn’t always been the one to get the room for one, being the only girl or non-girlfriend. But they’d been careful, and all the previous close calls were long enough ago that it wouldn’t look suspicious. Right?

Arthur and Y/N had gone back to the lodge directly after dinner, tired from the long day of snowboarding after a late night filled with drinking games. They took a nice long shower in their en-suite bathroom — realistically their only time together without the lingering thought of one of their friends being able to hear. Whilst the rest was still partying in one of the ski huts, they decided to crawl into bed, watching a movie. They figured their friends would be back late enough for them to have gone to bed, so it wasn’t a surprise that they were already asleep when their friends got back. They’d come back around 11PM, surprised to find the living room area abandoned. “Have they gone to bed already?” Will asks, and Harry simply shrugs. “Y/N especially was pretty tired, I wouldn’t be surprised,” George expresses, and the rest of the boys agree. “Yeah, but Arthur too?” Chris simply shrugs, too tired to care. “You can go check on them, if you’re worried, but they’ll probably just show up by the morning either way,” Harry says, sitting down on the couch. “Hmm. I’m going to change, I’ll just check and see if they’re not kidnapped, or doing something I don’t want to see,” he jokes, making the other boys chuckle. Since they’d confirmed the rooms together, there’d been an ongoing joke about how long it would take for them to get off together— oblivious to how long they’d been doing that already. “For your own wellbeing, knock,” Chris calls after him, as the northerner walks up the stairs. Walking past their room, he softly knocks, not hearing any response. He opens the door and looks into the room to see the pair cuddled up, Y/N’s against Arthur’s chest and their arms intertwined. He recognises Arthur’s laptop on what looks to be Y/N’s night stand, and chuckles. Will didn’t want to assume anything, of course, so he decided not to. He quietly closes the door before walking to his own room.  “They were sleeping already, both of them,” is all he tells the other boys. 

When they finally get found out, it still comes as a shock, despite the ongoing joke.

Although Will didn’t tell anyone how he’d caught them in bed together during the skiing trip, the joke kept going. It had become the name of a group chat, they were constantly gossiping and were just waiting for the pair, who realistically didn’t show any signs of dating each other, to announce their relationship. They were so invested, that when they finally discover they were, in fact, in a relationship, it was almost like the boys were the ones that got caught. 

It was about a month after the skiing trip, and they had all gathered in Chris, George and Arthur Hill’s shared flat before a night out. Arthur and Y/N were in Chris’ bedroom getting ready, whilst the others were in the living room having drinks. “Have you noticed they keep talking about us?” He asks her, and she laughs, “Oh my god yeah. Their group chat is named Arthur&Y/N fans,” she exclaims, putting on her necklace. “It’s so funny, they really think we don’t realise they keep gossiping about us whilst they actually have no clue what’s actually going on,” he chuckles, walking over to help her out. “I know. Should we just, like, act like we’ve told them? And then watch them be confused,” she says, as he clicks the necklace together. “Thank you,” she softly expresses, and his hands move down, head leaning on her shoulder. “Ahh, yeah, that’d be hilarious. Imagine their reaction when we say we’ve been together for a year now,” he says, kissing her cheek. She giggles, looking at them in the mirror they were standing in front of. “It’s been the best year. I love you,” She turns her head to give him a kiss. “And I love you,” he says, pulling back. “Okay, we should make our way out there, or they will actually think we fucked.”

They make their way back to the living room separately, her going to the bathroom first. When she’s come back, they’re all gathered on and around the couch, playing a game of never have I ever. “Never have I ever… Kissed someone in this room on the lips,” Will says, making the group laugh. George and Arthur Hill raise their glass to each other before both taking a sip, and Chris looks up thinking. “Surely we have at some point, like, Maddie’s party?” Arthur asks Chris, reminding him of their days in Jersey. “Oh yeah, for sure,” he says laughing at the memory, the both of them taking a sip. As they discuss whether Stephen and Will’s accidental touching of lips counts, Y/N giggles, taking a sip. Only Arthur sees it, having kept an eye on her, and smirks as Will and Stephen take a sip. “Okay, next one. Drink if you’ve been on a date in the past week,” George asks, and Chris groans. “You’re targeting me,” he says, taking another sip of his drink, making George laugh. Arthur also takes a sip, making the boys look at him. “And who have you been out on a date with, Mr. Television?” He shrugs. “I went to a museum with the girl I’ve been going out with,” he simply says, not elaborating any further, even as the rest are looking at him expectantly. They all share a confused look as Y/N mumbles to herself. “Oh, was it this week? I guess it counts huh,” she takes a sip, which only Arthur Hill, sitting next to her, notices. He nudges her, “You went on a date? With who?” She nods, “Hmm. With my boyfriend,”  she casually says, and he looks at her shocked. “Your what?! Am I the last one to find out about this?“ She shakes her head, “No, one of the first. D’you need another drink?” Arthur shakes his head in confusion as she stands up and walks to the kitchen. She looks over to see most of them still had a drink. “Harry, another one?” She asks, holding up a beer bottle. “Uh yes, please,” she grabs another one, already opening it for him. She grabs one of the vodka-sprites her boyfriend was drinking, and hands him the can before handing Harry his beer and sitting back down. “I reckon we do that card game from last week and then go? Get us a bit further but doesn’t take too long,” Chris suggests, and they all agree. “Oh, I have the cards in my room, sorry, I’ll get them.”

When they’re all getting ready to leave the house, they’re all a bit more tipsy, everyone moving around grabbing their stuff. “Do you still have my keys?” Y/N asks Arthur, who’s chatting with Harry. “Oh, yeah, sorry,” he says, grabbing them from his pocket. “No, it’s fine, just wanted to be sure I hadn’t lost them. Do I need to keep yours in my bag?” She asks, and he nods, “Yes, please.” She naturally grabs his keys from his jacket, taking the typical girlfriend role of keeping his stuff. “What if you guys lose each other, and you can’t give him his keys?” Harry wonders, and they look at each other with a giggle. “We’re going home together, so we won’t leave without each other either way,” she explains, and Harry nods in understanding, but then looks between them as the implications catch up with him. Before he can say anything, they’ve both walked off doing their own things. Y/N goes to the bathroom, walking back to Arthur when she's done. “Excited to go out?” She asks, as he hands her his jacket. “Yeah, I am, it’s been a while. It’s cold out, wear it. I know you didn't bring anything and I have my hoodie,” She takes it with a sigh, “Fine. Thank you,” she says, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. She grabs his hand, and they walk to the kitchen, where most of the guys are, grabbing a drink for on the go. “Where are we going, actually?” She asks the group as she opens her canned cocktail. “We’ll be walking to Cuckoo’s and see if any of the places there are anything exciting today,” Chris says, and she nods, “cool,” before turning to her boyfriend again. “Are we going to yours then? We could just walk instead of taking an Uber to mine,” she softly asks him. His hand his on her back as he looks down at her, “Yeah, that’s fine,” he says as she leans against him, looking at all their friends chatting. “Are we actually waiting for anyone?” She thinks out loud, looking around the group. “Just George and Harry going to the bathroom, I think,” she nods as she makes her way over to the door, sitting down to put on her sneakers. Arthur gives her a hand and she stands up, quickly thanking him with a kiss. George looks around the group of guys, all too stunned to speak. “I wasn’t the only one that saw that, right?” Will shakes his head. “No, what’s going on there, mate?” He asks, whilst Arthur Hill points at the couple. “So he IS the boyfriend!” He exclaims, making the pair blush lightly. “Right, okay, well. Did you guys just start dating, or?” Chris asks curiously, and Y/N rolls her eyes. “We know you’ve bet on it, and you’ve all lost, so I reckon we get the money. Unless anyone bet on before the skiing trip?” She asks, and they all shake their heads. All the guys have similar facial expressions, a combination of shock and getting caught. Will is the first to speak up, “so, how long have you been dating, then? Because I saw you all cuddly during the skiing trip, but I didn’t want to assume,” he admits, and Arthur looks at her with a sheepish grin. He puts his arm around her pulling her closer, “Well, we’ve been together for a year, next week,” he casually says, and chaos ensues. All sorts of surprised expressions come out, mixed with words of betrayal such as “how could you do this” and excitement. “A year ago, so that’s… Wait, you weren’t together before we lived here, were you?” Chris wonders. “Well… We got together just before I went away to Milan for a month, so you were about to move in,” Y/N explains, and he nods. “Fuck, that’s a while, oh my god,” Y/N and Arthur simply laugh at all their friends’ reactions. “Wait wait wait, at the Sidemen party, when I saw those people kissing, was that actually just you?” Harry asks, and Arthur scratches his head whilst Y/N looks down in embarrassment. “Yeah, we honestly thought you saw us,” Arthur admits, cheeks turned red as Harry laughs. “Okay, enough of us, let’s go,” Y/N says, opening the door. She grabs Arthur’s hand, pulling him with her, and the rest of the guys all follow them laughing. “Don’t think this is it, we need the details!!”

[ukytblr]

feel the rush, taste the crush [george + harry + will]

a dark, sweaty night on the dance floor with your boys. someone requested some smut with these three and I thought I’d get a little creative. :)

(ib: make you mine - madison beer)

closer I get, can you resist? it's relentless it's why I wanna feel the rush I wanna taste the crush I wanna get you going I wanna lay you down I wanna string you out I wanna make you mine

hot steamy smutty goodness

shit gets a lil gay at the end!! happy days!

MDNI, 18+ !!!

—

the blaring music pulses through your veins on the dance floor, where you've been with george, harry, and will for what seems like hours. it's the kind of night where it feels like you're moving in slow motion — it's late, it's both too dark and too bright from the flashing lights, you're anonymous in a sea of people. you feel weightless, your eyes closed as you grind on the boys carelessly, your body exposed and up for grabs, though only to be taken by hands you trust with your life.

you'd developed a unique friendship with george, harry, and will over the last year or two. they knew you'd had a few bad experiences with men in the past, especially in clubs, when you'd been drinking. they'd become so protective of you, your sweet boys, and they always wanted to stay close to you to keep other men away, to keep you safe...

"well then, my little guard dogs," you start one night, pouting at the three of them with big eyes, pausing to brush will's hair out of his face. "since I gather no one else is allowed near me anymore, does that mean you pretty boys are gonna dance with me tonight?" you had worn something especially sexy, curious to see how they'd behave. could they keep up the "protective" façade, or accept the truth? they weren't protective. they were possessive. they wanted you, all to themselves.

and who were you to deny them? they danced with you that night, sure. and then they escorted you home like the gentlemen they were, where you're fairly certain your feet didn't touch the floor until the next morning, as they took turns... protecting you.

you were quite pleased with how this little dynamic had played out. your friendship to the outside world stayed as normal as any, but behind closed doors, they’d treat you like a princess, and then like a shared toy, and then like a princess again.

you feel the boys' hands crawling over your skin — gripping your waist, caressing your curves. an arm flung around your shoulders stretches across your chest, holding you in a loose headlock as you let your head fall back onto whoever's shoulder the arm belongs to, you're not even sure.

you sway your hips against them, your short skirt riding up from the friction, and you feel a hand slide under to grab your bum. a mouth attaches to your neck, and yours falls open in a sigh at the sensation. the rim of a bottle touches your lips as someone pours cold beer down your throat, followed by the heat of a kiss you know belongs to george. your tongue unfurls to meet his, and you feel will's teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder, all of their hands grabbing at any part of you they can.

the hand on your arse, which you've now deduced to be harry's, slides further between your legs, and you gasp into george's mouth. will and george’s bodies instantly press harder against you, trapping you between the three of them, and you feel your heart start to race. will buries his fingers into your curls and tugs lightly, tilting your head to the side, and you feel pure want start to flood your veins.

harry's hot breath makes your hair stand on end as he kisses up the back of your neck towards your ear. he presses his fingers to the dampening fabric of your underwear, making you shudder.

