#youtuber x reader

[w2soneshots]

i’ve can’t stop thinking about an idea i have in my head, is it possible for a george fic but and if your are missing your family and getting really upset and george comes to comfort you?? in inside btw!!

Cameras off -George clarkey

words: 0.6k+

warnings: angst/comfort.

notes: thank you for the idea girly, this is cuteee! I did write it as a shorter blurb since I’ve already done one INside fic (though it ended up being a little longer than expected)😌🫶🏼. Enjoy!!💘

The group sat in the living room, now not as many as the beginning of the week but it was still loud. Your head ached as PK started shouting -unintentionally- about something you weren't paying attention to, though in that moment it was the last thing you needed.

You got up without a word and took yourself into the makeup room, where all of the girls get ready in the morning. Sitting on a stool, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your emotions as the thoughts in your mind started to consume you.

"Hey?" A hand on your back startled you, causing you to jump slightly. "Sorry, you okay?" George asked quietly, a softness to his voice that you hadn't heard before.

You nodded, not fully trusting your voice. "Do you wanna go outside? The team will let you if you need a second." He was being so sweet and it was just making it harder for you to hold your tears back.

"Yeah, can you come with me?" You asked, without thinking. They usually didn't let two people go outside at once, to avoid interesting conversations not being filmed.

"y/n and George to room nineteen," the intercom voice spoke before you could say another word. You looked at each other. "Come on." He reached his hand out for you to take once he'd stood up. You took it and he lead you to room nineteen, everyone else still sat chatting away in the main area.

One of the welfare people stood outside the door once you entered the hallway. "Hi," the kind woman began, "Tobi saw some of your conversation, if you need to you can go outside with George. They won't show any of this if you don't want them too."

You let out a slight breath of relief. "That'd be great," you replied quietly. "Okay," she nodded, "follow me." She lead you and George to the private terrace then checked you were okay one last time before telling you to take as long as you needed.

The both of you sat on the outdoor sofa they had and you breathed in the fresh air. "So, what ails you?" He asked in a doctory voice, lightning the mood. "Just- I'm just overwhelmed I think. There's no peace and I like my alone time, you know?" You looked to him.

"I completely get that," he reassured you, "there's a lot of big personalities. Plus, being filmed constantly doesn't help the situation." You nodded, looking down at your lap then you spoke again, "it's also so awful not knowing what's going on outside, like if everyone's okay." A tear slipped down your cheek.

George felt for you and he was feeling the exact same. He shuffled closer to you and slowly put his hand on your knee. "Want a hug?" "Yeah," you whispered tearfully before leaning into him. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and after a few silent sobs you calmed.

"Sorry," you mumbled as you pulled away, wiping the few tears you'd left on his hoodie. "Don't worry about it. Feel better?" He kept his voice soft and calm as he spoke. "Much, thanks for being my therapist," you smiled as you tried to make yourself look normal and like you'd not been crying.

After a few more minutes of quiet you felt ready to go back into the house. Just before you opened the door you went to kiss George on the cheek -to say thank you- but he turned and you ended up kissing his lips. "Oh- that- oops." You both burst out laughing, nether of you were mad about the kiss.

The last few days you spent most of your time together, wether it was sat next to each other on the couch, switching beds so that you slept in the corner next to his or him spending his morning at the makeup table talking to you while you got ready.

You fancied George and he fancied you, so when you finally got out of the house and he asked you out obviously you said yes.

[hufflepuffsthunderdome]

Flustered pt 4.

Summary: sex leads to some cute domestic moments as Schlatt hopes for more A/N: A tiny cute little bonus part that I wrote in like 20 minutes, because our favourite gooner @the-slimebox wanted more cuddles in pt 3 and I do play favourites. No gooning to this I'm afraid but I hope you enjoy regardless ily ❤️

It’s been months now of this weird game of cat and mouse; every time you or Schlatt were in the same city, he’d be in your hotel room, on his knees, eating you out the second you asked him to. He relished in the way you moaned and writhed above him, wanting nothing more than to please you, to feel you tug his hair, praise him, tell him how pathetic it is even.

Because he knows it’s pathetic, how easily he gives in and drops everything for you the second you ask, how hard he gets from hearing you moan for him, completely neglecting his own needs. He has you on an alter in his mind, this goddess who graces him with a second of her time that he should feel lucky to have, but fuck he wants more.

With a pornographic moan you clamp around him as you feel him pulse inside you, collapsing on top of him as he fills you up with his cum. He immediately wraps his arms around you as he pants into your hair, holding you close as you both come down from your high.

The room I quiet, music playing from his phone somewhere discarded in the room, the sounds of the city outside nothing but white noise as you lay together. You make no effort to move, nor even flinching when his soft cock slips out of you and his cum dribbles out, too exhausted to care.

He doesn’t dare move, just lying there and holding you tight to him. He’s not used to this. Usually, when you have sex, you’re the one stroking his hair, whispering how good he did as you encourage him to sleep, just to slip out of bed and sneak off before he can wake up.

His heart aches painfully as he hears the soft sigh fall from your lips, his own breath stuttering at how right this feels, to have you in his arms like this. He moves his hand, lazily dragging it up and down your back as he pressing his lips to your temple.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers, breaking through the silence as he lets himself speak just part of how he feels about you. He feels you tense up in his arms and his breath stutters as he worries he's ruined it all. You get like this sometimes, when he tells you these things after you've come down from your high. Tense and shy, you'll push him away under the guise of being playful while he desperately reaches out to pull you closer.

You don’t reply this time, though, no pushing him away, no laughing him off, just staying in his arms, slightly tense, breathing deep and long as you let him hold you. His hands on your body, his warmth surrounding you pulls you further into him as you let your eyes flutter shut and your body relax.

“Y/N?” he whispers softly into the room, breath shaking as he hears you hum in response, “will you stay the night this time?” he whispers, hands shaking with nerves as he finally manages to push out the question he desperately wants to ask you every time. The room goes silent for a while, as his hand still on the small of his back, anxiety settling in his stomach as he worries he's messed everything up.

Tiredness overtakes you as finally you nod gently into his chest, lulled by the sound of his pounding heartbeat as you press a kiss to his skin, feeling the way it heats up against your face, “yeah,” you whisper softly, “I'll stay.”

He feels the tears well up in his eyes as he holds you, letting out a sigh of relief as he feels your breathing against his chest even out. He keeps a hold on you, basking in the domestic bliss he has so desperately been craving for all these months. He doesn’t know when lust turned to love, but he holds onto these tiny moments of intimacy whenever he can.

He lets himself relax, keeping his grip firm on you, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away into the night as he lets his eyes shut, falling asleep with you for the first time since you started all this.

He wakes up the next morning, registering your gentle weight on his chest before he even opens his eyes and failing to hold back the smile that breaks out on his face. He opens his eyes lazily and looks down at you, still curled up where you collapsed against him the night before, hands wrapped tightly around him as you drool on his chest in your sleep.

He tightens his hold on you as he admires you while you sleep, the soft breathing through your parted lips breaking the early morning silence. He gently strokes his thumb against your cheek, smiling softly when you begin to stir against him.

Your eyes flutter open as you look up at him, blinking a few times as you process where you are. He’s smiling down at you, stroking your cheek as he looks at you in total awe. You feel your heart stutter in your chest as you look away bashfully for just a second, before he’s guiding your head back to face him.

“Morning,” he whispers simply, too scared to say all the words he wants to say as he takes in your presence, naked and clinging to him, right where you belong.

You blush as you look up at him, chin resting on his chest as you take in his messy curls and lazy smile, “morning,” you whisper back, before you’re resting your head against his chest again, chasing his warmth as he pulls you tighter.

[ddlydevotion]

HE'S VENUS AS A BOY ⊹˚₊･

boyfriend! hamzah x fem reader headcanons ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹

a/n: this is purely FICTION if u couldn’t already tell.

Hamzah is the first person you run to when it’s time to gossip. He gets sooo sassy sometimes it’s honestly hilarious. You can always count on him to channel his bitchy side when the two of you are talking about someone you don’t like. He constantly has you wondering how he even comes up with the insults he uses for the people you don’t get along with. Like, what possessed you to say that shit ໒꒰ྀི˶╥︿��꒱ྀི১ ? At least you know he’ll always have your back!

you always help dress him up when Martin and him decide to be in costume for a podcast episode. I’ve mentioned this in the first post I made about him, but he would absolutely ask you to help him out with his costumes. If he’s wearing makeup/a wig/feminine clothing, he’s making you help him. Not that you’d need that much convincing anyway.

like, literally look at him. Him in those little braids is gonna kill meee ohmygod 😭.

prefers to have you around when he’s editing a video. He loves being able to have you sit on his lap while he works on putting out a video for the day. Your feedback is something he values an incredible amount, and he’s always asking for your opinion when it comes to music choices, text styles, transitions, etc.

Constantly sending you updates on his day when the two of you are away from each other. You could be out n about running some errands, and you’ll receive tons of messages from Hamzah saying what he’s doing at that exact moment.

“me and the cats miss u 😞.” “babyyyyy do u know when you’ll be home” “do you want me to order something before u get back home?”

Hamzah most definitely refers to you as your cat’s ‘mom’. He’ll be holding one of your cats in his arms, talking to them in a baby voice before saying: “wanna say hi to mama?”

You helped prepare his food when he was in the process of bulking up for his boxing match with Martin. Okay, baby, so you need 16 eggs? Coming right up!

Hamzah is constantly putting you on to new music. some of your favorite songs are ones that he recommended to you.

He always finds an excuse to talk about you. There are countless clips of Hamzah rambling on n on about you, sharing cute little stories that he has stored up about his sweet girlfriend. There’s even a funny clip of Martin saying, “here he go y’all 😒”, meanwhile Hamzah is practically powering up to start talking about you. Martin doesn’t actually have a problem with it he just likes teasing Hamzah about how ‘whipped’ he is.

During his boxing match with Martin, you could be seen wearing your very own version of Mandy’s shirt.

He is almost ALWAYS taking photos of you with those stupid ass filters on. He finds it soo funny and uses those photos as stickers/reaction pictures when he’s texting you. Aside from that, he loves taking photos of you and it’s to the point where his photo gallery might as well be dedicated to you at this point.

He is INSANELY clingy. It honestly gets even more intense when he’s high. It’s to the point where you’re convinced he’s trying to burrow himself within your skin.

when you’re in the same room as him & Martin while they’re filming a podcast, his eyes are always darting behind the camera to admire you. It’s soso cute because he’s all smiley and everyone knows that he’s looking at you behind the camera.

Him trying to telepathically communicate with you while you’re behind the camera:

[georgeclarkesgf]

shush, it's a secret | george clarke

it's not unusual for you to be over at george's flat considering you and him met at university and both moved to london around the same time. but about four months ago, your relationship changed from close friends to just that, a relationship.

you'd both decided to not tell anyone, despite how difficult it was proving to be to not be all over each other 24/7. the fans knew of you, to an extent. you'd appear in the backgrounds of videos or tiktoks posted by the boys. your social media was public, however, none of your accounts included your name, making it less likely for fans to find you.

tonight, you're over at the flat again, legs strewn over george's lap and eating some of the dominoes he'd ordered. a movie chris had picked out plays on the tv, but was now long forgotten about since a debate has broken out amongst the boys. over what? you don't know. you're too focused on the way george's hand is subconsciously trailing up your thigh, dangerously high for a 'close friend'. he honestly hasn't noticed that he's doing it, too engaged in the ongoing debate. so, you pick your phone up from your chest and message him.

too high x

his phone dings and he leans forward, grabbing it off the table before noticing it was from you. you watch as his brows furrow in confusion, before sending him another message.

your hand x

realisation hits george and he squeezes your thigh gently as an apology, moving his hand back down to rest above your knees. he mouths 'sorry' at you, to which you can't help but giggle and shake your head. arthur (hill) looks between you two in slight confusion, going to say something but deciding to keep his mouth shut.

it wasn't that you didn't want to tell people, you'd both just agreed it would be easier figuring things out and adjusting to this shift in dynamic without other people prying their noses in. it didn't make the thrill of getting caught any less exciting though. even the simple things such as him wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder made you get an adrenaline rush.

you can feel your eyes growing heavy, despite it still being relatively early, and decide to call it a night.

"sorry guys but i'm gonna head to bed," an echo of boos fill the room while you shrug, laughing, "i'm tired guys leave me alone. mind if i crash in your bed george?"

it feels weird having to ask your boyfriend if you can sleep in his bed, but it seems to be doing the trick of keeping the relationship a secret. there are only three bedrooms and you've known george the longest, so it makes sense you'd stay in his room.

"no go for it, i probably won't be long." you give him a smile and climb off the sofa, heading to his room.

george's eyes widen when he next checks the time, not realising it was so late.

"shit." he mumbles to himself, gaining a weird look from the boys.

"you alright george?" arthur (hill) questions.

"yea i'm fine. just didn't realise it was so late that's all, got stuff to do tomorrow. i'm gonna go to bed though, night guys." he was lying right through his teeth, he had nothing to do tomorrow.

what george had meant to be ten minutes or so had turned into an hour and a half. arthur (tv) ended up coming over and they'd gotten so caught up in conversation that time seemed to fly by. he knows that you hate falling asleep without him and feels guilt seep into his skin. especially since he knows you won't ask for him to come to bed, not wanting it to come off weird since to the others, you're 'just friends'.

you're staring at the ceiling when he shuts his bedroom door, having fallen asleep for all of twenty minutes before you woke up to an empty bed over an hour ago.

"i'm so sorry baby, i didn't realise it had been that long," you turn to look at him, enjoying the way he starts stroking your cheek with his thumb, "have you been waiting for me?"

"mhm, fell asleep for about twenty minutes and been awake since. it's okay though, kept myself busy," george's jaw drops slightly, clearly misunderstanding your words, "oh my god george, no! i meant by reading some more of my book you perv. get your mind out the gutter."

he laughs and goes in to kiss you but you push his forehead away before he can. you scrunch up your face in disgust.

"ow, what was that for?" he's rubbing his forehead like you just hit him with a bat, making it much more dramatic than necessary.

"brush your teeth, you have pizza breath." he tries to do it again and catch you off guard but fails, "i mean it george."

"yes ma'am."

he disappears into the bathroom and returns a few minutes later. his teeth are brushed and he's wearing a pair of grey joggers. your arms open wide, inviting him to lay on top of you so you can run your nails through his hair and up and down his back. a feeling both of you love.

"can i kiss you now?" he teases, grin widening when you nod your head.

several kisses are planted on your face and you know he's purposefully missing your lips. you frown, wanting him to kiss you properly, not having felt his lips on yours in what felt like years. realistically, it's been a few hours.

"george, kiss me properly." you whine.

and he does just that. one hand holding himself up to hover over you, the other stroking your cheek and bringing you in closer until your lips finally meet. the kiss starts off slow and loving, until he presses you further into the mattress, his hands beginning to roam your body. every ounce of sleep you were feeling disappears, suddenly becoming hyper aware of what's happening.

pulling away, you mumble, "we can't, everyone's here. they'll hear us."

"never stopped us before." george whispers against your mouth, connecting your lips once again.

well touché.

a/n don't ask where the inspiration for this came from at 2 in the morning cause i don't have an answer. not proofread either sorryyy. shall i make a part two? i feel like i'll end up doing it anyway but what do you guys think??

[luvergirl21]

🫵 roommate hamzah 👅

hamzah x reader smut...nsfw warning

hi everyone!

below is my first ever smut so please be nice!

it ends on a pretty big cliffhanger so let me know if yall want a part 2. and i hate coming up with my own ideas so pleaseeeee send me prompts i will love you forever.

summary: you and hamzah are roommates and best friends. but when hamzah comes home pissed one day, y'all hash it out and things get heated.

warnings: nsfw under cut. if you are under the age of 18, do NOT read please.

word count: 3076

You and Hamzah had been roommates and best friends for around four months now. It all started when you moved to Toronto and needed a place to stay. You had collabed with Slushy Noobz multiple times before, being a vlogger/gaming youtuber yourself, so when you arrived in Toronto, practically homeless, Hamzah offered for you to stay with him in his small apartment while you get yourself back on your feet.

Tonight was a crisp fall evening, and the two of you had just come back from carving pumpkins for Mandy’s vlog. Hamzah had driven the two of you home in silence, which was unusual, as normally the two of you were blasting music and laughing while in the car. When he pulled into the small driveway, he killed the engine and exited the car without a word. Normally, being the silly gentleman he was, he would come around to your side and open the door, but instead, he opted to leave you alone in the car, speechless. You scoffed, and exited the car, running to catch up with the taller man.

“Hamzah!” you call out, entering the house. The dark-haired man was in the kitchen, rifling through the cabinets for what you assumed to be his late-night snack-fest. “Hamzah,” you deadpanned, coming up right behind him. He continued to purposefully ignore you. You grab one of his broad shoulders and, with all the strength within you, whip him around so that he’s facing you. His big eyes widened at the sudden strength that had taken over your demeanor.

He looked down at you. “What?” he asked harshly, not a single trace of empathy present in his rough voice.

Anger seized your mind. “What?” you mocked in a high-pitched voice. “What the fuck do you mean by ‘What’? What is up with you, dude? You’ve had, like, the strangest attitude since we left Martin and Mandy’s.”

Hamzah’s brows furrowed. “Just go upstairs, y/n,” he said. “I’m too tired to deal with this right now.” 

You laughed harshly. “You’re ‘too tired’?” you asked in mock disbelief, air-quoting his own words. “That’s not an excuse. You’re never this rude to me.”

Hamzah made a noise low in his throat, almost an animalistic growl. “Go the fuck upstairs, y/n.”

His adamance and unwillingness to explain himself was starting to really piss you off, the small ember of anger burning inside you expanding until you were engulfed in hot rage. You shoved him backwards and he stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the sink. He looked at you with an emotion in his eyes that you were unable to discern. Before you were able to really process what the hell had just happened, Hamzah was upright and closed the inches between you two in seconds. He grabbed you by the front of your hoodie, before roughly backing you into the counter. Your hip slammed into the corner of the wood and you winced. Tears welled up in your eyes, but Hamzah didn’t seem to notice. He was breathing heavily, hunched over your smaller frame, face inches from yours.

“I want you to go upstairs, y/n,” he said, voice uncharacteristically low.

“Ugh!” you say loudly, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You shoved the taller man backwards. “That fucking hurt, you asshole!” Before you know what happened, your hand connected with his face, a loud slap that resonated throughout the whole apartment. Hamzah’s head whipped to the side and his eyes widened, his hand instantly reaching to the wounded area. You gasped and covered your mouth. 

“H-hamzah,” you whispered, stuttering over your words. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I swear, i-i-it just came out of me.” Hamzah looked at you with that same look from before: pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, plush lips that his tongue flicked out and wetted. His chest was heaving up and down. He made a move as if to come towards you, but before he could, you fled upstairs to your room.

You slammed the door shut behind you before sliding down to crouch on the floor. You curled your knees into your chest and breathed heavily. What the absolute fuck just happened? Your back was sweating, and there was a pounding knot in your stomach that you didn’t even want to think about. The way Hamzah had looked at you…fuck. It was almost primal, like he was about to throw you around and fuck you until you couldn’t breath. It was embarrassing to admit it to yourself, but you wanted him to; you wanted it so badly that right now you couldn’t think of anything else, and that pounding in your stomach just got louder and louder.

