#george Daniel smut

[toomuchracket]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and now? they're looking right at you.

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

interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and he's still looking at you.

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

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

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

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

chainsmokers? christ.

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

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

“...i don't take requests.”

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

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

fuck. keep it together, bitch.

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

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

“whatever made you think that?”

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

christ. “yeah. you like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you smile, radiant. “promise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

like you need any convincing.

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

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

“shit. lead the way.”

***

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

his head shoots up immediately. “no marks?”

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

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

“second door on the left.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he smirks. “magic word?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“shit!”

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

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

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

#and yes i DID crop matthew out of the pic thank you for asking #mads muses #mads does writing #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel fanfic #george daniel fic #george daniel x reader #george x reader #george daniel smut

[abiiors]

one for the road // george daniel x reader

a/n: the idea belongs to my sweet friend ace @ughgoaway and i'm just bringing it to life but JFC GEORGE'S HANDS HAVE BEEN THE ONLY THING ON MY MIND SINCE BOILER ROOM (side note but it took me sooooo long to think of a title until one for the road by am came up on shuffle) cw: semi-public, fingering, edging, slightly dom/sub?? like it's kinda hinted but that's it, the writer’s hand kink is very obvious in this one wc: 2.6k

l.a. traffic is the bane of your existence. everything crawls at a glacial pace, there are a million and one red lights and every once in a while someone tries to honk or zoom past as if that would magically clear the road for them. you try to play some music and even that keeps getting interrupted by the two calls george has gotten so far. 

you’re frustrated beyond belief and so is he, judging by his tight grip on the steering wheel and his clenched jaw. 

“george!” you whine. it’s childish and immature, and yet you can’t help it. it’s not even ten a.m. and everything is already hellish. 

“i know, baby,” he speaks in a low voice, navigating yet more traffic. by some miracle, the car in front of you speeds, opening up space for you to cross the green light. george perks up, about to floor it when someone cuts in from behind, and gets stuck right in front of you. just in time for the light to turn red.

george slaps the steering wheel, letting out a few choice curse words, you groan into your hands, about to curse some more when his hand lands on your thigh. 

it’s innocent enough—something he’s done countless times. it’s almost a permanent resting spot for his hands when you’re driving anyway, but the rough pads of his fingers scratch against your thigh. his rings glint in the sunlight, and you stare at his hands, completely forgetting about the frustration from just a minute ago. 

the red light lasts far longer than it should, longer than it has any right to. but in the end you move again, and george’s hand goes back to the steering wheel. instantly, you miss the warmth of it, the friction of his fingers against the smooth skin of your thigh. you fidget with the hem of your short, short skirt, wishing your fingers felt the same. they don’t, not even close. 

“fuckin’ hell,” george curses quietly, voice gravelly. his fingers drum on the leather, and a deep groan echoes around the car, making your mind go to all the places it really shouldn’t. 

you sneak another look at him, at the way he dwarfs the car seat. his long legs are almost stretched out in front of him, spread wide. your mind wanders to all the times you've sat between them, pleasing him for hours, being a good girl and keeping him warm. 

“you’ve gone quiet,” he speaks suddenly and places his hand back on your thigh. it almost makes you jump but you see right in front of you, at another red light and then at his hand on your thigh, at the veins littering it. 

“‘m fine!” you squeak, voice weirdly high-pitched. 

“you’re annoyed, aren’t you,” he tuts. “‘m so sorry, baby.” he does sound genuinely sorry, stroking your thigh with a gesture that he thinks is comforting.

for you, however, it only makes everything worse. 

george draws small circle on your skin, round and round and absentminded as he waits for the car in front of you to start moving. he doesn’t know how strongly you’re trying not to rub your thighs together. he doesn’t know the kind of buzz filling your head, each time his hand inches higher or inward. 

“n-no,” you choke out, trying to sound as normal as possible. you’re completely fine! you’re not about to soak through your underwear and onto the rich leather seats. “traffic’s normal.”

the last bit catches his attention but before he can say anything, the light turns green and george removes his hand once again. you scrunch your eyes shut, embarrassed at breathy your voice sounded just now. how girlish and needy. 

but the sunlight makes his rings glint again and your mouth goes dry. 

oh to feel them against your cunt… your ass… 

oh to feel the cold metal on your lips while he shuts you up by shoving his fingers in your mouth. 

“baby? you alright?” he tries to sneak a quick glance at you while also keeping an eye on the road. “shit, you’re not carsick, are you?”

sick. yes. that would be one word to describe you—sick in the head for wanting him to use his fingers right now, so publicly in the middle of a busy l.a. highway. right here where anyone can peep in. 

he sneaks another glance at you, a bit longer this time with his brows furrowed and lips pressed in a straight line, and places his hand on your leg again. deliberate. 

“bab—”

“george!” a whine slips out of you, and you can’t help but cross your legs this time, effectively trapping his hand between them. his fingers are so fucking close to your cunt, so…

“oh,” he breathes out and you feel his fingers move. it’s a swipe against the inside of your thigh, so fucking high up that he might as well be touching you now. no, scratch that. he is touching you now as his finger softly brushes over your clothed cunt. you hiss through your teeth, already sensitive. 

“what have you been thinking about, hmm?” your eyes linger on his hand still, half of it disappearing under your skirt. his fingers move deftly, still swiping against your pussy, on the insides of your thigh. “you’re drenched…”

the breath whooshes out of your lungs once the red light hits and george slides the underwear aside. 

“yeah?”

“please…” you all but beg, spreading your legs just a bit wider so his hand can fit better. slowly, leisurely, his fingers move through your folds, parting them and making you moan softly each time he brushes against your clit. 

the red light even allows him to look at you, but you’re far too gone to care what he sees—your eyes half shut, mouth parted and slack, parting further when his thumb presses against your lit. the cold metal of the ring brushes against warm skin, sending a shiver down your back, and you but thrust up. 

“can you–can you go faster?”

“my dirty girl,” he tsks, “you think i’m gonna get you off here? where anyone can see you?”

right. the people. not that you can be blamed for it, the outside world is the last thing on your mind. 

“we aren’t in a rush, are we?” his voice takes a low, mocking quality. it’s so unfair that he should know you this well. that he should know how desperate you are for a release. he isn’t in a rush only because you are. a minute more of this teasing, and you might just lose your mind. 

“i’ll be—”

a horn cuts you off and his eyes snap to the road, where the light, much to your frustration, has turned green once again. within moments george pulls his hand away, fingers just about coated with slick and places it back on the steering wheel. 

“no, no—”

“patience, baby…” he uses the voice he always does when he wants you to obey. it’s the voice that rings around in your head. “i’ll get back to you if you sit patiently.”

and just like that his attention is back to the road again. you huff, aching all over and trying not to replace his hand with yours. it won’t end well for you, if you did that. your thighs feel sticky and the leather of the seat rubs against your skin all wrong. everything is all wrong. craning your neck a little you try to see where the next red light is—suddenly that’s all you crave. suddenly your pulse spikes when you see a light turn green. 

but the traffic takes care of the rest, and george’s fingers are back at your cunt the moment the car comes to a standstill. 

“you’ll be good for me, won’t you?” he asks sweetly, pressing his thumb against your clit just hard enough that you lurch off your seat, squeezing your legs shut again. this is where his hand belongs, this is where it should stay.

“i’ll be good, i’ll be so… so g-good.” the words get harder the more he touches and teases, drawing a lazy eight around your clit and dipping his fingers in and out, never deep enough though. he always pulls them out just before, keeps you right on your toes. in turn, your fingers curl, long nails digging into the leather until it leaves half-moon shaped marks behind. 

if this keeps going, you might just tear through them…

“just a bit m-more… please, george,” you try begging again, not that it worked for you the first time but george relents just a little and pushes his fingers deeper. desperately you clench around him, whimpering and whining and pushing your hips up to take more of him. a second later, he wrenches his hand away, leaving you cold and empty.

tears of frustration brim on your lash line. you were so close, so close to feeling good, feeling floaty. the seat is soaked with your arousal now, and your fingers dig into the seat tight enough to leave your knuckles while. your heart hammers in your throat, head dizzy and swimming with thoughts of only his hands—his hands around your throat, choking the breath out of you. his hands on your ass, squeezing and kneading the skin, hands gripping your hips, your thighs tightly. leaving bruises. 

“shh, baby… you’re doing so well,” his gravelly voice interrupts the train of thoughts and you realise you’ve been squirming and moaning, trying to find at least a little friction from the seat but it’s utterly useless. “you’ll wait till the next red light, won’t you? my good girl.”

“your good girl,” you nod fervently, eager to prove how much you deserve his fingers, how much you deserve an orgasm. george looks at you quickly, smiling in a way that makes his face look sharp and smug and goes back to driving. if it weren’t for the bulge in his jeans, you would have been convinced that this doesn’t affect him at all. 

you almost close your eyes, swallowing harshly to get rid of the tears clogging your throat. you almost even manage to calm yourself down just a smidge, when the car stops again. this time, you barely get a moment’s notice before fingers thrust inside you, deep. all the way in, hitting the sweet spot. your back arches all the way off the seat and you cry out his name. you gulp in large breaths, trying not to pass out at the sudden onslaught of pleasure. 

it’s like he’s turned the dial up from zero to one hundred, pumping his fingers in and out of you, thumb pressed against your clit. his body is twisted to look at you, lips hovering so close to the shell of your ear. once or twice he even nips the soft skin, earning himself yet another cry. 

“yes, yes, that’s it… that’s…”

“yeah? that’s it? am i doing good, baby?”

he is, he knows he is. you feel like you’re on cloud nine, completely forgetting about the other cars outside along with the heat and traffic and every other thing that frustrated you not even an hour ago. the only frustration you know is the frustration of not getting to cum. 

“words, sweet girl,” he taunts, “am i doing good?”

“so good… so good…”

george tsks. “but what if i’m not done with you yet, hmm?”

you can almost hear the pout in his voice, the undercurrent of smugness, and this time you see it coming before he pulls away. 

“no no no nooo, george!” it’s the most frustrated you’ve ever been, shaking and crying, edged over and over again, and at his mercy. every time he pulls away it’s like your body’s doused with ice cold water, each time more tears fall down your cheeks. your mascara must be a mess by now, lipstick smudged by how much you’ve bit your lips.

“you’re mean,” you pout at him and george laughs. he actually laughs!

“do you want me to stop th—”

“no!” you cry out, scared that he’d really stop. scared that you’d have to sit here in a limbo, aching so desperately between your legs and not being able to do anything about it. but at the next red light, george takes mercy on you. 

his fingers hover right over your clit, flicking it swiftly before they’re inside you again. the metal of his rings stings against your skin, digging into the sensitive skin. if anything, the mix of pain and pleasure is all the more heedy, dizzying. your head falls back, back still arched off the seat until your hips are moving of their own accord, rutting and grinding against his hand, riding his fingers. you try to match his pace. 

it’s too much, too much, too much.

“pretty baby,” he coos, “look so good riding my fingers, look so good when you’re desperate for me like this.”

desperate is exactly what you are. you finally place your hand over his, pushing his thick fingers deepers. to your surprise, george even lets you. the rough calluses provide just the right amount of friction. his name is the only thing you can chant over and over again, moaning to the rhythm of his fingers. 

“please, please, wanna cum. please george…”

you know the light's about to turn green, you don’t have much time. you know if he denies you again, you might just lose whatever hold you have on your sanity. george places a kiss on your jaw, lips warm against your skin, his stubble almost scratchy. then his mouth hovers right above your ear. 

“since you asked so sweetly…” 

your entire body tenses at his words, pussy clenching around his fingers so hard until your can practically feel the rings inside you. pleasure swims through your whole body and your vision turns white. the next thing you feel is something wet and sticky sliding under your ass, coating his hands and george continues to finger you. 

your legs shake and tremble with the force of the orgasm, stars flare in front of your closed eyelids and you grip onto his hand, keeping it buried deep between your legs, riding it until the dizzying waves of pleasure subside. grinding on it until you can finally slow down and open your eyes again. 

two seconds later, the light turns green again and he has no choice but to pull away. his fingers leave a trail of your release on the steering wheel. 

“can i clean you up?” you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him even though he’s trying to focus on the road. doesn’t matter though, his hands look just as delicious as before and you can’t help but stick his fingers in your mouth, suck on them, swirling your tongue around the digits until all you can taste is your release. the salty taste of it sits on your tongue and you pushing his fingers in deeping, almost gagging around them, till your lips touch the cold rings.

“fuck,” george curses under his breath when you let go of them and swerves the car, taking the exit he’s just seen. 

“what are you doing?”

“going to find a hotel for us, sweet girl.” he mumbles, shifting in the seat, trying to adjust his very obvious bulge. “haven’t gotten enough of you just yet.”

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#no i'm not writing a pt 2 sorry. they fuck. you can imagine 🤭 #the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #george daniel smut #minors do not interact #the 1975 fanfic #george daniel fanfic

[kennedy-brooke]

Dress

George Daniel x (Fem) Reader

Summary: You’ve been best friends with George Daniel for as long as you can remember, but your relationship has always suggested something more. The pining and waiting quickly becomes too much to handle, and you finally decide that something has to be done. A night out with your friends is the perfect excuse for you to wear the dress you bought, with the only intention of having him take it off.

heavily based on the song dress by taylor swift

Word Count: 9.9k

Part 2

a/n: hello lovely people. after many setbacks, my George Daniel fic is FINALLY here! shoutout to @imagine-that-100 and @alovesreading for making me finish it and helping me when i got stuck (i would have given up without the peer pressure support). There is a serious lack of George Daniel fiction, so here is my shot at fixing this problem. I got extremely carried away, and though it was originally meant to be a oneshot, THERE IS A PART 2!! so no worries, the good stuff is on the way and will be here @ 12 est on monday, august 21st ;)

You had been friends with George Daniel for ages, long before the band had gotten big. The pair of you had been through all of it together.

You had been there while his hair was flowing and damaged, and you had cried when he decided to buzz it off - while he simply held you and laughed at your reaction.

Just as he had been there for your mid-life crisis, when you decided bleaching your hair was the only way to get through it, and he looked right at you and lied to your face saying that it looked good.

You’ve always been the closest of friends - and fame has done little to change that fact - but when it comes to your dynamic duo, there has always been an undercurrent of something more.

While you’re just as close with the other boys, your relationship with George has always been different. Friends don't banter quite like the two of you. They don’t openly flirt like you do. They don’t share longing looks with one another, or take any opportunity to make physical contact with each other the way you two do. It wasn’t normal. You knew it, he knew it, hell, everyone knew it - they watched as the pair of you danced around the connection, the overwhelming and obvious chemistry, waiting to see who would finally make the first move.