"you want my fingers, baby?" harry rasps in your ear, his voice rough from a night of shouting over loud music. your eyes flutter from the words alone and you nod immediately, but will pulls you away from george by your hair, making you inhale sharply. "use ye words, love. you know how this works."

you nod at will and turn to harry, his eyes dark and hungry. "yes please," you offer with a pleading look, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. he presses his fingers into you again, just to watch you squirm and squeak, before pushing your head towards will. you obediently lock tongues with him as george gives attention to the other side of your neck, both boys sliding hands up your torso to claim your chest.

harry pulls your panties to the side, tucking them around his wrist and running a featherlight touch of his fingertip through your slick folds, making you whimper and grind into him desperately. you stand on your toes to give him easier access, leaning on the others, begging him to give you what you need, and you hear him chuckle behind you softly. “such a needy little girl,” he tuts, nipping at your ear before slowly pushing a thick finger into your wet heat. a low moan pours out of you into will's mouth, the adrenaline instantly going to your head as he picks up the pace.

the club is so impossibly loud, there's no world in which anyone but the boys could hear you, and it's so disorienting that all anybody could see from a passing glance is four fully clothed friends drunkenly dancing close together. nevertheless, george digs his nails into your side gently. "behave yourself now, darling.”

will sucks your lip as he and george both tease your nipples over your thin top, harry pumping in and out of you roughly. he adds a second finger abruptly, pushing a whine from your throat as you wrap your arm behind you to pull his hair, gripping onto george's shirt with the other.

every touch sets your nerves on fire. the thrill of being in public, the salacious intimacy between you and your friends clawing at you hungrily, the tightening sensation in your core. george snakes a strong, veiny hand down your body, slipping his fingers under the front of your skirt, just as will steps in to hide you fully from the view of passersby.

george groans into your neck as he comes into contact with your dripping cunt, still fully exposed where harry pulled your underwear away. "fuck, always so wet for us... so warm," he murmurs reverently. he drags slow circles around your clit, harry's fingers curling inside of you, and you mewl at the dual attack on your core. will wraps a light hand around your throat, pulling you in for a deep kiss again to quiet your moans. your eyebrows knit together as you writhe against the three of them, your head spinning at the sensory overload.

"keep dancing, pretty girl," harry mutters in your ear. "give us a little show." you roll your hips obediently, gyrating sensually, pushing his knuckles deeper into your pussy and grinding back and forth on the pads of george's fingertips. your head falls back as will tightens his grip into a choke, and your knees nearly buckle under you, but you know there are far too many strong arms wrapped around you for you to fall. "we've got you, doll," will hums, squeezing the sides of your neck as your eyes roll closed. "you're not goin' nowhere."

they take turns kissing you, swallowing your breathy moans and whimpers, passing your mouth around like a spliff. suddenly, you feel harry pull his fingers away and you whine at the lost contact. before you can question why, he coaxes your lips open with the wet-soaked digits, pressing them against your out-stretched tongue. you close your lips around them and get to work sucking them clean, eyes locked on his.

your vision of harry blurs as a new pair of slightly thinner, but distinctly longer, fingers fill you, grazing the spongey spot in your gut that makes your eyes roll back — will's. you release a low, wanton groan, swiftly wrapping your lips back around harry's fingers to stifle the lewd noises pouring from you. "shh shh, s'alright darling," he soothes, his other hand stroking your hair and cheek as you feel the coil in your stomach tightening, george and will working in tandem to push you over the edge. “such a pretty little mess for us.”

you shake, tears stinging in your eyes, as you pull harry's fingers from your mouth and pull him in for a frenzied kiss. in a moment of desperate need, you reach out and grab george by the back of the neck, greedily locking tongues with him. you whine into his mouth, unbearably close to orgasm… and when you feel harry's tongue join in, you break. will's fingers pound into you as you spill over them, falling apart as george doesn’t budge from your aching clit.

harry and george's tongues sliding against yours, together, was like something you'd never experienced, and it sent shivers up your spine as you greedily rode out your high against will's fingers.

he grabs you by the jaw as he pulls them out, ripping you away from the kiss, and gives you his fingers to clean just as harry did. you grin at him cheekily as you take his hand in yours and slowly suck his fingers clean, looking up at him through your lashes. he runs his other hand through your hair and pulls at the root gently, before tugging you up towards him for a kiss and entangling his tongue with yours. you lean into him, and quickly feel the warmth of harry and george’s bodies closing in next to you. this time, not one, but two more tongues greet yours and will’s. the four of you kiss, messy and drunk and uncoordinated and full of sheer love. you giggle into them, happily blissed out — the boys all warm and sweet on your tongue, your hands gliding around each other’s bodies.

slowly you peel apart, intertwined tongues fading to soft little pecks. you start to move to the beat of the music once more. soon you’re dancing exactly as you were half an hour ago, like nothing had even happened.

[ukytblr]

time and place - chrismd // after seeing chris play in the charity match there truly isn't anything else you can do but fuck him in the bathroom once it's over.

genre: smut (MDNI!!)

pairing: chrismd x f!reader

wc: 1.3k

smut warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, slight dirty talk, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie

your high school teacher mrs. rogers always used to say that there was a time and place for everything. that the right etiquette during your day to day lives would surely bring you far. 

you wonder what she would think of her star student right now, if she’d hold her wrinkly hands with the many rings on each finger over her eyes and scream or if she’d simply yell at you, once again, time and place!

not that you cared much about her opinion now, almost a decade after finishing high school. not to mention that she just wouldn’t get it. she hadn’t been the one to see her boyfriend score the sexiest goal of the sidemen charity match, she hadn’t witnessed her boyfriend being the absolute best player out there. no, that had all been you. 

chris was magnificent on the field. in the starting eleven as expected, playing like a small but powerful god. and, fuck, when he scored that free kick goal, you knew right then and there it was over for you. chris knew you liked watching him play football, that you enjoyed his videos and were his biggest supporter. but you hadn’t dated when he was in the charity match the last time, so you had never truly seen him play in an actual match before. not in front of ninety thousand people at least and definitely not scoring such a clean, perfect goal. 

so, while you watched him assist theo on his goals and watched him defend and dribble - you felt yourself grow more and more hungry for your absolute beast of a boyfriend. and when they won 90 minutes later, when they got their medals and got celebrated on the field, you slowly made your way down the rows of seats, your hands itching to touch him. 

you and the other partners of the players were allowed on the pitch and you ran over to chris, him beaming when he spotted you. he caught you in his arms, wrapping them around you as yours found their familiar spot around his neck. he laughed into your ear and you pressed yourself against him, fingers in his hair.

“you were incredible out there,” you whispered into his ear, moving slightly back to look into his eyes. chris felt his breath getting stuck in his throat. he knew that look in your eyes. knew the way you held him, the way your body melted against his. fuck. he looked around the field, making sure no one was close by to hear.

“you liked it?” he asked breathlessly and you nodded, biting down on your lip.

“so fucking much.” your eyes were sparkling in the afternoon sun and chris held back a groan. you were going to be the death of him. 

which finally lead to why mrs. rogers would surely be disappointed in you. 

your back hits the wall of the bathroom stall, your legs wrapped around chris’ waist as his hands hold you up, his lips pressing against yours. god, it feels so good to kiss him. to have him this close. 

“you were so fucking sexy, scoring that goal, babe.” you moan against his lips and he chuckles, lips moving down to your neck. you whimper when he sucks on your skin.

“yeah? if i had known you get this horny from me playing football with my mates i’d have started a charity match myself ages ago.” he moves his hands underneath your skirt, shoving down your thighs and panties in one go, letting your feet touch the floor for only a moment before getting you back up.

“fuck, chris, you don’t even know, i need you so bad.” you pout down at him, chest heaving and chris’ smirks cockily. 

“i think i’ll find out soon enough.” and that he does. his fingers glide to your core, feeling your drenched folds and he groans, pressing another kiss to your neck.

“god, fuck, you are fucking dripping for me, baby.” he pushes two fingers inside you with little to no resistance and his cock twitches in his shorts. he needs to get out of these and take you the way you need him to. 

“chris!” you cry out his name when he begins to finger fuck you against the wall, your head falling backwards. every second of that game you had fantasised about him and you and about what you’d do after the game. how terribly pathetic of you to not even make it home.

“so, so wet, so ready for me.” chris mumbles, bringing his lips back to yours and kissing you with so much vigour it makes you drip down his fingers. his tongue runs over your lips and you gladly let him in, your hands now moving to his cheeks. oh, how much you love this man. 

“fuck me, chris, please, i need you so bad.” the words are a whisper against his lips and chris feels himself falling impatient too. so, he does as asked. shoving his shorts and underwear down, he stands hard and proud, skilfully positioning himself with your entrance, fingers pulled out and back to grabbing your ass. he licks over his lips as he watches your face, his cock slowly but surely skining into you.

every inch feels like heaven and when he bottoms out, you can’t help but moan his name, fingers digging into his scalp. 

and then he begins to fuck you. fucks you like he knows you want it, like he knows you need it. his hips move in quick pace, his cock getting hugged by your walls like an old friend and, shit, he won’t ever grow tired of it.

“feel so good.” you whimper, kissing him again and chris squeezes your ass as he thrusts harder into you. there is an after-party he definitely needs to attend - that both of you need to attend, and just the fact you have suddenly disappeared from the activities is going to be suspicious. 

“you’re driving me crazy, god, you’re perfect.” chris feels himself nearing climax and so he brings one of his hands to your core, thumb now pressing down on your clit. you let out another cry, head bumping against the wall as your eyes roll back and your body begins to near the sweet release you’ve been craving.

“fuck, chris, i’m gonna cum!” you feel every single one of his veins inside you, feel him dragging along your walls, feel how he twitches, how he is about to claim you. and chris feels you in return, the way you clench, the way you seem to vibrate around his length. 

“yes, baby, come for me, show me how much it turned you on to see me play.” he picks up the pace once more, chasing your and his own release and you let out a high-pitched moan when the orgasm finally hits you, rushing over and consuming you, pussy squeezing around chris over and over again - finally bringing him over the edge too.

he finishes inside of you, hot white spurts of his essence landing inside your throbbing cunt and he kisses you hard while fucking you through it. 

when you land back on your feet, chris has to grab your hips so you don’t fall over.

“that was amazing.” he grins, making sure you’re okay so he can slip back into his clothes. you nod, still slightly lightheaded. once back in your own clothes, you smile up at him.

“if you score again next year, i can’t promise you that i won’t jump on the filed and drag you off of it.”

chris laughs, opening the bathroom stall door and letting you leave first, closely behind you.

“you might be mental, love, but i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[ukytblr]

Mate!! I’ve just realised you’re an Aussie??!!!! Please throw the Australians a bone and do some sort of WillNE x Aussie reader moment 🙏🏼🙏🏼

I’m afraid I may turn this into a series… it is largely based in Perth/Melbs/Tas since these are the areas I know well. My apologies for the rest of Aus erasure xx

I Was Neon | WillNE

Y/N wasn’t sure how she had ended up here. The Sidemen had finally organised a trip to Australia, reaching out to a few different content creators for some help in creating the ultimate down under experience. To make up for JJ’s absence and complete the crew, they’d invited along Freezy, Lux and Will.

She had received a message from Lachlan, a friend of the Sidemen and a Red Bull athlete. Y/N had been working in the sport space for a while, eventually settling working in the Australian Football League. She and Lachlan had met a few years back, when she had helped him grab tickets to an AFL game at the Melbourne Cricket Ground. Y/N had since moved across the country, finding a home in Perth.

The text came in late.

Lachlan: SOS. Sidemen are coming to Australia. I’m bringing them to Perth.

Y/N: And you’re telling me, why?