You shook your head and stood up, legs trembling with desire. What the hell am I thinking about right now? You thought. This is Hamzah, my roommate, the guy who was kind enough to let me live with him for four fucking months, and I’m over here fantasizing about him railing me. What the fuck is wrong with me?

You went over to your closet and changed out of your sweaty clothes. You put on a cute pair of floral boxer shorts and one of Hamzah’s t-shirts. You liked wearing them for two reasons: first, they were way too big on you and usually fell to just above your knees, and second, they smelled just like him, even after washing. You wandered over to the mirror, gazing at yourself in the reflection. You pulled on his shirt, lifting it up to your nose and inhaling his musk. Your own dilated eyes reflected back at you, almost the exact same look that Hamzah had given you earlier.

Fuck it.

You exited your room and beelined it for Hamzah’s. Your mind was blank except for an unquenchable lust that infiltrated your brain, conjuring inappropriate thoughts that fueled the incessant pounding in your cunt. You reached his door and pressed your ear to the wood. Hearing the tell-tale clack of his keyboard, you knew that he was working at his desk. You knocked on the door, once, twice, nobody answered. Knowing him, he probably had his big ass headphones on and couldn’t hear shit even if he wanted to. You opened the door a crack and, just like you predicted, Hamzah was sitting at his desk in the dark with his big headphones on, the only source of light coming from the monitor. You crept up to him. His big eyes were glued to the screen; he didn’t even hear you come in. You leaned down until you were right next to his ear.

“Hamzah,” you whispered. The curly-haired man almost jumped out of his seat, letting out a girlish scream. When he saw it was you, he clutched his heart, breathing heavily.

“Hey,” you said, once he took his headphones fully off.

“Jesus Christ, y/n, you scared the fuck outta me,” he said.

You giggled. “Yeah, my bad. I didn’t know how else to get your attention,” you said sheepishly. Hamzah was looking directly into your eyes, and you swallowed thickly. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for earlier, slapping you and shit, I don’t know what came over me.”

Hamzah laughed. “Nah, I totally deserved it. I was being a dick. I was just pissed off about something and I took it out on you.” He licked his lips. “I didn’t mean to get aggressive with you is all.”

“What were you so pissed off about?”

Hamzah chuckled awkwardly. “It was nothing really.”

“Didn’t seem like nothing,” you responded, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. “Come on, man, we tell each other everything.”

“Well, it was just about this conversation I had earlier with Martin,” he confessed.

“Oh, yeah? What happened?”

“Um, well, I-” he stuttered over his words, alternating between holding eye contact with you and the floor. “I kinda like this girl, I guess, and I keep giving her these hints but she just doesn’t seem to understand.”

Your face flushed. You felt embarrassed walking into Hamzah’s room in a horny state when he had a crush on someone else. “I see,” you said in response to his confession.

“I was talking it over with Martin, you know, and I just couldn’t figure out how to confess it to her. We’re friends and I love that we’re friends and it would be stupid to fuck up our friendship by confessing my feelings.”

“How do you know she doesn’t feel the same?” you asked.

“I mean I don’t, not really, but I’m 99% sure that she doesn’t.”

“Well, you’re never gonna be 100% sure unless you tell her,” you said. “Besides, whoever this girl is is hella lucky. She’s going to be dating the most beautiful, funniest guy I know.” Hamzah grinned at you, teeth and everything, as his cheeks flushed slightly.

“Really?”

“100%” you responded.

“Can I have a hug?” he asked. You grinned at him, jumping up from the bed. Hamzah lept up from his chair and ran to you. He leaned down and you wrapped your hands around his neck. His big arms gripped your waist and lifted you up, spinning you around. You giggled into his shoulder. He put you down and the two of you stood there for a second, arms wrapped around each other. Hamzah’s head nuzzled deeper into your shoulder, and you felt his hot breath tickling your back.

A wide grin broke your face. “Dude, are you smelling me?”

Hamzah broke away from the hug, grinning sheepishly. “Maybe…you just always smell really good.” His eyes looked you up and down, grazing your bare legs to the t-shirt you were wearing. “Is that my shirt?” he asked, brows furrowed.

Bashful, you felt your face growing flushed. “Yeah, it is. I can take it off if you want though.” You turned towards the door to go change, but Hamzah reached down and grabbed your hand, stopping you. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said. “Looks good on you.”

You felt your face heat with an uncontrollable flush. “U-um thanks,” you said. Hamzah didn’t let go of your hand and you looked down at your intertwined fingers. Hamzah looked down too and audibly gulped.

“Y/n?” he said.

“Mmh?” you said, not taking your eyes off of your hands.

“Look at me, y/n,” Hamzah said, his voice rougher than usual. You lifted your eyes to Hamzah’s face and almost gasped at the expression that painted his countenance. It was the same one from earlier: the dilated pupils, the flushed cheeks, the plump, red lips. Your lashes fluttered. Hamzah grabbed your other hand and, holding both of your hands in one of his big ones, reached up to tuck a piece of hair that had fallen from your bun behind your ear. “I need to tell you something,” he whispered. His big brown eyes bore holes into your own, and the intense eye contact made your hands sweaty and your core pound. 

“I, um, I’m in love with you, y/n,” he confessed, at a decibel so low you were unsure you heard him right. He got louder. “And if you don’t feel the same about me—which you probably don’t—we can forget about this whole thing and just go back to how things were if that’s—” You cut off his rambling and leaned up, pressing your lips against his. You pulled back and smiled, gazing into his eyes, which were so dark they looked black. “Holy fuck,” he breathed out, smiling widely, the corners of his eyes crinkling in pure delight.

“Yeah,” you said. “Holy fuck.”

Hamzah looked down at your hands, which were still intertwined with his. “C-can I kiss you again?” he asked.

You giggled. “Yes, Hamzah,” you responded. If it was possible, he smiled wider still and leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. At first, the kiss was sweet and light, but slowly, the two of you began breathing heavier and heavier, and Hamzah’s hands began to roam your body. Desperation filled your body rapidly as Hamzah’s hands alternated between squeezing your waist, your hips, and your ass. His hands were so much bigger than you thought, they were almost able to completely engulf your entire waist. He pulled you closer to him still and you reached up to tug on his dark curls. As soon as your hand made contact with his hair, he groaned deep in his chest and the sound reverberated throughout your entire body, landing especially in your throbbing core. The hand in his hair seemed to spur him on further as he reached down to grab your ass, lifting you up effortlessly. He walked you over to the bed, throwing you onto the mattress and crawling up towards you. He pulled your hair out of your bun, letting the strands splay across the pillow.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he confessed, before diving down to kiss your neck. Sucking and biting and nipping at the delicate skin by your collarbones. Your hands delve into his curls, yanking at them, letting out a breathless moan when he begins to suck on a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear. Hamzah’s hands snake underneath your shirt, playing with the underside of your boobs. You tug at Hamzah’s shirt and he stops kissing you to remove it. You spent a few seconds admiring him. He’d been going to the gym more recently and it had definitely paid off. His broad shoulders and biceps were lean and muscular, but he still had just the right amount of tummy to make your core tighten. You sit up too and begin to take your shirt off, but Hamzah stops you.

“Keep it on, baby,” he says, breathing heavily. “You look so good in my clothes.” He goes back to kissing your neck, reaching his hands underneath your shirt to squeeze your tits. “I’ve always thought that,” he says in between kisses. “Whenever I see you wearing my clothes, my shirts, my hoodies, it made me so fucking hard I can’t think straight.” You let out a breathless moan at his words. He abruptly stops kissing your neck and stands up.

You look up in confusion. “What are you doing?” Hamzah says nothing, reaching down to grab your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed, your knees dangling over the edge. He kneels between your thighs, leaning down to press soft open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs.

You suck in a sharp breath. “Hamzah,” you say breathlessly.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you from between your thighs, eyes wide and dilated. He looked like he was salivating, desperation written all over his face.

“Are you sure?”

He lifted one of your thighs onto your shoulder. “Ever since we first met, when I saw you for the first time, your big eyes, your little waist, I knew that I wanted to taste you. Half of the time I’m around you, I can’t think of anything else other than fucking you with my tongue, your hands gripping my hair until you cum on my mouth.”

“Holy fuck,” you breathed out, your core throbbing almost painfully. Hamzah just grinned at you. He lifted your t-shirt up slightly and slid his fingers into the waistband of your boxers before pulling them down and throwing them somewhere in the room. Coming face-to-face with you soaking pussy, he exhaled the breath he’d been holding in.

“Shit,” he said. “You’re so fucking wet.” He leaned into your pussy, shoving his big nose into your folds and inhaling your scent. You let out a hiss at the sudden contact. He lapped at your cunt, sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking it with his deft tongue. “You taste better than I dreamed, baby,” he confessed. Your head was flung back in ecstasy and your hands reached down to grip onto his curls. When he hit a particularly good spot, you tugged on his hair tightly and he let out a moan that vibrated through your core. You looked down at Hamzah whose doe eyes were holding intense eye contact with you, watching your reaction for what felt good and what didn’t. You noticed that his hips were undulating, thrusting into sheets at the end of the bed. For some reason, it made the situation even hotter that Hamzah was turned on just by eating you out. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to release as your legs began shaking aggressively.

“H-Hamzah,” you whine. “Ugh, I’m close.”

Hamzah inserted one, then two fingers into your wet, overstimulated hole, rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Come on, baby,” he said roughly. “C-cum for me.” Your legs shaking and nose scrunched, you cried out and came all over Hamzah’s face. The second he felt you cum he let out a long whine that vibrated throughout your overstimulated pussy, and you noticed his hips slow to a stutter at the end of the bed.

“Holy shit, Hamzah,” you said, as you came down from your high. You looked down at the dark-haired man. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were glossy. A mixture of spit and your own juices covered his mouth and you felt another throb go through your core.

“Hamzah?” you repeated.

He looked up at you with those glossy eyes as if just remembering where he was. “Shit, y/n,” he responded.

“Hamzahhhhh,” you whined, crawling towards him near the end of the bed. “Will you let me return the favor?”

“I- um, I-I mean,” he stuttered, face flushing a deep shade of pink. You reached the end of the bed and noticed the dark, wet splotch spreading in his pants. Holy shit. You thought. He came from eating me out. That’s…that’s really fucking hot. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, standing up to clean himself off. You shoot to your feet, grabbing the hand that was about to enter his pants.

You look up at him with lust-filled eyes. “Let me,” you said. He looks at you with dilated pupils before nodding his head with frenzied agreement. You pull his sweatpants and boxers down. His softened cock was covered in cum, but as you gripped it in your hand, barely able to close your hand around it fully, it twitched to life again. Hamzah lets out a shaky sigh at the contact and you smirk up at the flustered man.

[viagracex]

could you do one where the reader and george have an argument and she goes non verbal bcs of past trauma?

Bruises, Silence, and Bandages

george clarke x fem!reader

summary: a tense argument with george pulls you into the shadows of your past, but his patience and love remind you that healing doesn’t have to be done alone

warnings: Domestic Abuse, PTSD, Verbal Abuse, Physical Abuse, Mentions of Alcohol Abuse, Self-Worth Issues 

note: Hey everyone, I just want to say that I truly apologize if this chapter made anyone uncomfortable. I wrote this with the knowlegde of an outsider, someone who has seen the effects of abusive relationships and the struggles of healing after them. I’ve done my best to approach these themes with sensitivity and respect, but I understand that everyone’s experiences are different. If anything in this story resonates with you, please know that you are not alone, and I hope you have the support and love you deserve. Thank you for reading, and please take care of yourselves. My mesages are always open 🤍

6.8k words

Masterlist

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The afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across your shared apartment. You stood in the kitchen, hands trembling as you gripped the edge of the countertop. George paced back and forth in the living room, his usually cheerful face contorted with frustration.

"I just don't understand why you won't talk to me about this!" he exclaimed, running a hand through his tousled hair. "We're supposed to be partners. How can we fix things if you won't even tell me what's wrong?"

You wanted to respond, to explain the tangled knot of emotions constricting your chest, but the words wouldn't come. It was as if an invisible hand had reached down your throat and stolen your voice. Your heart raced, and you felt the familiar panic rising.

George's voice grew louder, his accent thickening with emotion. "Is it something I did? Something I said in a video? For God's sake, just say something!"

The room began to spin, memories of past arguments crashing over you like waves. Your chest tightened as George's voice echoed through the apartment, his words blurring into distorted sounds. The room tilted, and you gripped the counter harder, your knuckles turning white. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the flood of memories threatening to overwhelm you.

Suddenly, you were back in that cramped, dimly lit apartment from years ago. The air was thick with the acrid smell of stale cigarettes and cheap beer. His voice—not George's, but his—rang in your ears, each word laced with venom. "You stupid bitch! Answer me when I'm talking to you!"

The sting of his palm against your cheek, the crash of a bottle shattering against the wall—it all felt so real, so present. You could almost feel the phantom ache of bruises long faded. You could feel yourself shrinking, becoming smaller and smaller until you were nothing but a speck of dust, desperate to be overlooked.

Back in the present, George's frustrated sighs pierced through the fog of your memories. "I don't understand," he muttered, his accent thicker than ever. "We were fine yesterday. What changed?"

You wanted to tell him, to explain that it wasn't his fault, that the raised voices and tense atmosphere had triggered something deep within you. But your throat constricted, and your tongue felt like lead in your mouth. The words were there, trapped behind a wall of fear and shame.

George's frustrated voice faded into the background as you sank deeper into the flashback. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps. The kitchen tiles beneath your feet seemed to tilt and sway.

"Are you even listening to me?" George demanded, his voice closer now. You flinched instinctively as he entered the kitchen, your body tensing for a blow that wouldn't come.

George's footsteps halted abruptly. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by your ragged breathing. Slowly, you opened your eyes, blinking away the haze of memory. George stood frozen, his expression shifting from anger to concern as he took in your hunched posture and pale face.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice gentler now. "What's happening? Are you alright?"

You tried to nod, to reassure him, but your body wouldn't cooperate. Instead, you slid down to the floor, your back pressed against the cool cabinet doors. George hesitated for a moment before carefully lowering himself to sit beside you, leaving a respectful distance between you.

The familiar scent of his cologne—a mix of sandalwood and citrus—helped ground you in the present. You focused on it, using it as an anchor to pull yourself away from the memories threatening to drag you under.

"I'm sorry," George whispered, his accent softening the words. "I didn't mean to shout. I just... I worry about you, you know? When you go quiet like this, I feel so helpless."

You wanted to reach out, to squeeze his hand and tell him it wasn't his fault. But your body remained frozen, trapped between past and present. In your mind, you could still hear the other voice—his voice—berating you, mocking your silence, twisting it into another reason to lash out.

"You're pathetic," the voice in your head sneered, an echo of your ex-boyfriend's cruel words. "Can't even speak up for yourself. No wonder he hates you."

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the intrusive thoughts. But they persisted, a poisonous whisper in the back of your mind.

George shifted beside you, the fabric of his hoodie rustling softly. "I'm here," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever's going on, whatever you're feeling, I'm here."

His words, so gentle and understanding, were a stark contrast to the memories swirling in your mind. You remembered the constant walking on eggshells, the way your ex would fly into a rage at the slightest provocation. The way he'd grab your arm, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises, whenever you tried to leave during an argument.

You could almost feel the pain of those bruises now, your skin prickling with the memory of his touch. Your breath hitched, and you curled in on yourself, making your body as small as possible.

In your mind's eye, you saw yourself cowering in the corner of that dingy apartment, arms raised to protect your face from the blows you knew were coming. The smell of cheap vodka and sweat filled your nostrils, making your stomach churn. You could almost feel the cold, hard floor beneath you as you curled into yourself, trying to become as small as possible.

The memories shifted, and suddenly you were reliving the night you finally escaped. The adrenaline coursing through your veins as you hastily shoved clothes into a bag, the heart-stopping fear when you heard his key in the lock, the burning in your lungs as you ran down the street, not daring to look back.

In the present, George's warm hand gently touched your shoulder, causing you to flinch violently. "Love, you're scaring me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

You couldn't respond. Your mind was trapped in a loop of painful memories, each one more vivid than the last. The sound of shattering glass echoed in your ears, mingling with the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. You remembered the feeling of rough hands gripping your arms, shaking you violently as angry words were spat in your face.

George noticed your constant flinching every time he he spoke. His brow furrowing with concern. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly, his accent wrapping around the words like a warm blanket. "I would never hurt you. You're safe here, I promise."

A part of you wanted to believe him, to trust in the sincerity of his words. But another part, the part still trapped in the past doubted every word.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's okay. You're safe here."

His words, so gentle and reassuring, stood in stark contrast to the memories swirling in your mind. You remembered the constant walking on eggshells, the way your stomach would churn with anxiety every time you heard keys in the lock. The other man—your ex—had been unpredictable, his moods shifting like quicksand beneath your feet.

There were good days, of course. Days when his smile was genuine, his touch tender. But those moments were fleeting, always overshadowed by the looming threat of his temper. You recalled the first time he'd struck you—a slap that left your ears ringing and your cheek stinging. He'd apologized profusely, showering you with gifts and promises to never do it again. You'd believed him, desperate to cling to the man you thought you loved.

But the violence escalated. Slaps turned to punches, shoves became throws. Your body became a canvas of bruises and cuts, each one carefully hidden beneath long sleeves and thick makeup. The physical pain was excruciating, but it paled in comparison to the emotional torment. His words cut deeper than any blow, chipping away at your self-worth until you felt hollow inside.

The night it all came to a head. He caught you in the middle of packing your bags. He had obviously been drinking heavily, his words slurring as he hurled insults at you. The bottle of whiskey in his hand glinted menacingly in the dim light of the apartment. You'd tried to leave, to escape the suffocating atmosphere, but he blocked your path.

"Where do you think you're going?" he'd snarled, his breath hot on your face. "You're nothing without me. No one else would ever want you."

The memory of his fingers digging into your arms made your skin crawl. You could almost feel the sting of glass shards as the whiskey bottle shattered against the wall, inches from your head. The fear had been paralyzing, rooting you to the spot as he towered over you, fist raised.

In that moment, something inside you had snapped. With strength born of desperation, you'd shoved him aside as hard as you physically could and ran. You remembered the burn in your lungs as you sprinted down the street, the icy rain soaking through your thin t-shirt. You'd left most of you things behind—clothes, possessions, your entire life—but you were finally free.

The months that followed were a blur of cheap motels and sleepless nights. Every shadow made you flinch, every loud noise sent your heart racing. You'd changed your number, your email, even your appearance, desperate to erase every trace of your past life.

Slowly, painfully, you'd begun to rebuild. A new job, a tiny studio apartment, a handful of cautious friendships. But the scars remained, both physical and emotional. You jumped at sudden noises, flinched away from physical contact, and struggled to trust anyone who showed interest in you.

Then George had entered your life like a whirlwind of laughter and warmth. His YouTube videos had been a source of comfort during your darkest days, his goofy smile and infectious laugh a balm for your wounded soul. Meeting him in person had been surreal, like a dream come to life.

At first, you'd been guarded, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But George had been patient, his kindness unwavering. He never pushed, never demanded more than you were ready to give. Slowly, you'd let your walls down, allowing yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you deserved happiness.

Now, sitting on the cold kitchen floor with George beside you, you felt those walls threatening to rebuild themselves. The argument had triggered something deep within you, unleashing a flood of memories you'd tried so hard to suppress.