You would balance precariously along the tightrope marking the barrier between friends and something else, something more, slowly tilting towards free falling into the unknown, before hastily shifting weight and falling back to the safety net of friendship. It was painful to watch - the boys individually giving the pair of you shit for the obvious harbored feelings - but it was never as painful as it was to experience.

Being as close as you were, you watched as George brought home girl after girl, trying your best to be the supportive friend you were while simultaneously trying to keep your own emotions in check. Nodding as he went on to Matty about his latest shag, telling Ross you were fine as he looked at you with concern written across his face.

It wasn’t as if the two of you were together. Why wouldn’t you be fine?

George sat back and watched as guys came up to buy you drinks at the bar that you’d happened to stop at. He scoffed and looked away as you threw your head back laughing at something the new guy said - it couldn’t be that funny - and Matty shot him a knowing look that screamed go do something about it.

He never did, though. He watched and watched, and when he had finally had enough, he found a distraction in someone else.

The game went on for years. An uncomfortable, tension-filled game that was by no means enjoyable for any party involved; but recently, there was something that had shifted.

Just before the boys left for “At Their Very Best,” you and George continued to be practically inseparable, but it wasn’t in the same way you had been before. Where your secret moments in a crowded room had been subtle and the touches fleeting (or so you both thought), they were now blatantly obvious.

You sat pressed against him, his arm around your shoulders holding you close. He stood behind you, arms around your waist, gazing at you while you rambled to Matty about some book you had just read. You leaned against the doorway to the studio, looking on as George messed with the tracks, unknowing to your watching eyes. You played with the rings on his fingers while he chatted with the boys, not letting go even after you finished fiddling with the metal. He placed his hand on your thigh, too high to be a friendly gesture, as he drove you to Matty’s place to meet up with the rest of the band.

The tension had continued to build, leading up to the party being thrown in celebration of the release of “Being Funny In a Foreign Language”. The night hadn’t gone to plan for either of you - rather it was thrown off course by a simple interruption and only proceeded to go downhill from there.

Everyone had been having a lovely time, really. Shots had been taken, more drinks had been poured, and you had found yourself on the settee watching as Matty approached.

“Where’s your loverboy?” Smirking, Matty sat himself next to you and threw his arm over your shoulder.

“Hello to you too, Ratty.” Rolling your eyes, you offered nothing in response to his antics, watching as he threw his hand over his chest in mock offense. “He’s in the kitchen, I think, and he’s not my ‘loverboy’, Matty. We’ve been over this.”

He gave you a knowing look. “Ah, but you knew exactly who I was talking about, didn’t you?”

You brought your glass of wine to your mouth, swallowing down the last of it and leveled him with a glare. “I need another drink.”

“Y/n, come on now! Don’t be like that - I was only messing.” He shook your shoulder a bit before drawing you into his side for a hug. “I was just wondering where our Georgie had disappeared to and figured you would have the answer, seeing as I haven’t seen the two of you apart for weeks.”

Sighing, you pouted and let yourself relax into Matty’s side hug. You knew he was right, if anyone was to know where George had gone off to, it would be you - and to be fair, you did know where he was - but you also knew that Matty’s comment wasn’t as innocent as he made it seem.

He was prying. They all had been, and it didn’t help that you had made the drunken mistake to confide in Matty one night a few months back.

He knew how you felt. How in denial you were about having feelings for your best friend. How you were too scared to do anything about it because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. He knew you thought it was ridiculous and cliched, and he knew that you hated it - but he also knew that those feelings weren’t going away and that the recent clinginess between the both of you was only making those feelings more intense - whether you wanted to admit it or not.

“How’s all of that going, by the way?” Matty prodded, feeling a need to break the silence since you had yet to respond.

You rolled your eyes again, “I’m not sure what you mean, Matty, seeing as there isn’t anything going anywhere.”

“You know exactly what I mean, y/n/n. Neither of you are exactly subtle.” At that you cut your eyes at him, to which Matty just chuckled. “I’m not wrong, and you know it.”

“Well, nothing has happened and it’s probably not going to, so maybe you are.” You huffed and sank lower into your seat, staring at your wine glass as if it would refill itself if you looked at it long enough.

“I highly doubt that. I know George and he wouldn’t just be acting like that for the fun of it. And I know how you feel - you’ve told me as much yourself. What I still don’t understand is why neither of you have done anything about it, it’s simple enough.”

You look over at Matty exasperated, “Matty, I love you, but he’s my best friend and it’s really not that simple. You don’t know the half of it and I wish you’d all just leave it be.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant-”

“I know, Matty, and I appreciate it - but I’d like to enjoy myself tonight and not talk about my pathetic love life.” You smile tightly at him before looking at your empty glass once more and pushing yourself up from your seat. “I’m getting another drink.”

Matty doesn’t utter a word as you get up and make your way to the kitchen - smart man, you think.

Sighing, you make your way around the other party-goers, finding yourself deep in thought. You knew that he had good intentions. Matty can be a dick, but he has a kind heart and has always been a good friend to you.

The issue was that everyone keeps talking like they know exactly what the problem is and how you’re feeling about it, acting as if your situation has an easy fix - when in reality they know absolutely nothing about whatever is going on between the two of you.

George Daniel has been your best mate for ages, you weren’t about to mess all of it up because of some measly feelings. Even if that meant pining in silence, reminding yourself that it’s for the best, trying not to think about what it would be like to be with him in that way. To hug him, but not as a best friend. To spend time with him, but not as a best friend. To kiss-

No. You weren’t going there tonight. You were going to enjoy your time with the boys before they went on tour. There would be no daydreaming about George Daniel and his eyes… and lips… and hands… and-

God. You needed another drink.

Reaching the doorway to the kitchen, you looked in and saw George having a conversation with Ross, his back turned towards where you were standing. He seemed fully immersed in whatever he was talking about and was completely unaware of your presence in the kitchen.

It would be so easy to scare him right now, and just as the thought came to mind, you decided to do just that.

Quietly, you sat your glass down behind the coffee pot and began to slowly walk towards him. Glancing up, you made eye contact with Ross, who quirked his eyebrow upwards. You quickly placed your finger over your lips in response, signaling for him to stay quiet as you crept up slowly behind George.

Realizing what you were trying to do, Ross swiftly looked away from you and began talking to George again, trying to distract him so you could carry out your plan. Once you made it directly behind him, assuring you were completely out of sight, you waited for the perfect moment. And as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, you struck.

You quickly brought up your hands, spreading them open just to snap them closed on George’s waist, aggressively whacking him on either side of his body and letting out a loud yell, “AH!”

“Fucking HELL-” George jumped up in place, swiftly spinning around and fighting off your hands’ attack on his sides by flailing his free arm, the other being occupied by his drink. His face showed nothing short of utter bewilderment, stunned by the sudden attack. His eyebrows pulled down and his mouth gaped open and closed like a fish, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

His reaction, and the expression of shock on his face, sent you into a round of obnoxious laughter - to which Ross joined in on at the expense of his best mate.

“You little shit,” unimpressed, George glared at your laughing figure, bent over at the waist and trying to recompose yourself. “It’s honestly not that funny.”

“Oh, but G, it really was. Your face - absolutely priceless. I wouldn’t have thought your sides would have been so sensitive - you practically levitated off the ground.” Slowly catching your breath, you smiled up at him.

Ross, wanting to stir the pot, gave his own input. “He definitely did - should have seen his face when you got him. Swear I’ve never seen him jump so high.”

George, looking completely unamused, was less than impressed with you and Ross teaming up against him. “I did not. You startled me is all-” He turned to look you dead in the eyes before continuing “-and you’re one to talk. My sides are sensitive, hm? Mine?” George began to smirk and sat his drink next to Ross as he slowly started making his way over to you.

The mischievous glint in his eye was alarming, and you immediately started backing away. You knew what he was up to, and you weren’t about to simply stand there.

With every step he took forward, you took one back, desperately trying to get out of the hole you had just dug for yourself. He kept moving forward, and you kept moving backward - until your back hit the counter and there was nowhere for you to run. However, that didn’t deter George from moving closer still. He continued to walk toward where you were standing, pushing his way into your personal space and pressing you further against the counter.

He looked down at you and smirked, “What was it you said about sensitive sides?” and that's when he struck.

He quickly brought his hands up to your sides, giving you no time to react before he’s started aggressively tickling you. You squealed and burst out laughing, releasing a loud cackling sound that you had no control over.

“George- G wait- GEORGE STOP-'' Your laughter enveloped the kitchen, and caused George’s smirk to slowly turn into a genuine smile. “no NO STOP IT I'M SORRY”

Laughing along with you, George continued his attack. “What was that, darling? I don’t think I heard you- you’re sorry?”

“Stop - STOP YES IM SORRY - IM SORRY PLEASE. George- GEORGE PLEASE NO MORE.”

“See? Was that so hard?” George chuckled at you as you tried to catch your breath and he slowly stopped his attack on your sides.

You looked up at the tree of a man in front of you, trying to hide your smile as you gave him your best attempt at a glare. As soon as you made eye contact, though, your smile broke loose and you couldn’t help but release a half-giggle, half-chuckle at the man you had grown to adore.

The eye contact went unbroken, developing from a look of amusement to a sticky sort of fond look that continued to be passed between the two of you.

“That was nasty of you, G.” You narrowed your eyes at him, pushing on his chest and looking away for a brief moment before your eyes unconsciously drifted back to your best friend.

“I wouldn’t say that I’m the nasty one here, love. Don’t try to sneak up on me next time and you can avoid this mess.” Completely unphased by your light-hearted shove, George simply moved closer, placing his hands on the counter top by each side of your waist, effectively caging you in and bringing your bodies closer than they had been before.

“It was too good of an opportunity, G. I had to.”

The new distance, or rather the lack of such, sent a nervous, giddy feeling straight to your stomach. You and George had been dancing around the tension for weeks, waiting for the other to break - to finally make the first move - but nothing had happened yet and you were getting antsy.

There’s only so much flirting without any effect that you can take before you explode, and tour was starting up in the next week. He would be out of reach then - untouchable until the band was back home for a break. Their return would be months after they leave for tour, and the distance would provide you both with no consistent communication, what with time zones and work.

The pressure was laying heavily on the both of you and the close proximity was making your head fuzzy and your stomach turn - or maybe it was the wine you had been nursing all night - you weren’t sure anymore.

The renewed eye contact had become too much to handle, so you diverted your eyes downward and came face to face with George’s neck and chest. You couldn’t help but slowly drag your eyes across his frame, taking in his chiseled jawline and letting them roam down the expanse of his neck until they caught on an unfamiliar piece of jewelry hanging around it.

Reaching up, you softly slid your finger underneath the necklace and pinched it between your fingers to get a closer look at the piece. It was a simple chain - nothing outrageously large or bulky, but rather a thin, lightweight gold that laid nicely around his neck and had been neatly tucked beneath his shirt.

“Is this new?”

George hadn’t been paying a bit of attention. He was too focused on the smell of your perfume and the soft look that had taken over your features now that you had finally calmed down. You were beautiful. You always had been, but God, if you didn’t look unreal standing so close to him. He was intently committing your features to memory, as if he hadn’t already done so many times before, when you pulled him out of his daze.

“What?” He glanced down at your hands, now holding the thin chain and examining it. “Oh - that? yeah I just got it last week. Hadn’t found a chance to wear it yet, decided tonight was a good time. Do you like it?”

“Mhm, it’s nice.” You weren’t lying, it looked good on him - more than good - but you couldn’t help but tease him a bit. With the chain still between your fingers, you hooked your index finger beneath it and gave a quick tug, bringing his face closer to yours. “- think I could pull it off better, though.”

“Is that so?” George glanced at your face and found you looking at the gold necklace, a small smile gracing your face.

“Oh, definitely. I could pull it off way better than you do.” Your smile turning into a smirk, you tugged on the necklace a bit more, looking up at George to find his eyes trained on your own.

“Mmm, I’m sure you could.” His eyes flicked down to your lips, the smirk there morphing back into a smile, and he couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like pressed against his own.

You had found yourself in a similar situation. You caught him looking at your lips, causing a flush to crawl up your neck. Later, if anyone asked, you would swear it was because of the wine, NOT because your best friend was looking at your lips like he was dying to explore them with his own.

On their own accord, your eyes had drifted downwards and were staring at his own lips. They had a small upturn to them, a content smile gracing his face as he continued to look at your own.

“Y/n -” It was barely there, a whisper of sorts that you wouldn’t have caught if you hadn’t been intently staring at his lips to see them part as he spoke your name.

With that one breath, everything stopped. You were no longer in the kitchen at a friend’s house, and it felt as if there was no one else around you for miles. It was just you and George sharing this one small moment.

Without noticing, you had both started leaning in. Your stomach started tumbling - was this going to be it? Finally, it was finally going to happen - fuck the consequences - and there was nothing that could stop it, nothing at all -

“Ahem-” Looking positively sheepish, Ross broke the bubble the two of you had created.

In all honesty, you had forgotten that Ross was even there and once broken out of your daze, you realized how close your faces had become. The two of you quickly jumped apart, eyes diverting to look at anything but each other.

“So sorry for interrupting, um, whatever that was -” and to be fair he did look distraught for having been the one to burst your bubble, “- but Matty has been calling George’s name for a bit now and i figured you wouldn’t want him to be the one to break you two apart.”

You and George both grimace. He’s right, you definitely did not want Matty witnessing whatever just happened.

“Plus, it was getting a bit uncomfortable just standing there in silence while that played out.”

You stood there blinking, still trying to come back from your previous daze - which caused George to be the first to respond.

He looks panicked and more than a little distressed. “No- Yeah- I mean no, it’s alright. I- um I should go see what he needs.” And without sparing you another glance, George grabs his drink and walks away.

You watch him walk out of the room, your mouth hung open in disbelief. You had almost kissed. You and George had almost kissed and he just walked away. What the fuck just happened?

“Y/n, listen- I’m sorry for-”

“What? Oh, no it’s um- it’s alright, no worries- Have you, um, have you seen my glass? I don’t, uh, I don’t know where I set it.” You were beyond flustered, and a bit upset. George walked off and it all hit you at once.

You were in love with George Daniel, you had almost kissed him, and now everything was all sorts of messed up. You were absolutely screwed.

Ross, not knowing how to make any of this better and wanting to kick himself for interrupting the moment, just stood there and watched as you flitted about the kitchen - mumbling about where you may have set your glass.

After spending a few minutes half-heartedly looking for your glass, you stop and sigh. “You know, what? Fuck it.” And with that, you walk over to grab the full wine bottle sitting on the countertop next to Ross and hurry your way out of the kitchen to find somewhere else to drown your sorrows. So much for enjoying the night.

Helpless, Ross watches you with wide eyes, before looking around to see if anyone else had just seen that. He makes a mental note to check on you later to make sure you were okay, before walking out of the kitchen in the opposite direction - deciding to give you some time to process what just happened.