Lachlan: I need some help entertaining them

Lachlan: …maybe even some free tickets. I saw that the Eagles are playing Collingwood 😮‍💨

Y/N: Alright. Call me tomorrow and we’ll figure something out 😴

Not even four weeks later, Y/N found herself somehow swinging some annual leave and promising to work remotely. Lachie had organised the trip to start in her home state of Western Australia, before trekking across the country to Melbourne, Sydney and Tasmania. Overall, they were squeezing a plethora of activities into just two weeks of travel and Y/N could only be present for about 9 days of the 15 days of travel.

Now here she was. Standing in the arrivals gate of Perth Airport at 11pm on a Wednesday, decked out in an oversized hoodie, leggings and birks. Pimple cream and glasses included. She’d sent a very threatening “don’t you dare film me” text to Lachlan and hoped for the best.

She was standing by baggage claim when a voice boomed, “there’s our girl!”. Lachie came running up to her, wrapping her up in a hug. The group looked exhausted, which mirrored her own face. One by one, the boys all embraced her and introduced themselves. They had strategically chosen a hotel across the road from her apartment, making it easy for them all to meet up. Only problem - the hotel was booked out, meaning two of the boys had to bunk at Y/N’s. The obvious first choice being Lachie.

Upon deciding who would be driving the rental cars, Lachie and Y/N stood around speaking quietly. “I think we should take either Will or Lux with us. They’re both super chill, you’d feel safe with them in your apartment and they’re both gonna be doing work in their downtime like you.”

Y/N quirked her eyebrow. “Which one do you think is the biggest coffee drinker?”.

Lachie laughed. “Will. Guess he’s coming home with us.”

30 minutes later, they were all situated in their respective hotel rooms and spare rooms.

Y/N had given Will a tour of the apartment, showing him his living quarters for the next three nights and most importantly, where to find the coffee machine. The three of them had settled on the couch, cup of tea in hand, debriefing about their day.

“I really appreciate you adopting me for the weekend, Y/N. Gets me away from their antics anyway.” Will laughed softly.

She smiled. “You don’t get FOMO?”.

“Not on a trip like this. 15 days is a long time. I think the place that actually feels homey is a better shout.” She noticed the way his lip upturned as he spoke.

The room fell into a comfortable silence. “Alright my friends, I think I’ll be heading to bed. Some of us have to work tomorrow.” Y/N got up to turn the majority of the lights off, leaving just the ambience lights on. “Goodnight.”

—

For Y/N, Thursday was controlled chaos. Game day.

The morning was a little more peaceful than it usually was. Lachie had a sinking feeling the day was going to be feral, and managed to beat her to the coffee machine. She’d left the apartment with a keep cup full of coffee, a stale protein bar the boys had found buried in the pantry and a newfound sense of “thank fuck I’m on annual leave tomorrow”.

She was working the footy game scheduled later that night, and with a packed schedule, she had organised for the boys to do a tour of Optus Stadium. Not having the time or energy to plan their entire Western Australia leg, she just let them run loose around her work. Her calendar affectionately titled “Bring The Sidemen To Work Day”. I’ll stop in and say hello on my lunch break. Check in on the kids.

It was about 1pm when she found them all sitting in the grandstands. With a meal prep container in hand and ID badge pinned to her trousers, she made her way over to sit with them. The guide, Angus, immediately took the piss out of her.

“You here for an audit?” He teased.

“If I was, you’d be out of a job.” She winked, taking a seat next to Freezy on the end of the row. Will sat on his other side, meeting her eyes. “Hey roomie.” She grinned.

“Hey Y/N. Brilliant coffee this morning. Kinda like I’ve ingested rocket fuel though.” He smiled.

“I told you Australian roasters are incredible. You won’t be able to go back now.” Her face lit up.

Freezy looked between the two of them. “I think I’m gonna need to move in with you. All I got this morning was the leftover filter that Ethan didn’t want.”

As if sensing Cal was talking shit, Ethan lifted his head up. “Shut up, you prat.”

The three of them stifled a laugh.

Although Y/N was joking around with them all and appeared to be rather casual, the boys couldn’t help but sense that she commanded the room. She walked with purpose, Gus treated her as though he admired her. She appeared to be trustworthy, well respected and invested in her colleagues - but didn’t seem to let others invest in her.

As Gus took them through the tour, he would stop and ask for Y/N’s input. “Would you be a West Coast supporter if you didn’t work for them?”.

She would flush red. “I think I may have ended up a Collingwood girl. My family are all North Melbourne supporters but I can’t stomach the heartache.”

After a brief discussion about team rivalry, Y/N shifted in her seat, checking the time.

Will reached behind Freezy’s back, squeezing her shoulder. “Time to head back?“.

“Yeah. The team’s getting ready to debrief before the game later.” She rose from her seat.

“See you later, roomie.” He winked as she made her way out of the row.

Gus smirked. “Back to slacking off?”.

“About to go finalise your termination.” She stuck her tongue out at him, making her way down the stairs and disappearing into the offices below.

“At least give me a payout!” Gus yelled out.

“Keep dreaming!” The stairwell echoed behind her.

Cal didn’t miss the way Will’s eyes lingered.

Josh turned to Gus. “Can you please tell us what she does for a living? Lachie won’t tell us.”

Lachie laughed. “It’s not that I won’t tell you… she just wears a lot of hats.”

“Look, I’d probably just say she works in media. She’s super important to the club.” Gus said offhandedly.

Harry quirked an eyebrow, laughing. “Important enough to get you fired?”.

It was about 11pm when she finally let loose.

West Coast had won the game, Lachie had convinced her she desperately needed a McFlurry and she’d finally let her hair out of the bun she’d haphazardly scrunched together during a precarious third quarter.

The Sidemen had succumbed to their jet lag, taking the train back home. The other two had gotten word of a sneaky trip to Maccas and stayed back to help clean up the stadium.

Lachie was in the front seat, Y/N at the wheel with Will, Freezy and Lux occupying the backseat. The speakers loudly played “You Get What You Give”, with all of the car windows wound right down. Lachie and Lux held their hands out the window, running their fingers through the breeze.

“You’ve got the music in you.. don’t let go” the group sang in unison.

Lachie looked to Y/N, a glint in his eye. “You’re much happier now.”

She didn’t say anything, but her subtle nod said it all.

10 minutes later, they found themselves in the entryway of her apartment complex.

“Are you guys okay to get home?” Y/N looked to both Cals.

Lux nodded softly. “Of course.” He hesitated. “Hey, thanks. I think we all had a lot of fun today. It was really cool of you to organise it for us.”

A grin tugged at her lip. “Anytime. I’m just glad we won. It doesn’t happen often.” She was met with a resounding laugh from Lachie.

Hugs are exchanged before the two boys make their way across the road to their apartment. As Y/N and her two newfound roommates made their way into her apartment and locked the door, she bid her farewells. “Some of us had to be up early and at work today, so I’m gonna head to bed.”

“Sleep well.” Lachie reached out and pulled her into a hug, placing a kiss on her temple.

“Night Will.” She squeezed his shoulder as she walked past.

“Goodnight roomie.”

Her bedroom door closed shut.

As though it were his own home, Will moved to the tea cupboard she’d shown him the previous night. Lachie opened a drawer and found her secret biscuit stash, leading the two of them out to balcony with steaming cups of tea in hand.

Looking out over the city landscape, Will hesitated to speak.

Lachie sensed it. “Spit it out.”

“I don’t want to overstep, but what did you mean in the car? When you said she’s happier now?”. Will tried to appear casual, pushing the sleeves of his jumper back.

“She’s had a shit time of it the last few months. Shitty boyfriend doing shit things. She still protects him, I think.” Lachie didn’t try to hide the displeasure etching across his features.

“To herself or everybody else?” Will asked timidly.

“I think both. She says it kinda feels like they’re in a weird gray zone - like neither person is right or wrong, but if you ask me - he’s a wanker.” Lachlan frustratedly brought his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on it.

Will let out a breath. “I don’t know much, but I think you’d have to be a wanker to let her go.”

“Seems like she’s made an impression.”

“A good one.”

An hour later, when Will finally said goodnight, he couldn’t help but linger in the doorway.

There she was, in the rattiest old shirt and knocked about by uneven sleep, trying not to nod off as she refilled her water bottle.

Making his way to the kitchen, he gently rest one hand on her back to softly grab her attention before taking the bottle out of her hands. Their hands lightly brushed as he took the ice out of the freezer.

She stood puzzled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “How… how do you know I put ice in that thing?”.

He chuckled. “I saw you doing the same thing this morning.”

Will had gotten the impression he saw only what she wanted him to see. Y/N would crack jokes and laugh at his own, she was ever the gracious host, but she wasn’t letting her guard down anytime soon. Granted, she had been booked and busy in their brief 24 hour friendship. Acquaintance-ship if that were ever a thing.

She paused. “Sweet of you to notice.”

“Go back to bed, sleeping beauty. Want me to tuck you back in and give you a big kiss goodnight?” He teased.

Laughing softly, she jabbed him in the arm. “Geez, take a girl to dinner first.” Smirk on her face, she gestured to her cheek. “Lay one on me.”

Will leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Looks like you’re still a frog.”

She pushed him teasingly. “Guess I better call Lux and tell him my spare room is back up for sale.”

They both laughed to themselves as they shut their respective bedroom doors.

—

Will woke to the sound of Y/N rushing around the kitchen.

Cracking the door open, he stuck his head out.

She spotted him. “Good morning, princess.”

He groaned. “This is what I get for calling you a frog. Where are you off to in a hurry?”.

“Coffee. Would you like anything?”. She stood in front of him, keys and phone in hand.

“Yeah. Can I come with?” He pulled the drawstrings of his hoodie.

She smiled. “Of course. Can you be super quick getting ready though? We’ve gotta get prime real estate on the water.”

Within 5 minutes, Will had changed, thrown a hat on, sunscreened it up and brushed his teeth. Now here he was, walking along the water at 7:30AM with a pretty girl.

After collecting their respective beverages at the coffee kiosk, Y/N led Will to a park bench.

For the next hour, they couldn’t stop yapping.

I’m not an avocado fan.

Do you think the Royal Family were responsible for Diana’s death?

What was YouTube like before AdSense?

I don’t understand how the AFL works. Do you do football fantasy?

The McLaren looks fucking competitive this year.

I like a chilled red wine but nothing warm. Gross.

There was a lull in the conversation. A comfortable silence.

Will looked to her. “You know… Lachlan warned us about you.”

She smirked. “Yeah? What did he say?”.

“He’s under the impression that at least one of the boys will end up falling in love with you.” He laughed.

“I think you might be at an unfair advantage there.” She took a sip of her drink.

“How so?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Because I’m staying with you?”.

“Exactly.”

“Does that not make it harder? I caught you absolutely shoveling overnight oats before you went to work yesterday.” Genuinely curious, he turned to face her.

She was quick to speak. “No. I think it’s intimate in a way. You’re seeing the unfiltered version of me.”

He nodded. “I get the feeling you’re a little guarded.”

“Oh, for sure. Especially with all of you guys around Lachlan. I feel kinda protective over him at the moment.” She turned to face him too.

“Why do you feel protective over him?” Will questioned.

“The tricky part about living in Australia is that you’re removed from the rest of the world. I think he feels like he’s left out when he’s home. Like there’s almost no solidarity.” She spoke clearly.

“It’s not the same but I know the feeling. Sometimes it feels like everyone gets swept up in their own excitement and you get left behind easily.” He spoke quietly, Y/N murmuring in response. “What would you have me do?”.

She hesitated. “I think you guys need to lean on each other a little more. Like it is so important that you have a support system outside of your YouTube friends. But the reality is, there are so few people in the world who can relate to the pressure that you’re under.”

“I know.” He mumbled. “I know that feeling all too well.”

“I just worry that Lachlan’s not got anyone in his corner. Perks of being internationally challenged.” She stared at the morning sky ahead.

He nodded.

He understood.

—

A/N: Here we go! This seems to have the potential for a few more parts, but it might be a bit niche for those from other parts of the world. Would you still be interested in reading more? Feel free to share your thoughts!