"Love," George's voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, soft and hesitant. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Can you look at me?"

You wanted to, to reassure him that this wasn't his fault. But your eyes remained trapped, held hostage by the ghosts of your past.

"Love," George's voice broke through the fog of your thoughts. "I can see you're struggling. Can I hold your hand?"

You wanted to say yes, to reach out and anchor yourself in his warmth, but your body remained frozen. Instead, you managed a small nod, the movement barely perceptible.

George slowly extended his hand, palm up, leaving it within your reach but not touching you. "Whenever you're ready," he murmured. "No rush."

His patience was a stark contrast to your ex's demanding nature. You remembered how he would grab you, forcing physical contact even when you shrank away. George's respect for your boundaries was both comforting and overwhelming.

You stared at George's outstretched hand, your vision blurring with unshed tears. The gentle invitation in his gesture was almost too much to bear. You wanted desperately to reach out, to feel the warmth of his skin against yours, but fear held you back.

Slowly, trembling, you extended your own hand. Your fingers hovered just above his palm, not quite touching. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in your bones.

George remained perfectly still, his breathing slow and measured. "Take your time," he whispered, his accent wrapping around the words like a soft blanket. "I'm not going anywhere."

The kindness in his voice made your chest ache. You remembered a time when gentle words were rare, when every interaction was laced with tension and fear. Your ex had wielded words like weapons, each syllable designed to cut and wound.

You recalled the way he would twist your silence against you, using it as justification for his anger. "Why won't you answer me?" he would snarl, his face contorted with rage. "Are you stupid? Can't you even speak?"

The memory made your throat constrict, choking off any words that might have formed. You curled your fingers into a fist, pulling your hand back towards your chest.

George's expression softened with understanding. "It's okay," he murmured. "You don't have to if you're not ready."

With trembling fingers, you reached out, barely brushing George's palm. His hand remained perfectly still, allowing you to dictate the level of contact. Slowly, you pressed your palm against his, feeling the warmth of his skin seep into yours.

George's thumb gently stroked the back of your hand, the gesture soothing and grounding. "That's it," he whispered encouragingly. "You're doing great, love."

The gentle praise washed over you, chasing away some of the darkness clouding your mind. You focused on the sensation of George's hand in yours, using it as an anchor to pull yourself back to the present.

"I'm going to tell you five things I can see," George said softly, his voice steady and calm. "Is that okay?"

You managed another small nod, grateful for his attempt to ground you.

"Alright," he began. "I can see the sunlight filtering through the curtains, making patterns on the floor. I can see the little cactus on the windowsill that you bought last week. I can see the framed photo of us at the beach on the fridge. I can see the stack of cookbooks on the counter that we never use. And I can see you, love, right here with me."

As George spoke, you felt your breathing begin to slow, matching the rhythm of his words. The vivid flashbacks began to fade, replaced by the reality of your shared kitchen.

His last words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt a flicker of warmth in your chest, a tiny spark pushing back against the darkness that had consumed you.

"Can you tell me four things you can feel?" George asked gently.

You took a shaky breath, focusing on the physical sensations around you. Your voice was barely audible as you whispered, "Your hand. The cold floor. My... my heartbeat. The cabinet against my back."

George's smile was soft and encouraging. "That's brilliant, love. You're doing so well. How about three things you can hear?"

You closed your eyes, concentrating. "The clock ticking. A car outside. Your breathing."

"Perfect," George murmured. "Two things you can smell?"

"Your cologne," you said, the familiar scent bringing a sense of comfort. "And... coffee from earlier."

George's thumb continued its soothing motion across your hand. "Last one. Can you tell me one thing you can taste?"

You ran your tongue over your dry lips. "Salt," you whispered, realizing there were tears on your cheeks.

"There you go love," George said softly. "You're here, in our kitchen. You're safe."

The grounding exercise had helped pull you further from the grip of your memories. The kitchen came into sharper focus - the pale yellow walls you and George had painted together, laughing as you got more paint on each other than the walls. The mismatched chairs at the dinning table and the various pictures around the room.

George's smile was warm and encouraging. "That's brilliant, love. You're doing so well."

The praise washed over you like a soothing balm, easing some of the tension from your shoulders. You focused on your breathing, trying to match the slow, steady rhythm George had established.

"I'm sorry," you managed to whisper, your voice hoarse and unsteady. "I didn't mean to... to shut down like that."

George shook his head gently. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice like that."

You wanted to explain, to tell him about the memories that had overwhelmed you, but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you tightened your grip on his hand trying to get rid of the pins and needles from your fingertips.

George's thumb traced gentle circles on the back of your hand, his touch feather-light and comforting. "You don't have to explain anything right now," he murmured. "But whenever you're ready to talk, I'm here to listen."

His words, so full of patience and understanding, made your chest ache. You almost couldn’t believe that there was a time when silence was met with anger, when every moment of hesitation was twisted into an excuse for violence. Your ex had never been able to handle your non-verbal episodes, viewing them as a personal affront rather than a symptom of your trauma.

You could still hear his voice, harsh and mocking, echoing in your mind. "What's wrong with you? Can't even string a sentence together? Pathetic."

The memory made you flinch, your body tensing involuntarily. George noticed immediately, his brow furrowing with concern. "It's okay," he soothed. "You're safe here. No one's going to hurt you."

You wanted to believe him, to trust in the sincerity of his words. But years of conditioning had left their mark, making it difficult to separate past from present. In your mind's eye, you could see your ex looming over you, his face contorted with rage. You remembered the sickening crack of his fist connecting with your jaw, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth.

The phantom pain made you wince, your free hand instinctively moving to touch your face. George watched the movement,his eyes widening with a mix of realization and horror. "Oh, love," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Did someone... did someone hurt you?"

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, shame and fear warring within you. What if George saw you differently once he knew? What if he decided you were too broken, too damaged to love? Your silence was answer enough.

George's grip on your hand tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to ground you in the present. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, his accent thickening with emotion. "I had no idea. I never meant to... God, I'm such an idiot."

His self-recrimination made you want to protest, to assure him that it wasn't his fault. But the words were stuck, your throat constricting around everything you want to tell him.

As if sensing your inner turmoil, George spoke again, his voice soft and reassuring. "You don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable with. But I want you to know that whatever happened, it wasn't your fault. And it doesn't change how I feel about you."

His words pierced through the fog of your anxiety, touching something deep within you. You felt the tears now slipping down your cheeks, then another, until you were crying silently, your body shaking with the force of your sobs.

"Can I..." George hesitated, his voice uncertain. "Would it be okay if I hugged you?"

The question caught you off guard. Your ex had never asked for permission, taking what he wanted without regard for your feelings. George's consideration brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes.

Slowly, you nodded, uncurling yourself from the tight ball you'd formed. George moved carefully, telegraphing his movements as he shifted closer. He wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in warmth and the comforting scent of his cologne.

For a moment, you tensed, your body remembering a time when embraces led to pain. But George's touch remained gentle, his arms loose enough that you could easily break free if you needed to.

"I've got you," he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. "You're safe. I promise."

Gradually, you allowed yourself to relax into his embrace, your tears soaking into the soft fabric of his hoodie. George held you patiently, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back while the other cradled your head against his chest. You could hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, its rhythm grounding you in the present.

As your sobs subsided, replaced by quiet sniffles, George began to hum softly. It was a familiar tune, one you recognized from his videos - a silly little jingle he'd made up for a brand deal. The gentle vibrations of his chest as he hummed sent a wave of comfort through you, chasing away the last tendrils of your panic.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. "I didn't mean to fall apart like that."

George's arms tightened around you fractionally. "You have nothing to apologize for," he said firmly. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I never meant to trigger you like that."

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at his face. George's eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks damp with tears of his own. The sight made your heart ache. You'd never meant to cause him pain.

"It's not your fault," you managed to say, your voice hoarse from crying. "You didn't know."

Slowly, you allowed yourself to relax against him, burying your face in the soft fabric of his hoodie.

George took a hesitant breathe, his hands rubbing your back. "It's okay," he murmured. "You don't have to tell me about it. Just... can you look at me? Please?"

Slowly, you raised your eyes to meet his. As George's eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of concern and tenderness that made your heart ache. "I love you," he said softly, his accent wrapping around the words like a warm embrace. "I love you, and I would never, ever hurt you. You know that, right?"

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with sincerity. You wanted to believe him, to trust in the love shining in his eyes. But years of abuse had left their mark, making it difficult to separate past from present.

"I..." you started, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know you wouldn't. Not on purpose. But..."

George waited patiently as you struggled to find the words, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. The gentle touch grounded you, giving you the courage to continue.

"My ex," you said, the words feeling like broken glass in your throat. "He... he wasn't a good person."

George's expression darkened, but he remained silent, allowing you to speak at your own pace.

"At first, it was great. He was charming, funny. Made me feel special," you continued, your gaze fixed on a point over George's shoulder. "But then... things changed."

You told him everything. The first time your ex raised his voice, making you flinch. The way he'd grab your arm, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. The constant criticisms, chipping away at your self-esteem.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself to continue. "It started small. He'd get angry over little things, yell and throw things. I told myself it wasn't that bad, that everyone argues sometimes. But then..."

Your voice trailed off, memories flooding back. George squeezed your hand gently, encouraging you to continue.

"The first time he hit me, I was so shocked I couldn't even cry," you whispered. "He apologized immediately, swore it would never happen again. I wanted to believe him."

George's jaw clenched, but he remained silent, letting you speak.

"It only got worse after that. The violence escalated, and so did the emotional abuse. He'd call me worthless, stupid, tell me no one else would ever want me. And I believed him."

Tears streamed down your face as you recounted the worst moments - the times you'd hidden bruises with makeup, the nights you'd lain awake in fear, the way you'd slowly lost touch with friends and family until he was your whole world.

"I lost myself," you admitted, tears streaming down your face. "I stopped talking to friends, quit my job. Everything I did, every decision I made, was about keeping him happy. But it was never enough."

George's arms tightened around you, a protective gesture that made your heart ache with a mixture of gratitude and residual fear.

"The night I left," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, "He was angry about... God, I don't even remember what. Something small. Insignificant. He left. I could take it anymore, I started to pack. When he came home he was so angry.” You took a strained breathe as you continued.

“But that night, I thought he might kill me," you admitted, your voice barely audible. "He'd been drinking, and he was so so angry. Something in me just... snapped. I ran, and I didn't look back."

George's arms loosened around you as he took in the severities of you words, his own tears falling into your hair. "I'm so sorry," he murmured. "You didn't deserve any of that. You're so strong, so brave. I'm in awe of you.

George's voice broke as he whispered, "I love you. I love you so much, and I swear I would never, ever hurt you like that."

His words, so earnest and heartfelt, broke something inside you. The dam you'd built around your emotions crumbled, and suddenly you were sobbing uncontrollably, your entire body shaking with the force of your cries.

George held you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed soothing circles on your back. He murmured soft words of comfort, his accent thickening with emotion.

"It's okay, love. Let it out. I've got you. You're safe now."

You cried for what felt like hours, releasing years of pent-up fear, anger, and pain. George never wavered, his embrace warm and steady, anchoring you in the present.

As your sobs finally subsided into quiet hiccups, George gently pulled back, just enough to look into your eyes. His own were red-rimmed and puffy, his cheeks damp with tears.

"Thank you for telling me," he said softly. "I know how hard that must have been. You're so brave, love. So incredibly brave."

You shook your head, feeling anything but brave. "I should have left sooner. I should have been stronger."

George's expression grew fierce. "No," he said firmly. "You did everything you could to survive an impossible situation.”

George cupped your face gently, his thumbs wiping away your tears. "Listen to me," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You are not weak. You are not stupid. You are a survivor, and I am in awe of your strength."

His words, so different from the cruel taunts you'd grown accustomed to, made fresh tears well up in your eyes. George continued, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I love you," he said, each word weighted with sincerity. "I love your kindness, your humor, your resilience. I love the way your eyes light up when you talk about things you're passionate about. I love how you always remember to water the plants, even when I forget. I love the little dance you do when you're excited about something."

You felt a warmth blooming in your chest, pushing back against the cold fear that had gripped you earlier. George's words washed over you, soothing the jagged edges of your pain.

"I love the way you scrunch up your nose when you're concentrating," he continued, a soft smile playing at his lips. "I love how you always make sure to ask our delivery drivers if they want a bottle of water. I love your strength, your courage, your ability to keep going even when things get tough."

"I promise you," George continued, his accent wrapping around the words like a warm blanket, "that I will spend every day showing you how much you're worth. I'll remind you of your strength when you forget. I'll hold you when the memories get too much. And I'll always, always ask before I touch you."

As if to demonstrate, he held out his hand, palm up. "May I hold your hand?"

The simple gesture, so respectful of your boundaries, brought fresh tears to your eyes. You couldn’t understand stand how you shed so many tries in such a short amount of time. Wordlessly you took his hand. His words, so full of admiration and love, broke something inside you. You sobbed openly, clinging to him as years of pent-up emotions poured out. George held you through it all, his presence steady and comforting.

As your tears subsided, George gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the lingering wetness on your cheeks. "Thank you for trusting me with this," he said softly. "I know it couldn't have been easy to talk about."

You managed a watery smile, feeling lighter than you had in years. "It wasn't. But... I'm glad you know now. I've been carrying this alone for so long. Thank you for listening," you whispered.

George pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Always," he promised. "You don't have to carry it alone anymore," he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I'm here, whenever you need me. Whether that's to talk, or just to sit in silence, or... anything through everything. The good days, the bad days, and everything in between."

You leaned into his touch, allowing yourself to believe in the sincerity of his words. The fear and shame that had held you captive for so long began to loosen their grip, replaced by a tentative hope.

"I love you," George said again, his voice thick with emotion. "Every part of you. Your strength, your resilience, your kindness. I love the way you laugh at my terrible jokes, and how you always remember to water the plants even when I forget. I love how passionate you get about your favourite books, and the way your eyes light up when you talk about your work."

His words washed over you, chasing away the lingering shadows of your past. You looked up at him, really looked at him, taking in the sincerity in his warm brown eyes, the gentle curve of his smile, the faint stubble on his jaw that he'd forgotten to shave this morning.

"I love you too," you whispered, your voice hoarse but steady. "So much that it scares me sometimes."

George's smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way you adored. "Good scared or bad scared?" he asked, a hint of his usual playfulness creeping back into his tone.

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound watery but genuine. "Good scared," you assured him. "Like... like standing at the edge of something amazing and wonderful, knowing that jumping in might change everything."

"Well," George said, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, "I'm right here beside you, ready to jump whenever you are."

George's smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way you adored. He leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn't. Instead, you met him halfway, your lips meeting in a kiss that was soft and sweet and full of promise.

When you finally pulled apart, George rested his forehead against yours. "I know I can't erase what happened to you," he said softly. "But I promise, I'll spend every day trying to show you what real love looks like. If you'll let me."

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. George understood, pressing another gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Come on," he said, slowly getting to his feet and offering you his hand. "Let's get off this cold floor.

How about we make some tea?"

You nodded, allowing him to help you up. Your legs felt shaky, and you leaned against him for support as you made your way to the living room. George guided you to the couch, wrapping a soft throw blanket around your shoulders before heading to the kitchen.

You could hear him moving around, the familiar sounds of kettle boiling and mugs clinking providing a soothing backdrop. The apartment was bathed in the warm glow of late afternoon sunlight, casting long shadows across the floor. You focused on the little details around you - the framed photos on the wall, capturing moments of laughter and joy with George and your friends; the collection of houseplants on the windowsill, each one carefully tended; the stack of board games in the corner, evidence of cozy nights in.

George returned a few minutes later, carrying two steaming mugs. He handed you one - your favourite oversized mug, the one with little cartoon cats all over it. The scent of chamomile and honey wafted up, warm and comforting.

"Thank you," you murmured, wrapping your hands around the mug and letting its warmth seep into your palms.

George settled beside you on the couch, close enough that you could feel his presence but not so close as to crowd you. The two of you sat there on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms, as the afternoon sun slowly shifted across the room. The argument that had been forgotten.

As the afternoon light shifted, painting the room in soft golden hues, George spoke softly. "I've been thinking," he said, his voice gentle. "Maybe we could look into couples therapy? Not because there's anything wrong with us," he added quickly, "but to help us communicate better, especially about... about your past."

You considered his words, turning the idea over in your mind. The thought of opening up to a stranger was daunting, but the idea of having professional help to navigate your trauma and its impact on your relationship was appealing.

"I think... I think that might be good," you said slowly. "But can we maybe start with individual therapy for me first? I feel like I need to work through some things on my own before I'm ready to tackle them as a couple."

George's face lit up with a mixture of relief and pride. "Of course, love. Whatever you need. I'm so proud of you for considering it."

His words warmed you from the inside out, chasing away the last lingering chill of your earlier panic. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Thank you," you murmured. "For being so patient with me. For not giving up when I shut down."

George pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for a moment. "I'll never give up on you," he murmured. "You're worth every bit of patience and understanding I can give."

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping your tea and watching the play of light across the room. As the shadows lengthened, George spoke again, his voice soft and hesitant.

"I've been thinking about my videos," he said. "I know I get pretty animated sometimes, especially when I'm gaming. Do the loud noises or sudden movements ever... trigger anything for you?"

You considered his question, touched by his thoughtfulness. "Sometimes," you admitted. "But it's not just you. Loud noises in general can be difficult. And when you get really competitive with the boys, the shouting can be a bit much."

George nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. "What if I put up soundproofing foam?" he suggested. "It would cut out the really loud bits. And I could try to be more mindful of my volume when we're filming."

The fact that he was willing to make changes to his content, his livelihood, for your comfort brought tears to your eyes. "You don't have to change your whole style for me," you protested weakly.

"I want to," George said firmly. "Your comfort and well-being are more important than any video. Besides," he added with a grin, "my editors have been begging me to tone it down a bit anyway. They say I'm giving them hearing damage," he chuckled softly.

You managed a small smile, touched by his willingness to adapt. "Maybe we could work on some signals?" you suggested hesitantly. "Like, if things get too intense during filming, I could give you a sign to dial it back a bit?"

George's eyes lit up. "That's good idea. We could have a little system, like traffic lights. Green for 'all good', yellow for 'getting close to the edge', and red for 'need to stop now'."

His enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself nodding along. "That could work. And maybe... maybe we could have a code word? For times when I'm feeling overwhelmed but can't quite explain why?"

"Absolutely," George agreed immediately. "What word would you like to use?"

You thought for a moment, then smiled. "How about 'cactus'? Like that little plant you got me when we first moved in together."

George's face softened at the memory. "Perfect," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Cactus it is."

As the evening wore on, you and George continued to talk, making plans and setting boundaries. You discussed ways to handle future arguments, strategies for dealing with your non-verbal episodes, and how to navigate intimacy with your trauma history.

As you sat there, wrapped in George's arms, you felt a sense of peace settling over you. The weight you'd been carrying for so long felt lighter, shared between the two of you. The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow across the room and highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air.

You could hear the faint sounds of the city outside - cars passing by, the distant laughter of children playing in the park down the street. Inside, the apartment was quiet save for the soft ticking of the clock on the wall and the gentle rhythm of George's breathing.