In the living room, the party was still in full swing and after being roped into a conversation with Adam and Carly, Ross had forgotten about checking in on you.

Almost an hour had passed, and Matty had yet to see you come back from the kitchen. He looked around the room once more, scanning the many faces to see if he recognized yours amongst them. When his eyes found George across the room and didn’t see you anywhere near him, he excused himself from the conversation and set off to find where you had gone to.

After searching the outside patio, the kitchen, one hallway closet, and two bedrooms, you were still nowhere to be found. Matty had absolutely no idea as to where you could be and was growing more worried by the second. He knew you could take care of yourself, and he knew you could hold your liquor - but if he wasn’t mistaken, you had been drinking red wine tonight and you tended to get yourself into unfortunate situations when red wine was added to the equation.

He began walking back down the hall, passing the bathroom before an idea came to mind. Backtracking, he went back to the closed door and knocked twice, calling out to see if anyone was inside. “Hello? Anyone in here?”

When there was no response, Matty tried the door knob and found it unlocked. He opened the door and stuck his face inside, glancing around the bathroom and finding it to be empty. He sighed and was about to leave the bathroom once more when he heard a scuffle come from the shower and -

“Shit.”

Matty stopped in his tracks at the all too familiar voice and pushed the door completely open. He slowly walked over to the shower, before grabbing the curtain and quickly pulling it back only to find your figure awkwardly curled in the bathtub, clutching a mostly-empty wine bottle.

“Um, hi?” You looked up at Matty with a guilty look on your face, giving your best attempt at a smile - one that was none too convincing based on Matty’s responding grimace.

“The fuck are you doing?” Matty looked at you expectantly, glancing from the wine bottle and back to your face.

“Well- you see… I don’t, uh, I don’t know. It was just so calm and quiet, Matty. And the wine was making me just a little dizzy and so was George and - Oh god, George - Matty I really want George but I think I just fucked it all up - oh god. ” You started rambling, your words beginning to slur together into a whine - and if Matty didn’t already think you were drunk when he first saw the bottle in your hands, he was sure of it now.

“Christ, Y/n - how much of that have you had to drink?”

“Only -” You brought up your free hand and pinched your index finger and thumb together, leaving a tiny space between them and squinting to look through it, “- thiiiis much.”

Matty sighed for what felt like the millionth time that night. Since when did he become the responsible one between the two of you.

He walked back to the door, shutting it behind him, before turning back around and sitting down next to the tub. “What happened, love?”

“Oh, nothing really - I just scared George in the kitchen and he tickled me and then we almost kissed but Ross interrupted and then G all but ran out of the room and i couldn’t find my glass and I really needed a drink and so i just grabbed the whole bottle and wanted to go somewhere quiet and so i came in here just in case I had to pee and i ended up in the shower and i can’t stop thinking about George an-”

“Fucks sake, Y/n. Take a breath for me.” You had started talking a mile a minute, gesturing your hands while still holding the bottle of wine and somehow managing to spill some of it down the side of the bathtub.

“Ah, shit. I’ve gone and spilt it again.”

Matty was staring at you with wide eyes, trying and failing to hide his shock. He hadn’t a clue what was going on and was sure this would be a shit-ton to unpackage later - but he’d already had a few drinks and there was no way he was processing any of this tonight.

And you - you were completely plastered and doing a poor job at hiding it. Not that Matty could blame you after everything that had just tumbled from your lips. He watched as you tried to clean up the mess you had made with the corner of your shirt before huffing and letting your head fall back harshly against the shower wall.

The contact made a loud thump, making both Matty and yourself wince. “Y/n, love, are you okay?”

You gave a short, empty chuckle in response and leveled him with a deadpan look. “Oh, I’m just lovely, Matthew. Thank you so much for asking.” You sigh again, lifting your head just to let it fall once more as you groan.

Reaching out for you, Matty stopped you as you went to lift your head. “Okay- maybe don’t be doing that again. Do you need anything? Want me to get you something? Some water maybe?”

“Can you get George for me pretty please?” You closed your eyes, opening them back up when Matty had yet to respond.

He was searching your face, trying to see if getting George was the best idea.

“Matty, please? I’m not gunna do anything stupid, ‘promise.” You gave him a dopey-looking drunk smile, and held up your pinky trying to convince him.

“But-”

“Just because I’m in love with him doesn’t mean I can’t act normal after a few drinks. Please? He’s my ride home.”

Matty’s eyes widen, not expecting that to come out of your mouth. You had never explicitly said how you felt about George before, only that your feelings for him went past platonic and that you were too scared to act on them. It didn’t seem like you were aware of what you had just said, though, so Matty decided to let it slide and store it away for a later time (along with everything else that had happened that night).

He sighed, yet again. “Yeah, okay. I’ll - I’ll go get him, but I need you to stay here, alright?”

Nodding sluggishly, you watched as Matty stood himself up and went to leave the bathroom - assuming he was going to find George.

Once Matty had left and shut the door behind him, you - carefully this time - laid your head back to rest against the wall and closed your eyes. The room had started to tilt and your stomach had started to turn; but you’d be damned if you threw up now.

You had overdone it with the wine, you knew that already, but who could really blame you? After almost kissing the man you were oh-so-unfortunately in love with (who also happened to be your oldest and closest friend) and having him practically sprint out of the room to get away from you, you figured you were entitled to get just a little drunk.

To be fair, you were much more than a little drunk - having downed the majority of the bottle of wine that was full once upon a time - but you needed to not think for a moment.

You didn’t want to think about George’s hands at your sides, or his arms caging you against the counter. You didn’t want to think about how he looked at you so fondly before staring directly, and not-so-subtly, at your lips. You didn’t want to think about his broad shoulders and chest, or that stupidly attractive gold chain necklace that was hanging so beautifully around his neck. You didn’t want to - yet here you were thinking about it anyway.

At this point, your head had started to pound. God, how much had you drank for your head to already be hurting before the hangover had even started? You went to open your eyes, but the lights were blinding and you immediately shut them again.

With the room silent and your eyes closed, you took a moment to look over your night.

You weren’t sure why you had almost kissed him, but you could have sworn he wanted it to happen too. It couldn’t have been all in your head - you were delusional at times, but that was too cruel even for your own mind. That didn’t explain why he had bolted, though. Maybe he was embarrassed to have wanted to kiss you, or maybe he was drunk and thought you were someone else.

The night had become a disaster, and you prayed everyone else was at least having a good time. You had come tonight so you could enjoy some time with your friends before they left on tour, not so you could wallow in self pity over the fact that you wanted your best friend in a completely non-platonic way. How you had managed to get to the point where you were spilling wine in a bathtub was beyond you, however one thing had become extremely clear tonight: you weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to hide these ridiculous feelings before you quite literally exploded into 1,975 tiny little pieces.

You huffed and brought your arm up to rest it over your eyes. This train of thought wasn’t helping your mood one bit. If anything, it just made you want to cry, but you were far too wasted to push yourself off the path of self-destruction.

When you heard the bathroom door open, you didn’t move an inch and kept your eyes closed, assuming it was just Matty again.

“Matty, I really just want George,” you mumbled into your arm that was still draped over your face, while the other hand brought the wine bottle closer to your chest.

“You have me, Darling. I’m right here.”

Your eyes shot open at the familiar voice that most definitely did not belong to Matty Healy, only to find your best friend leaning against the door frame.

“Georgieee-” And by that nickname alone, George knew you were extremely drunk.

Matty had warned him of your state, briefly telling him that you were far from sober - but he hadn’t said it was this bad. You only ever use that name when you’re wasted, it was G or George otherwise

“Hello, Darling.” Your insides turned to mush at the name, physically sinking further into the bathtub and whining.

“Oh God, don’t do that.” You drug your hand down your face, as if you could wipe away the alcohol’s effect. You had no control of what was coming out of your mouth right now, and you probably wouldn’t remember most of this by morning. It was a recipe for disaster and you swore his presence was only making you feel more drunk.

“What- do what?” George looked at you with genuine confusion. Had he done something?

“Do that thing. Y’know - with your eyes and your voice and the ‘Darling’.” you dropped your voice as low as you could at the word ‘darling’, mocking his voice before proceeding to groan loudly. “ugh- that thing that makes me really want you and your attention.”

George chuckled at your words, looking down at you with that same sticky sort of fond look that made you want to melt under his gaze. “You have me, love. I’m paying attention - promise.”

You groaned again, “No - Stooppp.” You immediately looked away from his face and threw your hand over your eyes.

Laughing at your childish actions, George reached over to pry your hand away from your face, smiling as you gave in almost immediately. “Stop what? I’m giving you what you wanted right? You wanted me and my attention - so here I am.”

Apparently you had become one to make many noises tonight, because you simply whined in response, weakly trying to pull your hand from George’s grasp. “No- George you don’t get it. I don’t want it like that. I don’t want you like a best friend.”

At that, he let go of your hand and stared. You obviously hadn’t registered your words, too drunk to realize what you had accidentally let slip, and George didn’t know how to react. He had a gut feeling that you had gotten this plastered because of him, and with it came an unwelcome feeling of guilt.

Of course he wanted to kiss you back in the kitchen, he would be a fool to have wanted otherwise. But he was drunk and you were his best friend. Just because he wanted to kiss you then and there didn’t mean he had the right to ruin your friendship over some complicated feelings.

He doubted you knew what you were saying, anyways. You were drunk. It didn’t mean anything.

“Alright, Y/n. Let’s get you home.”

Sighing and pouting slightly, you reached both arms outwards and made grabbing motions with your hands, signaling for George to help you up. George huffed out a laugh at your actions before grabbing your hands and pulling upwards to get you in a standing position.

Once standing upright, you started feeling dizzy and began to wobble on your feet. Yeah, you had definitely had too much to drink.

Reaching back out to stabilize you, George lightly held both of your hips. “Woah, there Y/n/n. You alright? Can you stand by yourself?”

As soon as the question left his mouth, you felt the room spin and you immediately started to shake your head. “Um nope - no, definitely not.”

George looked at you and sighed. “Okay then, hold on.” And with that, he bent down, placing one arm behind your back and the other behind your knees, before lifting you up bridal style and bringing you into his chest.

You gasped, bringing your arms up and around George’s neck. “What are you doing, I’m fine-”

“Y/n. No you're not, you can barely stand, much less walk. So I'm carrying you outside to get a taxi, and you are going to let me.”

You balked at him for a moment before responding, “yes sir!” and giving him a quick salute. You placed your arm back around his neck as he began walking out of the bathroom and through the house.

You barely registered his good-bye’s as he quickly made his way through the now small crowd of people. How long had you been in that bathroom?

As if he had read your thoughts, “You were in there for a while, most of them already headed home. Mainly just the boys left now.”

You nodded your head as George stepped outside, walking to the road where a taxi was already waiting on the two of you. He set you down, helping you maneuver your way into the car before sliding in next to you.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, you sluggishly slid over to sit in the middle seat and rested your head on George’s shoulder. You twisted, dragging your eyes to look at him, when they caught on his gold necklace again.

You slowly brought your hand up and started messing with the chain. “‘Really like your necklace, G,” you mumbled sleepily into his shoulder. “Think I want one for me, too.”

You glanced up at your best friend - giving him a small, tired smile - and found him already looking down at you.

The eye contact was soft, lacking the heat and tension that was present earlier in the night. George watched as you tried to hold it, but ultimately failed as you grew too tired to keep your eyes open any longer.

That’s how you fell asleep, with your head lying on your best friend’s shoulder and your hand on his chest, lightly gripping his gold necklace.

You vaguely remember being woken up so that George could help you into your flat and being led to your room where you quickly stripped out of your clothes and put on a t-shirt from the top of your drawer before climbing in the bed.

By the time your head hit the pillow, you had already started dozing off again; but you could have sworn you felt your hair being tucked behind your ear and a kiss being pressed to your face.

A soft, “Goodnight, Darling” was the last thing you heard before succumbing to a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.

• • •

When you woke the next afternoon, it was with a horrendous headache and no recollection of what had happened after you ran from the kitchen with a full bottle of wine.

Groaning, you had rolled over to look at the clock when you felt an unfamiliar weight around your neck. You brought your hand to the hollow of your neck, grabbing at the weight and lifting it far enough away from your chest to catch a glimpse at the item. What you saw made your breath hitch as you brought your other hand up to cover your mouth.

It was George’s gold chain necklace.

You checked your phone, finding one notification from George himself:

Don’t be mad - you kept saying how much you liked it, so I just left it with you.

I can always get another one

You softly smiled, thumbing at the gold now lying around your neck. You were absolutely, positively smitten with your best friend, and you hadn’t a clue what you were going to do about it.

That was two months ago, and while you wish you could say that you gathered the courage to make a move before the boys left for tour, you hadn’t been given the chance. Things had gotten busy for you at work and the lads had been preoccupied with tour preparations, leaving you all with no time to get together or speak before they were heading off to the states.

You had exchanged a few messages with them, of course, and you had tried to call when time and work allowed, but it wasn’t quite the same. You missed your friends. You missed George.

The two of you had messaged each other almost daily, however you never seemed to be able to catch each other at the right time - narrowly missing his messages and calls by mere minutes and then being unable to reach him again afterwards.

His gold necklace had found a permanent place around your neck, you rarely took it off - your friends joking that it may as well be a tattoo permanently etched into your skin - but it had become a comforting presence in the absence of George.

When you missed George - which was almost constantly - or when things became a bit much, you would find yourself gripping the necklace, rubbing the gold chain in search of comfort. It was nowhere near the level of comfort George himself brought you, but it did well enough.

You werent, however, moping about just because George was gone. You were a proud, strong, independent woman, and you could function perfectly fine without him. This wasn’t his first tour, and you weren’t new to the overall lack of George. Your world didn’t revolve around him - you had a job and a life outside of the boys - but that also didn’t mean you didn’t miss your closest friends when they went away.

You were fine, honestly, but sometimes you simply wanted to chat with the boys about nonsense or complain about your days like you often did when they were home. On their previous tours, you had been able to still talk to them - but your new job had made it almost impossible and you were struggling.

However, it was the barely missed messages from George that made this tour more difficult than the rest.

It was the simple “Miss you, Darling &lt;3” text that made you unbelievably giddy and the quick voice messages he would leave when you inevitably missed his call - each starting with a “Hello, Darling” and ending with “Love you, Darling. Talk to you soon.”

It was two long months of poor communication and getting flustered by the smallest bits of attention you would get from him. You had missed him before, but the longing that came with his absence this time was different and you were acutely aware of it.

You would tear up watching the clips from the end of their latest show as they bowed to the crowd, George wrapping Matty in one of his hugs that you desperately craved. Your stomach would turn, imagining him out at some club with a girl that wasn’t you, hugging a girl who wasn’t you, kissing a girl that was not you.