As I mentioned, I’ve been off for a little while but I am back baby! Let me know what you’d like to read.

Lots o love,

Roc xx ✨

Also ngl this is heavily inspired by my friend @octaneink who mentioned the idea of the Sidemen coming to Aus in passing. Have turned it into a whole fic oops.

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under the desk [george clarke]

having a private moment with george in the useless hotline office when max walks in and you need to hide… but you can’t resist making george’s life a bit difficult while you’re on your hands and knees under his desk.

!!! smut !!!

18+ / MDNI!!!

——

“Fuck, George…”

You’d walked George to the Useless Hotline studio this morning on your way to run errands. Before you left him to his work, however, your sweet boyfriend decided that he needed you for breakfast first.

He now had you propped up on his desk, his head under your sundress buried between your legs, teasing you with gentle kisses over your dampening underwear, right where you’re already starting to ache from need.

“Please, baby,” you moan quietly, pleading for him to stop torturing you. “Please.” You know full well he will continue to drive you insane if he doesn’t hear you beg at least a little.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” George smirks, so close to your core that even the feeling of his lips moving through your underwear makes you squirm. “Anything for you, my love.”

He pulls your underwear down, lifting your legs up to rest on his shoulders as he briefly runs his thumb over your throbbing bundle of nerves, before finally gracing you with the relief of his tongue on you.

Your eyes rolling back instantly, gripping onto the desk with one hand and pulling on George’s hair with the other. He moans with his mouth suctioned to your clit, the vibrations making you whimper and squeeze his head with your thighs.

While hungrily lapping at you with his hot tongue on your sweet spot, George brings his hand around to tease your opening, knowing you’re fucking desperate for him to fill you up. He slides his long, thick fingers into you, going slowly to let you revel in the heavenly feeling of being stretched.

He picks up his pace, both with his mouth and his fingers, feeling you tense under him. You moan loudly, prompting George to switch hands and bring the one covered in your wet up to your face, kindly offering you his fingers to suck on. You obediently lick them clean and use them to keep you quiet as you fall apart, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you feel dizzy.

George grips onto your thighs as you grind your high out on his pretty face, only pulling away once you’ve tapped his shoulder. He looks up at you, sweaty, eyes blown out, covered in your cum, and grinning. You giggle at him, so cute and proud of himself for making you feel so good.

“Your turn, baby,” you say, lifting yourself up and adjusting your skirt, before leaning in to kiss him and lick the taste of you off his mouth.

“Yes please.”

You smile at him, the pure need in his eyes driving you to return the favor. You lower yourself to your knees in front of George, leaning back in his office chair, breathing heavily. Without breaking eye contact, you lower his bottoms just enough to free him from his underwear. You practically drool at the sight of him, hard and throbbing without having even been touched yet.

Before you can fix that, a sound from across the room makes you both jump. “George, you here?”

“Fuck, it’s Max!” he whisper-yells. “Uhh, get under my desk.”

Your instinct is to argue, but you can’t help but feel the tingle of adrenaline under your skin, making you comply as George rolls himself in his chair forward to park at his desk and hide his exposed dick from his co-host.

“Hey mate,” George replies to Max, trying to be normal.

“Hey, guess we had the same idea. I have some editing to do and thought I might be more productive here.”

“Oh yeah, same. I came just to do some video planning before we record later.”

“Great, well I won’t disrupt you. I’m putting my headphones on so throw something at me if you need my attention.”

Max puts his noise-cancelling headphones on and gets settled at his desk, his view of George blocked by the old-school desktop computers used as part of their set design.

George exhales, pulls his chair back from his desk to look down at you.

“I’m so sorry, babe. I can try to sneak you out of here while he’s not looking,” he whispers while pulling his pants back up.

You grab his wrist to stop him. “That’s alright, I actually have a better idea,” you look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “Lean back, baby. It’s still your turn.”

He immediately looks nervous, glancing up towards Max’s direction. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

“Oh please baby, I just want to make you feel good too.” You bat your eyelashes up at him, fingers lightly trailing over the bulge in his pants.

He bites his lip, clearly conflicted. He looks concerned but his eyes betray him, dilated and desperate. He nods slowly, leaning back and letting you continue.

You nestle yourself between George’s legs, your knees are sure to bruise from the cold, hard floor, but you couldn’t care less. Looking him dead in the eyes, you lick his tip gently, making him shiver. You flatten your tongue completely against the underside and leave a long racing stripe of spit from the base up, before taking all of him into your mouth in one fell swoop.

George groans quietly, the adrenaline making every touch drive him crazier than usual. You create a suction with your mouth, rhythmically bobbing your head up and down, while your tongue swirls around simultaneously.

“Fuck,” George whispers. You take in as much of him as you can, letting yourself choke as his tip hits the back of your throat. Eyes watering, eyebrows pinched together, but as George’s hand finds his way to your hair, he can almost see the hearts in your eyes as you give everything to make him feel this good. “I love you,” he mumbles. You can’t help but giggle a bit, the vibrations of your mouth on him sending chills up his spine.

You speed up, using your hands in tandem with your mouth. He pulls on your hair making your eyes roll back as you push him to his limit. “I’m so close,” he moans, biting his lip so hard it might bleed, trying to stay quiet.

“D’you say something, mate?” Max asks, lifting his headphone on one side, without looking up. You freeze, your eyes widen as George immediately tenses.

“No!” George replied, slightly panicky but not so much that Max notices. He puts his headphones back on and continues working. George exhales.

Now with your heart pounding even more, you continue. You feel George throbbing in your mouth as he reaches his peak. Your hands and tongue and lips working together as he tightens his grip on your hair and finally fills your mouth with his orgasm. He groans as you suck him dry, every fiber of his being fighting to stay quiet.

You eagerly swallow every bit of him, before finally pulling away.

You look up at him, sweaty, eyes blown out, not a drop of cum left on your face, and grinning. He giggles at you, so cute and proud of yourself for making him feel so good.

He dips down to give you a long kiss, the kind that makes you feel floaty.

George pulls his bottoms back up and leans back again, chest rising and falling as he breathes heavily, eyes never leaving yours as you both smile stupidly at each other.

“Now what?” He whispers to you, laughing.

You shrug, curling up against his legs under his desk like a puppy as he strokes your hair, waiting for Max to leave the room long enough for you to slip out.

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AO3: the bravest thing I did was run (harry x simon) | maplesnowflake

Harry deals with the aftermath of an affair that near destroyed him.

member: @maplesnowflake

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To be loved is to be known [Harry Lewis/W2S]

Summary: Y/N knows Harry, and Harry knows Y/N.

Wordcount: 775

Warnings: some swearing, nothing major

masterlist - main masterlist

Lots of people knew lots of things about Harry. People knew his favourite colour, his favourite football club, his favourite types of videos to film. His friends knew his favourite drink, Simon knew his favourite football top, Tobi knew his Nando’s order. But nobody knew him quite like Y/N did. She could tell whether Harry wanted to buy something within seconds of him seeing it, she could tell the difference between him wanting to leave a place and him wanting to disappear completely. 

“Are you joining us having a couple drinks at Cal’s place?” Lux asks Harry, leaning towards him. They’re out for dinner with quite a big group, which wasn’t too unusual for them, and Harry glances over at Y/N sitting across. She’s fixing her off-shoulder top when he catches her eyes. She gives him a questioning look, knowing him well enough to recognize he wants an answer out of her. “Are we having drinks at Cal’s after this?” He asks, and she shrugs. She notes the way his hands are tapping against the tabletop and his phone’s screen is facing upwards. “I don’t know, maybe one drink but don’t think we’ll stay out late, unless you want to?” She raises her eyebrows at him. She sees the doubt in his face, and how it’s different from his body language that tells her he’d much rather go home. “Won’t be too special, I think there’s people going straight home as well,” Lux mentions. He isn’t stupid, and after living with him for a couple of years, Harry’s face tells him that the day has been long enough. “Yeah, think we might do the same actually, but we’ll be there Saturday,” Y/N jumps in, and Callux nods. Harry gives her a smile, as she swiftly changes the conversation topic.

Later that night, they’re sitting on the couch, a pile of cards in front of them. “You fucker,” she curses as he puts down another plus four. She takes the cards from the pile as he puts down another card. “Thanks for saying no to Lux tonight,” He softly says as she puts down her card. “Hmm. I could tell your social battery would run out halfway through, I’m glad you listened to me,” She jokes, and he chuckles, grabbing a card from the pile. “When have I ever not?” He asks, and she raises her eyebrows at him. “Do you really want me to answer that?” He shakes his head with a laugh, chucking down another card. “No, no I don’t,” He confirms, and she laughs, looking at the cards in her hands. “We should skip nights out to play games more often,” She comments, before she smirks at him. “You didn’t say Uno, by the way.”

In the same way she knew him, he knew her. 

“Baby, have you seen my…” He trails off as he walks into the living room, where she’s sitting crossed legged under a fluffy blanket, invested in her book. She’s comfortably nestled in a hoodie slightly too big, bright blue and more importantly the exact one he’d spend the last fifteen minutes trying to find. He sighs, and she looks up with those adorable clueless eyes, “Never mind. Did you drink anything?” She nods before getting back to her book, “Yeah, have tea,” she absentmindedly says. He walks over, checking the temperature of the mug— completely cold, as he guessed. He picks it up, walking away with a small smile and a shake of his head. 

She doesn’t even notice him coming back until his hand is going through her hair. She looks up, waiting for him to speak. “Hi. My bag’s almost packed, my Uber’s here in fifteen minutes. I made you a tea,” She smiles, putting her book down next to her. “I didn’t realize it was that late already, you should’ve said,” she mentions. “Nah, you were too comfortable, thought I’d let you read. I get you to myself again after the weekend anyway,” he disagrees. She sits up and leans onto Harry, who’d sat down next to her, his shoulder. He lets out a content sigh, turning around to fully envelop her in a hug. She snuggles into his comfortable chest, loving how cuddly he could get. “Thanks for the tea,” she lowly says, and he presses a kiss on top of her head. “Don’t want you to dry out, do I? I know how into the story you can get,” he says, as if it’s nothing. To him, it probably was nothing, it’s just how he was. To her, it was everything. To be loved is to be known, after all.

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across the room [james marriott + male!reader]

you're fresh out of a five-year relationship.

for the first time in your adult life, you're single, and now also know that you're bisexual. you thought you'd never get the chance to explore it while you were with your ex-girlfriend — you'd never even kissed a boy before — but now you can. opportunity strikes when you meet james at a party.

pure sweet gay fluff / steam

tw for some brief mentions of alcoholism/sobriety

my first male!reader fic! to be totally honest, I don't know if I'm going to make a habit of it, just because I prefer writing stuff that I can connect to more closely (read: I'm a horny bitch and everything I write is a self-insert). however, it made for an interesting challenge, plus this was requested by @solsticethesunwitch back in DECEMBER, and I absolutely owed it to them to give this a shot for being the most patient person on earth, so thank you, my friend. I hope you enjoy xx

—

you stand in the corner, at a party in someone's flat (you don't know whose, your friend's friend's neighbor or some shit), nursing a soda that you're pretending has alcohol in it.

you feel weird. being single still feels weird. it had been over two months since your relationship of five-ish years ended, and your friends dragged you out, refusing to let you waste another saturday night alone on your couch.

it's not like you'd been moping, sitting at home crying heartbroken and miserable. you hadn't been dumped — you broke up on mutual terms. it killed you, obviously, but it had been a long time coming. you'd already done the whole falling apart and putting yourself back together post-breakup thing.

you weren't depressed. you were shy.

you literally just didn't know how to exist or behave independently as an adult. the last time you were single, you were 19. and you don't even know that person anymore. to even call that guy a "person" is generous. you just remember he was annoying and thought rick & morty was the height of intellectual humor. how the fuck do I talk to people as a grown-ass man? how do you act normal without having a much more naturally extroverted and beautiful person's arm around your waist, leading the conversation? you feel like an alien.