Your gaze wandered around the room, taking in the little details that made this space feel like home. The bookshelf in the corner, filled with a mismatched collection of your favourite novels and George's gaming guides. The framed photo on the coffee table from your first vacation together, both of you grinning widely at the camera, your eyes shining with excitement.

Your eyes landed on George's filming setup in the corner - the ring light, the carefully arranged backdrop, the high-end microphone. It was a stark reminder of the public life he led, the thousands of fans who watched his every move online. For a moment, anxiety gripped you. What if they found out about your past? What if they judged you

Your anxiety must have shown on your face, because George squeezed your hand gently. "Hey," he said softly, "what's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?"

You hesitated, not wanting to burden him with more of your fears. But his patient, loving gaze encouraged you to open up.

"I was just thinking about your fans," you admitted quietly. "What if... what if they found out about my past? What if they judge me, or think I'm not good enough for you?"

George's expression softened, a mix of understanding and determination crossing his features. "Love," he said, his voice firm but gentle, "my fans don't get a say in our relationship. And anyone who would judge you for surviving what you've been through isn't worth our time."

He shifted, turning to face you more fully on the couch. "But more importantly, you are more than good enough for me. You're brilliant, kind, funny, and so incredibly strong. I'm the lucky one here."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, chasing away some of the chill of your anxiety. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I love you," you whispered, the words feeling inadequate to express the depth of your feelings.

"I love you too," George replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "More than I can ever say."

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching as the last rays of sunlight faded from the sky, casting the apartment into a gentle twilight. The soft hum of the city outside became a soothing backdrop to the quiet moment you shared. George shifted slightly, pulling the blanket tighter around both of you, his warmth a steady presence against your side.

"Hey," he murmured after a while, his voice thick with exhaustion but filled with tenderness. "No matter what happens, we're in this together. Okay?"

You nodded against his shoulder, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel so terrifying. It felt possible when filled with quiet moments like this, with laughter, with love.

George pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, and you closed your eyes, letting the steady rise and fall of his breathing lull you into calm.

The past had left its scars, but as you sat there, wrapped in the quiet strength of his love, you realized something profound: you were healing. Not all at once, not perfectly, but step by step. And with George by your side, maybe—just maybe—you wouldn’t have to do it alone.

[yxtubers]

✮ 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

⤷ spencer agnew x reader

🗒️ summary: while attending birthday drinks with your best friend, spencer, your night turns upside down as a whirlwind of emotions arise

warnings: mentions of alcohol, mild jealousy, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IT’S A WELL known fact that LA is expensive. Pushing aside the obvious things like rent and utilities, the cost of transportation, never-mind gas, was impossible to budget for unless you had a stable job. Which again, in LA, was difficult to find.

You were lucky enough to have landed a great roommate - one that actually cleaned up after himself, never missed rent, and occasionally cooked for the both of you. It helped that you guys had a good friendship. Or that you had a mild crush on him.

Perhaps mild wasn’t the most accurate description. It was more like a soul-crushing, agonizing pang in the heart whenever you saw him.

Feelings aside, you did genuinely appreciate him. Your relationship only grew stronger by the day, and after about 7 months of co-existing together, it was safe to say that he had quickly become one of your best friends in LA. It was hard to find real connections out there, and Spencer was the one soul you trusted the most (excluding your home-town friends).

You had heard of his co-workers over at Smosh. In fact, you felt as if you had already met them with how many videos you watched. Truthfully, you only really knew who Smosh was because of Spencer, but over time you had grown to really enjoy their content.

This fact alone is what made Spencer so sure you’d say yes to his invitation for Angela’s birthday drinks.

He had assured you that she was more than okay with you attending, even going as far as to say that she had asked him to bring you. Why? You had no clue. Either way you were flattered, and didn’t have heart to say no to Spencer. He had been wanting you to meet them for a while now, and what better occasion than one where you’d have some liquid luck with you.

After spending an afternoon planning an appropriate outfit for a party in October, you were ready to go. Spencer was good at taking your mind off your nerves. He always was. Something about the way he knew how to keep you at ease made your heart flutter, and you were grateful for his distractions as you two sat in the taxi.

Originally you had wanted to drive. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option as there were no viable parking spaces, and you both wanted to drink. You two weren’t big drinkers, something you both inwardly exhaled at when first moving in with each other - but today was a special event.

“Ready?” he asked, a small smile present on his face.

At your nod, he opened the door, making his way to your side and helping you out of the car. He never usually did that, actually he had never done that at all. You measured it up to just him wanting to make you feel better.

You sighed as you took his hand, linking arms as he began to lead you to the door of the bar. Today was the first time you had worn heels in a while, and as nervous as being so close to Spencer made you, you were glad to have him to hold onto.

“So this is who you won’t shut up about around the office,” came a voice from your left.

Whipping your head around, you were met with a short brunette girl, her hair just above her shoulders. This, you knew, was Angela. The comment seemed to fly over your head - you were preoccupied with making a good impression.

Spencer, however, felt his body grow hot. He gave Angela a warning stare before letting you go so he could introduce you both.

After wishing her a happy birthday and giving her the gift you and Spencer had spent almost an hour picking out, you were led to a large booth towards the end of the building. Pleasantries were exchanged, names were introduced, and finally, many, many hugs later, you were all seated.

You exhaled quietly, trying to seem as calm as possible. Spencer, observant as always, noticed. He scooted his chair closer, offering you a toothy smile before turning away to indulge in conversation. Trying to push down the bubbly feeling in your chest, you joined the group discussion too. Arasha eyed you both up for a moment before smiling and looking at Courtney - but you thought nothing of it. Everybody was close, you assumed they heard some inside joke or something.

A couple of drinks later, and you had grown quite… comfortable. Your shoulder was now pressed against Spencer’s, head rested against his jacket, thighs glued to his as your chair seemingly drifted closer and closer to him. Physical touch was always your love language, and Spencer was well aware of this. This was only heightened when you drank.

“So, are you like… single?” asked Chanse, his eyes flickering between you and your best friend.

You hummed, lifting your head as you smiled back at him. Shrugging, you looked at Spencer briefly before looking away.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Chanse had then replied with a suggestion. He offered to take you out and wingman for you one day. You knew it was mostly just a drunken idea, and you both wouldn’t go through with it, so you just laughed and agreed.

With that, the air seemed to shift.

Conversation and drinks kept flowing yet Spencer seemed to drift further and further away. His eyes held an uncertainty in them that you had never seen before. Nudging his shoulder, you raised your eyebrows, silently asking if he was okay. He gave you a tight lipped smile and nodded.

You held his gaze for a few moments, trying to discern if he was being honest. Usually you could read him easily, but all you saw right now was his big green eyes staring back at you. You never liked the color green much - until you saw his eyes, and suddenly it was the only color you ever wanted to see.

“I’ll be back. Just gonna use the bathroom.”

And with that he was gone. Shaken from your thoughts, you barely had time to respond as he practically escaped to the toilets.

Angela returned with Shayne, a large tray of drinks in hand. She briefly noticed the absence, but said nothing.

“So, where’s your boyfriend?” Angela asked, snorting a laugh into her drink. She was clearly drunk, but then again, so were you. The only reply you could come up with was a small blush and a quiet ‘bathroom’.

“Ah,” chimed Courtney, “think he got a bit jealous.”

It was your time to snort. “Jealous of what? You guys know Spencer isn’t one for jealousy.”

Courtney raised their eyebrows and took a sip of wine, “I beg to differ.” And that was all they said as she smiled and replied to one of her friend’s questions. Despite the fact that you had no clue what Courtney was talking about, you began to worry. Maybe something really was wrong. It had been a while since Spencer left and he had still not returned.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, excusing yourself and going to find the bathrooms.

Pushing a large wooden door with a ‘WC’ sign, you were met with a white hallway lined with a men and women’s toilet. Leaning against a wall was Spencer, his eyes closed as he rubbed at his temple. You knew your intuition was right - something was wrong.

“Spence!” you said as you shuffled towards him, your heels clacking awkwardly against the tiles.

As soon as you called his name, Spencer realized that he had never heard his name sound so beautiful before. He decided he could listen to you say his name on repeat forever. Although, to him, anything that came out of your mouth was like a calming hymn.

“Hey,” he croaked, an unconvincing smile on his face.

You rested your back against the wall, bumping your shoulder into his. “We’re missing you out there. You okay?”

Turning your head, you caught a frown on his face before he took a deep breath. Never in your life had you seen him look so… defeated. It was the best word you could use to describe his expression - it almost looked like he was fighting himself in his mind.

“Yeah… yeah. ‘M good.”

“Spencer,” you spoke, “I think you underestimate how well I know you. What’s up?”

And there it was again. Spencer felt a painful tug at his heartstrings as he listened to his name on your lips. He couldn’t keep it in anymore. He was tired of pretending like you talking about seeing other guys didn’t bother him - like you seeing him as just a friend was okay.

In a moment of concern, you grasped your best friend’s hand. “Talk to me,” you urged, voice quiet and soft.

“You know I love you, right?”

The bluntness surprised you, and you blinked at him. Sure, you knew he loved you, he was your best friend. But you had always secretly wished he could love you as more than just a friend.

Smiling, you turned to face him, squeezing his hand. That action alone made Spencer want to run laps. You were driving him insane.

“I know. I love you too, Spence.”

He lifted himself off the wall to face you as well. His head moved from side to side, as if he disagreed with your statement. You only furrowed your eyebrows in response.

Spencer looked down at your joined hands, and he lifted yours up to trace a line from your wrist to your knuckle. “No,” he almost whispered, “I don’t think you love me the same way I love you.”

A small part of your brain wanted to believe that this was a confession. And if you were any more logical and unbiased, you would. Yet you had pushed the thought of Spencer reciprocating your feelings so far away from your mind that now it was hard to see the truth in front of you.

“Spencer, you know I do.”

A sharp intake of break. “No,” he said again, this time way quieter. “If that was the case you wouldn’t be open to getting wing-manned by Chanse.” He said it as more of a joke, a sad chuckle leaving him.

Opening and closing your mouth, you tried to find a reply. Unfortunately the only one you could manage was: “What?”

Your skin tingled as his fingers continued to trailed his fingertips across the back of your hand. Your body instinctively reacted to his touch, fingers twitching under his warm palm.

“I don’t know how else to say it. I love you - what don’t you understand?”

Exhaling, you pursed your lips. Excitement coursed through your veins and an involuntary giggle escaped you. “Spencer,” you said, a large smile on your face. “I said I love you too - what don’t you understand?”

It all happened so quickly. He looked up, your eyes locked, and like the pull of a magnet, you both leaned in. Kissing your best friend felt less weird than you thought it would - it felt right.

His hand came to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your cheekbone. You pulled back slightly to breathe, but you needed him more than oxygen, so you clasped his denim jacket in your hands as you came back for more. He grunted in surprise but reciprocated immediately.

“Hey, are you guys oka- Oh!”

Jumping back, you both looked back to Courtney, who was smiling widely at the end of the hallway.

“Sorry. I’ll leave you guys to it,” they said with a giggle.

Letting out a laugh, you rested your forehead against Spencer’s shoulder. The vibration of his chest resonated through your head, and it only made you laugh more. His hand came to hug you, keeping you close. You lifted your head. With a huge grin on your face, you looped your arms around the back of his neck.

“I think Angela will be more happy about this than her actual birthday gift,” he said.

But you weren’t thinking about them right now. All that mattered was that you loved Spencer and he loved you back.

And also that Courtney was right. Apparently Spencer does get jealous.

- - -

©𝐲𝐱𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬

[fictionalmenxyn]

Snaps/stories from bf!matt (also included Nick and reader)

[kar1nsworldx]

Nerdy bloke ♡

pairing: ArthurTV x f!reader

Instagram!AU

SUMMARY: hard launching/soft launching(?) yours and Arthurs relationship - y/n used for reader as i thought it was stupid to just call her 'username' :)

requested: nope </3 but requests r opened for other youtubers (sidemen, chrismd, willne, calfreezy, etc.) as well for wolverine & deadpool PLEASE SEND REQUESTS

ˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 🧸ྀི

ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩

arthurtv

liked by y/n l/n, georgeclarkeey and 52,632 others

arthurtv: 🏂

tagged: @y/n l/n @arthurtv @georgeclarkeey @chrismd @wroetoshaw

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COMMENTS;

user007: arthur is the kind of guy to tag himself in his own post

y/n l/n: yeah it's bc hes a weirdo

y/n l/n: arthur i hate you, kys

arthurtv: :(

us3r: LMAOOOOOO

wroetoshaw: outrages

userly: love to see this group together <3

user777: THE SECOND PIC OF Y/N FALLING???????

usermybeloved: the third pic of Y/N is so cute wtf?????

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y/n l/n

liked by miniminter, chrismd10 and 42,632 others

y/n l/n: almost died 2day because of these fuckers 🤦‍♀️

tagged: @arthurtv @georgeclarkeey @chrismd @wroetoshaw

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COMMENTS;

georgeclarkeey: we were so close to killing her lads, im sure we'll succeed next time

y/n l/n: fucking hate you clarke

chrismd10: did you really have to post the fifth picture???

y/n l/n: yes ofc xx

arthurtv: that first picture is really pretty, I wonder who photographed it?

y/n l/n: ah yes, my apologies mr.television, heres your photo creds for one single fucking picture 🤲 xx

arthurtv: ty darling

userxo: DARLING????

userumy: UMMMM EXCUSE ME 👀👀👀

wroetoshaw: you did not almost die calm down

y/n l/n: WTF DO YOU MEAN I DIDNT ALMOST DIE???? YOU AND ARTHUR ALMOST DROPPED ME IN THE 3RD PICTURE MATE

usermybeloved: HAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAA

arthurtv: sorry doll x

y/n l/n: buy me hot chocolate and i'll forgive you

arthurtv: yes ma'am

xeuserxe: DOLL??? MA'AM????? SIR WHAT

user111: LMAOOOO SHE HAS HIM WRAPPED AROUND HER FINGER SJFBNCNF

freyanightingale: looking stunning girly xxx

y/n l/n: FREYA MY WIFE ILY!!!!!!

freyanightingale: ❣️❣️❣️

xeuserxe: whos that w you on the fourth photo??

y/n l/n: 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

xeuserxe: hmm...

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savinggracepod

liked by userly, y/n l/n and 15,672 others

savinggracepod: Can you guees who's on tomorrow's pod? 👀😘

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y/n l/n: can't wait to see!!

savinggracepod: cheeky x

userly: MISS @y/n l/n COME HERE

xeuserxe: AHHH cant wait!! Xxx

user007: ❣️❣️❣️

user777: this is going to be good!

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y/n l/n

liked by savinggracepod, userly and 21,652 others

y/n l/n: was my pleasure to be on the @savinggracepod!!! loved talking about crushes 🤭, social media and so much more! GO CHECK OUT THE PODCAST RNN!!!! new yt video coming out in 2 days xx

tagged: @savinggracepod

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COMMENTS;

savinggracepod: was a pleasure to have you!! xx

y/n l/n: 💌💌💌

usermybeloved: cant wait for the new vid! :)

arthurtv: your new vid is bomb, can confirm

y/n l/n: :)

xouserxo: what editing program do you use?

y/n l/n: final cut pro x :)

xouserxo: tysm!!!

user007: i'm intrested in who this crush is...

y/n l/n: 🤭🤭🤭

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y/n l/n

liked by arthurtv, zerkaa and 68,752 others

y/n l/n: @sabrinacarpenter i love you please marry me 💍 also photo creds to mr. television @arthurtv for the 5th pic x

tagged: @sabrinacarpenter @arthurtv @arthurnfhill @chrismd10 @georgeclarkeey

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COMMENTS;

arthurtv: can we get married if sabrina says no 💍?

y/n l/n: ya ofc xx

arthurtv: yay x

userly: OH?????

user777: WHAT

usermybeloved: DO YQLL SEE THIS!?!??!?!????

chrismd10: @arthurtv I better be your best man

georgeclarkeey: your obbsession with her is concerning

y/n l/n: "please please please" shut the fuck upppppp!!!! Xxx

georgeclarkey: rude :/

user007: HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA

us3r: y/n is an icon

behzingagram: you ditched a sidemen shooting for a concert.. great

y/n l/n: okay so maybe I wasnt sick... whoops! 🤷‍♀️ xxx I'll be there next week ♡

behzingagram: you better be you bitch

y/n l/n: oh shut up you fat prick

usermybeloved: LOVE THEM SJFNNCNCC

user111: 💀💀💀

arthurtv: thank you for the photo creds doll

y/n l/n: yea yea ur welcome xx

arthurtv: :)

us3r: 'DOLL' ?????????????

ooouserooo: ARE YOU GUYS TOGETHER OR SOMETHING?????

useredup: "mr. television" just say yall r togetger atp

y/n l/n: nuh uh

useredup: FUCK YOU MEAN NUH UH?????

chrismd10: you were so wasted after this lol

y/n l/n: literally was not idk what ur talking about 🙄

chrismd10: arthur literally had to carry you bridal style because you were falling every 2 minutes

y/n l/n: I just wanted to be carried stfu

arthurtv: next time just ask doll, you dont have to almost brake your neck for me to carry you

y/n l/n: ay bet 💪🤭

user505: NAH WHAT

userly: THIS IS INSANE???????????!????????

user007: EXCUSE ME???? SHE WAS CARRIED BRIDAL STYLE BY ARTHUR???? "DOLL"????? "I WANTED TO BE CARRIED"????????? I AM GOING INSANE WHAT THE FUCK???? THE EMONJI COMBO TOO????? AAAAAAAH

taliamar: looking good x

y/n l/n: says you! xxx

faithlouisak: fit

y/n l/n: ❣️❣️❣️

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y/n l/n

liked by arthurtv, stephen_tries and 72,637 others

y/n l/n: date night was a blast w this nerdy bloke <3

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COMMENTS;

arthurtv: did you enjoy yourself doll?

y/n l/n: oh most certantly mr. television

userly: EXCUSE ME WHAT

useredup: WHAT IS HAPPENING

user007: ARTHUR X Y/N DATING CONFIRMED??????????!??????????

user111: LITERALLY GOING INSANE AND FERAL IF THIS ISNT FUCKING ARTHUR AND Y/N TOGETHER IN THOSE PHOTOS I AM GOING TO MURDER SOMEBODY AND THEN MYSELF TOO WHAT THE FUCKKKKKK

y/n l/n: please don't murder somebody! or yourself! and if youre going feral pls check that you dont have rabbies!! xxx much love (:

user111: NOW IM GOING CRAZY BECAUSE YOU REPLIED TO HOLY MOTHERFUCKING FUCK AAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

ksi: the flowers are pathetically cute

arthurtv: shut up

us3r: OH???????

usermybeloved: SCREAAAAMING

user505: ARTHUR THOSE FLOWERS BETTER BE FROM YOU

geenelly: cuties ♡♡♡

y/n l/n: says you! xx

bambinobecky: happines is a good luck on you girly! xxx

y/n l/n: stfu ur to kind 🫂🫂

chrismd10: about damn time

y/n l/n: oh shut up you inbred twat

taliamar: hope you guys enjoyed the resturant!

y/n l/n: YESSS we did!! double date soon? 👀🤭

taliamar: yess x

freyanightingale: the little bows are so cute 🎀

y/n l/n: RIGHT?????? ♡♡♡

user505: SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP DYING

georgeclarkeey: disgusting (said with love)

y/n l/n: literally die (said with love)