It was envy. It was jealousy. It was longing and wanting. You were in love with him, that much you had come to terms with, but it was two weeks before they were due back home that you came to the gut-wrenching conclusion that you weren’t okay with not trying something.

You decided that you couldn’t sit back and watch anymore - you were going to make him realize that you were a fucking catch. You were a fucking catch and you had been there the whole time, through thick and thin, for worse or for better, and you fucking loved him.

When you got a message from George, one inviting you out once they got back, you jumped at the opportunity.They were wanting to get a group together - you, the band, and some other close mutual friends - to go out for a night of fun a few days after Christmas and you were practically buzzing at the thought.

You hadn’t had a proper night out since before the lads had left for tour, and paired with the prospect of seeing your best friends again after months apart, your nerves were completely shot.

Never before had you been nervous to see the boys. You’d known them for years, and you were sure that it was mostly excitement that was keeping you awake at night, but there was still that small bit of anxiety that crept in when you thought about seeing George.

You were so happy to be seeing him again - but now that you were aware of how you felt about him, you were worried that things would change for the worse. What if you were awkward? What if you got flustered and embarrassed yourself? What if those messages were just to his best friend and you had been reading too far into them? What if you put yourself out there to be rejected?

You were spiraling. Why were you spiraling? It’s just George. Your George, your best friend. You were completely overthinking all of it. It wasn’t like you were going to confess your undying love the first time you see him after months. It would be fine - so long as you didn’t freak yourself out. It’s a get together with a bunch of friends, not the end of the world.

Even so, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of pressure to at least look your best. It wasn’t a need to impress anyone, honestly. You just wanted to get dressed up, to look nice after wearing the same boring clothes every day for work - and this outing just happened to give you that opportunity. George being there was just a happy coincidence.

Plus, it finally gave you a reason to wear the new dress you had bought.

You hadn’t intended to buy anything while you were out last week, you just wanted to get out of the house and do something not work related. But then you saw it through the window and you knew you had to at least try it on.

The dress was a far cry from your usual getup - not one for dresses and frilly things - but something about it was calling to you.

It was a simple, silky black dress with a deep v-cut in the neck that perfectly displayed your breasts. The top of the dress was lined with gold and the straps came up and around your neck before zig-zagging down your back and lacing up the dress, forgoing the struggle of any zippers. There were two meticulously placed slits above each knee, giving a clear view of the sides of your thighs and allowing for movement in the fitting material.

It was gorgeous, and you felt powerful in it. The way it emphasized your curves in all the right places, molding to your body and showing off all of your assets had you head over heels for the dress. Overall it was a relatively plain dress- but it fit you so well that it looked like it was intricately made just for you.

And maybe you had George on your mind when you tried it on, maybe you saw an image of it lying on the ground after he had taken it off of you. It wasn’t exactly the worst thought.

And so you bought it. You had no clue when you planned to wear it, you just knew you had to have it - in hopes that maybe, just maybe, that fantasy could come to life.

When George invited you out, you decided it was the perfect opportunity to wear it. So you put on the dress, along with a pair of heels that lace up your legs, and left your flat feeling more confident than you had in months.

All of which brought you to where you are now, at a table in the corner of the club, clutching your drink and watching on as George chats up some girl at the bar.

You watch as she places her hand on his bicep before laughing a little too enthusiastically at whatever it was George had been saying.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think they were getting on just fine and that George was going to have a successful pull tonight; but you do know better.

You see how his eyes go wide when she looks away for a moment, removing her hand from him to grab her drink. The way he looks at her like she's grown two heads and is likely thinking what the fuck is going on.

And when she places her hand back on his arm, you see how he tenses ever so slightly and doesn’t seem to relax.

The sight makes you grip your glass tighter. Any confidence you had when you left the flat had all but disappeared once you caught sight of your best friend. You had been so excited to see him, you didn’t stop to think about whether he would be preoccupied with someone else.

Someone else who is so conventionally pretty that you feel like your dress pales in comparison - even if George seems uncomfortable with all the attention she keeps trying to smother him with.

“If you grip that glass any tighter I think you might break it.”

The unexpected but familiar voice breaks you out of your sulking, if only for a moment, as you sigh before glancing at the man who was now cockily leaning against the post next to your table.

You look him up and down before sighing, “Matthew.”

His response is immediate, “Y/n.”

“To what do I owe the displeasure?”

Matty gasps, throwing his hand over his heart in mock offense and looking at you with wide eyes that show the amusement and mischief dancing in them.

“Now, y/n/n, is that any way to greet your dear friend after two long months apart?”

You shoot him an unamused look in response.

Matty, however, ignores you and continues on. “I couldn’t help but notice your brooding and decided that I’d come save the glass from imminent destruction.”

You roll your eyes and put as much sarcasm as possible into your response. “Wow, Ratty- you’re a true comedian.”

He simply smirks at your tone. “What can I say? I’m a natural.”

You huff out a laugh, unable to stop yourself. You had to admit, you’d missed having him around - regardless of how insufferable he could be.

Matty had a tendency to be so obnoxious that it easily took your mind off of whatever you were originally thinking about, and you knew he acted this way with that exact purpose in mind.

Coming up next to you, Matty smiles as he reaches his arm around your shoulders for a side hug and gives you a shake. “Oh, didn’t you just miss me so much?”

You give a good laugh at that before turning to look him in the eyes and giving him a deadpan look, saying, “Oh, yes. So much, Matty. Not sure how I survived these two, absolutely horrible, months apart.” with the most sarcasm you could muster.

Matty lets out a loud cackle and pulls you closer. “Oh, how I've missed your cheery self.” You can't help but smile at him. “How’ve you been, Y/n/n?”

You shrug, "Alright, yeah. How've you been? How was tour?"

And that question alone sends Matty into a long winded explanation of what they had gotten into during tour and what it was like this time around.

It was somewhere between his description of their Madison Square Garden show and the afterparty that you stopped listening.

It wasn't on purpose by any means, you truly did want to hear about how everything went this time around, but you were distracted.

Distracted because George was still talking to that girl - more like she was talking to him and he was being forced to listen - and he looked like he was growing more uncomfortable by the second. Couldn't she see that he wasn't interested?

Matty was still talking as you continued to watch them interact. You watch her say something and see George's eyes go comically wide as he looks around to see if anyone else was seeing this - or maybe he was looking for an escape.

You see her go to grab his hand and watch as he swiftly moves both hands

away to clutch at his drink. She seems to only pause for a moment before she decides to place her hand on his thigh. His thigh. And you see the way George stiffens under her touch, making you tense up yourself.

"You really might break that glass if you don't let go - that or you're going to burn a hole into that poor girl's head with all your staring."

You jump a little at Matty's sudden comment, not expecting him to direct the conversation towards you again. You look down at your glass, finally realizing that you had, in fact, been gripping the glass so hard that your knuckles had begun to turn white - and you immediately let go.

Looking back at Matty, you see both amusement and sympathy in his eyes, making you let out a scoff. 

"Don't know what you're going on about, Matty - what was it you were saying about the afterparty?"

Matty chuckles at your poor attempt at changing the topic, he wasn't letting it slide this time. "Oh don't go pretending like you were listening, Y/n/n. I moved on from the Garden afterparty a good bit ago, you just weren't paying attention.

You make an indignant sound at that. "That's not true, I-"

"Don't even try, love," Matty smirks at you before glancing over at George and patting your shoulder. "No worries, you were distracted - understandably so, he looks a bit cozy doesn't he?"

You scoff immediately. “No, he does not.”

Matty grins at you, “Oh?”

“He looks ridiculously uncomfortable right now, just look at him,” gesturing your arm over in George’s direction.

Matty directs his attention to his best mate, watching as the girl bats her eyelashes and lays her hand on George’s arm. He sees the way George tenses under her touch and the way his eyes widen to whatever she’s just said. 

“That’s the fifth time she’s tried to touch him, and he basically freezes every time.” You huff. 

“Five times, huh? You keeping count, y/n/n?” Matty turns to head to look at you, entertained by your mood.

You make an indignant noise at his words, “What? No- I- I'm just being a good friend is all.”

Matty nods his head exaggeratedly in false agreement, turning back to watch George. “Right, yes- a good friend… that you happen to be in love with.” Your jaw drops. “Definitely not jealousy.”

“How did you-”

He cuts you off, “Did you know, Y/n -” he briefly glances your way, “that red wine makes you rather talkative?”

You let out a loud groan, placing your head in your hands. 

Matty chuckles at your reaction, “Easy now, it’s alright- we already knew as much.”

“We? Oh my god, does George-” Your head shoots up in time to see Matty shaking his head. 

“No, you didn’t tell him and he doesn’t know - at least not unless you told him once we left you alone.”

You let out a sigh of relief, slumping into your seat and placing your head back into your hands. Being drunk wasn’t the way you wanted to tell George how you felt. 

Honestly, you had hoped to do it tonight, but any confidence you had to address the situation has long since disappeared. 

You keep your face in one hand while the other subconsciously starts fiddling with the necklace around your neck, thankful for its presence and the comfort it offers.

“He does look like he’s having an awful time doesn’t he?”

Matty’s words break you out of your head, and you look up to see George with his head thrown back and staring at the ceiling as if he was wishing for it to swallow him whole, paying absolutely no attention to whatever it is that the girl happens to be saying.

“It’s actually painful to watch.” You shake your head at the scene.

“If it’s so painful, why don’t you walk your perky self over there and help him?”

You turn to look at Matty, giving him a glare for his choice of wording. He really thinks he’s funny, doesn’t he?

To be honest, you aren’t sure why you hadn’t gone over there to help him yet. You’d been debating it for a bit now, and there’s every reason to go over there and get him out of the mess he’s found himself in - but there was something still holding you back. 

You sigh, “I don’t know, Matty.”

Matty purses his lips and looks back at the bar as his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

“Not sure what you think could go wrong - he’s definitely not enjoying himself.”

He makes no move to get it, even as it buzzes a few more times. You open your mouth to snarkily respond to his comment, but the short spaces of silence turn into a long, consistent buzzing sound - completely cutting you off.

The sound is beyond irritating, even more so because Matty still chooses to ignore the vibrations in his pocket. “For fucks sake, Matty. Will you answer your damn phone? At least silence it if you aren’t going to respond.”

“I’m sorry, is it bothering you, y/n/n?” Matty gives you a cheeky smile, to which you stare back unamused, as he finally reaches into his pocket.

He pulls his phone out and unlocks it with every intention of just turning off his phone for a bit - that is, until he sees who the messages are from. He pauses to read the incoming texts and lets out a loud chuckle.

“Well then, y/n. I’d consider this a sign if I ever saw one.”

You look at him confused. “What- What are you going on about?”

He simply glances up from his phone smirking and says, “Looks like your loverboy needs saving.” 

He turns the phone around to show you his phone screen where you see 23 messages from George, and you watch as one more comes through that makes you let out a breathy laugh.

Help

Mate seriously

Get me a glass of milk

Asap

Milk me, seriously

Help

Now

Please

At this point come throw a glass of milk on me

So she will fucking fuck the fuck  o f f

Matty I’m spamming you for a reason

I know you’re laughing

Stop it

Can you actually be a good mate for once please

Matty

Matt

MATTHEW

You fuckhead why don’t you have your phone on you

THIS IS WHY HANN IS BETTER THAN YOU. 

I need you to

HELP ME NOW

Cunt. just now

You read over his messages, laughing at the panic that you can practically feel emanating through the phone. “Oh you are absolutely gonna hear it later.”

“Yeah, yeah - I’m very much aware. It’ll be fine, he’s going to like my solution better anyways.” You’re still chuckling at George’s messages and you look back at Matty as he speaks, pulling his phone back. 

“What?” You watch as he quickly types something out, pressing send and putting his phone away. 

You’re still staring at him in confusion while he looks at you expectantly. “Well?” He huffs, “Why are you still sitting here? She’s on your man.”

And you don't have time to overthink what it is that you’re about to do before you stand up.

• • •

Part 2

a/n: Okay, that's it for part 1 of 2 - up next is the fun part and my personal favourite half of the story. I hope you guys enjoyed!! see you same time next week <3 xoxo - K

#its about to get filthy #the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #team george #george daniel fic #george daniel smut #george daniel fluff #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #K's 1975

[wreckedandpolemic]

paris, again - george daniel & matty healy

(mdni) hahaha heyy i wasnt sweating and shaking writing this at all what do u mean...

warnings: 18+, drinking, threesome (m/m/f), light dom/sub, unprotected sex, oral (f and m receiving), light degradation, cumplay, overstimulation, literally pure unadulterated filth

You're waiting for George to come to you — he always does. He taps on your door, carrying a bottle of wine as an excuse. You lead him out to the balcony for a smoke, taking turns to swig the wine straight from the bottle, unrefined and classless in a way you never get to be anymore. It’s a sweltering July night, the heat and the alcohol blanket burning you up. Just senseless enough, you pull off your dress and let it puddle at your feet, the warm air kissing sweetly at your bare skin. George’s gaze is heavy as it roams over your body, lingering on your tits for a long moment.

“Such a tease,” he murmurs fondly, heat sparking under your skin where his fingers brush yours as he grabs the wine.

You raise an eyebrow in challenge, crushing what remains of your cigarette under your boot. “You gonna do something about it?”

He smirks, crowding you against the wall and taking a handful of your ass. “Out here? Dirty, dirty girl,” he grins. 

You shake your head, the brick grating against your back, and sling your arms over his shoulder. “So needy,” you murmur against his lips. “Wanna fuck me here, huh? Wanna have me on your cock for the world to see?” His eyes blow wide, the fantasy playing out plainly on his face. “Dirty, dirty boy,” you echo, leading him back into your room.

Your lips crash together, hot and slick and messy as you stumble to the bed, fingers fumbling with the buttons and buckles of his clothes until he’s gorgeously naked against you. You wrap a hand around his dripping cock, pumping it slowly and savouring his low moan. George’s warm hand slides up your back to unhook your bra, groaning as you press your bare chest against his. His hand creeps up to grab a handful of your tit, flesh spilling out over his fingers as they splay over your skin.

His cock presses insistently against your clothed cunt, your body begging for him; arousal pools in your belly and drips between your thighs. Tipping your head back invitingly, you roll your hips against his with a moan. He drops his head to mouth at your pulse point, littering your neck with bruising kisses, dull points of pain melting into desire that throbs sickly in your belly.

You slip out of your panties and climb onto the bed, kneeling to show off your dripping cunt. His hungry gaze burns into your skin as he strokes the flesh of your ass, then delivers an unexpected, stinging slap. Sweet pleasure-pain ripples through you, hips bucking and desperate cunt clenching around nothing. “Come on, George, please,” you moan. His cock presses insistently against your entrance, hot and hard between your legs. “Fuck me,” you whine, desperation flooding your senses.

“So sweet,” he murmurs, bending down to kiss softly at your back. His calloused fingers brush at your clit, slow circles sending waves of pleasure spilling over you. “You moan so pretty, baby.”