"lad, get out ya fuckin' head," your best friend mumbles, already well on track to getting plastered. "I can hear it from here."

"I can't fuckin' help it, mate" responding with a groan.

"ye picked a horrid time to quit drinkin', m'friend."

you scoff, shoving his arm, "cheers for the fuckin' support."

"anytime."

"I just fuckin'... I feel lost, y'know? I don't know who the hell I am anymore."

"mate, you been sayin' that every day lately. enough of that shite," he responds exasperatedly, and you raise your eyebrows.

"I'll fuckin' tell ye who y'are, since ye apparently keep forgettin'," he points in your face, "and I'll even be nice 'n honest, 'n only 'cause I'm drunk." he takes a deep breath, stabilizing himself. "you're not someone else's other 'alf, mate. y'never were. you're a whole person on your own. you existed for nine'een years before her 'n you still exist after her, and'll continue to do so no matter how many times a day I tell ye to off yourself."

you laugh, even as you feel your chest fill with warmth.

"you've been my best mate since we were fuckin' seven for a reason, ye bellend. you're the funniest bastard I know, you're a right clever fucker, 'n you're a bloody handsome devil when you put a fuckin' ounce of effort in," he adds, ruffling your hair, much to your displeasure.

your cheeks go slightly pink, unsure how to respond to your friend's compliments. even after almost 20 years of friendship, moments like this aren't super common between you. you may be sober, but you're feeling weirdly grateful for the alcohol in his system at the moment.

he nearly stumbles from the force at which you pull him in for a hug. "love you, mate," you mutter against his shoulder.

"yeah yeah yeah, love you too, bumder," he concedes, rolling his eyes despite the smile on his face.

"now will you fuckin' go 'n flirt with someone while I go facetime my girlfriend who does still love me?" he taunts, earning a swift punch in the shoulder from you. "agh fuck, ow, okay I deserved that."

you chuckle. "yes, you did."

"seriously, mate. there's some fit people 'ere. saw that massive guy over there in the leather jacket lookin' at you earlier. don't stand in the corner all night." he walks off, leaving you to scan the crowd for the man he was referring to. what massive g—oh.

there he is. no less than a head taller than everyone else in the room. shaggy dark brown hair, golden eyes, a huge grin with perfect teeth and a warm laugh to match. he looks friendly. warm.

he must feel your gaze on him, because he looks over, locking eyes with you before you can turn away. he offers a small nod with a smile, which you can't help but return. a heat fills your chest as his regard lingers, his expression curious... maybe interested?

the temperature rises to your cheeks, painting you a shy pink blush. you bitch out, looking down at your phone, intimidated by the tall, pretty man in leather.

—

some time passes. you don't know how long, because you've done exactly what your friend told you to stop doing and spaced out again, mindlessly staring at your phone instead of making any attempts to be social. the room around you is a blur — an ambient lo-fi beat for you to ignore — until a large presence enters your peripheral, the sound of a man clearing his throat cutting through the noise. looking up, you come face to face with the man from across the room. the tall, pretty man in leather.

you look at him questioningly, expecting him to tell you to get out of his way or something. to your surprise, he offers his hand and a gentle smile.

"hi, I'm james."

"um. hi james," you manage brilliantly. "can I... help you?"

"you were looking at me earlier."

and there goes the red face again. ugh.

"oh s-sorry, I was just zoning out. I didn't realize, I didn't mean to make you uncomfo—", you ramble, before james raises a soft hand to cut you off and shakes his head.

"it's fine, mate. you don't have to make stuff up. I was looking too," he admits with a low chuckle. "you're cute."

your eyes widen, taken aback by the compliment. it occurs to you that you've never been hit on by a man before, at least not in a context where you wanted to be hit on by a man. it felt more different than you'd expected it to. james towered over you in a way few did, making you feel unusually small. not in a bad way, but in a way that made your mouth go slightly dry. you weren't used to feeling small.

"oh," you exhale, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "well, thank you. you're um, you're very handsome, james."

a little smirk grows across his face, but somehow it doesn't feel cocky — just pleased. "thank you."

you maintain eye contact with each other for a moment in a surprisingly comfortable silence, before james takes a half-step closer to you.

"would it be too forward of me to ask if I could take you somewhere quieter?"

biting the inside of your lip anxiously, you shake your head. taking your hand in his, james pulls you out of the room, away from the thumping crowd and into an empty room down the hall.

"is it okay that we're in here?" you inquire, unable to look past the reality that you'd be moderately livid if someone went into your bedroom without your knowledge during a party.

"oh yeah," james replies casually, plopping down at the foot of the bed. "it's my mate's room. he won't mind," he reassures. "...so long as we don't fuck in here, I suppose."

you visibly tense with a gasp, drawing a loud laugh from the taller man's throat. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. relax. come, sit."

breathing out, you cross the room to join him. you don't know why you feel so nervous, but you do. his gaze softens slightly as he watches you awkwardly sit down several feet away, and then he understands.

"you've never been chatted up by a guy before, have you?" james observes gently, and you can't help but huff.

"that obvious?"

"just a bit," he replies, but it doesn't feel mocking. "to clarify, I didn't bring you in here to like, do anything. we don't have to."

finally, you make yourself look at him again — his eyes clear and earnest. "no?"

"no," he shakes his head. "like, we can just talk, mate. seriously. it's just loud out there and I didn't want to shout. I'm a singer. don't like fuckin' up my voice if I can help it."

your eyebrow quirks up in interest at this new information. "okay," you nod with a crooked simper. "thanks, james."

"nothin' to thank me for, lad. thank you for letting me use my inside voice," he smiles.

with a light laugh, you feel yourself relax. you both move to the floor to lean back against the bed frame, stretching your legs and getting more comfortable.

james tells you about his music career, his storied past with youtube — how it led him to this weird life of music and videos and a coffee company with his best friend. he asks you about your significantly less exciting life, and he actually seems interested in it despite the lack of sold out tours (and sainsbury's). you tell him about your break-up, and your recent attempts at finding yourself.

"yeah, so I realized I was bisexual like three years into our relationship... it definitely wasn't the only reason it ended up falling apart a few years later, but I think a small part of me was like, maybe a little resentful that I couldn't really explore a whole side of me because of it, y'know. and like, that's not on her, of course, but I started drinkin' a bit more than I should've been for sure. 'n that didn't do our relationship any good either..."

you ramble on and on, spewing personal details you definitely shouldn't be sharing with someone you met an hour ago, but james just... stays. he listens. he's completely attentive and engaged.

"...anyway, we ended up finally splitting not long after we hit five years. it was the worst fuckin' day of my life, obviously... I miss her sometimes still. but mostly because she was just like, my friend more than anything, y'know? by the end? and she knew me better than anyone by then. but it was totally for the best. it was ages overdue. we're both way better off."

james nods in agreement. "sounds like it. it's never easy. but the way I see it like... if it wasn't supposed to end, it wouldn't have, y'know? that sounds dumb but it's true. c'est la vie."

"la vie."

chuckling, he playfully shoves your knee away where it rests near him on the floor. "so stupid."

you giggle in return, trying to ignore the lingering burn on your skin that your shorts hadn't covered, where james' hand touched your leg.

"no but um," you clear your throat, trying to refocus. "yeah. s-so I quit drinking after we split. just hit two months. so yeah, for the best."

james' eyes light up suddenly, which you didn't expect. "dude, that's incredible. I'm sober as well. been a few years for me now."

"oh shit! hell yeah. that's amazing, james," you laud. "well fuckin' done."

"thanks, mate," he says gratefully. "really. but I feel like we've had such a similar path, y'know. I also sort of figured out I liked men while I was in a relationship with a woman for years and we also had a shitty break-up and I went sober a few years later. so weird."

"that is funny..." you agree, clearing your throat. "how um, how long did it take you after the break-up to start like, exploring your sexuality a bit more?" you ask shyly, perhaps subconsciously knowing where it might lead. "I haven't really taken the plunge yet, so to speak."

"you want the truth?"

you nod, furrowing your eyebrows.

"...'bout two months," james admits with a shit-eating grin.

your face goes pink for the umpteenth time of the evening, unable to control how much james made you blush. "cheeky fucker," you chide with a smirk. "you're doing that chattin' up thing again."

"maybe," he teases, biting his lip lightly — his own expression growing a bit flushed as you'd subconsciously moved closer together throughout the night.

the smell of his woodsy cologne wafted under your nose, your heart rate increasing gradually from the warmth radiating off his skin. "I thought you said you didn't bring me back here to do anything," you reminded quietly, almost whispering.

"I didn't," he assures, though his eyes betray him as they flicker to your lips.

"no?" you ask, echoing your question from before, leaning in even closer still.

james nods. "no," he breathes out, the grin on his face being the last thing you see before his lips finally lock with yours. your eyes fall shut as james' big arms slide around you, pulling you towards him.

kissing a boy was nice. well, kissing this boy was nice. you'd have to report back on the others. but james' movements were slow, firm and sure, confident but attentive — just like he'd been all night.

your fingers crawl into his dark hair, tangling in his curls as he licks into your mouth, making your brain go fuzzy. you let him in, tugging at his roots gently as the faint taste of coffee melts against your tongue where you curl it around his own.

he pulls you into his lap without warning, making you gasp into his mouth, and you're surprised at how turned on you are by the feeling of being so easily maneuvered. you instinctively grind your hips down against him, pulling a soft moan from his throat. sweat instantly pricks on the back of your neck from the pretty sound, and it only makes you want to keep going.

it takes all of the willpower in the world... but you force yourself to pull away. you look at james where he sits under you, kiss-swollen lips red and wet, eyes half-blown out and hair ruined by your own hands. damn, he was gorgeous.

"you okay?" he rasps with a crooked smile, hands resting on your thighs like they already belonged there.

you nod eagerly. "definitely. do you, uhh... maybe wanna go to my place?" you inquire, suddenly nervous that he won't want to continue this as soon as you leave these four walls. you take the extra risk anyway, leaning in to whisper in his ear: "we can go make out in my bedroom and your friend can't be mad if we fuck in there."

james' eyebrows shoot up before a low laugh travels up from his chest. "lead the way, mate."

—

a/n: it's FINALLY DONE!!! 🙏🏻 writing from a male perspective was significantly harder than I expected to be totally honest. this is not my best work but I am pleased with myself for finally completing the challenge

—

TAGLIST:

@themdera @pookietv @smzyyx @insomniac4000 @whereforarthur @w2soneshots @authortelevision @m3vl0vesu @elhotchner @idolofthewestcoast @a3naa @darleneslane @happyclifford @whisperturnedecho @formulaal @bethorwhateverr @maplesnowflake @shootingstarsinthesky @clarkeysbedchem @clarkeyscvntymullet @xoxoxyra @livvymd

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AO3: you talk so sweet when you’re doing bad things (that’s bed chem) (george x ethan) | starsinthesky

George knew joining Inside could be messy, especially given his…fling…with Ethan. He didn’t mind being at Ethan’s mercy however. He rather liked it.

member: @shootingstarsinthesky

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camping [harry lewis]

!!!smut!!!

18+ MDNI!

--

your eyes are pretty much always glued to your boyfriend harry when you watch the sidemen, but you genuinely could not look away from him throughout this week's video -- the sidemen survive the forest for 24 hours. you felt the heat rising in your cheeks just from watching him through the screen, and it leaves you fantasizing about a rural weekend away with him.

--

“let’s go camping this weekend, baby.”

you come up behind harry as he stands in the kitchen making tea, sliding your arms around his waist, lightly kissing the back of his neck.

a warm, low laugh escapes him. “what’s the occasion?”

“mm, no reason,” you mumble, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. clips of him in the forest kept playing through your head: peeling the wet shirt off his body when it rained, effortlessly chopping wood with an axe, completely thriving in his element. it had you daydreaming about running off into the wild with him just to witness it firsthand. "just sounds like fun." harry feels you smirk against his neck as your hands mindlessly wander around the front of his toned body.