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y/n l/n & arthurtv

liked by vikkstagram, tobjizzle and 120,321 others

y/n l/n: IT IS FINALLY TIME!!!!!! NOT ONLY TO ANNOUNCE ARTHURS AND MINES RELATIONSHIP BUT TO ALSO SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARTHUR!!!!!!! Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, where to start? Well first of all I'd like to wish you a happy 28th birthday my love! I geniuenly hope you enjoyed it, that you liked all of the gifts and that you enjoyed your birthday with the people you love and who love you too! There are not enough words in the english language to describe how wonderful you are, and how much I love you. You're the kindest, most smartest and funniest person I know, with the goofiest smile and silliyest ideas too. The way you care for others and how you always try to include people and help everyone around you makes my love you even more. Arthur you're the Deadpool to my Wolverine, the Sun to my Moon, the fucking love of my life. I love you to fucking death Arthur. Thank you for everything you've given me, and once more I wish you a very very happy birthday my love.

tagged: @arthurtv

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COMMENTS;

arthurtv: Y/n youre making me cry and the guys are laughing this is not funny :( also i love you too ❤

y/n l/n: ❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️

tobjizzle: happy birthday man! 🫂 so happy for you guys 😇

ksi: happy bday 💪💪💪also congrats too

vikkstagram: 🌟🫂

stephen_tries: hes crying a river y/n

freyanightingale: AHHHHH YOU GUYS ARE SO SWEET!!!

wroetoshaw: atp that mans drink will become pure water with how much tears are falling into it

behzingagram: sap

y/n l/n: shut the fuck up

taliamar: 🫂🫂🫂

miniminter: happy for you guys, and happy birthday arthur!

bambinobecky: SO HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS AAA!!!! Happy birthday!

faithlouisak: 🫂🫂

geenelly: HDHCJCJCJC SO HAPPY!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARTHUR

arthurnfhill: y/n my shirt is soaking wet make the man stop crying

callux: did not expect to see arthur cry 😭

calfreezy: best couple in 2024??? 👀👀

y/n l/n: YESSIR

theburntchip: y/n get that man some tissues pls

user111: MOM AND DAD ARE FINALLY TOGETHER AAAAAAAA

user505: SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP DYING THIS IS REAL THIS IS ACTUALLY REAL

user777: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARTHUR OHMYGOD

us3r: FIANALLY!!!!!!

useredup: YAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!!! HAPPY BDAY ARTHUR!!!!

usermybeloved: FUCK YEAAAAAH!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🗣🗣🗣

xeuserxe: HELL YEAAAAAAHHHHHHH BABY

xouserxo: ❣️❣️🫂🫂

user007: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARTHUR!!! 🎉🎉🎉

user707: FUCK YEWAAAH!!!! ALSO THE COMMENTS SAYING THAT ARTHUR IS CRYING????? HDNDJCJJC I LIVE YALL HAPPY BDAY ARTHUR!!!!!

us3r: JDNFJCJC LOVE ALL THE SHIRTLESS PICS 😭😭😭😭

userly: DIDOWJCJDHCHHC THE FIRST PIC IS SO FUNNY TO ME JDNDJCJ HAPPY BDAY AND CONGRATS!!!!

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y/n l/n added to their story!

⤷ arthurtv liked y/n l/n's story! ♡

⤷ arthurtv: love you 2 (:

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[w2soneshots]

I had a thought… you know how the sidemen have that card game called Hit Send? What about a fic with Harry and his girlfriend and he sends her a text. You can change what you need!!!🙌✨

Hit send -W2S

words: 0.3k+

warnings: none!

notes: I’ve just written this as a little blurb since there wasn’t enough words for it to be an actual fic! Enjoy lovely and ty for your request😚🫶💓 (also it’s written in second person pov)

"Your turn Bog!" Ethan hollered from his seat on the couch. Harry sighed before leaning forward and grabbing a letter and number card. He proceeded to scroll through his contacts and he let out an amused huff as he read your name.

The boys were extremely pleased that you'd been picked and they all took a good look at the cards containing the text choices in their hands.

Once they'd all picked, the cards were given to Simon, since he was on Harry's right and that meant he got to pick the text that was sent.

"I want to do one she'll actually believe... uhm- this one." He handed Harry the card. "Oh Jesus... okay." Harry pulled out his phone and typed the message.

"Just been arrested." He sent quickly then he slipped his phone back into his pocket and they all continued with the game as they awaited your reply.

Just a few minutes later his phone rang. The boys erupted in giggles before hushing themselves so Harry could answer you without any suspicion.

"Harry?! What the fuck do you mean you've been arrested!" You shouted through the speaker. Harry's eyes widened. "Uh-" he didn't know what to say, he wasn't expecting you to believe it.

"Oh also, hi boys!" The room was silent for a second before they all realised that you were joking and had clearly figured it out, they all sniggered. "Haz, did you forget you literally told me this morning that you were playing 'hit send' today?"

"Oh shit! Yeah... I didn't think I'd end up having to text you." "You donut," Ethan chucked. Harry shrugged. "Anyway I'll see you soon, love you," Harry muttered into the phone, still slightly uncomfortable with showing any affection in front of the cameras. The boys were quick to tease him and you giggled before replying. "Bye, love you too! Have fun!"

[hufflepuffsthunderdome]

Flustered pt. 3

sub!Schlatt x fem!reader Summary: Reader takes schlatt home and finally gives him a taste of what he's been craving Warnings: this is just porn. Overstiumulation, degradation, oral f & m, just basic smut stuff nothing too crazy. Let me know if you notice anything you think I should add. A/N: Part 3 has finally arrived, at a whopping 8k words! Read part 1 and part 2 here, thank you for being patient ❤️ Lovely ppl who were interested in pt 3: @angelblessedd @forslimslime @sleepdepr1v3d @olive823 @invadermeweatsshart @lilalovesmotley @imgayandvoreethatsall @imsotiredrnlol @schlattslonghairytoes @the-slimebox @nagisasugino @stfukyfpt @nagisasugino @elliejell @invadermeweatsshart @lilalovesmotley

The air is cold as you stand outside, leaning against Schlatt as you pull yourself deeper into your coat. There are thick swarms of crowds making their way through the streets, a few other people before you flagging down cabs as you wait for the crowds to thin out to flag down your own. You can't help but notice the way Schlatt stiffens nervously beside you when you lean against him, feeling your chest flutter as you watch the shy smile spread across his face.

He has a soft red flush to his face, his cheeks, and the tip of his nose dusted with colour, likely from both your closeness and the chill in the air. His nose scrunches up every now and again, almost a twitch, as he shoves his hands deeper into his pocket, chewing on his lip as his eyes dart over to you. You laugh softly when you see his flustered state when he sees you've caught him staring, surprised you're already looking at him. His tall figure blocks the lights from the streetlamps so he's all you can focus on, illuminated by a gold halo around him. You feel yourself swallow harshly as you stare, admiring him as your heart races in your chest.

"Schlatt?" you say gently into the cold air, biting your lip as you watch him hum in agreement, seeing his throat bob as he swallows. You reach out gently and take his chin in your hand, turning him to look down at you, "can I kiss you?"

You see his eyes widen as a small puff of white cold air leaves his lips, staring down at you wordlessly as he nods. You smile, your heart hammering in your chest as you stand on your toes and lean forward, connecting your lips to his in a gentle kiss. His lips are rougher than you expected, cracked and dry from the winter air, but they warm up quickly. It's soft and sweet, the nervous butterflies in your stomach a stark contrast to the burn you felt in your core in the restaurant.

His eyes flutter closed, a small sound escaping his lips when he feels your soft lips press against his gently. He's stiff against you, awkward, trying to match the gentle movement of your lips against his as he struggles to get his body to work in tandem with the speed of his brain. His heart is hammering in his chest, his hand stuck to his side to prevent himself from grabbing a hold of you, his lungs burning for air as he forgets his need to breathe.

You pull away, biting your lip to stop the giddy laugh that threatens to bubble out, looking up at Schlatt. He has a dopey grin on his face, frozen in place where you pulled away, eyes still shut as his brain slowly catches back up to reality. By the time he's opening his eyes again, you're making your way through the crowd, calling out to a taxi as he stumbles along to catch up with you.

He follows behind you, pausing his words when you put a hand up to silence him, opening the door to the cab. You crawl in gracefully, at this point he's unabashed in his staring as he eyes your ass as you speak to the driver, telling him your address. He bends down to say goodbye, brows furrowing when your hand wraps around his wrist and tugs him forward into the cab, "come on," you say as you watch him settle into the seat opposite you, "you're not gonna make me go home alone are you?"

The drive is quiet, your eyes glued to the houses along the road as you pass, Schlatt's eyes glued to you. He can't tear his eyes away from you, your legs stretched out onto the seat next to him, heels locked over each other as you lean back in your seat. He has his hands glued to his lap, trying desperately to work up the courage to touch you, body still humming from the kiss you shared outside.

It startles you when he does, his gentle touch tickling your leg as his large hand ghosts along the side of your ankle, wrapping firmer around it when you don't kick him away. Your skin warms up under his gentle touch, unhooking your ankles and letting your legs part just slightly to encourage him.

You don't look at him, keeping your gaze locked outside even as you feel his eyes glued to your face, scared he'll spook like a wild animal if you turn. Your dress falls around your legs, the slit in your dress revealing the smooth expanse of your leg closest to him, encouraging his hand further.

Slowly he does. Drags his hand gently up your leg, not by much, until it's resting firmer now against your calf, thumb gently stroking your skin. You feel a warm buzz below the surface of your skin where his hand touches, the heat travelling up your legs to your panties, still wet from earlier. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning when his thumb rubs firmly into your calf.

He's mesmerised watching your legs, watching the way the pressure from his hand indents the soft skin, the way goosebumps blossom up your calf, and up your thigh, tempting his eyes to follow. He can't help but look, watching the way your soft thighs stretch between the seats, the way your dress falls so temptingly between them, hugging the dent of your hip as it barely keeps you covered. His cock twitches in his pants as he sees you part your legs again, your dress shifting as for a brief second the deep red lace of your panties is exposed before just as quickly you're shifting your legs shut again.

You bring your heel to rest on your seat, knee tucked up to your chest as again you adjust the strap, undoing and redoing it with ease as you watch him watch you. His eyes are glued to you, glued to the way your dress shifts against your lap, pupils dilating each time the tiniest bit of red flashes.

He breathes out your name, his throat going dry when you look up at him through your lashes, staring at him sweetly, almost innocently as you adjust your heel. You hum in acknowledgement as he loses his ability to speak when you let your leg drop slightly, parting your thighs more intentionally as you drag your hand along your skin.

You've lost all ability to be subtle, you want to make him squirm.

He feels his cock twitch desperately in his pants as he gets a full view of your panties now, red lace hugging your body teasingly as your nails toy gently with the fabric. He just stares, open mouth, unashamed as he watches you drag a delicate hand up your clothed folds, licking his lips as he watches the wet patch grow more as you tease yourself.

You keep your eyes locked on him, swallowing back a moan as you see his eyes darken as you touch yourself, feeling yourself leak with arousal as you try to stop yourself from squirming in your seat. You try desperately to stay in control as you touch yourself, not wanting to let your dominant mask slip for even a moment.

He grips the seatbelt hard as he watches you slip your hand into your panties, seeing your fingers move back and forth gently under the fabric, wishing so badly you would let him touch you right now. He desperately wants to make you feel good, his grip on the seatbelt only getting tighter as you let out the tiniest moan, tilting your head back against the headrest.

The cab screeches to a halt, jostling you both as the cab driver pulls up to the curb outside your apartment, shifting the small privacy window separating him from you two to the side and passing a card reader back to you. With a tap of your card, you're pulling your hand out of your panties, unbeknownst to the driver, feeling a chill run up your spine as you hear Schlatt groan as he stays planted in his seat.

You get out of the car gracefully as Schlatt just stares, fumbling with his seatbelt when you bend down to look back at him, waiting patiently. He watches you as he slides out, seeing you slide your wet fingers into your mouth and suck them gently before you're taking his hand in yours and leading him away from the street.

As soon as the door shuts behind him his back is pressed up against it, your firm hand pressed against his front as you gaze up at him with a firm stare, one that has his breath catching. He's sure you can feel his heartbeat under your hand, he knows he can feel it going crazy in his chest as you lean into his ear, "I'm gonna kiss you again," you whisper, as you trail your hands up along his shoulders, "I know you know where this is going," you breathe in his ear as you press a gentle kiss to his jaw, "so tell me to stop and I will."

"I want this," he groans as his hand comes down to ghost over your waist softly, turning into a moan when you press your lips against his. The kiss is hungry, months of built-up tension boiling over as your lips collide in a flurry of desire. Your tongue wastes no time, parting his lips and tangling with his as you explore his mouth, your body pressed tightly against his as you pin him to the door. He could easily move you if he wanted to, he could turn the tables so quickly and you could be the one pinned under him, but he doesn't. He lets you have your way. It makes your stomach clench with desire.

He gives up all control at this point, there's no point in hiding how desperate he is for you when he's sure you can feel his hard cock pressing into your stomach as you stand flush against him. All he cares about now is enjoying this feeling, that he's thought about for so long, hands gripping you tightly as he pulls you impossibly closer.

He breaks the kiss when he feels your hand cup his bulge, groaning desperately as he bucks his hips up into your hand. He didn't even feel your hand leave his shoulder, but dear god he can feel you against him now. He pants heavily as he looks down at you, eyes desperate as he begs, "please, Y/N," he moans, cock twitching under your touch when you begin to stroke him, "I need you. I need to feel you."

You shush him gently, mockingly, as you stroke him, feeling his heavy cock throb under your palm even through the fabric of his jeans, "stop whining baby or I'll stop."

He gasps at the nickname, biting his lip as he tries to hold back his needy whines, a broken moan leaving his lips when he feels your unoccupied hand grasp his hip firmly to keep him from bucking out into your touch. It's no use, his attempts to be quiet, he's too desperate at this point, "I'm sorry, I can't help it. You're driving me crazy."

"Just behave ok?" you coo as you stroke his length more deliberately, "you wanna be good for me don’t you?"

He nods eagerly, his eyes fluttering shut as you touch him. He lets out a shaky breath, trying to compose himself as he surrenders to your touch, letting you push him firmer against the door as you toy with him. His whines have turned into straight moans as your strokes become more deliberate, mouth parted in pleasure as he enjoys the feeling as much as he can through the thick fabric.

A particularly well-placed twist of your hand has him shuddering, folding under your touch as his knees buckle from the pleasure, collapsing against you as his hands find purchase on your hips and his face finds comfort in your neck, panting and moaning against the skin. "I need more, Y/N," he moans, he's trying to hold back, to be patient, but it's getting harder and harder with each passing second, "please, I need to touch me properly. "

A smirk drifts onto your lips as your hand finds firm roots in his hair, tugging it so his head is tilted back against the door, "you’ll take what I give you." You relish in the groan you hear from him when your lips plant themselves firmly against the soft skin of his neck he's so graciously exposed to you.

He lets out a strangled moan as you kiss up and down his neck, his body arching against yours. He grips your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as he tries to hold himself together, "you're going to leave marks."

"Is that a problem?" you say as you sink your teeth into his neck, a warning for him to behave as you feel his hips faltering under your touch. He just shakes his head wordlessly, panting and groaning as he loses his rhythm, his hips all but rutting against your hand now as he nears his release.

"God look at you," you spit as you laugh mockingly, hand tugging his hair gently to get him to look down at you, "gonna cum in your pants for me?"

He whimpers as you tug his hair, his eyes rolling back in his head as he struggles to keep focus on your face. He's completely lost in the pleasure, unable to form a coherent sentence, all he can do is nod.

"How are you gonna handle my cunt if you can’t even handle my hand?"

He lets out a strangled groan at your words, his cock twitching in his pants, the thought of being inside you is almost too much to bear. "I-I can handle it, I promise," he moans, though he's not sure he believes the words himself at this point, "I'll make you feel so good if you let me. Please, just let me cum."

"Go on baby," you purr, planting a soft kiss against his cheek as you whisper against his skin, "cum."

His body tenses as he lets out a strangled cry, his hips bucking wildly as he cums in his pants. His eyes roll back and his vision goes blurry, the orgasm washing over him like a wave, "f-fuck…"

He leans heavily against the door, gasping for air as he comes down from his high. His body is shaking and he looks completely wrecked, but he's smiling blissfully, "that was amazing."

"What do you say?" you ask sternly as you grip his dick tightly in your hand, watching him shudder underneath you as you remind him you're still in charge.

He winces at the tight grip, his breath hitching in his throat, his legs shaking as he forces himself to open his eyes and look at you, he knows he has to answer you properly, "thank you, Y/N. Thank you for letting me cum."

You smile up at him as you plant a gentle kiss against his lips, soothing your hand through his hair where you had tugged harshly, "that's better."

He lets you take his hand, blindly follows you through your apartment up to your bedroom, ignoring the feeling of his own cum on his skin as he follows you eagerly, his legs still a bit shaky from his orgasm. He lets you lead him to the bedroom, his eyes never leaving your body as you walk in front of him. You walk with a sway of your hips, hugged still by your tight dress, your heels clicking against the floor as you lead him through the hallway. He watches the way you move, mesmerized by your every step. He can't help but admire your confidence and your curves, and he feels himself getting hard again just from looking at you.

As you enter the bedroom he lets himself take a second to breathe as you walk over to turn the lamp on, looking around the room. In any other situation, he would ask about the posters, the trinkets, the guitar. He would find the plush toys endearing and the books fascinating. But he has no time to think about that as you walk back in front of him, cast in the menacing light of your lamp as you stand there, completely in control.

"What do you want me to do now, Y/N?" he asks softly, almost nervously as he shudders under your gaze, watching you chew your lip as you eye him up and down. He shifts uncomfortably under your gaze, seeing the thrill in your eyes as you watch him squirm. He wants to please you, more than anything, but he feels so exposed and vulnerable under your stare.

"Get on your knees," you say firmly, watching as he obeys without hesitation, dropping to his knees in front of you. He looks up at you with a mixture of submission and eagerness, waiting for your next command as you tower over him. "Such a good boy," you say as you bend down, tracing your nail along his jaw, watching as he shivers at your touch.

"You wanna make me feel good don't you?" you ask as you lean down further, lips hovering over him as he nods eagerly, as you press your lips together. He melts into the kiss, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. He pulls you closer, desperate for more of your touch. He deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he moans softly. He kisses you hungrily, his hands roaming over your body. He can't get enough of you, he needs to feel every inch of you against him, "Tell me," you whisper against his lips as you pull away, your mouth forming a devilish smirk as your hand comes up to grasp his cheeks, "how are you gonna do that?"

He pants against your lips as you break the kiss, looking up at you with pleading eyes, "please, can I taste you?"

"You wanna taste me?" you ask as you look down at him, moving back slightly, your grip on his cheeks still firm.

He nods eagerly, his mouth watering at the thought of it, "Yes, please," he's desperate to taste you, to make you feel good with his tongue, "I want to make you feel so good, Y/N. Please let me."

"Undress me first you say," standing back up, once again towering over him as he scrambles to kneel in front of you.

He quickly gets to work, his hands shaking slightly as they trail around your body, dragging the zip down slowly as he feels the smooth skin being revealed beneath. You let him enjoy this, let him take his time dragging the fabric down your body, till it slips past your hips and pools at your feet, revealing the dark red lace sitting against your body. He looks at you with awe, his eyes drinking in the sight of you as his breath catches in his throat, "you're so beautiful."