He lines his cock up with your hole, filling you in one fluid movement. “Fuck, you feel so good,” you gasp, clenching your cunt around him as he fucks into you at a glorious pace. Ecstasy floods your body, delicious pressure building between your legs as his fingers work over your clit and his hips slam against yours.

“Love this sweet cunt so much, angel,” George murmurs, drool pooling in your mouth as your hands fist in the sheets. A string of moans falls from your lips, pitchy and breathless and wanton, his pace glorious torture that you want to drown in.

Your door opens. The soft click is impossibly loud, somehow audible above the obscene sounds filling your room. “Hey, love, have you seen–” The sentence ends abruptly with a choked-off gasp. Matty stands frozen in your doorway, jaw slack and eyes darting around as if he doesn’t know where to look. George stills behind you, blunt nails digging tensely into your hips, the pain still sweet enough to cloud your mind.

Matty’s gaze has landed on you, weighted with heat, neither of you able to tear your gaze from the other. You watch him swallow thickly, watch his thoughts race temptingly across his face, the expression he wears some tantalising mix of lust and horror. A smile plays on your lips, the shock fading as a flicker of a thought roots into a fantasy in your desire-slick mind.

Matty starts to turn away, stammering out a mortified apology before you call out his name. “Mat-ty,” you repeat, sing-song. You look over your shoulder at George, eyes wide with faux-innocence. “You don’t mind if he joins us, do you?” you ask, batting your eyelashes and clenching your cunt around him. Still semi-frozen, George shakes his head mutely. “No? Good. God, I think I had a dream that started like this.” You lick your lips and smirk at Matty. “C’mere, pretty boy. You’re overdressed.”

Your words spur them both back into action, George thrusting deep inside you as Matty’s hands fly to the hem of his shirt, tossing it away as he steps cautiously towards you. His eyes are blown wide, disbelieving and lustful, and your gaze drops to the outline of his cock in his jeans. Involuntarily, your mouth drops open in a silent plea, cunt clenching at the thought of being fucked in two holes at once. George groans above you. “God, she’s fuckin’ squeezing me so tight, Matty. You want his cock in your mouth that bad, baby?” The moan you let out is nothing short of pathetic. “Such a slut.”

You grin up at Matty, his hands trembling as they work at the buckle of his jeans. “Yeah, ‘m a slut,” you moan. “Want you to cum in my mouth so bad, Matty. Thought about this so much.” Matty palms his cock through his boxers, groaning softly as you part your lips suggestively.

You rock your hips back against George, liquid pleasure rushing in your veins as he strikes that perfect, mind-melting spot inside you. “You look so gorgeous, love,” Matty murmurs adoringly, tapping his flushed, dripping cock against your lips. The salt of him fills your mouth as you lick over the head of his cock, his hips stuttering as he fights not to thrust into your mouth. “So pretty on your hands and knees.” He crooks two fingers under your jaw, lifting your head to meet his eyes, lust-blown pupils tracking over your flushed skin. “You taking care of her, mate?” He throws the question over your head to George, who grins.

“Yeah,” George chuckles, “She’s so fucking sweet. Pretty little slut just can’t get enough. You should hear her scream when she’s falling apart on my dick.” 

“Mattyyy,” you whine. “Please,” He tucks your hair behind your ear without looking at you.

“We aren’t talking to you, pretty girl,” Matty says, syrupy-sweet condescension setting your mind spinning, pleasure and pain twining together, spreading from your sore cunt and settling heady in your limbs. “God, I wanna fuck her mouth.” You shudder, anticipation thrilling up your spine, pain sparking as George pinches your clit harshly. “Can I?” He must see permission in George’s face — his cock falls on your waiting tongue, a moan tearing free from the back of your throat as you close your lips around him. Matty moans, threading a hand in your hair, surprisingly gentle.

You’re dizzy, set adrift, your body only existing where they touch you. Tears pool in your eyes, euphoria fighting to overwhelm you as Matty matches George’s pace. The pair of them are so perfectly in sync, their uncanny ability to understand each other without words weaponised against you. Matty’s cock hits the back of your throat and you swallow a gag, moaning around him as George strikes inside you perfectly. Your sanity is hanging by a thread, fraying torturously with every moan, every thrust, every circle over your clit.

“Look at her,” George murmurs adoringly. “She loves this. Pretty slut getting off on getting fucked in two holes at once. So wet for us, yeah?”

Your answering moan comes out garbled around Matty’s cock. “Are you close, darling?” Matty asks, hips bucking uncontrollably against your face. Your cunt clenches around George. You dangle wildly at the precipice, every thrust bringing you closer and closer. Finally, gloriously, you snap, whining and writhing as much as you can against the two men holding you in place. Ecstasy spills over you in waves, buffeted by the continued, deep thrusts into you. You’re boneless, barely able to hold yourself up, caught in a tide of fathomless pleasure, moaning incoherently as you come and come for what feels like an impossibly long time.

George groans above you, cock pulsing as he cums, painting your insides deliciously. He pulls out with an obscene sound, cum dripping down your sweat-soaked thighs. You feel the loss in your cunt like a physical ache, clenching wantonly around nothing. “Oh, baby,” George croons. “That greedy cunt still wants more, huh?”

Your slow-moving mind turns laboriously, fighting to pluck the meaning from his words. You release Matty’s cock with a slick pop, a grin creeping slowly across your lips. He watches, transfixed, as you grin up at him. “Fuck me,” you whisper, watching his cock twitch as he gasps.

Matty catches George’s eye, a filthy smirk spreading across his face. “You want that, baby?” You nod wildly, your entire body aflame with desperation. “Such a slut,” he murmurs fondly.

You turn your heavy gaze on George over your shoulder. “Wanna know what we taste like together,” you say, and he groans thickly, swiping two fingers over your messy hole, a burst of pleasure swelling as he brushes over your swollen clit. Your heartbeat kicks wildly in your cunt as George brings his fingers to your lips and you suck obediently, the combined tastes of all of you driving you wild. “Tastes so fucking good,” you groan, the bed dipping as Matty kneels behind you.

George watches, gaze hot and lust-thickened, amplifying every sensation that rolls fiercely through your body. Your arms give out, weak from holding yourself up through your earth-shattering orgasm, and you drop to press your face against the mattress. Matty’s cock presses against your hole and you whine, hips rolling against him. “Don’t tease her,” George says, low voice a warning that Matty heeds, thrusting into you divinely.

The sound is pornographic, his cock wet with your saliva, your cunt soaked with your arousal and George’s cum. His thrusts are erratic, desperate. He’s close already, fucking into you chaotically. You grip the sheets, your mouth now freed to moan and cry out as his hips meet yours over and over. The new angle of your hips is heavenly, molten pleasure spreading from your oversensitive cunt, your head swimming with it. “You feel so fucking good, darling,” Matty gasps. “So fucking good, fuck. Wanna cum inside you,” he groans. “Wanna fill up that pretty cunt so bad. I– fuck!” he cries. Without warning, he’s spilling inside you, fucking you through, cum dripping lewdly down your thighs. Matty pulls out, leaving you painfully empty again, and drags his fingers over your sore, abused cunt.

Eyelids heavy, you lift your head to watch Matty suck the cum off his fingers, moaning exaggeratedly. “Taste good?” George asks, and you remember abruptly that he just watched his best friend cum inside you.

“God, yeah,” Matty murmurs reverently. “Want to try?” he adds, collecting more of the slick mess that’s dripping out of you and beginning to pool on the mattress. You whine as he brushes your clit, and he shushes you condescendingly. Almost too fast for you to process, George surges forward over you, gripping Matty’s hair and pulling him in for a bruising kiss.

Their tongues slide together for a gloriously long moment, your hand creeping to your clit as you watch, not entirely sure your dazed, lust-sick mind hasn’t conjured up a carnal hallucination. They pull apart, a string of saliva briefly connecting their lips, and you whine. “Fuck,” George moans, breathing hard. 

Matty looks down at the mess of you, your skin flushed and sweaty, raw desire scrambling all of your senses. “Don’t worry, sweet girl,” he says, stroking your back and the curve of your ass. “Not done with you yet.” You moan, thrilled but listless, as Matty flips you onto your back, resting you gently against the pillows. Dampness soaks into your back, your sticky mess pressing against your skin. George falls next to you, catching your lips in a deep kiss, the taste of all of you overwhelming on his tongue. You jolt in surprise as Matty presses a wet kiss to your lower belly, then licks a broad stripe over your soaked, dripping cunt. A bolt of sharp pleasure-pain strikes you as he flicks his tongue over your oversensitive clit, and you whine into George’s mouth. “Gonna get you all cleaned up, darling,” Matty promises against your cunt, lapping at you hungrily.

You writhe in George’s arms, bruised lips insistent against his. Your thoughts spin incoherently, falling languidly from your head as Matty sucks gently on your clit. Your vision burns white, heartbeat pulsing in your cunt, your limbs detached and floating. “Fuck,” you whimper into George’s mouth, feeling him grin against your lips as your eyes flutter shut.

“Sensitive?” George murmurs teasingly, one of his big hands coming up to play with your tit, thumbing over the peaked bud of your nipple. Matty’s fingers dig into your thighs, infinite sensation rolling over you, lewd sounds echoing as he fills you with his tongue, fucking their cum deep into your cunt. 

Your hips roll against Matty’s face, bursts of heat licking up your spine as you grind your clit against his nose, panting desperately. Pressure mounts between your thighs, slick, hot pleasure coursing through you. “Gonna come, darling?” Matty murmurs against your cunt, his words vibrating gloriously against your soaked, trembling body.

“Yeah,” you pant. “‘M so close, Matty, fuck.” A string of obscenities garbled around breathy moans falls from your lips, George swallowing them hungrily. Ecstasy balls into a fist in your belly, slamming into you all at once and knocking the wind out of you. A scream tears its way out of your throat, raw and scratching, as your orgasm burns through you, melting you into goo that sticks you to the mattress. George’s tongue sweeps your mouth, Matty’s burying itself in your cunt, your body pinned still under the crushing pleasure. Tethered to your body by a flimsy thread, you’re dimly aware of Matty pulling away from you and crawling up your body.

George nudges you. “Open up, angel.” Eyes still closed, you obey, letting Matty spit on your waiting tongue. You swallow dutifully, the taste of you and Matty and George sliding filthy down your throat. George grabs your jaw, kissing you fiercely, licking your taste out of your mouth and gasping against your lips. “Say thank you, sweet girl.”

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Made me feel s’good. Both of you,” you add, burying yourself into George’s side, suddenly bone-deep tired. You’re swollen, sore and aching all over, sated to your very core. Matty presses a soft kiss to your temple and sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

You can practically hear the look George fixes him with, stilling Matty before he stands. “Mate. Don’t be an idiot. Come back here.” He doesn’t even pretend to protest, curling up behind you and draping a comforting arm over your waist. His heartbeat thumps soothingly at your back, lulling your eyes shut as you tuck your head into George’s neck.

n a minute, you know George will get up, go to clean you up, brush the tangles out of your sweaty mess of hair. But, for now, you let yourself relax, untethered from everything but the warm bodies beside you, nestling into the safety of their arms.

#hahaha get it #paris? like the eiffel to- [GUNSHOTS] #also hello theme!!! #Eventually ill go back and tidy up the rest of them but i had to start somwhere #matty healy x reader #george daniel x reader #george daniel #matty healy #george daniel smut #matty healy smut #george daniel imagine #matty healy imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #writing #smut

[grocerystorelist]

night, midnight, lose my mind – george daniel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel his release start to seep out, trickling through your folds and adding to the damp mess on the sheets below. Entranced, he pulls back to watch his translucent cum spill, dripping beads falling like nectar from the sweetest fruit. He reaches out to touch. 

“Can’t take anymore, Daddy,” you sob, throwing an arm over your eyes as you try and close your legs against the thick fingers swiping through your core. “Gotta make sure it takes, princess,” George says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before lifting himself off of you.

George moves down the bed to lie on his stomach between your thighs, hooking an arm under each to pull them apart, baring your glistening entrance again. He lets out a ragged breath before he starts lapping at your folds, getting everything that’s been lost already. You wail, already so far gone from your first two orgasms that another one seems impossible.

“Daddy knows what’s best for you,” he snaps, reaching his hand up to shove two fingers in your mouth. You keen around them, writhing against the sheets as his tongue fucks in and out of your hole, the tip of his tongue repeatedly hitting that spot inside of you. His nose rubs against your clit and you put a hand on his head, trying to hold him there as you rapidly approach another peak.

“Naughty little slut, I thought you couldn’t take another one,” George says, his tongue running flat over your folds. “Need you to shut up now, so I can focus.” His hand slips out of your mouth to wind around your neck, saliva-slick fingers smearing over the delicate flesh as you struggle to get another breath out, completely overwhelmed by him. He’s not putting any pressure on your throat, but the suggestion of his massive hands choking you has you on the edge in seconds, gasping at the thought. 

“Choke me, Daddy,” you plead, “make me cum.” George dives back into your cunt with a fervor, sucking and fucking his cum out of you, wet and messy and utterly filthy. His hand tightens around your throat and you can hear his tongue go in and out, laving over spots that have you seeing stars. You’re lightheaded, weak as you teeter on the precipice, anchored only by the feel of his hands holding you down on the mattress.

Your orgasm shoots through you, spasming around his tongue as you arch against the sheets, covering the lower half of his face in slick. You’re practically floating in the sheets, reaching some higher level of existence as you finally close your thighs to turn on your side. When you finally come to again, George has a clean pair of briefs on, sitting up against the headboard as he strokes your arm. A glass of water sits on the side table, and you can see your phone plugged in next to it. A groan rips out of your throat as you sit up, the ache in your core already apparent as you shift.

“Do you think you can stand, babe?” George asks, hand on your lower back. You nod, swinging your legs over the side of the bed to stand. He leads you to his bathroom, setting you down on the toilet as he busies himself finding a washcloth. The water has found its way into the bathroom with you, and you take appreciative gulps as he kneels before you, murmuring apologetically at the first wipe of the cloth through your folds.

“Sorry princess, gotta clean you up,” he says as you hiss, the coolness jarring against your skin. He pecks your knee when finished, and you wrap your arms around his neck to lift yourself as he slips a pair of his boxers over your hips. You feel like you could burst from the tenderness – surprised that a bar hookup is treating you so nicely after you’ve just been calling him Daddy in bed. “We should do this again,” you chuckle, fingers exploring the new bruises across your throat as you look into the mirror. He pulls you back against his warm chest, kissing the marks he left as you smile at the girl in front of you. Yeah, you could do this again.