"hmm, wonder what gave you that idea," he replies with a chuckle, a smug little smile growing on his face, before turning around to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss you properly.

--

it didn't take much convincing for harry to get onboard with your little escape plan. on friday afternoon, you load up a rental car with all your supplies and head off north into the same secluded area where the sidemen filmed their video. his hand doesn't leave your thigh for the duration of the ride, letting the tension between you build throughout the day.

you arrive at your chosen campsite and begin setting up base. "love, I'm going to go find some wood for the fire," harry says, strolling away. as you assemble the tent and hang your hammock between two large trees, you can't help but daydream about the evening to come.

harry reappears after a few minutes, carrying a pile of long branches so easily it's like he's not carrying anything at all. he promptly pulls out his axe and begins breaking down the wood to build a fire, and you sit and stare shamelessly, biting your lip watching his muscular arms at work.

soon after, the wood is all chopped and harry has successfully built your cozy fire. he peels his sweaty t-shirt off and grabs two beers from the cooler, handing you one before sitting down next to you. you can't tear your eyes away from your beautiful man, every fluid movement making you ache with desire to touch him.

harry finally leans back in his seat by the fire, taking a long swig of his beer followed by a deep breath to soak in the ambience. "you've been quiet," he observes, looking over at you.

"have I?"

he nods. "what's on your mind, darling?"

you bite the inside of your cheek lightly, trying to hold back a cheeky grin. in lieu of an answer, you lean over to harry and place your hand on his exposed chest, drawing him in for a deep kiss. harry pulls away for a moment, a cocky smile on his face. "ahh, that's why you've been all preoccupied tonight then, eh love?" you nod, not hesitating to climb over to sit on harry's lap and press your chest against his. "I just love watching you sweat," you mutter, licking a long stripe up the side of his neck before gently sucking on the skin under his ear. he groans at the sensation and wraps his arms more tightly around you. "yeah baby?" the bass of his low voice makes your tummy flutter.

"mmhmm," you tug on his hair lightly. "so strong and sexy." harry's big hands trail down to grip your ass as his lips find yours again, and you revel in the warmth of his tongue slipping in against yours. you can feel his excitement growing under you, and the overwhelming urge to please him consumes you. you move your lips back down to his neck, before progressing down to gently nip at his collarbone, which you know makes his eyes roll back. you leave kisses down his chest and toned abs as his fingers bury themselves in your hair. you lay your tongue flat against his stomach, just above the waistband of his shorts, before gliding it all the way back up to his neck, indulging in the addictive taste of the salt on his skin. you pull him in for a deep, slow kiss, and feel his heart starting to race with anticipation.

you pull harry's shorts down just enough to free him from the growing tent in his underwear, and don't waste any more time before wrapping your warm fingers around his hard length and moving them up and down slowly. you swiftly climb down off of his lap and settle on your knees in front of him, looking up at him with wide eyes through your long lashes -- his favorite way to see you, his pretty girl.

you gently slide your tongue over his tip, making him shudder. "fuck," he exhales. you take him fully into your mouth, letting him hit the back of your throat without hesitation. a gasp escapes his lips and his grip on your hair tightens, vibrations shooting up his spine as you moan around his cock in your mouth.

"you feel so good, baby," he forces out between deep breaths and quiet moans. "too good -- fuck -- gonna cum too fast, love," he pulls you away from him, and you give him an overdramatic pout, batting your eyelashes. "don't worry, gorgeous." he lovingly tucks a loose bit of hair behind your ear. "we're not done."

he swiftly pulls you up and stands with your arms and legs wrapped around him, making you yelp in shock. fuck, he is so strong. you love that he makes you feel like a bit of a rag doll sometimes.

harry carries you over to the hammock you'd hung earlier in the night, and sets you down before hastily spinning you around and bending you over the side. "put up a little sex swing for us, eh?" he laughs, and you let out a little whimper as he smacks your ass. "maybe," you reply, looking back at him with a mischievous grin on your face.

he pulls your shorts and underwear down, before spanking you again. "that's my dirty girl," he praises quietly, his voice full of pure love and desire. his fingers slide between your legs, feeling how wet you are just from choking on his dick.

you wait expectantly for him to fill you up, standing on your toes in greedy impatience. instead, the sudden heat of his tongue hits you, and you realize he's on his knees behind you, his hands pulling your thighs apart as he buries his head in between. your initial gasp melts into a deep groan as you feel his whole tongue pressed flat against your core, the tip flicking on your aching bundle of nerves, all the way to your weeping hole, desperate to be stretched. your eyes roll back as he inexplicably manages to hit all your spots at once, tongue moving to focus entirely on your clit while his thick fingers make insanely quick work of finding the spot in your cervix that makes your head spin.

"fuck -- I'm gonna cum soon, baby," you whine between moans, clenching all of your muscles as the pressure builds. harry repositions himself, turning and sitting on the ground between your legs, so he can wrap his arms around your legs and attach his mouth fully to your throbbing clit. your knees almost buckle as his tongue swirls around magically and you tug on his hair roughly, trying to curb your urge to scream. he pulls away for a moment to look up at you, his big blue eyes and wet pink lips making your heart pound. "we're in the woods, love. no one's around. let me hear you, gorgeous." he continues his relentless efforts, his encouragement giving you new wind to let yourself go. your groans and whimpers build as his pretty mouth puts you over the edge, and you finally release. tears stream down your face as you pathetically grind on his, and as he pulls back, his hand reaches your jaw and pulls you down to him, licking into your mouth to let you taste yourself on his tongue, swallowing each other’s moans.

"please fuck me baby," you whisper desperately between kisses. "I need you."

you aggressively rip your sweaty shirt off your body as harry pulls himself off the ground and hastily repositions himself behind you, bending you fully over the hammock. he aligns himself with your entrance and attempts to tease you by sliding his tip through your folds, but your core is such a drooling mess that he slips inside of you right away, both of you letting out deep moans in unison as you feel the stretch that you'd been aching for. "fuuuck," he groans, digging his fingers into your plushy hips. "harder," you plead between whines, and harry moves one hand up to the back of your head to pull your hair as he picks up his speed and force, pounding into you from behind. you try and fail to form coherent words, only able to communicate through the lewd noises spilling from your lips. "you sound so pretty, baby," harry praises. "I love turning you into a little mess." his words tighten the coil in your stomach as you feel the pressure building once again.

"fuck harry I'm g'nna cum ffffff-ughhh,” your brain goes fuzzy as you feel harry’s fingers find your clit and his cock twitch inside of you. “come on sweet girl, let me hear you,” he groans, chasing the same high. your pussy flutters around him and the gorgeous sounds pouring out of him push you over, just as your sounds do him. your whole body feels like it’s on fire as you hit your peak in tandem with your boyfriend. you release all over him as he fills you with his hot cum, both of you making pornographic sounds as you ride it out together.

he slows down before coming to a stop, but doesn’t pull out yet, wanting to revel in your heat a moment longer. he leans over you to kiss your back repeatedly, hands gently caressing your hips in worship. “I love you so fucking much,” he mumbles against your skin.

“I love you too, baby,” you smile, exhausted. he peels himself off of you, making you whimper quietly at the sensation of his seed spilling out of you.

“stay here, love.” he runs over to your supplies to grab tissues and comes back to gently clean you up. he helps you get dressed again and lays down onto the hammock before pulling you on top of him, pressing your head to his chest and planting a long, sweet kiss to your forehead.

you’re both exhausted, and have accepted the reality that you’ll probably fall asleep in the hammock and wake up covered in mosquito bites. but you don’t really care in the state you’re currently in.

“can I watch you chop more wood in the morning?” you giggle against his skin. his beautiful laugh falls from his lips as he pulls your face up for a kiss. “I think I can make that happen.”

you doze off, melted together like you were designed to fit that way.

—

a/n: this took AGES but I think it’s fun. I didn’t do a final re-read because I just need to get this out but apologies for typos or general bad writing. happy new year pals!

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just a little distaction - c. m. dixon // MDNI 18+ you're chris' assistant and for the last couple of months you've used more than just your organisational talent to help the man blow of some steam...

pairing: chrismd x f!reader genre: smut !!! MDNI!!!! warnings: chris' is reader's boss woops, blowjobs, cum eating, dirty talk, slight degredation, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it!!), creampie wc: 2.2k a/n: i dedicate this to my ukyt writer discord babes. i love u all!!!

chris dixon has been called a lot of things. egotistical, short, mean, just to name a few. 

one thing he has never been called, though, is unprofessional. and perhaps, perhaps, this isn’t that at all. yeah, perhaps this is fine and not at all a scandal and a half. 

just that, when he opens his eyes and looks down, the most scandalous thing he has ever seen greets him. 

“fucking hell.” 

it’s so, so fucking hot. you. you are hot. so fucking hot.

your lips are spread around his cock, spit dripping down his shaft and your eyes are staring up at him - full of tears and need and chris thinks he might have reached heaven. 

the way your tongue presses against him, how your throat restricts around him when you take him all the way… how you don’t even flinch when he thrusts up, when his fingers get tangled up in your hair. you take him like a fucking pro and chris is seriously wondering if you lied on your resume and had a whole different career before this one. 

your hand is on his balls, massaging them sensually and your tongue licks over his tip, leaning back for just a swift second before slamming back down, his cock now buried all the way down your perfect throat. 

“j-just like that, fuck-,” chris brings both his hands to the back of your head, eyes fluttering shut as he does his next thrust. he knows you can take it - you’ve done this enough times for him to know your limits, or lack thereof. 

it is the faint moan you let out, muffled by the cock in your mouth, that finally takes him over the edge, a curse of your name accompanying the spurts of hot white cum now gushing down your throat. one, two, three and he pulls out, falling backwards into his desk chair, chest heaving. 

you wipe over your mouth with the back of your hand and get up, smiling down at him.

“next call is in fifteen, boss.”

chris watches you give him a cheeky wink, watches you turn around and leave, the door to his small office falling shut behind you and, shit, he feels just as guilty as he feels at ease. 

this whole thing started almost three months ago. chris had desperately needed an assistant, or so his production team would say. for the longest time, he had refused. he wasn’t a celebrity or big shot ceo - he didn’t need an actual assistant. that mindset held up until one day when he completely forgot to get the approval from a brand for a video and lost a significant amount of money. 

so, the search for an assistant began and after a long while of meaningless interviews you showed up.

young, motivated and with significant experience in pa. your cv was only half as impressive as you, though. funny and witty and quick - chris knew he had to hire you immediately (and this had absolutely nothing to do with you being extremely attractive). 

for the first few months everything was going perfectly. you did your job to the best of your abilities, even surpassing his expectations. there was a high chance everything could have stayed exactly as it had - if only there hadn’t been this one, small, little incident. 

chris wasn’t proud of it, but blowing off steam during high stress phases sometimes involved him… getting handy in his office. by himself. quick and fast and with no one ever needing to know.

until, of course, you walked in unannounced and found your boss sitting in his chair, hard cock in hand, about to climax all over the tissues he was already holding at the ready. 

to be honest, it had been a no brainer. you were attracted to chris, how could you not be, and he was very obviously in need to… let go off some of his… stress. 

chris knows he should have stopped you. should have told you to forget all about it, should have maybe even let you go. instead, he let you sink onto your knees, allowed you to tell him to shut up and finally take his cock into your mouth. 

truth be told - getting off with the help from an attractive woman definitely helped him relax more than any secret handjob ever could. even with the risk of getting caught, chris preferred this to any other way of winding down. 

he got a bit addicted to you, looking forward to the days filled with work, knowing full well that you were in charge of his schedule. at some point he came to the realisation you probably did some of the scheduling on purpose - just so you could get on your knees for him. and while the guilt never fully left, it got better. 

now, he stares at the door you had just walked out of, wondering if he should suggest something else the next time. wondering if you’d want him to bend you over his desk and fuck you. wondering if you’d let him fill you up to the brim and have you walk around the office with his cum dripping into your panties. 

he swallows down the thought. 