Your dominance fades for a second as your heart flutters in your chest at the pure awe in his voice, smiling down at him as you drag a hand through his hair "you think so?"

He leans into your touch, his eyes trailing up your body till they lock on yours, "I know so. You're perfect, Y/N," he says as he nods again, his voice filled with sincerity, "you're a dream."

"You’re so sweet Jay," you whisper as you stand there in your heels and underwear, smiling softly as you run your hands through his hair, admiring him on his knees under me. With a firm tug of his hair again the smirk plants itself back on your lips, regaining your dominance, "go on baby, ask again."

He winces slightly as you tug his hair, the pain sending a jolt of pleasure through him, as his cock, hard again, twitches in his pants, "please, can I taste you now?"

"Go on then" you say as you part your legs, letting him settle between them, "show me how badly you want me."

He wastes no time, his hands sliding up your thighs as he leans forward, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down, revealing your glistening folds. He licks his lips hungrily, looking up at you with a look of pure lust before diving in, immediately swiping his tongue firmly through your folds, moaning desperately as he tastes you. His movements are sloppy and desperate, fueled only by the moans that are pouring from your lips as he works you open.

He laps at your folds, tasting every inch of you. He's relentless, his tongue moving quickly and messily as he tries to please you. He moans against you again, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine, his mouth flooded with the taste of you on his tongue as he fights the need to touch himself. He grips your thighs tightly, holding you in place as he devours you.

He continues to eat you out, his nose pressed against your clit. He's lost in the moment, completely focused on making you feel good. He's making slurping sounds as he licks and sucks, his cock straining against his pants. You tug his hair gently each time you moan, spit dribbling down your thighs and coating his chin as he whimpers with each tug of his hair.

"You’re doing so good baby," you moan as you push his head further into your cunt, gasping when you feel his lips latch onto your clit, his tongue flicking against you rapidly.

He groans louder as you push his head further, his face buried in your folds, basking in your praise. He's completely at your mercy, completely lost in your taste and scent. He can barely breathe, but he doesn't care. All he cares about is making you cum.

He starts to thrust his tongue in and out of you, gripping you tightly when he feels your thighs shake around his head, knowing you're getting close. He doubles his efforts, alternating between sucking on your clit and swirling his tongue around your entrance as he tries to figure out what you like most, struggling to focus on what makes you moan louder as his own need thrums through his body.

You cry out as you reach your peak, screaming his name as your body tenses as you cum on his face, shuddering as he eagerly licks your folds, working you through your orgasm as he savours the taste of you. He looks up at you with a satisfied grin, his chin and lips glistening with your juices.

"You did so good baby," you breathe as you step back, knees buckling under you from the pleasure as you drop down to kiss him.

He kisses you back eagerly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he keeps you stable against him, "I'm glad I could make you feel good, it's all I've been thinking about."

"You’re not done yet," you pant as you nod for the bed, laughing to yourself as you watch him eagerly scramble to sit on your bed, not even wiping his face.

He sits on the bed with a soft thud, looking down at you with a mixture of surprise and excitement as he waits patiently for you to move. Once you've caught your breath, you stand up and walk over to the bed as you push him to lie down, watching as his eyes stay locked on yours as you lift your legs to straddle his chest. "Are you gonna ride me?" he asks as he swallows, hands coming to grip your hips as his cock twitches excitedly.

You shake your head with a laugh as you lean back to rest your hands on his thighs, dangerously close to his cock still hard in his jeans. "I'm gonna use your mouth again," you laugh when you see the confusion in his eyes.

He whines again, his cock aching for attention as your hand sits firmly on his thigh, so close to where he needs you. He can feel your wetness on his chest, and he desperately wants to feel you wrapped around him, "please, Y/N, I'm so hard, I need it so bad."

You look down at him sternly, eyebrows raised as you bring your hand down to gently, but firmly slap his cheek, "are you talking back to me?"

He gasps as you slap him, the sting of your handprint on his cheek sending a jolt of pain through him. He looks up at you, his eyes wide with surprise as he shakes his head holding back a whimper, "N-no, I'm sorry. I won't talk back again, I promise."

"Tell me, baby," you coo as you stroke his cheek softly, "how many times have you cum thinking about me? You’ve been jacking off to me for months haven’t you?"

His face turns a deeper shade of red as you call him out, shrinking under your knowing gaze as he feels the anxiety of being caught bubbling in his stomach, along with the burning need he's feeling. You know. He can't deny it anymore, "I… I've lost count, Y/N. I think about you all the time. I can't help it."

"You see," you say mockingly as you look down at him, "I’ve helped get you off to your perverted little fantasies," you moan as you shift your legs over his shoulders straddling his face, "so you owe me don’t you" He just nods, drool filling his mouth as he watches your fingers drift down your body to part your lips, "so show me that tongue pretty boy."

He doesn't waste any time, his mouth immediately going back to your pussy. He licks and sucks eagerly, his tongue moving in a more confident rhythm now having made you cum once, he's sure he can do it again. He grips your hips tightly, holding you in place as he eats you eagerly. He grins when he hears you moan, grip on you tightening when you praise him sweetly above him.

He moans at your praise, the sound muffled in your folds. He works harder, his tongue delving deeper as he tries to please you. He's so focused on making you cum, that he forgets about his own needs for a moment. You hold your hips down on his mouth, shifting forward to lean against the headboard as you feel your thighs twitch around his head.

He's forced to keep his mouth on you as you move, his face buried in your pussy. He breathes heavily through his nose, his eyes locked on your face as he watches you get comfortable. He can feel your weight on his face, and it only makes him more aroused. He gazes up at you, completely captivated by your beauty, the sight of you moaning and writhing above him is almost too much to handle. He can feel his cock twitching, desperate for any kind of stimulation.

You take mercy on him when you feel him groaning against your pussy, your clit sensitive as he latches onto it again, letting out a gasped moan as you shift to lift your hips gently off him. He pants heavily as he chases your cunt, releasing his grip on you when he feels you shift, watching you flip over on top of him so you're laying against him, nestling his head back between your thighs.

You moan again as you feel his tongue immediately meet your dripping hole again, fumbling with his belt as you try to ignore the blinding pleasure shooting up your spine and work his cock out of his pants.

He groans in relief as you free his cock, the pressure finally being released. He bucks his hips slightly, desperate for more of your touch, "thank you, thank you," he babbles in between messy licks of your folds, "I need you so badly."

He moans out desperately as you stroke his cock, finally feeling your soft skin against him after months of dreaming about this moment. He feels himself twitch as you moan, his hot breath hitting your cunt as you gasp, "you’re so big Jay," he watches your pussy get wetter in front of him as you stroke him slowly, feeling your lips ghosting over his skin.

You know you're feeding his ego, but you feel like he's earned it after being such a good boy for you tonight. You moan as you stroke his hard cock, admiring the thick inches throbbing in your hand as your hand trails down between your bodies to rub your clit in time with your strokes, "the perfect size."

He watches you touch yourself, his breathing becoming ragged as he feels his orgasm building already at the sight of you pleasuring yourself, almost enough to make him cum on the spot.

"Come on baby" you encourage him when you feel his movements freeze under you, mouth moving to lick his leaking tip, "put your fingers in me." You run your tongue along his length, moaning as you feel the weight of him pressed against your mouth as you taste him, "you gotta stretch me out so I can take this cock."

He whimpers at your words, his cock twitching in your hand at the feeling of your gentle, wet tongue against him. He reaches down and slides two fingers inside you, curling them up and twisting them inside you as he searches for your sweet spot. You clench around him when he finds it, moaning out his name as he watches your juices dribble down his fingers.

You focus your attention back on his cock in your hands, trying desperately not to cum immediately as you feel his thick digits fill you up, wanting to enjoy the full feeling for longer as you sink your mouth down on him. Your mouth is filled with drool as you bob your head, sucking in sharply when you hear his broken moan behind you at the feeling of your mouth around him. His fingers slow almost to a stop as you work your mouth on his length, tongue pressing against the soft skin of his shaft as you bob your head. You buck your hips back against his hands, fucking yourself on his fingers as you decide not to scold him for his inaction, letting him enjoy the feeling of your warm lips around him.

You stay like that for a while, moaning and clinging to each other as you try to keep pace through the pleasure coursing through both of you, completely overwhelmed by each other. It's not until you feel his shuddered breathing against your thigh, feeling his cock pulsing in his mouth that pull off, not wanting him to cum yet. You pant and gasp for breath, spitting out saliva onto his cock as you stroke him gently, listening to him whine behind you.

"No, no, no," he pants as his hips buck up in your hands, fingers still inside you, forgotten to the feeling of you on him, "don't stop, god please please don't stop."

Can't have you cumming yet baby you coo sweetly as you shift in his lap, straddling him, hands still wrapped around his cock as you work him slowly. You smile down at him as you watch his hazy expression looking up at you, pupils dilated as his breath comes out in short pants as you touch him.

He groans in frustration as you change positions, but doesn't protest, letting go of you just slightly to let you move, fingers slipping out of you. He puts his hands on your hips, holding you steady as you sit on him, biting back a desperate groan as he feels his cock nestle between your wet folds. “Then what are we gonna do?” he asks, his breath coming out in short pants.

"I'm gonna ride you," you say as you laugh mockingly, "obviously."

He blushes at your words, a mixture of embarrassment and excitement as he watches as your hand wraps around the base of his cock, holding him up. He nods quickly, biting his lip as he keeps his eyes locked on your delicate hand, “y-yeah… please do…” he says, his grip on you tightening as he anticipate the feeling of you on his cock

you gently nudge his tip into your hole, holding him there as you sit up in his lap, looking down at him as you chew your lip, "you're gonna have to ask nicer than that."

he whines, bucking his hips up slightly as he feels the tip of his cock pressed against you, sinking another inch in. He can barely think straight, let alone speak properly, too absorbed in the feeling of your wetness dripping down his cock. “Please… please ride me… I need you so bad…” he pleads, looking up at you with desperate eyes again as he tries to hold himself back from thrusting up into you.

"You can do better," you say as your grip around the base of his cock tightens.

He lets out a choked sob, the feeling of your grip on him almost too much to bear. He takes a deep breath shutting his eyes tightly as he tries desperately to gather his thoughts, “please, please, please ride me! I’ll do anything, I swear! I’ll be good for you, just please let me feel you…”

You let out a soft laugh, broken by a gasped moan as you sink down on him, finally feeling his length fill you up as you throw your head back, "that's better isn't it, begging nicely."

He moans loudly as you take him in, his head falling back against the pillow as he feels his stomach clench. He can’t believe how good it feels to be inside you finally, after so long of dreaming about this you feel better than he ever thought possible. his hands slide up your body, gripping your thighs as you start to move, “yes, yes, it’s so much better… you feel so good.”

You lean down and connect your lips, hands cradling his face as your tongue swipes along his bottom lip, bouncing on his cock as you moan into his mouth. You're overwhelmed by him, the feeling of him inside you, stretching you out, his hands gripping your thighs, the taste of him against your mouth. "Holy shit Jay," you pant as you pull away, hands cradling his face as you rest your forehead against his, "so fucking good."

He can’t stop the stream of moans that leave his mouth as you ride him, eyes locked on yours as he feels you moving against him. He's so enamoured with your eyes, gazing down at him as he watches them glaze over with pleasure that he can hardly think of anything else, too lost in you. “You’re so beautiful…" he whispers, almost shyly as he gazes up at you lovingly.

Your heart clenches at his sweet words as your hips falter slightly, the heat rising to your cheeks as you pant against his lips, staring back at him. It fills you with a warmth, your whole body tingling as he stares into your soul, a feeling that you refuse to let yourself be distracted by. You sit back up in his lap, pulling away from him slightly as you begin to bounce again, staring up at the ceiling briefly as you moan for him.

He feels a pang of disappointment as you pull away, not letting himself dwell on it as the blinding heat fills his stomach as he watches your body move above him. He reaches up and cups your breasts as they bounce, he's getting close again, his breathing becoming ragged as he struggles to hold back. He looks up at you with a mixture of lust and desperation, his voice trembling, “I-I’m gonna cum… I can’t hold it much longer…”

"You're gonna cum? already?" you ask as you look back down at him, eyebrows raised as you card a hand through his hair, replacing that warm feeling with a thick layer of dominance in your voice, "we just started." Your tone is mocking and demeaning, even as you feel yourself get wetter around him at the thought of him coming apart under you that quickly.

He whimpers, embarrassment settling into his chest as he feels his face flush as you mock him, ashamed that he's about to finish so quickly. His cock throbs desperately inside you at your words, as he shakes his head, “I know, I know, I’m sorry, you just feel too good,” he babbles, “it’s too much.”

"I thought you wanted me to cum around your cock baby?" you say as you bite back a smile, your movements speeding up as you clench around him.

He nods vigorously, his eyes rolling back in his head as you ride me harder. The thought of you cumming on him pushes me even closer to the edge, “I do, I do want that! Please, please let me make you cum.”

"How are you gonna make me cum when you can't even last?"

He lets out a deep groan at the feeling of you clenching him, his hands moving up to grip your waist tightly. He's trying so hard to be good and hold back, desperate for your praise again, but your teasing is driving him insane, “I-I’ll be good, I promise! I’ll hold on, just keep going…”

Tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes as he continues to fight against his orgasm as you continue to move on his cock, hard and fast as you moan above him. He can feel it building and building, and he's trying desperately to hold off as long as possible, afraid he's going to disappoint you. “Please… Y/N, please… I need to cum so badly, I’m begging you…” he whimpers again, his voice breaking.

"I knew you couldn't hold back," you hum mockingly, "you talked such a big game."

He sobs in frustration and defeat, feeling utterly defeated by his own desire. He can’t even form words anymore, just a mix of moans and whines as he lets go and cums inside you, hips stuttering up into you.

You keep bouncing on him, wrapping your hands firmly as you feel his throb inside you, feeling him flood your insides with his cum. You squeeze his neck gently, relishing in the feeling of fullness and the broken moans spilling from his lips.

His eyes widen in shock as you wrap your hands around his neck, but he doesn't protest, his cock throbbing inside you as he cums. He looks up at you with a mixture of fear and arousal, his pulse racing against your fingers as he empties himself inside you. He can barely breathe, but it only makes the pleasure more intense as he rides out his high, brain foggy with pleasure

"Couldn't hold back, could you baby? Needed my pussy that badly?"

He manages to nod weakly, his eyes rolling back again as he gasps for air. His cock twitches inside you, spilling the last of his cum as he collapses back onto the bed, gasping for breath and shivering from the overstimulation

You keep going, your grip on his throat firm as you keep riding him, "I'm not done yet baby."

He chokes out a weak protest, his hands coming up to grip your wrists, keeping it firmly against his neck when he feels you pull away slightly. His eyes are filled with tears now, and he's starting to get light headed from the lack of oxygen, his cock twitching to life again as he heaves under you desperately. He tries to speak, but all that comes out is a strangled moan.

"You want me to stop?" you murmur as you lean down and press your lips to his cheek.

He shakes his head no, even though his body is screaming at him for air, the burn is addictive. He wants to please you, to make you cum too but he's so overwhelmed and overstimulated, it hurts so good.

You grin triumphantly, a deep heat settling into your stomach as you watch him writhe and whine under you. You pull off him, moaning softly when you feel the cum dribble out of you, down your legs as you lay back on the bed.

He gasps for air as you finally let go of his throat, panting heavily as his eyes follow you, a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion as his hands tremble. He can see the mess he made between your legs as you lay back and spread your legs.

He slowly crawls over to you, still trying to catch his breath, he eyes your legs and then looks up at you, “I said you could keep going,” he says hoarsely.

"I know baby," you purr as you pull him down to you, his hands landing on either side of your head as you wrap your legs around his thighs "it's your turn to make me feel good again."

He nods as his hand finds your thigh, positioning himself between your legs as he wraps his hand around his still half-hard, working himself up again. He looks down at you, admiring your body for a moment before he rubs his tip against your pussy, “okay… I’ll make you feel good…” he says, his voice still shaky but more confident than before.

"Go on baby," you say sweetly as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lips finding his neck, "make me cum."

He shudders as you lick his neck, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine as he pushes into you slowly, groaning as your tight warmth engulfs him again.

“You’re so beautiful… so perfect," he pants as he takes a moment to collect himself, "I’ll make you cum," he promises, beginning to thrust into you with slow, deep strokes.

He picks up the pace, his thrusts getting faster and harder as he gets lost in the feeling of you. He kisses and bites your neck, leaving marks all over your skin as he moves his hips against yours. He's completely focused on making you feel good now, and he's not going to stop until you’re a moaning mess beneath me

He's lost in a haze of lust, his body moving on autopilot as your angelic moans fill the room. He's no longer thinking, just acting on instinct as he takes you roughly, each moan and whimper under him spurring him on. He grips your hips tightly, holding you in place as he pounds into you, his grunts and your moans growing louder and more desperate.

"That's it baby," you moan, lips parted in pleasure as you look up at him, brows furrowed in pleasure, "fucking me so good." Despite the position your tone is firm and dominant, making him shudder above you as your cunt drips around him. You mewl under him, nails digging into his bicep as you silently remind him who's in charge.

He looks down at you, eyes half-lidded and glazed over. He's completely at your mercy, fucking into you with the sole purpose to please you, to make you feel good.

You shift your legs to sit on his hip, pulling him closer. He gasps as you shift your leg, the new angle pulling him even deeper. He lets out a shaky breath as he leans in closer, his chest pressed against yours. You pull him closer as you feel the weight of him on you, wrapping your arms around him as you sink your teeth into his shoulder. You moan against his skin, yelling out his name as you feel the heat of pleasure running through your body.

You pull him into you as you connect your lips again, goosebumps rising on your skin as you hear him moan against your lips. Your tongue eagerly pushes into his mouth, kissing him passionately as you pour all of your desire and need into it. His hips continue to move against you, his thrusts becoming erratic as he gets closer to the edge again.

He can feel himself getting close again, his body tensing up as he tries to hold back, thrusting into you desperately. He pulls away from the kiss, gasping for air as he looks down at you with pleading eyes, “I’m gonna cum again,” he warns you, voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm right there baby," you pant against his lips, a moan ripping from your throat as you clench around him, "cum with me."

With a final, powerful thrust, he cums inside you for the second time, moaning as he feels you flutter around him as you cum. Your body is burning hot with pleasure as you feel yourself release, dribbling down your thighs as you dig your nails desperately into his back as you try to keep yourself tethered to reality. The pleasure is blinding, your body buzzes as you feel the heat in your stomach replaced with a cold chill as his skin leaves yours. You watch him throw his head back as his hips stutter into you, your eyes fluttering as you watch the sweat drip down his forehead, the grooves in his face deepening as he squeezes his eyes shut. Your body shakes violently under him as you move to kiss his arms, still planted next to your head, desperate to feel his skin under yours again.

He rides out your orgasms for a while, thrusting into you lazily as he collapses down next to you, sweaty skin sticking together as you hold each other. He nuzzles his face into your neck, almost subconsciously, trying to convey the words he can't get out in the moment.

You press a sweet kiss to his head as you hold him against you, "you did so good baby," you whisper softly, stroking his back as the familiar warmth flutters in your chest as you feel him sigh happily at your praise.