#Sorryyyy description is more dramatic than it is but I kind of want to write a follow up where it would actually make sense #I feel filthy oh god. godbless george bedford daniel and godbless boiler room content #george daniel smut #george daniel x reader #george daniel #george daniel x you #masterlist

[alovesreading]

Nice Kind Of Messy

Summary: Your friends set you up on a blind date, one that you aren't really looking forward to at all but when you find George Daniel there waiting outside the restaurant, there is no doubt it'll be a date to remember.

Word Count: 16.7k 

Warnings: smut.

A/N: So I wrote this as part of my Alex series but I figured I should turn it into a one shot so my George girlies could read it without having to commit to a long Alex Turner fic lol It took me a while to get it ready on one shot form but I hope you enjoy now that it's here hehehe xx

Masterlist

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You wake up that morning quite nervous. Your excitement makes you shiver in anticipation but the feeling brushes the line of anxiety and it’s rather overwhelming.

You’ve not been really looking to date lately, there hasn’t been any type of enthusiasm when hinted about putting yourself out there again since you got cheated on by your ex boyfriend. You couldn’t be arsed about it—the whole process of actively trying to look for a person that you felt was right and suited what you at least felt was the bare minimum was exhausting just to think about.

Going out with your friends was almost always a failed mission. They tried to get you out on the pull with them but you ended up straying back to the table and waving them goodbye when they came back with someone hanging from their arm, winking at them as if to wish them a good night.

They had only been lucky to send you off with someone a handful of times, but despite their best efforts to push you to pursue those who you had spent a night with, you had left them as that: a one night stand.

So they had used a new method this time, which entailed the fact that they had apparently been scheming about behind your back for a few weeks. You had only found out when you were having a wine night with them over at your flat, your jaw dropping and brows furrowing when they let you know they had made a reservation at a certain restaurant in Covent Garden so that you could meet up with someone they swore was the perfect match for you.

“It’s a blind date, we can’t tell you,” said one of your friends with a wicked grin on her face, sipping on her wine as you took the time to glare at your other two friends sitting on your settee.

They only offered you gallic shrugs and giggles, bubbly and high pitched which unfortunately managed to tug at the corners of your lips until they formed a smile.

A happy, “You’re excited then?” made you realize what you were doing, so you took a gulp of your wine and shook your head in disagreement as you swallowed.

“No, I’m just confused.” You really were, it was worse you didn’t have a clue who it could be because there wasn’t really anyone you think had shown interest towards you that you all knew. “Am I allowed to back out?”

You hoped you could, even if a meal at a restaurant you had been dying to go to for ages paid by one of them was on the cards here, but you were truly wary about throwing yourself into a situation where you actually had to put yourself in the dating mindset.

As you cursed your stupid cheating scum of an ex for ruining the prospect of dating for you, your friends shook their heads and said, “No.” in unison.

And they unfortunately went on to explain how your date knew about it already and had cleared their schedule for it to happen, and since you were an awful people pleaser, you sighed in defeat and agreed to go.

So there you are, slowly making your way to your kitchen to make yourself breakfast, despite the nerves making your stomach flip constantly and making you nauseous. Slowly you eat, slowly you wash your dishes and put them away.

You do everything slowly that day, taking a long shower and lounging in bed, still in your robe and letting your hair air dry. The date wasn’t until four so you still had time, and you figured if you went about it at a steady pace, then by the time you were fully ready you would have to leave and there wouldn’t really be a long space of time for you to bail out at the last minute.

By the time it hits noon, you’re doing your hair. Straightening it and curling the ends leisurely, humming along the music you’re playing on your speakers which is interrupted by a call.

“Good afternoon Miss Y/L/N, are you ready for today?” One of your friends greets you with a chipper tone in her voice, you could practically see the beaming smile on her face just from her voice.

Biting on your bottom lip, you let the phone rest on your lap as you continue with the next section of hair and shyly admit, “I’m actually nervous…”

The way she coos at you makes you roll your eyes but there’s a wave of consolation that comes over you when she says, “Good but also don’t be. He’s an absolute dream.”

The tiny piece of information actually makes you more curious about who he is, so you try your chances again as you ask, “Are you finally gonna tell me who it is?”

You had been trying all week to get anything out of your friends but they had been surprisingly good at keeping this one secret under a lock. And this time wouldn’t be different since you only get a vague, “All you have to know is that he’s fit and I know you’ll get on with him perfectly well.”

At least the reassurance that you and him would get on well eases your nerves a little. Not as much as you would like though, but that’s because you know yourself and when you first meet anyone, you get shy and a bit awkward, so you’re praying that you'll be able to get a bit of courage not to make a fool out of yourself.

Thankfully your friend stays on the phone with you as you finish doing your hair and you actually facetime her when you’re doing your makeup. She keeps making you laugh throughout it all and somehow makes you forget about how tense you had been for a bit.

Her boyfriend, Matty, comes back to her flat from a meeting right as you’re showing your friend the dress you’re wearing for the date and, to her dismay, he almost slips and tells you who it is that you’re seeing in merely an hour from now.

“Matthew!” She exclaims loudly before the name can fall from his lips and he quickly throws his hand over his mouth with wide eyes.

His honest, “I’m so sorry.” sounds muffled behind his hand and it only gets an eye roll from your friend which makes you laugh.

But you are gutted that your only chance to find out is gone that way. You whine as you complain, “Why do you react so quickly?”

Your friend takes her boyfriend’s close mishap as a sign to let you go though, completely ignoring your complaint to remind you, “You’re gonna have to get faster Miss, it’s quarter past three and it’s a twenty five minute walk over there.”

“Shit, right.” You curse under your breath, realizing you need to get dressed already and leave as soon as you can so you aren't late.

“You look fucking stunning, babe.” She states with confidence, reassuring you since you seem to start growing panicky, “I’m gonna leave you now so you can change but you have the best time Y/N/N, alright?”

You purse your lips at the camera and clutch your chest, “Thanks hun, love you.”

She grins sweetly at you and reciprocates, “Love you too. And let me know how it goes, alright?”

“Will do, but I don’t promise anything too interesting.” You make sure to make that point clear, you don’t have much expectations for the date just so you don’t end up feeling defeated for it not meeting whatever you could imagine it to be if you allowed yourself to.

But your friend is in heavy doubt of it not being interesting considering she knows who you are meeting with. So she shrugs as she smirks, “Yeah, well… We shall see about that.”

It’s the way that she looks like she’s trying not to laugh that has you narrowing your eyes at her, “What?”

Question that isn’t answered because she plays dumb and simply says, “Okay byeee! Love you!” loudly, blowing you a kiss before hanging up the phone.

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You walk the best you can in your high heeled boots which were not a great pick when mixed with how nervous you are and how far you had to walk. You had debated getting a taxi when you were locking up your flat but decided against it when you realized that if you did, you’d get there quicker and you wanted to stall as much as you could.

You aren’t even late yet, ten minutes left for the clocks to strike four in the afternoon and you are merely five minutes away. The whole walk, you had been practicing in your head whatever you could say to the guy you were meeting with, just to prevent embarrassing yourself. If anything went wrong though, you had brought your camera with you and a few rolls were stuffed in your pocket so that you could at least take the opportunity to take pictures.

In your head, you had gone from any topics you could come up with about yourself, deciding against being the one to mention your tragic love life and picking a few questions that could be interesting to ask your date.

But all the inquiries and words you had been rehearsing die in your throat when you round the corner at the end of the restaurant’s street and you see the tall dirty blonde smoking a cigarette, leaning on a lamppost right by the entrance of the establishment.

You think of making a run back to your building, hesitating which way would be easiest to go and how it would work with your long dress but his eyes fall on you before you can make up your mind and when he smiles sweetly at you, cigarette perched between his lips, you know it’s too late.

On your face a shy smile breaks and you give him a little wave before approaching him, faking confidence as you get closer until he’s only a few feet away so you say, “Oh hi, I wasn’t expecting you.”

Your face is burning up and you know he can see your flustered demeanor because he smirks down at you, and cheekily asks, “Were you hoping for someone else?”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you smile harder at his playfulness and in a rush of bravery you choose to play along, “Do you really want to know the answer?”

He takes a drag of his cigarette and lets the smoke out steadily as he shakes his head, “I’m just hoping you remember my name.”

And how could you forget, “Of course I remember you, George.”

George hums, taking one last drag of his smoke as he takes in your appearance and he’s grinning mischievously when seeing the dark satin and lace of your dress contrasting on your skin, your leather jacket making you look even more stunning and coincidentally matching the one he’s wearing.

“Glad you haven’t, Y/N.” The drummer replies with a wink, dropping the bud on the ground and stepping on it before taking something out of the pocket of his dark jeans, “Y/F/N sent this for you.”

An involuntary “Oh.” falls from your lips, entirely intrigued by what it can be that your friend had wanted to tell you that couldn’t be said on the phone because George hands you a folded piece of paper that only says Y/N/N x on the front.

You carefully open it, trying your best to avoid George seeing it—which is a bit of an issue since he’s so tall he can easily read if he looks down—and you instantly blush harder when you read Get the nice kind of messy ;) x

A flashback of the moment at Glastonbury when you had been gawking at George and you had let slip how fit you found him comes to the forefront of your mind and you can’t help yourself getting a little flustered at the mere thought of it.

“He’s fit as fuck.” Your eyes are unable to move from his figure, the way his muscles contract and define with every hit of the drums and the facial expressions he makes as he plays.

Your friend snorts in laughter and leans in to ask further, “Oh, so you fancy George then?”

You stutter as you try to come up with a response, “I mean… Look at him!” You’re entirely entranced by it all and it doesn’t help that he’s covered in a thin coat of sweat already, only three songs into their set, so his white top is slowly becoming translucent and sticking to his body.

It’s like your brain is shutting down and all that it can register is the look of the drummer because it takes you a few long seconds to realize your friend has teasingly said, “I’ll make sure to relay that message.”

“Oh, no, don’t.” The panic of that happening is the one thing that helps you snap out of your trance.

You watch as your friend’s face contorts in confusion and she fights your answer, “Why?! You need to get back out there and who better than George?”

But you shake your head, “No, that’d be so messy!” You can’t think of anything worse than trying to get with your friend’s boyfriend’s best friend—you cringe just imagining how that going wrong would cause a horrendous change in the group’s dynamic.

All of your worries come to a halt and you choke on your own spit when your friend smirks as her eyes fall on George, “That’d be messy, alright. The nice kind of messy.”

In an attempt to try and play it cool, you fold the note and shove it in one of the pockets of your leather jacket, clearing your throat, adjusting the strap of your camera on your shoulder and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear like it’s all fine and normal.

But George can see the way you’re pursing your lips and how you hid the note so hastily so your behavior completely betrays your attempts to be secretive about it. “What did you say?” He kept his promise that he wouldn’t open the note when Matty gave it to him earlier that day, even though he’s been really tempted too, especially when he realized Matty knew what it said because he was giggling when his girlfriend handed it to him.

You don’t give him an answer though, only a little cough that acts as a coverup of you avoiding his gaze and a subtle shrug, “Just a little joke.”

“Can you share?” He tries further, his hand coming to nudge you softly in the arm.

Not even that helps your answer change. You shake your head and say a shy, “Not really.”

“I see how it is.” George narrows his eyes at you and adds, “S’alright, I’ll remember that.” which is a promise that has you biting your tongue.

“Shall we go inside?” The drummer says then, watching you struggling to come up with a response to his previous statement.

The new question is much easier to reply to, a soft “Yes.” falling from your lips, breathlessly.

And he takes your breath even more when he lets you walk ahead, only to rest his hand on your lower back delicately and casually comment, “You look beautiful by the way. Really like that we’re matching with the leather jackets.”

The opportunity to not acknowledge the compliment is perfect because you feel like you’re going to explode under George’s attention. You giggle and nod, “What a great coincidence huh?”

His answer being, “Hot coincidence.” accompanied by a wink doesn’t make it easy for you though and you find out then that being on a date with George Daniel means blushing every five minutes even if the chat is about mundane topics.

You talk about your hometowns and the differences between your upbringings, how different it was that you’d stayed in the same city for your entire life while he lived moving around for a good part of his childhood until his family settled in Manchester. You tell each other how you had ended up doing what you were doing currently and you end up cooing constantly when George tells you how the guys became friends and how the band had come together. You exchange stories about your jobs, finally having the opportunity to ask all that came to your mind about producing music which you had always found fascinating ever since you’d gotten closer to the band. George being fascinated about your knowledge on films and everything to do with photography and cinematography, which really comes with your job as a photographer and videographer.

Then he asks about your hand tattoo—the ‘Pure Desire’ written on the back of your hand is rather enticing—smirking when he rubs his thumb over it and asks if you have any more which ends up in you both sharing the amount of ink you have on your bodies which George beat you to by an incredible amount. You end up taking your jackets off and showing each other each piece you have on your skin.

Eventually, the chat comes back to the band and you ask him whereabouts The 1975 has toured so far. Your jaw drops the more his list continues and you genuinely have a hard time wrapping your head around them being relatively new to the mainstream scene when they are already going to all those places.

“I don’t even remember the last time I went on holiday, fucking hell.” You chuckle out in awe at the information he’s just given you.

And George turns your innocent amusement into a mess of heated cheeks, pressed lips and eye rolls when he suggests how that could be easily fixed, “We just have to take you on tour with us next time, don’t we?”

“Think it’ll be crowded enough now that Matty is taking Y/F/N with him.” Your eyebrows are raised to accentuate how serious you are trying to be about it, it’s so hard to conceal how flustered you are at his insinuation.

But he makes it difficult for you to play it cool when he shrugs, “We can share a bunk then.”

“You’re such a flirt. Bet you say that to all the girls.” It almost sounds like you’re scolding him and he likes seeing the reactions he can get out of you, but there’s one thing that has been constant in the back of his mind and he decides to bring it up.

Taking his glass up to his lips, he takes a sip and gulps softly to start saying, “Surprised me when Y/F/N called me and asked if I wanted to go on a date with you.”

“God, that’s embarrassing.” You wince at the information, hating the way it looks for your friends to be asking people around if they want to go out with you. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin and die in a ditch.

George smirks playfully, “Going on a date with me?”

You laugh in response to that, shaking your head before clearing up, “Y/F/N asking if you wanted to go out with me. You know you could’ve said no.”

He frowns at you, like you’ve just said the most outrageous thing and he wholeheartedly asks, “But why would I?”

“Oh George, stop it.” You warn him, pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes at him.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” George reaches his hand out to touch yours and you almost shiver under it.

You let your fork down beside your plate and fan yourself with your hand as you admit, “You’re making me blush.”

But that’s not something that will keep him quiet, because he confesses, “Yeah and I quite enjoy doing it.”

The rest of the date is spent between good food, good wine, laughter, a picture you take of George when he asks about your camera, and chatter that has been really entertaining and entirely not awkward like you’d been expecting. Getting to know George in a deeper way is like a breath of fresh air and that’s why, when you leave the restaurant and the drummer offers to walk you back home, you don’t even hesitate to accept.