“what a great boss you are, chris.” he mumbles and shakes his head, getting back to work. 

–

two days later, you’re back in his office. 

you are absolutely obsessed with this, with the little… agreement you two have. as much as you hate to admit it, sucking chris off has become your favorite part of the job. you can’t get enough of his little moans, of his fingers all tangled up in your hair, of his hips thrusting his long dick down your throat over and over until he came undone. 

the power dynamics are what make this so great. you love to know he has this power over you, that he could potentially tell you to keep going or else he’ll fire you. it’s sick and twisted, but god, does it get you going. the amount of nights you’ve laid in your bed with your fingers or a toy rammed into your cunt, imagining it was chris bending you over or remembering how hot he sounds when he cums… you can’t even begin to count them. 

christopher has become ever present in your brain and you find yourself horny first thing in the morning when you reach the office more often than not. 

so today, when you’re back in his office, fully aware he just got back from a shoot and two back to back coffee meetings, his jacket discarded over the small armchair in the corner of the room, his hands on the back of his chair and his eyes tiredly looking at you - you cannot wait to crouch down and get his cock in your mouth. 

just that, when you walk over, he meets you halfway.

just that, when you look up at him with wide eyes, you don’t hear him tell you to get on your knees. 

instead, his hand finds your cheek and cups it, eyes glued to yours as his thumb pushes your lips apart just like his cock normally would. you suck it into your mouth, heartbeat picking up.

“i’ve been thinking.” he begins, stepping even closer into your space. “i fear your mouth isn’t enough for me anymore, pet.”

your pussy begins to throb immediately and you suck his thumb deeper into your warm mouth, causing chris to hiss.

“tell me you want me to fuck you.” his voice is just a whisper and you swirl your tongue around his thumb while watching his pupils dilate. “tell me you want me to bend you over my desk and fuck you like the needy little slut you are.”

you can’t help the whimper that comes out, muffled only by his thumb in your mouth. he pulls it out, awaiting your answer.

“i want you to bend me over your desk and fuck me, chris, want you to fuck me so bad.”

that’s all chris ever wanted to hear. 

his lips crash into yours and there is more tongue and teeth than anything. it’s hot and desperate and so full of need you can practically smell it in the air. 

his hands grip your waist and yours tangle in his hair and you don’t even know when or how you get to his desk, but you do. he plants you on top of it, standing between your legs that wrap around him as if they’ve done it a thousand times before. hands wander under clothes and clothes fall to the floor and you can’t help but cry out when his fingers pinch your hardened nipple. 

“sucked my dick so prettily for so long, pet, now you deserve a treat.” chris kisses down your neck and finds his way to your breasts, sucking your nipple into his mouth, teeth biting into it softly. your back arches against him, hands grabbing his curls.

“oh, fuck, chris-,” you moan, clenching around nothing, wishing and praying you will soon be clenching around something.

“yeah, that’s right, i love how you say my name.” he’s back to kissing you then, both hands on your face, kissing you like he never meant anything as much as this. his tongue swirls against yours, fighting and winning and making you lose all your composure. 

“need you, please, chris, please.”

you let your hands fall to his jeans, greedily opening the button and zipper and chris groans in pleasure when your palm presses against his erection. no matter how many times you touch his cock - it’s never gonna get old. 

quickly, he grabs you by the hips and lifts you off the desk, only to turn you over and bent you down, your upper body laying on top of his neatly organised space. he licks his lips, hastily getting your pants and panties down, having them pool by your ankles, and doing the same with his jeans and underwear. 

“look at that pretty pussy, shit.” he’s hypnotised by you - the way your folds glisten, the way he can smell just how turned on you are. his hand is around his cock, jerking himself off once, twice, before aligning himself with the hole he’s been dreaming about for weeks. 

“oh fuck!” you cry out, eyes fluttering shut when you feel him breach you, inch by inch sinking deeper into you. 

the moment he bottoms out, chris is sure he has never felt something as perfect as your cunt around him. his hands grab your waist, knuckles turning white as he grounds himself. 

“you feel so fucking good.” his first thrust makes you squeak, hand flying to your mouth, remembering your co-workers are still somewhere out there. 

“need to shut yourself up already, hm? i haven’t even started, love.” you can’t see him but you just know the smug grin on his face. your eyes roll back just then, his hips setting a relentless pace. 

getting fucked by christopher dixon is better than anything your mind could have ever come up with. he’s hard and quick and yet manages to hit your sweet spot every fucking time. he groans and moans and whispers dirty things, his hands constantly tightening their grip on you. 

the sound of skin on skin, the wetness of your core and his constant sounds fill the air and you can’t help but feel like you're already about to come all over him.

“can’t believe i didn’t do this earlier, fucking hell.” chris shows no mercy, chasing his high while chasing yours, eyes glued to the way your pussy keeps on taking his cock like it was made for it. his mouth hangs open, vision going blurry when he feels you clench over and over, when your cunt spasms around him, when your cries behind your hand grow higher and more frequent.

“are you gonna come on my cock, pet? gonna be a good slut and come all over my cock?” he’s in a trance, not even really noticing the way you nod frantically. his own climax is so close he can taste it, his balls tightening more and more with every passing second.

and then, you reach the gates of heaven. chris’ cock slams into your g-spot two more times and you lose all your senses. your legs give in and if you hadn’t been propped on the table you would have fallen to the floor. 

your orgasm shakes you, your whole body tingling with excitement, with pleasure, with bliss. you squeeze chris’ cock for all it has, milking him dry of the cum you’ve so desperately wanted inside of you.

he gives it all to you. moans your name as he does, cum squirting out of his cock over and over until he collapses on top of you, your shared releases dripping down your thighs when his cock slips out. 

it takes the two of you a good three minutes to get back up. neither of you can breathe normally and neither of you can bear to stand. so, you lean against the desk and he falls onto his desk chair. 

“i think i deserve a raise.” you say after a while. 

chris stares at you and you stare back. 

and then you burst out into laughter.

“yeah. yeah you do.” 

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full throttle. ˢᵐᵘᵗ

THE MOMENT you lift your phone and snap the photo, you already know how this ends.

heorge is sprawled across the dark couch like temptation sculpted into flesh ⸺ all casual sprawl and unconscious dominance, every inch of him demanding attention. His long legs are spread in that deliberate, indecent way he never quite admits to, the white trousers clinging in all the right places, creased and pristine over thick, solid thighs. One arm is thrown lazily along the backrest, his hand curled loosely like he owns the room. like he owns you. The other hangs down by his side, fingers grazing the rug, the pose effortless and arrogant, like he’s moments from pulling you in and making you beg.

The light floods in around him, harsh and honeyed. Behind his slouched frame, the sea shimmers through the floor-to-ceiling windows, each wave glinting with silver-blue light that dances across his shoulders and jaw. Heat radiates off the glass, sinking into your skin, making the air feel heavy, like late-afternoon lust, like something about to tip over. Every breath tastes faintly of salt and dust and the unbearable possibility of touch.

And then there’s the helmet.

That ridiculous, idiotic, infuriatingly teal helmet perched on his head like some inside joke. The visor is down. mirrored, sleek, impenetrable, hiding every trace of his face, of his smirk, of his eyes that you know are watching you even now. It should be laughable. It should break the spell.

But it doesn’t. It heightens it.

Because he looks devastating. Like a sculpture you’re not allowed to touch. Like a sin you’re going to commit anyway. The curve of his neck disappearing into the stupid strap, the way the shadow of the visor catches the slope of his cheek. it makes him untouchable. Anonymous. Owned. And somehow that’s worse. Somehow it makes you ache. Your mouth goes dry. Your thighs press together without thinking.

Because you can’t see his eyes, but you can feel them. Because he hasn’t said a word, but your body’s already responding. Because that helmet, absurd and unnecessary, only makes you want to get on top of him and pull the truth out of his mouth.

He’s all power and restraint and obscene stillness, and you want to ruin it. You want to ruin him.

And he’s watching you.

Even though you can’t see his eyes, not even a flicker. you feel it. That unbearable stillness, stretched tight between you. Like the air itself has stopped moving. Like every line of his body, every inch of his slouched, open sprawl is a trap he’s laid just for you. He hasn’t moved a muscle, hasn’t said a word, but you know. You know. He’s watching you like a slow drag of fingers over bare skin. Like he’s already touched you everywhere and is just waiting for you to catch up.

Your skin prickles under the weight of it. Heat pools low in your stomach.

You pretend to stay casual. shift your weight, tilt your head, let your phone lower just slightly in your hand ⸺ but your breath’s already gone uneven. Your pulse trips in your neck. Your eyes skim his frame again, helpless to stop. That posture, the slack confidence in it. The teasing spread of his legs. The helmet. Fuck, the helmet.

“Why the helmet?” you manage, aiming for lightness, for a tease, but it comes out softer than you mean it to. warm at the edges, tinted with heat. Your gaze drags over him slow, deliberate. “Planning to ride something?”

The sound that comes from the helmet is low and rough, like gravel warmed by sun. It’s a laugh, but twisted through the filtered visor, it comes out darker, deeper, almost mechanical. A sound made for shadows and closed doors. It rolls through the room and coils between your legs.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

It’s not just the words. It’s the way he says it. Languid. Intimate. Like you’re already halfway undone and he’s just pointing it out. Like he knows exactly how slick you are under that dress. Like he’s been counting the seconds since you walked in, waiting for your legs to start shaking.

Your stomach flips. Your fingers tighten on the phone.

He still hasn’t moved. Still hasn’t taken off the helmet. And somehow, that makes it worse. Somehow, that makes you want him more.

It hits like a slow slap of heat ⸺ that voice, warped and velvety through the helmet, all smoke and shadows and something filthy just beneath the surface. It vibrates straight through your chest and coils low in your stomach, a throb between your thighs that’s impossible to ignore. Your breath catches, half a gasp, and your lips part on instinct.

He doesn’t need to say more. He knows that. He lets the silence sit, thick and deliberate. A silence full of implication.

The tone alone does it. rich and dragging, dipped in suggestion, just this side of dangerous. Like he could fuck you without lifting a hand. Like he will, when he’s ready. When you’ve earned it.

Your eyes fall again before you can help it. Down the long line of him ⸺ the tension hiding beneath the slouch, the precise, teasing stillness of his posture. The curve of muscle beneath white cotton, the deep stretch of his thighs, the subtle shift of his hips. He’s not obvious about it. Not blatant. But he’s half-hard already. Thick beneath the fabric, heat rising from him in waves. Waiting.

Your throat tightens. The words slip out before you can stop them. a whisper more breath than sound. “You’re unbelievable.”

And it feels like too much. Like confession. Like surrender.

But George doesn’t move.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t reach for you. Doesn’t tip his head or twitch a finger. He just sits there. sprawled, silent, helmeted ⸺ like a fucking altar. Like he knows you’ll come to him.

And that’s why you do.

You step forward. One careful stride across the rug. Then another. And then, without fanfare, without breath, without permission. you climb into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like the room was built for this. Like the heat was meant to melt you into him.

Your dress rides up around your hips as you swing a leg over him. The fabric snags, whispers up your thighs. You settle, slowly, knees pressed into the cushions on either side of his body, your core lowering to hover just above where he’s already thick and twitching under the fabric. The soft give of his trousers bunches beneath you, heat pressing through the layers like it’s pulsing.

Your hands find purchase ⸺ one braced on his shoulder, the other sliding up the helmet until your fingers curl over the crown.

You sit there, straddling him. Breath shallow. Skin flushed. And still, he doesn’t move.

His hands stay right where they were: one on the backrest, the other draped low beside his thigh. Like you’re a dream he’s letting play out. Like your weight on him, the way your thighs press open and your dress clings, is just part of the show.