You can tell he wants to speak, he opens his mouth against your neck, trying and struggling to get the words out before you shush him gently, "get some sleep," you whisper against his temple as you hold him close to you, "you've earned it."

He wakes up to the warmth of his blanket around him, something soft against his chest that he pulls closer to him in his half-asleep daze. He opens his eyes confused when his hands sink into soft fabric, blinking the sleep away as he focuses on the pillow he’s clutching in his arms. Confused, he sits up, squinting as he forces his eyes to focus in the dark as he seeks you out.

He’s alone in his bedroom, any evidence of you from the night before gone. He feels his heart ache painfully as he lays back down on the bed, he knows he didn’t imagine it, he can feel the burning scratches you left on his shoulders. Why did you leave so early? Did you not wanna stay?

His phone buzzes on the nightstand, his alarm going off as he slaps blindly at it, hearing it clatter to the floor as he bumps it off. He bends over to pick it up, eyes catching on the soft pile of fabric on the bedside table.

Your panties. Scrunched up in a small ball. A note under them,

“Let’s do this again sometime”

[starssbythepocketful]

The Funeral Roast!

Spencer Agnew x Hecox!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k (why do I always write so much for him)

Smosh Masterlist

I'm so sorry that this took literal months! I'm not someone who is good at roasting people whatsoever, but I tried!

This fits in with my Ian's Sister AU! It can also be read as a standalone!

I use y/n a few times in this fic, I know it's not everyone's fave, it's just really difficult to write a funeral roast without using the "deceased's" name. Honestly writing this was just really difficult, but the horrors persist and so do I. I had help from some friends with the roasts.

Y/N Hecox Is Dead! The Funeral Roast!

FRIDAY 2 PM

INT - SMOSH FUNERAL SET

Your hands were already sweating as you held the bouquet of plastic flowers. Courtney had taken it upon herself to get a bunch of your favorite colored roses to hold during the shoot. On a small table next to you was a small heart shaped frame with a photo of Spencer, your boyfriend. Kiana must’ve been the culprit for that. It would probably end up on your desk at the end of the day. Another framed photo, this one of you and your older brother, Ian, at your first Youtube Convention. The photo was usually in your brother’s office–your own copy on your desk–and was definitely Ian’s contribution to the Funeral set. There was also a stack of arcade tokens, your Nintendo Switch, and somewhere around ten or more empty Dr Pepper cans. 

The “In Memory” Photo had made you laugh out loud when you first walked onset, someone had photoshopped a tiara onto you and added a sash that said “Princess of Youtube”. 

Ian, Anthony, Tommy, Spencer, Angela and Chanse sat in the audience. Anthony was dressed as Link from the Legend of Zelda, Angela and Chanse had matching mascara tears and looked like they were dressed for a night out–Angela even had a small purse. 

Angela and Chanse stood together, little cloth handkerchiefs in their hands as they fake sobbed and dabbed their eyes. As they walked past where you were propped up in the casket, Angela pulled a martini glass from the purse and nestled it gently next to you in the coffin. Chanse dramatically pretended to throw himself across you crying and Angela pulled him away. Behind the podium, Angela pulled out two notecards, handing one to Chanse before yeeting the purse offstage and into Alex’s waiting arms.

You snorted. 

“It breaks our hearts, this tragedy.” Chanse began, “This is the saddest day of our life.”

“The funeral of our Martini Buddy, I mean Y/N Hecox.” Angela continued.

You laughed softly to yourself. 

“The passing of our most famous drinking buddy,” Chanse began, “was sudden but not unexpected. Especially considering how she drives. Lead foot, anyone?”

“I’ll say.” Spencer said, grinning at you from the audience. 

A chorus of ‘oooooooooh’ was heard among both cast and crew while you simply continued to laugh quietly. 

“Who else will we have to drink martinis with at Sunday Brunch?” Angela said. “And listen to endless hours of her talking about her boyfriend?” She turned and whispered theatrically to Chanse, “What was his name? I didn’t write it down.”

They both squint off into different directions, pretending to not remember.

“Sp….Sp….Spike?” Angela guessed. 

“No, that’s the hot vampire from Buffy.” Chanse said. “I think it was Spengler.”

“The ghostbuster?” Angela’s eyes went wide. 

The bit went on for a few more guesses before they ‘gave up’. A few more friendly pokes and the pair sat back down. 

You looked down at the martini glass Angela had stuck next to you. “Ang, is this my actual glass from my house? How did you get this?”

You could hear Angela giggling as Tommy booped you on the nose as he passed. “Dead people don’t talk, silly.”

As he took his place behind the podium, he cleared his throat. “I am here before you all today to do what I always do,” he said, pulling the will from his inner jacket with a flourish, “read the will.”

Tommy paused for dramatic effect, making eye purposefully awkward eye contact with the camera. 

“We are gathered here today to read the will of our dearly departed y/n Hecox, the true nepo baby of Smosh.”

You, Angela and Chanse burst into giggles at the reference.

“We all love y/n,” Tommy began. “We loved her even more when she wasn’t the one driving. But, I’m not here to talk about that, so without further ado, the will.” 

“To Ian, she has left her collection of Pokemon cards in the hopes that he can finally catch ‘em all. To Anthony, she leaves a book of dad jokes in the hopes that you’ll be able to make the rest of us laugh eventually.”

“Angela and Chanse, two members of the dynamic trio of questionable decisions. When the three of you are together, who only knows what could happen. To Angela, the deceased has left her a bottle of wine that she bought for ‘funsies’ and then never drank because, let’s be honest, you would drink it anyways.”

Angela barks out a laugh as everyone titters.  

“To Chanse, the deceased has left behind a lifetime solutions of hangover cures as well as her thanks for you trying to counsel both her and Angela when they’re wine drunk on Sunday afternoons.”

“To Spencer, the deceased has left her Legend of Zelda collection, in the sole hope that someone will finally use all those darn cups.”

Ian and Anthony burst into giggles at that, having had been the ones to introduce her to the Legend of Zelda franchise back when she was still a kid. An ongoing joke with fans was trying to guess who loved the game series more, Y/N or Tim, their IT guy. 

“But truly, we will miss her.”

A round of applause followed Tommy back to his seat as Ian stood. 

“Alright. Tommy may have set the bar high with those burns, but don’t worry. I’m only gonna roast the one person who actually deserves it—my sister.” He paused. “Look I’ve been your older brother for your whole life, I’ve babysat you, I’ve protected you from weirdos, then gave you a job and surrounded you with weirdos.” Ian stopped to look at everyone assembled. “Like. Major weirdos. Growing up with her wasn’t easy. She was always trying to one-up me, most of the time successfully. Like, I’d play some Mario and go do something else and then I’d come back and she’d have beaten my high score.”

You laughed. “I did it better!”

Ian smacked a hand on the podium and pointed comically at you with the other, as if he were a character in a Phoenix Wright game. “That’s not the point!” He took a moment to collect himself. “She’s also the type of sister to always be like, ‘I’m so much smarter than you are’—as if that’s even possible. I mean, I was the one who started Smosh. Y/N was just…there for like a decade, just watching. But now we’re down an editor, so if anyone knows anyone, lemme know.”

You scoffed out a laugh as another ‘oooooh’ echoed. 

Ian took his seat and a few others went, Shayne, Courtney, and Anthony—who chose to only make sounds similar to Link’s ‘hyah’ sounds. Eventually it was Spencer’s turn. 

Spencer stood, pulling a paper from his pocket. He stopped in front of the casket, letting out a over-dramatic sigh that made you laugh.

“Alright, we get it, the only girl who’d ever agree to go out with you.” Shayne called from off-set.

Spencer whirled around and pointed his finger at Shayne with faux-aggressiveness. “Shut up and don’t steal my bit, you aren’t even supposed to be here!”

He finished making his way up and Spencer stood behind the podium, grinning. “What’s up, losers?”

The group lost it, with a loud and drawn out, “Okay” from Tommy.

“Yeah, I’m Spencer, I’m the boyfriend.” 

You laughed, the delivery of ‘boyfriend’ was somehow even more over then top than the rest of his words. 

“This is like, totally the worst. The first girl to agree to go out with me and she kicked it like, almost a year in? Yikes, that’s not looking good for me.”

At this point, most of the cast was giggling. 

“I remember when you first joined Smosh,” He continued. “There was this look in your eyes that was bright and excited for the future…then you figured out that that ‘future’ was just making Ian’s bad jokes seem funny. Anyways, let’s be real, the only thing more tragic than your passing is your IMBD page, babe. It’s just Smosh credits and that one Taco Bell ad you were an extra in.” 

He paused for everyone’s reactions, some guffaws and chuckles throughout the room. 

“Our relationship is beautiful, chaotic, and documented on way too many Pit and Games videos. Your legacy will live on, granted, it’ll be in all the clips of you absolutely just wiping out.” 

At this, his cool and aloof demeanor broke and he started laughing to himself. 

“I don’t know what I’ll do now without someone who constantly steals my food, my clothes, and occasionally my cats.”

That was true. The pair had an inside joke that she was only dating him for his cats, so, while the last part was confusing to everyone else, she appreciated the little bit that only the two of them knew. 

“Well, this is it. You’re gone. I’m single. And Ian is free from the nightmare of watching us flirt. Everyone wins… except me.” Spencer gave a dramatic sigh. “At least until I start sharing embarrassing stories about you for clout.”

At that you laughed out loud, Spencer made his way back passed you and tucked one of his note pages into your martini glass. 

The group grew silent before you sat up with a sudden gasp. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some fries around here?” You cleared your throat and pulled out your own notes, catching a glimpse of what your boyfriend had actually stuck in your martini glass. “Is this the Bee Movie script?” 

You looked at him curiously along with everyone else.

“Yeah, was thinking about using the Shrek script, but Bee Movie is easier to find,” Spencer grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

“Alrighty then! Moving on!” You looked down at your sheet of roasts that you had put together, “Angela, Ang, my favorite enabler and best yap-sesh buddy. I never trusted you. Anyone who can act like you can isn’t real. Your ability to go from charming to absolutely unhinged in 0.3 seconds will always amaze me. Angela, you are proof that theater kids don’t age. They just get sent to work here to make the rest of us look boring.”

“Chanse. I want to first say that the true tragedy of all of this is that you’re make a joke about this later, and somehow it’ll still be funnier than anything I did. Secondly, I would like to apologize,” You paused for dramatic effect as your friend squinted at you, trying to figure out where this was going, “I would like to apologize that I had to go and perish like the dinosaurs before Smosh could do something truly revolutionary and put you as a main character for a skit.”

“Ian, my dear, dear brother. You’re my hero,” You paused as a few ‘awwws’ went around the room before smirking.

“Oh no.” Ian sighed. 

“No, no, you are my hero…if a hero is chronically online, has owned waaaaay too many wigs, has something weird going on with donuts, and has absolutely zero control over his own employees. I’ve spent years trying to convince the world that I’m more than ‘the Smosh guy’s little sister’, but with my luck my literal funeral is gonna be called “Ian’s Sister is Dead!’ RIP me, I guess? Like, we get Anthony back, but somehow I’m the one that winds up dead?”

“Anthony. You left Smosh to go make deep and meaningful content and discover yourself…and then came back just in time to watch me fake-die for Youtube views. How’s it going? Is this what you thought was gonna happen oooooooorrrrr?”

Anthony laughed, throwing out a thumbs up. “It’s not what I was expecting, but it’s fun!”

You looked directly at the camera. “Funeral for Anthony, anyone? Tommy Bowe! I am dead and somehow you are still the most unwell person in this room. However, you’ve treated the reading of my will as a such a serious moment. To be honest, you sounded so uncomfortably honest that I was almost concerned, until I realized that you’ve probably been method acting your whole grieving process just for me. And I think that’s beautiful, love that for you, bestie.”

“And last, but not least, Spencer. Hi.” You smiled at him. “Anyways, I’m a little concerned. I’ve set you up a meeting with Ian’s therapist because I’m afraid that you’re gonna take this as an excuse to go full ‘sad victorian widow’ on Twitter and Kiana doesn’t need to deal with that. But, knowing you though, you’ve already got plans for the next Gentleman’s video where you’ve lost the love of your life and has some slow descent into madness.” 

You looked up dramatically, staring off into the distance for a moment as if having an epiphany. “That would’ve done numbers on BAF Legacy.” You continued staring off into nothingness for a moment more before collapsing back into your ‘dead’ position as the video wrapped up. 

=== 

SAME DAY

INT - SMOSH OFFICE 

The games pod was quiet at this time. It was almost time to go home, and you were just waiting for Spencer to finish up a few things before heading out, lounging in a beanbag you had dragged over and scrolling through your phone.

“Ready to go, pretty girl?” he asked a few minutes later. 

“Yeah,” you say, standing. 

Together the two of you make your way out of the building. 

“Well, how’d you think the funeral went?” You asked.

“From the onset side of things, I’d say it went pretty well,” Spencer stated. “Sad Victorian Widow was pretty wild.”

You laughed. “Thank you, I liked that one.”

“I’m also totally stealing your idea for a Gentleman gone mad.” 

You grin. “I knew you would.”

xXx

This was hard to write! Sorry it took so long, I might edit it some more at some point if it keeps bugging me. But anyways, my inbox is open. I can't do like full blown requests rn, but sometimes there's something that makes my brain go ooooh which is why I have so many markiplier fics

[ddlydevotion]

dating hamzah al-emad includes...

currently listening to: lust for life by lana del rey ft the weeknd ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Hamzah quite honestly doesn’t have too much experience when it comes to romantic relationships. He’s constantly worried that he’ll do or say something wrong, so please reassure him when the situation calls for it.

he lovelovelovess having you around him as much as possible. You honestly could never “bother” him, even if he’s editing/coming up with video ideas. One day you asked Hamzah if he’d like some alone time to get some editing done and he immediately said:

“no-what are you talking about? Here, come sit down.”

You’re one of the very few people that don’t easily overstimulate him lmao

This man has insane attachment issues when it comes to you and has no issue letting you know when he misses/wants to see you. You could be out of the apartment running errands and your phone will be filled with messages from him.

‘me and the cats miss u very much btw if u even care…’

‘when are you coming homeee ;(‘

Please don’t be shocked when he comes up to you asking for very specific things that he may need for a video involving Martin. For example, where do you think he got the skirt for his White Chicks costume? Exactly.

Even if someone is meeting him for the very first time, they’ll immediately be able to tell he has a girlfriend because he’s constantly wearing something symbolic of you. That bracelet you randomly made him one night? It’s practically glued to his wrist. Your claw clip practically has a home on his belt loop. So, these little things make it pretty easy for people to decipher the fact that he’s taken.

Recording with Martin takes up quite a bit of his time so he’s constantly putting in the effort to see you, hear your voice, and speak with you in general. You’re constantly receiving photos/videos/voice memos from Hamzah when he’s in the middle of filming.

He always makes sure to bring you something back when Martin and him visit a restaurant, or a location that’s stocked up on items he knows you enjoy.

Hamzah has been through a whole lot and has experienced his fair share of loneliness. He isn’t too good with his words/voicing just how much you and your presence mean to him but he tries soso hard. There’ll be a lot of sighs and stutters filling the pauses in his sentences but that doesn’t stop his adoration from shining through.

“I just- I love you so much, y/n. I hope I say it enough, y’know? I’m really serious about you and I know I might not be the most experienced guy when it comes to this, but I hope that doesn’t make you doubt how serious I am about you. Because I am- serious about you, I mean.”

These sorts of conversations tend to happen late at night when the warmth between your two bodies blossoms endlessly. He holds you tight as your cheek is pressed against his chest. He can’t help but hold you the same way he’d hold a knife.

In his eyes, the two of you are in this for the long run and he doesn’t hide his intentions of marrying you. He even slipped up and called you his wife in a video once.

‘Yesterday, me and my wife- well…make that my future wife.’ and then a cheesy lil smirk spreads across his face 😭

He even made the both of you in Sims and made it so that the two of you got married. Mandy and Martin couldn’t help but tease him about it.

He loves you with his entire fucking being and he wants nothing but to be good for you, good to you, be the one to make you smile, laugh, feel at ease. He adores being able to do domestic activities with you since it gives him a glimpse into how it’ll be like once the two of you eventually get married. As I said, he puts in soooo much effort into making you happy so he definitely attempts to get good at cooking so he can surprise you with breakfast in bed/homemade dinner. He stills puts in the effort to learn how to cook even if you already know how to. He wants to surprise you so bad so pls let him (╥‸╥) (even if the French toast he made is a lil burnt)

Follows you around like a lost puppy. His hand is constantly reaching for yours, his arms are instantly wrapped around you as soon as the two of you get into bed, he always makes room for you to sit in his lap.

a/n: I haven’t written in quite awhile but I had to come back since my obsession with this man has worsened this past week 😞. Feel free to send requests 💌🧸

[georgeclarkesgf]

a request for maybe some george smut after he comes back from the useless hotline tour that we werent able to go on ?? so like he hasnt seen us in a while

the second george steps into his bedroom, he drops his bags and heads for the shower. he knows you're on your way over, having been waiting by your phone all day for him to let you know he's back. so when your phone dinged, you were already halfway out the door, tripping over your own feet trying to get there as soon as possible.

conveniently, you live about a ten-minute walk away, meaning you're used to seeing george every day. the two weeks he and max had been on tour were difficult, but you tried to make the best out of the situation and would call each other whenever you could.

a few minutes after he had got in the shower, you're at the flat taking the familiar path to his room. your heart pounds in anticipation as you undress quickly after closing the door, glad you'll finally be with him again.

the warm air surrounds you when you step inside the bathroom and lazily drag your eyes over his body. he's standing under the water, eyes closed and head thrown back, making you think of the more sinful times you'd seen him in this position.

"hi george." you say, a smile breaking out on his face when he sees you.

"hi darling. come here." he replies, arms outstretched toward you.

you step into the shower, letting him pull you into him as you wrap your arms around his neck. his arms tighten around you and you close your eyes, water cascading over you both. a comfortable silence sets in and several minutes pass before either of you speak.

"wish you could've come with us, you have no idea how much i missed you. i even struggled to fall asleep." george admits, his cheeks turning slightly red at the confession.

"really?" you raise your eyebrows at him to which he nods, "i missed you too. had to cuddle the teddy you got me instead. wasn't the same."

your hands untangle from his hair and cup his jaw, connecting your lips in a kiss. as the water continues to flow, the kiss grows more passionate. george's hands travel further down, one landing on your ass and squeezing it, the other pressed flat against your lower back to pull you closer to him.

"george," you don't mean for it to come out so breathless, but when his lips detach from yours to trail kisses down your neck, you can't help it, "you've literally just stepped through the door."

"mhm. but, i also currently have my sexy, loving, amazing girlfriend, who i've missed so much, naked in my shower. so, i don't understand the issue." he counters, making you giggle.

two fingers make their way between your legs and start toying with your clit before sliding into you, the sudden stretch causing your knees to buckle. you can feel his cock against your thigh, so you begin pumping him at the same pace he's fingering you, steadily building up your orgasm.

he curls his fingers, repeatedly hitting that spot inside you and your orgasm washes over you within minutes, hands scratching at his back. your eyes squeeze shut and you clench around his fingers, moans filling the room while you ride out your high.

"fuck, baby." you pant, trying to catch your breath.

a proud smirk is plastered on george's face, "you good?"