He takes a few detours on the way, taking you around places where he had hilarious and very wholesome stories of his childhood and teenage years when he would come around to London with the lads and other friends just to mess about. You’re so grateful for the anecdotes because you’re making sure to capture each place in its unique beauty and you know now that behind each shot you’d have the memory of what George had shared with you.

George watches you closely every time you take a picture, taking in every little thing you do before and after you press the shutter. You’re so adorable to him, the way your face lights up when you press the shutter and look at him excitedly when you roll the film.

You guide the both of you back to the way to your flat and as you walk, you’re smoking cigarettes and chatting. It’s so easy to carry a conversation with George, he exudes such an energy that just makes you feel free talking about whatever comes to your mind without having to think for a split second about what you should say or shouldn’t.

And just as easy comes laughter, because not only is his laugh hilariously contagious, he is funny himself and he has you struggling to catch your breath multiple times at his quips and comments.

There is something about this evening that you just feel the need to remember as best as you can so he catches you sneakily trying to take candids of him, every time he’s called you out on it and you shamelessly lie about the frame being focused on just what was behind him—every time something mundane and boring—but by the fifth time, instead of calling you out and have you grumpily change the focus of your lenses, he allows you to take a picture of him and even smiles for you; he doesn’t miss how your eyes twinkle after you’ve pressed the shutter.

The way you smile to yourself and proudly state, “I’m really gonna like that one.” makes George’s chest swell and in a lack of any more self control, he stops dead in his tracks and turns to you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you into him, your chest hitting his chest eliciting a gasp to fall from your lips.

“Oh hi.” You giggle at the sudden action, your hands subconsciously resting on his chest after that, but any other words die in your throat when he dips his head and traps your lips with his.

You hum into the kiss, which is a dizzying combination between sweet and determined. His left arm stays wrapped around your waist, pulling your flush into his chest but the other one comes up to cup your jaw and he keeps you at the perfect angle for him to kiss you just how he wants.

Your arms slowly move up until they are wrapped around the back of his neck and you let your fingers tangle in his hair. It’s soft and long on the top of his head which you really like. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, his fingers clutching your tighter and you let your mouth open so you can taste each other.

You completely forget where you are until someone walks past you and whistles at the two of you, startling you out of the kiss. You really enjoyed that kiss, and it shows in the way you look up at George with burning cheeks and something written on your face.

“I liked that.” George cheekily states, getting ahold of your hand and resuming your walk.

You hum, trying not to giggle when he intertwines your fingers and a feeling you can easily recognize starts bubbling inside you. “Yeah, I liked that too.”

You felt like a teenager. Blushing to yourself while you walked hand in hand with the person you had a crush on, and it’s so ridiculous but so relieving at the same time to feel this kind of pathetic elation instead of despair and heartache for once.

Your conversation resumed from whichever point you last remember it being left at but after that kiss it only gets more and more flirty, and you like where it is going but soon enough you reach your building and you have to slowly come to a stop with a pout.

“This is me.” You mumble, squeezing his hand in yours but he doesn’t let go.

He hums as if hesitant of believing what you’ve just said and instead he suggests, “Don’t you wanna take another walk around the block?”

“George, my feet hurt.” They had been hurting for a while but you hadn’t said anything just to not ruin things, and because you were enjoying his company so much that you were willing to endure the pain for a while longer.

The drummer comes to a quick solution, “I’ll carry you.”

Which makes you chuckle, “Sure you would.” You genuinely don’t want the date to end so in a bit of a rushed decision, you bargain, “Don’t you… Do you wanna come upstairs?”

He gets a kick of excitement inside him but he wants to play it cool, so he jokes, “What, are you gonna take my picture?”

You hold back a snort of laughter, and shrug as if it was fine by you that he only wanted that. “If that’s what you want.” There’s a little voice in your head that tells you not to but there is another one that purely encourages you to have fun.

“Yeah, that works.” George casually says, like he isn’t praying that he gets lucky to even get another kiss out of you.

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“Where’d you want me?” George turns to look at you as you drop your camera on your bedside tables and take your jacket off to perch on the back of a loveseat you have in the corner of your room.

You take one of the new rolls out of your pocket and change it for the one you’d almost fully used earlier that day. “Wherever you’re comfortable.” you tell him, focusing on perfectly lining the roll before you can turn to him.

“Bed’s quite comfy.'' You hear George say from behind you and when you look up to see him, you find him lying on his side, head perched on his hand and a smirk on his face. “Paint me like one of your french girls.” He teases, resting his other hand dramatically on his forehead.

All you do is giggle at his antics, “You’re such an idiot.” Shaking your head, you come up to the bed and try looking at the scene through your lenses but you aren't quite convinced by the shot.

George watches you struggle, stepping backwards and forwards, to the sides before sighing. He reminds you with a soft smile, “I’m not used to being the one to pose for the camera. You’re gonna have to guide me.”

“Okay.” Silently, you think about it as you bite on your thumb and once a vision comes to your mind, you start instructing him, “Lean into your forearms, sideways so you fit in the bed.” But you find what’s bothering you and it’s that his legs are half hanging off the bed.

“Why are you so tall? Oh my god.” You go over to the drummer and prompt him to go further into the bed, perching one of his sock-clad feet up on the bed and the other leg staying stretched on the bed. “There, now look at me.”

George looks at you with a blank face first to which you complain about but when he actually shows you a smile he starts giggling, and if there had been something you had learned about George quite early into your date was that his laugh was incredibly contagious, so you find yourself shaking with laughter as you try to take his pictures and you end up having to call him out for it.

“Don’t laugh! You’re making me laugh!” You scorn him, struggling to sound serious between your giggles.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes halfheartedly, swallowing his laughter until he goes back to a stoic face and he gives you the perfect soft smolder.

You hum in satisfaction at the result of that frame and then you move onto instructing him to do the next pose, “Throw your head back a bit and close your eyes.” He silently listens and does as you say which earns him a sweet, “Just like that.” from you.

Of course, your words make George give you a look, one that had you lightly blushing and since you know he can recognize the way you get flustered, you hide behind your camera.

“What?” You say behind the device, inquiry thrown out into the air, and warn him, “Don’t look at me like that.”

George chuckles to himself, wondering if you are this naive or if you are playing dumb. So when you take another picture of him, he purposely complains, “My leg’s cramping.” to then throw himself back on the bed, ending up completely splayed over the duvet and breaking the pose.

“George!” You scold him yet again, a bit of amusement sneaking through your words.

He groans in response and without moving, tells you to “Just take a picture like this.”

You kiss your teeth to exaggerate your disapproval and shake your head, “I can’t even see your face.”

“Come here so you can see it.” He resolves easily for you, waving you over to come close to the side of the bed instead of taking pictures by the end of it. You roll your eyes at him in amusement, not moving at first but since he actually doesn’t plan on moving, you have to do as he says.

But attempting to get a picture from above while standing beside the bed is an actual failure, “That’s an awkward angle, look at me.” You try to get him to turn to his side again but he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Need you on your side.” You say explicitly this time but he doesn’t let up either.

Instead he suggests, “Why don’t you just get up here?” He pats the bed, right next to his hip and you blush just thinking about it. At your silence, he opens his eyes and turns his head to the side to encourage you with a “C’mon.”

He offers his hand so you can use it as leverage to kneel on the bed on each side of his hips and hover above him. You struggle as you do so because you’re growing nervous and therefore clumsy.

“Fucking hell, George.” You curse under your breath, seeing him from above is an angle that you don’t really know if you can handle.

“What?” George bites his bottom lip to not let a smirk break on his face.

Yet, not even that keeps you from knowing that he knows just what he was doing but you won’t say anything, because you’re enjoying this a lot more than you are supposed to. So you stick to just replying, “Nothing.” as you take yet another picture of him.

Remembering his tattoos, you bit your bottom lip for a few seconds before hesitatingly asking, “Why don’t you take your jacket off?”

George lets his hands rest right above your knees and squeezes your legs as he teases, “Is that code for something?”

You hoped your flustered state wasn’t obvious so you can play off your nonchalant, “For ‘I want to see your tattoos’, yes.”

It goes right over his head though, because he keeps smirking as he sarcastically replies, “Right, right.”

You move so he can take the piece of clothing off without you hovering over him but when he’s done and laying on the bed again, he pats his right side so you can move your left leg there and have you hover over him properly again.

“How’s that look?” He asks cheekily as his hands go to touch your legs again, the skin up to your mid thighs showing because your dress slit allows it to open and rise up in the position you’re in.

“Amazing.” You breathlessly compliment, making him raise an eyebrow at you.

The shutter goes off again and, as you roll the film, he tests the waters, “Do you want to see them all?”

“Sure.” The word comes out so soft it could’ve gone with the wind, his hands leave your thighs for a second to grab the bottom of his shirt.

“Top’s coming off next then, is that alright?” He asks for confirmation first and you nod eagerly, your pupils dilating in anticipation.

He sheds himself off his shirt in the constricted space he had, you’re so spaced out that you don’t move but it isn’t a problem for George. If anything, his smirk grows at your inability to act and it gets bigger when he throws his shirt somewhere across the room and you’re left shamelessly gawking at his naked top half.

After a minute of your eyes wandering everywhere, George brings your back to reality by letting his hands come over your thighs again. You tremble at the same time as the drummer says, “Y/N/N?”

“Yeah?” You ask, slowly coming back to reality. Your brain has been completely taken over by the view of the taut muscles of his arms littered by colorful ink, a pair of symmetric ‘broken’ tattoos on both sides of his collarbones and his torso beautifully chiseled with a defined six pack.

“When are you taking the picture?” He reminds you, trying not to smirk too hard as to not put you off.

“Shit, sorry.” You say under your breath and, after quickly focusing the shot, finally take a picture of him like that.

There was a heavy silence that hung over you two, the trail of his fingers making your skin grow hot and your throat going dry at the growing need for anything at all. So you find yourself surprised when he breaks the silence to ask you, “Can I take your picture?”

“Mine?” You repeated like you’d heard wrong.

George nods and lets you know, “You look really pretty from here.”

In a feeble attempt not to have him do that, you remind him, “You don’t know how to.”

“Matty had a film camera a few years ago, I know how to.” George surprises you even further when he explains and just to try a bit harder, he pouts at you and says, almost begging, “Please?”

“Okay.” You let yourself accept, your mind too distracted by the view beneath you to even fight.

Once you hand him the camera, he lifts it up to his eyes and lets out a chipper, “Smile.” as an instruction, which you follow only just a bit shyly.

You’re about to get the device back from him when he pulls it away from your grasp and pleads, “Another one please?”

You sigh at the drummer’s exaggerated pout until it turns into a giggle and that’s when the shutter goes off. Your cheeks burn again when he compliments as he rolls the film, “Stunning.”

Letting the camera rest beside him, George tries his luck and lets his hands rub on the skin of your thighs a bit further up. You don’t refuse it, he can clearly see the growing hunger in your eyes as you look down at him so he continues, letting his gaze trail down your body to drink in all of your but when he reaches down to your legs is when he catches a slight glimpse of red ink on your left thigh that makes him ask, “Do you have more tattoos?”

He doesn’t remember your mentioning any other tattoos than the ones you’d shown him at the restaurant. So when you nod, he can’t help but ask, “Where?”

“One, right here.” You grab his right hand so he can touch over the fabric of your dress where the one on your rib is. Your eyes looking right into his and his lips opening further when you continue, “And this one here.” lifting the fabric up to show the ‘Divine Feminine’ tattoo on your thigh.

George lets his right hand fall until it reaches the one on your thigh, you’re still clutching the satin in your first so he can fully see it. He rubs on the red ink on your skin as he stares at it, eliciting goosebumps to break on your entire body.

He looks up and asks with a low voice about the only one he hasn’t seen yet but you had just let him touch over your dress, “What’s the other one?”

“A word.” You vaguely say, as if encouraging him to continue asking about it.

“Which word?” His fingers trail further up, making your knees go completely weak. They had been hurting from hovering over him for so long but his touch is the thing to finally have you finally sit on his lap.

And that’s when you feel him growing hard in his jeans.

His fingers had already been making your every thought go straight down to your core so you’re entirely driven by lust when you fully lift the satin up and shed the dress off your body, leaving you only in your underwear and in full show for George.

It’s involuntary, his hips jerking forward and pressing on your center, his mouth agape at the sight and he grows even more breathless when you roll your center against his hardening cock.

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath, taking one quick look at the strange word on your rib before perching himself up on his left forearm to wrap his right hand around your neck and pull you in for a hungry kiss.

You lean further into him, one arm wrapping around his shoulders and digging into his hair to pull on it as your lips move with each other. Your fingers tugging on his hair made him groan into your mouth and, as payback, he tightens his fingers around your neck, earning a loud moan out of you.

George pushes himself up with his left hand until he’s sitting on the bed, his right arm wrapping around your waist to keep you flush against him. Your tongues taste each other and your breaths grow heavy when you start rolling your hips in sync, meeting in the middle and creating a delicious friction that soon enough forces you to break the kiss only to gasp in pleasure into each other's mouths.

His fingers come to graze the ink on your left rib, your desperate side having you sink your hips down to roll against him and turn his, “What does it mean?” into a gorgeous moan.

Your lips brush as he moans and you respond to his sound with a mewl of your own and when that reaches his ears, George forgets ever asking anything for he can’t wait any longer to feel your lips on his again.

The kiss grows needy then. His hand goes from your ribs down to knead the flesh of your ass, fingers harshly digging into your skin and encouraging you to move against him. Your clit was getting so stimulated from only being covered by the thin material of your lace thong against his jeans which means you can’t kiss him any longer.

A string of moans falls from you as you quicken your pace, getting louder as you go but your actions are interrupted when George clutches you tightly by your middle and swiftly flips the two of you around so it you’re resting on your back on the bed with him hovering right over you.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sudden change of positions, your hand flying to cup his face and bring his lips back on yours and wrapping your legs around his waist to pull his hips into your core in a desperate attempt to have the friction back.

The feeling of his hard on coming down to rub harshly against you every time he bucks his hips forward makes your head spin. He starts off by teasing you with the friction and leaving you hanging for a few seconds before going back in but when you start gasping into his mouth, he keeps himself close to you and relentlessly rolls his hips on yours, hard cock pressing deliciously against your throbbing clit.

The pace grows faster, making it impossible for you to continue moving your lips with his so he takes it as a sign to continue on with what he wants to do first. Unfortunately, that means his hips stop moving and leave you throbbing and clenching around nothing but he makes it up to you with his lips all over your skin.

Wet kisses trail down your neck, his lips taking their time to give every bit of your skin attention on the way down. Kissing, sucking, licking. His fingers run down your sides until they clutch tightly on your hips, fingers pressing hard on the skin there and making your cry out in pleasure even louder.