The air feels molten now. thick with heat and possibility, every breath tasting like sunlight and sweat and something about to break. The whole room is suspended in gold, dizzy and overripe, like the sun’s been holding its breath along with you. Time doesn’t move. Nothing does. Except you, perched on top of him like a storm waiting to happen.

George doesn’t touch you at first. He just watches.

Or, he makes you feel watched, that unbearable attention leaking through the mirrored visor. The kind that strips you bare and holds you there, still and open and humming. You can’t see his eyes, but you can feel them everywhere. on your mouth, your thighs, the damp heat between them. Your nipples pebble through the fabric of your dress, aching and obvious, and still he stays perfectly still, a monument of restraint.

Then, finally, his hands lift. Slow. Measured.

Gloved fingers find the backs of your thighs and settle there, leather-rough and deliberate, anchoring you. Not pulling. Not guiding. Just holding. As if he’s offering the illusion of control when you both know who really has it.

“Thought you wanted a picture,” he says.

And through the helmet, his voice is thick. Lower now. Wrapped in static and something dangerous. That strange echo makes it worse, more intimate, more private, like the helmet doesn’t muffle him, it possesses him. Like you’re hearing thoughts he hasn’t spoken aloud.

Your fingers tighten on his shoulders. “I got what I needed,” you breathe.

And then you roll your hips. Once. So slow, but so so so deliberate.

The drag of your bare heat over the thick ridge of him is obscene ⸺ too much, not enough, perfect. Even through layers, it lights you up. You hear it: the grunt that rips from his throat, low and guttural, caught somewhere between restraint and ruin. His hands clench, his fingers digging into your skin, but he doesn’t move beyond that. He can’t.

The helmet turns him into something tethered. Leashed. Controlled. And you are the one doing it.

You lean forward, breath shaky, and press your lips to the glass of the visor.

Just a kiss. Soft. Fleeting. A whisper of contact.

But it lands. A faint, glistening smear of lip balm and heat. A ghost of you, marked on him. It lingers there, a perfect imprint of desire and denial.

He can’t kiss you back. Can’t see your face clearly. Can’t move the way he wants, the way he’s aching to ⸺ and the tension of it thrums through him like a live wire, vibrating just beneath the surface of his skin. His thighs twitch beneath yours. His jaw tenses behind the mask.

You grind down again.

Harder this time. Slower. Letting your slick heat smear across the thick line of him, fabric dampening between you both. He’s huge like this, already swollen and straining, trapped beneath cotton and leather and control, and he makes a sound you’ve never heard before. Half choked. Half sacred.

You rock again, and again, breath hitching with every drag, and all he can do is take it. Take you.

Helpless beneath you. Helpless for you.

And it’s delicious.

The sound he makes isn’t even human ⸺ it tears out of him like something primal, raw, somewhere between a growl and a gasp. Choked. Guttural. Helpless. It scrapes through the helmet, distorted and thick, like static over thunder, and it shoots straight through you ⸺ a jolt of heat, of power, of need. His fingers clamp down around your thighs, gloved and rough, leather biting into the soft backs of your legs hard enough to bruise. But he doesn’t push you off. Doesn’t try to stop you.

He just takes it.

Every drag of your hips. Every slick grind of heat against the rigid line of him beneath his trousers. Every breathless taunt you spill across the glass.

“Bet it’s driving you mad,” you whisper, lips hovering a hair above the visor, breath fogging the mirrored surface. “Not being able to kiss me. Not being able to see properly. Just sitting there while I fuck you like this.”

He jerks beneath you, whole body twitching like you’ve struck a nerve, a muscle reflex. A need. His hips snap up once, unthinking, desperate. His fingers dig deeper, breath catching so sharp it hitches through the helmet.

“You’re such a little ⸺ ” he breaks off, voice mangled in his throat. “Fuck.”

You giggle. breathless, teasing, drunk on the power. On the sight of him, still restrained, still masked, still aching. “What was that, love?”

His voice cracks when he speaks, like it’s being torn from his chest through the heat. “Keep going,” he groans. “Fuck, just ⸺ don’t stop.”

You don’t. But you do shift.

Your fingers trail down his stomach, over the soft cotton of his shirt, until they find the waistband of his trousers. You move slow on purpose, every motion deliberate, savoring the tension radiating off him like heat from a furnace. Your fingers dip under the band, grazing hot skin, and then ⸺ there.

You find him. Heavy. Hard. So hot. Twitching in your palm like he’s barely holding it together.

His reaction is instant ⸺ a ragged gasp that sounds like it’s being torn from the deepest part of him. His thighs tense under yours, hips jerking up involuntarily, desperate to fuck into your hand. But the second he thrusts. the second he tries ⸺ you pull back.

He makes this noise. something wrecked and strangled and furious with need. A sound of frustration and surrender all at once, like he’d say your name if he could remember how to breathe.

You smile. Slow. Sweet. Cruel. You almost feel bad.

"Uh-uh," you murmur, running your fingers lightly over the head of him, not giving him friction, just tease. Just presence. “You don’t get to move unless I say so.”

And god, the way he trembles. The power in it. The tension. Like he’s straining against invisible rope, held in place by the sheer force of your control. The helmet turns him into something bound. an icon of denial, of raw, leashed desire ⸺ and beneath it, you can feel how close he is. Every inch of him throbbing, aching, undone.

You grind your hips down again, slower this time. Meaner. His cock trapped between you, still clothed, already leaking.

And he shudders. Every breath he takes sounds like a plea.

You roll your hips again, slow, filthy, obscene ⸺ dragging your slick heat over the thick line of him with just enough pressure to drive him mad. It’s torture by rhythm, the kind that makes your thighs ache and his body tremble. The pace is deliberate. Intentional. Every grind, every pulse of wet heat, a reminder that you’re in charge; that he can’t see you properly, can’t touch you the way he wants, can’t do a thing except sit there and feel you.

And the helmet? The helmet makes it worse.

It traps him inside ⸺ muffling his breath, turning every sound he makes into something distorted, guttural, desperate. You can hear how wrecked he is in the way the air fogs the glass. How it shortens, catches, breaks. He can’t cool down. Can’t get enough air. He’s burning from the inside out, and all he can do is take it.

You reach up slowly and drag one finger across the visor, right over the faint, glistening kiss mark you left earlier. A stroke so light, so mocking, your nail clicks faintly on the tinted surface.

“You look so good like this,” you murmur, voice syrup-slick with heat. “Like a fucking toy.”

And god, the way he groans ⸺ it tears out of him, deeper now, completely shameless. It’s a surrender, a command, a need so raw it scrapes.

“Get on with it then,” he growls, hips twitching up again, no control left in him. “Come on. Ride me.”

You smile. soft, wicked, indulgent ⸺ like you’re giving in just to be merciful. But you’re not. You’re savoring it.

Your hand slips between your legs. You hook two fingers into the crotch of your panties and tug them aside. not off, never off. Just to the side. Just enough. It’s crude, efficient, hot. Your arousal clings, glistens, strings slightly in the space between as you hover over him, your breath catching.

And then, slowly, you lower yourself.

The tip of him catches at your entrance, swollen and already slick from your teasing. He stretches you open, thick and hot and unrelenting, the first inch making you gasp, your thighs already trembling with the sheer pressure of it. Your hands brace on his chest . still clothed, still heaving ⸺ and you sink down, inch by inch, swallowing him deeper, your body fluttering around him as he fills you.

Your breath stutters. A choked moan slips free.

Until finally, finally, you’re seated fully, thighs shaking, cunt pulsing, your body stretched to its limit around him.

George bucks beneath you. helpless, raw, overwhelmed ⸺ and the sound that comes out of him isn’t even a word.

It’s wreckage.

Somewhere behind the helmet, he’s unraveling. unable to see you, unable to touch you, just feeling you clamp around him, warm and slick and so fucking tight. His whole body surges, trapped between resistance and surrender, and the groan that breaks from him sounds like it’s clawing its way up from his spine.

You stay there for a moment, full of him, your chest rising and falling with broken breaths.

Then you roll your hips, slow and deep, and he shudders.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, voice thick and ragged as you brace your hands firmly on his broad shoulders, steadying yourself while sinking fully down onto him. The stretch is deep, impossibly deep. every inch of him filling you so completely it steals your breath away. Your muscles clench around him, hot and tight, gripping like you’re trying to hold him inside you forever. “Fuck, baby ⸺ so deep ⸺”

His hands fly to your hips, desperate and trembling, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He’s holding you like if he loosens his grip, he might shatter ⸺ like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. The slight hitch in his breath makes your skin crawl.

You start to move.

At first, it’s slow. Torturously slow. Grinding, teasing, every slick drag of your slick wetness rubbing along the thick length of him inside you like a sin. Your hips roll with a languid, sinful rhythm. a teasing promise that builds and builds. Your hands stay flat against his chest, fingers spread wide, palms pressed into the warm cotton of his shirt, feeling the pounding thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. The sunlight streams through the windows, painting your skin in molten gold and sharp shadows that trace every curve, every tremble of muscle, every shiver of heat that you radiate.

Each movement sends a tremor through your thighs, shaking and trembling with effort and pleasure. The air between you thickens and tightens, your breath misting the visor, fogging it with every desperate inhale he takes.

“You can’t even see me properly, can you?” you murmur, voice low, teasing, dripping with heat.

He shakes his head, the word caught and broken in his throat, thick with need. “I can feel you,” he rasps, voice rough and raw.

That’s all it takes to make your pulse spike, your breath catch like a fire storm.

You angle your hips, chasing that perfect friction, grinding harder, deeper, slow but vicious. The slick, wet sound of skin sliding against skin fills the room. soft, sticky, sinful. The couch creaks beneath your weight, the afternoon sun melting into a golden haze around you.

Your nails dig into his chest suddenly, sharp and demanding, as your rhythm stutters and falters, then speeds up. frantic, urgent, insatiable.

“You feel so ⸺ fuck, George ⸺ so full,” you gasp, breath shuddering, the words trembling on your tongue. “I can’t ⸺ ” You ride him harder now, hips snapping down in a maddening rhythm, chasing the edge of everything. “You’re mine like this. Mine.”

He growls low and guttural ⸺ something inside him snaps, raw and urgent. His hips jerk upward, hard and relentless, slamming into the deepest, most sensitive parts of you. Each thrust is sharp, brutal, making you cry out with a heady mix of shock and need. Your back arches instinctively, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure crash over you, wild and unforgiving.

Your hands slide down, fingers circling your clit fast and tight, desperate for the pressure, the friction, the edge that will push you over. Your breath comes in ragged pants, the room spinning, everything narrowing down to the dizzying pulse between your legs.

“Fuck, yes,” George rasps through the helmet, voice thick and barely coherent, raw with need. “Touch yourself. Come on. Want to feel you fall apart ⸺ ”

And fall apart you do.

Your orgasm hits like a blast of molten fire ⸺ white-hot, trembling, all-consuming. Your muscles clamp down around him, trembling, shaking as your body collapses against his, whining his name through clenched teeth. The world narrows to the heat and the weight of him, the slick, aching pressure flooding through every nerve ending.

George answers with a broken, desperate sound. a growl somewhere deep in his throat as he thrusts up once, twice, then lets go, coming hard inside you. His hips jerk and lock beneath you, every inch taut with release, his breath ragged and shuddering.

Then, silence.

Just the ragged rise and fall of your breaths, the faint fog swirling on the visor’s glass, and the distant, soothing crash of waves beyond the windows.

Your forehead leans against the cool, solid helmet, intimate and strange, a tether between you.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, breathless.

George lets out a breathless laugh, low and warm. “That’s one way to test a visor’s fog resistance.”

You snort, still trembling, draped over him like silk. “You’re not taking that off.”

“No?”

You nuzzle the side of the helmet, grinning against the hard shell. “Nope. You’re wearing that next time too.”

based off this ask