"so good. your turn."

you go to drop to your knees to return the favour, but he's quick to stop you and shake his head. when a pout appears on your lips, he kisses it away.

"as amazing as that would be, i need to be inside you, like now." he pleads and grips your hips, moving you until your back is pressed against the shower wall.

contradicting his words, he slowly drags his cock through your folds, letting the tip bump your clit a few times. but you're impatient, so you replace his hand with yours and align him with your entrance, jaw dropping as he pushes in.

"fuck, you feel so good, shit." he groans, hands on your hips keeping you steady while he fucks up into you.

he starts off slow, letting you adjust, but as your moans and whimpers grow more desperate, so do his thrusts. the only two words leaving your mouth are 'fuck' and 'george', his ego growing and determination to make you cum doubling.

a particularly harsh thrust has you crying out, holding onto him tighter. the sound of skin slapping echoes around the bathroom, more than likely being heard over the water that's still running.

"you close darling, yea? you gonna cum?" he leans down, connecting your lips once again, not giving you time to respond.

the knot in your stomach is dangerously close to snapping and he knows, one of his hands leaving your hips to rub tight circles on your clit.

"please george." you whimper, clenching around him so tight he swears his brain short circuits.

"cum for me."

a whine escapes your lips and you throw your head back, letting your second orgasm take over your body. his rhythm falters as you cum around him, raking your nails up his back until they're digging into his shoulders.

george's head drops to your shoulder, thrusting into you a few times before pulling out, spilling over your thighs with a moan. both of your chests are heaving while you try to even out your breathing and he places multiple kisses to your shoulder and neck.

"well, that was quite the welcome home." george chuckles, "might leave more often if that's what i get when i come back."

"don't you dare."

--------

a low whistle comes from behind george as he enters the kitchen. you're curled up in his bed, having had a proper shower after his 'welcome home', and he's gone to grab you some water in just a pair of joggers, not realising bright red scratch marks are all over his back.

"take it y/n is here then?" chris chuckles, eyeing george from the sofa.

"uh, yea? how'd you know?" he furrows his brows in confusion since there's no sign of your things in the kitchen or living room.

before chris can answer, arthur hill walks in, eyes widening when he notices the marks too.

"damn george, what the hell happened to you?"

"y/n." chris replies, not taking his eyes off the tv.

"ah, right." arthur nods in understanding with a smirk on his face.

deciding to ignore their comments, george walks back to his room, being met with your horrified expression when he turns around.

"george! did you actually go to the kitchen like that?" you groan and he nods, confused, "there's marks all over your back. it's so obvious we've just fucked."

well, that explains it.

a/n not proofread sorry <33 hope you enjoyed!

[luvergirl21]

roommate! hamzah, part 2

hamzah x f!reader smut! lowkey sub!hamzah.

hi everyone! i wasn't expecting this much support on my first story, so thank you so much for all the kind words and likes <3. if anyone has any requests for me to write about, please message me!

summary: this is a direct continuation, right from where part 1 left off, and i hope you all enjoy.

warnings: smut! smut! smut under cut! please do not read if you are under the age of 18.

word count: 1100

“Hi,” you say, giggling breathlessly as you came face to face with his growing length. 

“H-hey,” he managed to stutter out. Hamzah’s eyes were wide and glossy. He let out a small whimper as you touched his sensitive cock. It twitched once, then twice, as you caressed it in your hand. You dropped to your knees in front of the dark-haired man and he looked as though he was about to faint. His mouth was dry in anticipation and he licked his cracking lips. You placed a soft kiss on his tip, already dripping in pre-cum. He whined.

“Is that good, baby?” you asked him, in a soft, sultry voice that you didn’t even know could come from your throat.

“Mmh,” he responded, nodding his head aggressively. You licked the underside of his cock once and he shuddered, already almost threatening to spill his load everywhere. You began kitten-licking his tip, grabbing the rest of his length in your hands. Hamzah didn’t know what to do with his hands, but opted to put one in your hair, tying it up into a make-shift ponytail. Slowly, you took his entire length into your mouth. He was big and you were unable to take him all without gagging. You began moving your mouth up and down his length and Hamzah led out a heady groan, head tilted backwards towards the ceiling. You ran your tongue along the underside of his cock, feeling the thick vein that ran from the tip to the base. You suppressed the gag that threatened to escape your lips as you nuzzled your nose against the thick, curly hair at the base of Hamzah’s cock. You inhaled his scent, as you let him begin to use your mouth however he wished.

His hips were beginning to stutter, as he grabbed your hair tightly, guiding your mouth along the length of his cock. He let out a flurry of groans and whines, eyes alternating between squeezing shut and staring down at you taking his length. Doe eyes wide and innocent, you held eye contact with him, hollowing out your cheeks, and he let out a long moan. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth and you knew he was close. Abruptly, you pulled your mouth off of his length with a pop, and he let out a whine at the lack of contact. 

“W-why’d you stop?” he asked, voice high-pitched and breathy. You didn’t respond, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand and standing up. You pushed Hamzah towards the bed, pushing him down to sit on the edge. You moved to straddle his thick thighs, rubbing your uncovered pussy on his hard, wet length. His hands moved to roughly grip your waist and you intertwined your fingers in his hair.

“I want you inside of me,” you whispered into his ear. Hamzah shuddered at the contact of your soaking wet pussy moving along his sensitive cock. The way he was so turned on from not even being inside your cunt made your core throb with desire. 

Arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly close to him. You rub your wet folds along his member, before reaching behind you and lining his tip up with your soaking hole. You slowly sank down on his length, the stretch was blissful and you let out a long whine. Hamzah groaned into your chest. 

“Holy fuck,” he stuttered out. “S-so good. You feel so good, baby.” You slide up and down on his cock, feeling the stretch deep in your core.

“O-oh my god,” you whine. “You're so big, Hamzah.”

“How the fuck have we never done this before?” he whispered into your chest.

“You never asked,” you responded. Hamzah tugged at your t-shirt, reaching underneath it to caress your bare waist. His touch was like electricity, sending tingles throughout your back and down your spine.

“I wanna…” he huffed out. “I wanna-”

“Use your words, baby,” you responded, enjoying how fragile and delicate he was beneath you.

Hamzah’s face reddened, and he spoke, mouth buried in your shirt. “Wanna see your tits.” You giggled, before reaching down and tugging your t-shirt over your head. The air was slightly chilly and your nipples instantly hardened. Hamzah’s eyes widened as he came face to face with your tits.

“H-holy shit,” he said. “They’re so much prettier than I imagined.” He grabbed them in his big hands, massaging them slightly.

“You’ve imagined my tits?” you say, laughing slightly.

“Hell yeah,” he responded. “The other day, when you wore that tight little shirt out to dinner and your cleavage was showing…shit. The second I got home I had to jerk off. Fuck…I came so quick, imagining cumming all over your pretty fucking tits.”

Your face instantly reddened at his breathless confession. He began thrusting up into you, making your tits bounce with the sheer force of it. You let out a long moan, head tilted back, as he hit a particularly sensitive spot deep within your cunt. “S-sometimes,” he continued. “When I jerk off to you, I’m loud on purpose, hoping that you’ll hear me and come help me.”

“S-shit, Hamzah,” you whispered. He latched his pretty red mouth onto your tits, sucking one of your hardened nipples into his mouth. You let out a high-pitched whine as your hips undulated against his. Hamzah reached down to rub your clit. You felt yourself coming closer towards release. “I-I’m close,” you whine.

“Me too, baby,” he responded, voice rough with desire.

Your breath became heavy. Hamzah rubbed your clit harder and faster, at the same time hitting that sweet spot deep inside. You came with a cry---white, hot light taking over your vision. Your orgasm washed over you and you clung onto Hamzah’s broad shoulders. Seconds later, Hamzah gripped your waist tightly and you felt his cock twitch inside you, spurting his seed deep within your cunt. He groaned deeply, head buried deep in your chest. His hips stuttered to a stop and you both sat there, completely still, coming down from your conjoint highs. Hamzah looked up at you, pure adoration present in his completely fucked-out expression. He smiled up at you, reaching up to wipe away the traces of saliva that adorned the corners of your lips. You smiled back. 

“Hi,” you said softly.

“Hi,” he responded, breathless. You giggled, moving your hand to sweep his curly hair back from his sweaty forehead. “Are you okay?” he asked, hands still gripping your waist.

“Yeah,” you responded. “I’m more than okay. Are you?”

“Never better.”

[viagracex]

Heyyy queen I was wondering if u can write a George clarke fan fic about the song bed cem or the song how deep is your love or the song never be like you what ever ideas come to mind thank u queen

Chasing the Fire

george clarke x fem!reader

summary: maybe it's all in my head, but i bet we'd have really good bed chem. (based on the song bed chem by sabrina carpenter)

warnings: sexual content and smut

note: I love this song and tried to write this so it tied into the lyrics as best as I could. I hope you like it and I’d love to get more requests!

2.4k words

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

It happened so fast. The party was loud, and you were only half paying attention when you saw him. George.

White jacket, thick accent, messy hair that he had clearly run his hands through too many times that night. You were in a sheer dress that felt a little too bold when his gaze flickered down your body, but you didn’t care.

“Hey,” he said, casual, like he wasn’t the most interesting person in the room.

“Hey,” you echoed, playing it cool.

You talked for a second—literally, maybe sixty seconds. His friend nudged him, distracted him, and before you could find another excuse to stay, he was gone.

But not before you followed each other on Instagram.

You couldn't stop thinking about George as you scrolled through his Instagram that night. His feed was a mix of artsy black and white photos, candid shots with friends, and the occasional shirtless beach pic that made your heart race. You found yourself imagining his accent, replaying your brief conversation over and over.

You weren’t proud of how much time you spent on his page.

Videos of him laughing, of him looking devastatingly good in dim bar lighting, of him in some oversized hoodie that made you think about how easy it would be to steal it after a night together.

You couldn't help but fantasize about George as you lay in bed that night, your mind wandering to places it shouldn't. You imagined his strong hands running through your hair, his accent low and husky in your ear. In your mind, he was tender yet passionate, taking his time to explore every inch of your body.

You pictured the two of you tangled in soft sheets, his muscular form pressed against yours. His kisses would start gentle but grow more urgent, leaving you breathless. You could almost feel the warmth of his skin, the slight roughness of stubble on his jaw.

George would know exactly how to touch you—where to caress and tease. His fingers would trace delicate patterns across your skin, sending a shudder through you. You imagined looking into his eyes, dark with desire, as you moved together in perfect synchronicity.

In your fantasy, George was attentive and giving, focused entirely on your pleasure. His stamina would be impressive, your lovemaking lasting for hours as you discovered each other's bodies. Afterwards, you would lay entwined, trading lazy kisses and soft caresses as your heart rates slowly returned to normal.

You fell asleep with these vivid images playing in your mind, your body tingling with unfulfilled desire. Part of you felt a little guilty for letting your imagination run so wild about someone you'd barely met. But a larger part of you hoped that someday, somehow, fantasy might become reality.

God, the chemistry would be unmatched.

You wanted him.

You wanted him so bad.

And when his name popped up in your DMs, you nearly dropped your phone.

George: That dress was dangerous, by the way.

You: What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.

George: I’d like to see how interesting.

You bit your lip, your fingers hovering over your phone, but there was no need to play shy. You both knew what you wanted.

You: Are you free next week?

The hotel room was dimly lit, golden from the bedside lamps. You heard him before you saw him, the click of the door shutting, the deep inhale like he was trying to steady himself.

You turned, your heart pounding. George stood there, his white jacket discarded, leaving him in a tight black t-shirt that hugged his muscular frame. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the silky slip dress you'd chosen for the occasion.

"You look even more dangerous than last time," he murmured, his accent making heat pool in your stomach.

You took a step towards him, drawn like a magnet. "Good dangerous or bad dangerous?"

His lips quirked into a smirk. "The best kind of dangerous."

In two strides, he closed the distance between you. His hand cupped your face, thumb brushing your cheek. You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," George confessed, his voice low and husky.

"Me neither," you breathed.

His eyes met yours, dark and intense, and then his lips were on yours, soft at first, then more insistent. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. George’s hands traced down your sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The passion you had imagined ignited instantly between you.

"You're even more stunning than I remembered," he murmured against your lips.

His voice dipped into a teasing rasp, heat pooling in your stomach. You ran your fingers through his messy hair, just as you had dreamed of doing. George’s hands roamed your body, leaving trails of heat in their wake. In one fluid motion, he lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bed.

"I've thought about this moment since I saw you in that dress," George said, his voice low and husky. He laid you down gently, then hovered above you. "You're absolutely perfect."

His praise made you flush with desire. George slowly undressed you, kissing each newly exposed patch of skin. When you were bare before him, he sat back to admire the view.

"Gorgeous," he breathed.

You reached for him, impatient. George chuckled and quickly shed his own clothes. He was all lean muscle and smooth skin. You couldn't wait to touch him everywhere.

George kissed a path down your body, setting every nerve ending alight. His clever tongue teased and tasted. You writhed beneath him, overcome with sensation. Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he flipped you over.

"On your knees for me, love."

George's strong hands gripped your hips as he positioned himself behind you. You shivered in anticipation, your skin tingling where he touched you. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, and whispered in your ear.

"You're incredible," he murmured, his accent thick with desire. "So beautiful, so perfect for me."

You felt him slowly push inside, stretching and filling you completely. You both groaned at the exquisite sensation. George set a steady rhythm, his hips rocking against you as he showered your neck and shoulders with kisses.

"That's it, love," he encouraged. "You feel amazing."

His praise spurred you on. You pushed back to meet his thrusts, drawing him even deeper. George’s fingers dug into your hips as he picked up the pace. The room filled with the sounds of your passion—skin on skin, breathless moans, whispered endearments.

"You're taking me so well," George panted. "Such a good girl for me."

His words sent a thrill through you. You arched your back, silently begging for more. George obliged, driving into you with rough thrusts. He slid a hand around to tease between your legs as he continued to pound into you. The dual sensations were overwhelming.

"Say it again," you breathed, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

He did. And then he gave you exactly what you wanted.

You could feel the tension building, a delicious coil of pleasure tightening low in your belly. George's skilled fingers worked in tandem with his powerful thrusts, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, love," he encouraged, his voice rough.

You cried out in ecstasy as waves of pleasure crashed over you. George held you tight as you trembled through your release. He slowed his movements, letting you ride out the aftershocks.

"You're so beautiful when you cum for me," he murmured, kissing your shoulder.

Before you could catch your breath, George flipped you onto your back. His eyes were dark with desire as he gazed down at you. "I'm not done with you yet," he growled.

He hitched your legs over his shoulders and entered you again in one smooth thrust. The new angle had you seeing stars. George set a punishing pace, driving into you relentlessly.

"You feel so good," he praised. "So tight and wet for me."

You could only moan in response, overwhelmed by sensation. George's muscular body moved above you, a thin sheen of sweat making his skin glisten in the low light. He looked like a god, and you were helpless beneath him.

"Tell me how it feels," George commanded, his accent thicker than ever.

"Amazing," you gasped. "You feel so good. God. Please don't stop."

George groaned, clearly affected by your words. "I couldn't stop if I tried. You're addictive."

He lowered your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he leaned down to kiss you deeply. The change in position had him hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust.

The new angle sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You clung to George, your nails raking down his back as he drove into you relentlessly. His muscular body pressed you into the mattress, surrounding you completely.

"You’re unreal," George praised.

You whimpered at his words, arousal coursing through you. George's lips found your neck, kissing and sucking at your sensitive skin. You knew he'd leave marks, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You wanted everyone to know you belonged to him.

"George, please," you begged, though you weren't sure what you were asking for.

He seemed to understand, reaching between you to circle your clit. The overstimulation had you crying out, trembling beneath him. George's thrusts became more erratic as he chased his own release.

"That’s it, one more—cum with me," he commanded. "I want to feel you."

His words pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name as waves of pleasure once again washed over you. George followed soon after, groaning against your neck as he found his release.

You laid there, still breathless, your body warm, spent, tangled in sheets that smelled like him.

George propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you with that damn smirk.

"So…" he murmured, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare stomach. "I can say that it was very interesting indeed."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Yeah, it was."

His grin widened as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours.

"Round two?"

You pretended to think about it. "Depends. Are you free next week?"

He chuckled, rolling on top of you again.

"Let’s start with tonight."

As George's lips met yours once again, you couldn't help but marvel at how reality had surpassed even your wildest fantasies. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word was better than you could have imagined.

His hands roamed your body with a confidence that made you weak. You ran your fingers through his hair, relishing its softness. It was even more luxurious than you'd dreamed, perfect for gripping in the heat of passion.

And speaking of passion... your eyes couldn't help but wander down his chiseled body. You bit your lip, a mixture of awe and anticipation coursing through you. Oh my. Finally getting a chance to appreciate his body—and god, he was even more gifted than you'd dared to hope. No wonder you felt so full earlier.

George caught you staring and smirked. "See something you like?"

You blushed but met his gaze boldly. "Just admiring the view."

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "I aim to please."

"Oh, you certainly do," you purred, running your hands down his muscular chest.

As George began trailing kisses down your neck, you closed your eyes in bliss. His touch was electric, igniting every nerve ending. You'd imagined your chemistry would be good, but this was on another level entirely.

Your body responded to his every caress like it was made for him. Each brush of his fingers sent sparks dancing across your skin. He took his time exploring every curve, as if committing you to memory.

You explored each other's bodies for hours, finding new ways to bring each other pleasure. George was insatiable, his stamina impressive. He took you in every position imaginable, each one bringing new sensations and delights.

As the night wore on, your passionate frenzy gave way to something slower, more tender.

Eventually, exhaustion settled over you both like a warm, sated haze. Your bodies remained tangled beneath the rumpled sheets, your breath still slightly uneven, skin slick with sweat, hearts pounding in sync. George's arm draped lazily over your waist, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your bare hip. Neither of you spoke for a long time—there was no need. The weight of the moment, the unspoken understanding between you, said everything words couldn’t.

The dim hotel room hummed with the quiet intimacy of two people who had just unraveled each other completely. Your fingers toyed with the strands of his messy hair, brushing them back from his forehead as he studied you with hooded eyes, a smirk playing at his lips. “So,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep and satisfaction, “was that as good as you imagined?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress your grin. “Better.”

George chuckled, his fingers tracing idle circles on your bare skin, his touch still sending little aftershocks through your body. There was something electric between you, something undeniable—like you were two forces drawn together by something deeper than just attraction. It wasn’t just the way his body fit perfectly against yours, or the way his voice alone could make you shiver. It was the way you felt in his presence, like the air between you was charged, like every glance, every smirk, every teasing comment had been leading to this moment. The chemistry between you was unreal, like something out of a film, impossible to ignore, impossible to fake.

And the scariest part? You knew this wasn’t just a one-time thing. It wasn’t just lust or fleeting excitement. This was something potent, something addictive, something that had already begun weaving its way into your thoughts, your bones, your breath.

George tilted his head, that knowing smirk playing at his lips—like he could read your mind. “I can hear you thinking from here,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement.

You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head. “Just… wondering how the hell we have this much chemistry.”

His smirk softened into something almost contemplative. His fingers skimmed your jaw, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “Me too.”

The weight of that admission settled between you, heavy with unspoken things. A promise. A challenge. A warning.

Because once you’ve felt this kind of fire, you’ll spend forever chasing the burn.