Your breath is heavy by the time he stops sucking bruises all over your chest and abdomen, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging on it so he can come back up but instead his tongue runs flat from just above your belly button agonizingly slowly up until his nose bumps against the hem of your bra.

George looks up at you through his lashes, teeth coming to bite on the fabric and tugging them the slightest bit down so you know what he wants to do and you desperately nod.

Without much of a proper attempt to take the piece of clothing off, he just tugs down the lace cups on it and lets your tits spill out freely for him. He groans from the pits of his chest at the sight, hips bucking forwards into the mattress harshly in search of some relief for himself.

But not letting any more seconds go by, George dives to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. Groaning around it, the vibrations of the noise causing white heat to run straight down to your throbbing wet cunt.

He switches the sucking for flicking it with his tongue, blowing cold air and smirking as your nipple hardens at his actions, ending with a soft bite and tug that have you loudly saying his name in call for mercy.

You needed something, anything. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing and it’s almost torturous. But your cries fall on deaf ears for he moves onto your other nipple and repeats his process. You’re only ruining your underwear further, so wet you feel uncomfortably sticky with your thong still on.

“George, baby, please–” You plead in anguish when he starts sucking bruises on your tits, biting them until you whimper loudly under him.

“What do you need Y/N/N?” He asks sweetly, a stark contrast to his vicious attack on your chest.

“Anything. Just–” You try to say, your words catching up in your throat as your desperation for release clouds your logic and makes you sound stupid.

So you rely on grabbing one of his hands from your hips and guiding it down to where you’re aching. The simple graze of one of his fingertips on your swollen clit eliciting a pathetic mewl out of you.

“Oh sweetheart,” George tuts “Made quite a mess, haven’t you?” His pointer finger runs up and down your clothed core slowly and so faintly you don’t even know if you are imagining it.

Applying a bit more pressure assures him to hear every one of your needy sounds and feeling like you had waited enough, he leaves a light feather kiss over your center.

“Need help cleaning up this mess, yeah?” His words are sweet, like he’s finally taking pity on you. The thought of him doing absolutely anything at that moment sounds so fucking good your hum in agreement sounds more like a whine, barely able to make eye contact with him in your hazy mind.

His long tongue runs flat over your underwear, wetting even more than it already is and he moans at the taste of your slick soaking through it. His fingers tug the fabric down your legs and throw it somewhere behind him in record time. He finds himself almost drooling at the sight of you completely exposed to him.

If you had any hint of inhibitions left in you, you would’ve tried to close your legs under his attentive gaze but he’s entranced and you’d had it with waiting any longer so you prop your legs wide open and squirm in your place.

“George, please.”

Your pleading is so sweet, so desperate, he can’t deny you any longer. So he dips his head in between your legs and starts lapping at you like a starved man. At the first proper taste he has of you, he moans loudly, tongue running up and down your slit to gather as much of you as he can and enjoying every drop of your arousal on his tongue.

“Are you not gonna continue taking my picture?” George interrupts his task to tauntingly ask, going back to using his tongue on you, this time flicking it up and down quickly on your clit and making you shiver.

Your words are caught in your throat when he doesn’t relent his actions but still looks at you expectantly through his lashes, “Right– F-fuck! Right now?”

He only allows himself to stop for the amount of seconds it takes him to nod and say, “Yes baby, be a good girl and take my picture.”

That ‘good girl’ makes you roll your eyes in utter pleasure, and all you can think of is doing as he’s telling you to earn his praise; because you want more, you need more.

Your head turns quickly to see where he’s left the camera, and you bring it to your eyes to take a picture as fast as you can. Your thoughts are already becoming clouded by the tightening coil in your lower belly.

His disheveled dirty blonde hair in between your legs, his arms underneath your legs and hands clutching your thighs in place is all that you captured in that frame. The shutter goes off letting George know you have done as he’d said and he congratulates you by praising you with a proud, “Such a good fucking girl.” and a few kisses to your clit which make you jolt.

He goes back down, trying to clean up the mess of slick and saliva that’s dripping down your inner thighs and onto the duvet, but you’re so desperate so you start rocking your hips against his face, trying to steer him back to where you wanted him to be and, to your satisfaction, he follows the silent instruction by going back to your center and this time pointing his tongue and dipping it inside your sopping hole.

Your legs instinctively close around his head, eliciting a breathy laugh from him that hits your core as he continues tongue fucking you. His hands come to spread your legs open again, holding your limbs down on the bed strongly, not allowing you to move any longer.

The feeling of his wet tongue dipping in and out of you has you growing increasingly louder, begging and pleading with him not to stop, your orgasm so close you can feel it.

But despite your words, he stops.

At that very moment, you swear you can cry, knowing you had just been about to come undone on his tongue. But just before you can pathetically let your frustrated tears roll down your cheeks, his lips wrap around your throbbing clit and he sucks on it. The perfect amount of pressure for you to thrash around beneath him as your pleasure resumes and hits you with an incredible force, making you let out a string of moans of his name and then a bunch of “Yes! Fuck yes!”, hands flying down to tangle your fingers in his hair and keep him in his place.

“I’m gonna cum!” You yell out loud, eyes shutting tightly since the pleasure impedes you from keeping them open, and when George starts humming as he sucks your clit, you are done for.

Your legs tremble under his hold, toes curling and your fingers tugging his hair tighter than you had been before. You black out as your orgasm hits you hard, the oxygen in your lungs leaving you entirely as your back arches off the bed and you only come back from your high when his incessant sucking becomes too much for your oversensitive self so you pull him away from you.

He giggles, completely entranced by your fucked out state. Watching you cum had been an experience but god don’t you look beautiful with your chest heaving, bruises looming on your skin, a flush to your face and chest, a thin coat of sweat making your body and face shine.

But before he can give you any more attention, his gaze falls back to your cunt and it’s glistening with arousal. You taste so fucking good to him that he wastes no more time to lick you clean. Your legs tremble at the resumed contact of his tongue on your sensitive core, whimpers stubbornly leaving you as he goes.

Your fingers leave his hair alone but your left hand cradles his head as he laps up at everything you have given him, and after a whole minute of him meticulously licking clean every inch of skin that had been wet with your arousal, he starts a trail of kisses from your mound until he reaches your belly button.

Flashing a smile up at you, George rests his chin on your lower stomach and you can’t hold yourself back from brushing his messy hair back almost adoringly, post orgasm haze making you extra appreciative of him and his skilled tongue work.

His fingers rub circles on the top of your thighs, “Feel good?” He asks before leaving more soft kisses on your lower stomach.

“Very.” You answered with a smile, fingers brushing through his hair.

He hums at the feeling of your touch, “Good to know, gorgeous.”

Turning to see where you’d left it, you reach out to grab your discarded camera. Melting into the duvet under George’s gentle touch and his lips pressing on your skin leisurely, you really make an effort as you lean on your forearms so that you can get a better look at him to take a picture. He looks up at you with a dizzying smirk that you manage to capture, and you know that you’ll adore that picture no matter the outcome of this day.

His lips tickle the skin of your lower stomach when he points out, “Didn’t even have to tell you this time.”

Putting the device back down on the bed, you shrug with a grin sneaking onto your lips, “You look good.”

“Do I, now?” He teases, dropping his hands from your thighs and pressing them on the mattress so he can slowly push himself up and crawl his way up to hover over you again.

“You always do.” Your words come laced with lust, his eyes darkening as he gets closer and you just can’t wait any longer to have him in more ways. “Come here.” You instruct by wrapping a hand around his neck, fingers pressing on the sides of it until he groans loudly in pleasure and when he lets the sound leave his lips, you smirk and warn, “My turn.”

Pulling him in by his neck means that your tongues meet instantly when you start the kiss, and when you taste yourself on his tongue, you moan so loudly George growls just as loud in response.

The kiss is all teeth clashing, spit dribbling down to your chins, noses bumping, deep exhales sounding loudly and trying to overpower the sounds of your swollen lips moving together.

It’s George the one to grow louder when your hand drops from his neck, down his naked torso to the button of his jeans, which you undo with quick fingers and pull the zip down before you can palm him over the fabric of his boxers.

“F-fuck…” He lets out when your nimble fingers squeeze him and stroke him up and down. He’s so hard that your touch makes him shiver.

You can feel him so swollen and heavy under your hand, your mind already spinning about how big he is but you want to have him unravel under you so badly, you push any worries about his size to the back of your head.

His hips move slowly, helping with your movements, clearly wanting to reach his high but you want to taste him and you want it now. So you leave his cock alone to instruct him, “Lay down, baby.”

You switch positions, George laying on his back and you’re kneeling between his legs. He pants as he watches you shamelessly gawk at him, your mouth going dry at the clear outline of his cock.

“Fucking hell, George.” You curse as you tug on the top of his jeans so he can lift his hips up for you to take them off him.

He does as instructed and you’re just too impatient to wait any more, you want to feel him heavy on your tongue already. His boxers come off quickly after his jeans, his hard cock springing up to touch right by his navel.

You gulp. He’s thick, angry red tip already leaking from how aroused he is. Intimidating but so inviting.

Dipping your head down, you start kissing his hips. Leaving kisses that go from sweet to wet and messy the more he squirmed under you.

“You…” George pleads, hand coming down to cradle your head. Not to push it towards where he wanted you but to have you look up at him and see just how fucking desperate he is for you.

You feel that look go down straight to your core, clenching your legs together at the feeling. “I know baby, I know.” You say in a coo.

Your fingers wrap around him, the pressure of them making George huff in pleasure with his lips pressed together. He feels so heavy in your hand, veins popping for you to see how pained he is.

“You’re so big.” You trail off, a bit of wander in your voice. You have no idea how he’s going to fit in your mouth, he’s by far the biggest cock you have ever come across but you like a challenge.

Your tongue licks a bold strip from base to tip, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you taste the salty arousal that has already been leaking from him. He curses under his breath at the feeling of your wet tongue on his cock, but the breathy words turn into a loud moan when you wrap your lips around him and sink your mouth down onto him.

Barely able to fit half of him in your mouth until he hits the back of your throat, you pull back to catch a breath, your hand taking over for a few seconds as you inhale deeply and go back in. You gag around him when you manage to get him deeper, George moans loudly as you do so, trying his hardest not to buck his hips upwards into your tight throat.

His hand goes back to hold your head but this time, his fingers tangle in your hair, only to pull you up so you can breathe. But you don’t want to have it easy, you want to see how much of him you can take and hear every one of his pretty moans.

So you go against his hold, sinking your mouth further down and gagging around him again. Your hand stays at the base of his cock, stroking the rest you can’t get to, as you continue bobbing your head up and down on him.

George is a mess of groans and moans, whimpering whenever you gag and moan around him, your throat tightening around him driving him insane.

He lifts his head up slightly to look down at you, pulling on your hair so you come off him and meet his eyes. George is met with you panting, pink wet swollen lips, saliva dripping down your chin and neck, tears falling out of the corner of your eyes, hair disheveled but pupils dilated and a satisfied smirk at it all.

Your hand keep stroking him up and down, fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure and he moans at the combination of your touch and the glorious view of you like this, “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect.”

The praise only encourages you more, so you lean back down and lick a strip up his cock again, this time looking up at him through your lashes. An innocent look in your eyes as you lap at the tip of his cock eagerly.

He exhales in awe, “Look at you– Shit!” He curses loudly when you sink slowly back down until again he reaches your throat, his hips bucking upwards involuntarily and making you gag loudly.

You gasp out for air for a mere second before you do it again, until you manage to control your gagging a bit better and encourage George to fuck your mouth with a simple squeeze to his hip.

“Oh fuck– Such a pretty filthy girl.” He praises as he obeys the silent instructions and rocks his hips forwards slowly and ever so slightly. “You like it when I fuck your throat?” His question is thrown out into the air in between groans.

You answer with a hum that vibrates around him and that’s when George starts feeling like he’s losing control. His hips grow erratic and you notice so you hum and moan around him even more, causing him to get closer to his high.

“Y/N/N m’gonna cum!” He warns you loudly, the wet squelching sounds of him going in and out of your mouth and your moans bouncing off the walls in a pornographic symphony that makes the scene even better.

And when your hand drops from around the base of his cock to play with his balls, he’s sent over the edge. He pushes his hips forwards and stills then as he comes, cock twitching in your mouth and his cum coating the walls of your throat with a warmth you appreciated with another low moan.

His hips fall back on the bed but you don’t relent just yet, sucking him off for a little longer to take everything you can. But he has to pull you off him by your hair when he can't take it anymore, cursing and calling out your name like he was scolding you.

“Fucking hell.” He mumbles, still dizzy from his orgasm but completely entranced by the way you come off him with a whimper and a satisfied smirk.

You wipe the drool off your chin with the back of your hand and slowly crawl up until you are laying on your side right beside him, staring right into his eyes with hunger still darkening yours.

“Feel good?” You ask, just what he’d asked you after he made you cum but in a mocking manner.

It gets you a chuckle in response before one of his big hands comes to cup your jaw and crashes your lips together.

Kissing George has you dazed. His lips are soft but firm when moving along with yours, they’re wet and swollen, warm exhales leaving his parted lips for your to swallow, tongue peeking through them to meet yours. He whimpers so loud when he tastes himself on your tongue, fingers digging into your cheek and making you mewl in response.

Your skin grows hot the more you kiss. He doesn’t even let you get a proper breath whenever he pulls back for a brief second, because he’s back on your mouth with desperation—lips smacking and tongues licking at each other.

Your hands go on a path from his face to his head, the back of his neck, his shoulders, and eventually to his back, nails digging into it when he starts nipping at your bottom lip, at the same time as his right hand drops from your jaw down to pinch your nipples, eliciting gasps out of you.

“George…” You let out in a gasp when he has your nipple pinched and twisted between his thumb and index finger.

He’s smirking right over your parted lips, amused at the way you shiver every time he goes from one nipple to the other. Your nails claw at his back when you feel the electric shocks that his touch gives you travel all the way down to your center, feeling yourself growing wetter and that familiar knot in your lower stomach forming.

His lips slot between yours again, distracting you from his touch going from your tits down to tease your cunt.

With his thumb, George starts rubbing circles on your clit, making you pull back from the kiss with a loud gasp that turns into a cry of pleasure. You could feel yourself throbbing already, and it gets worse when he picks up his pace.

He isn’t going too fast but not slow either, the speed in which his thumb rubs at your clit has you writhing your hips in response, subconsciously trying your best to get closer and closer to your high.

“George! Fuck!” You yell when he slides a finger inside you. It’s thick and long, curling inside you and making you see stars already, half lidded eyes catching him smirking at you and his breaths growing shallow when taking in your reactions.

“You like that?” He asks you teasingly, pecking your lips as your face scrunches up in pleasure.

You manage to hum in response, but he finds that not good enough, so he adds another finger, stretching you out easily and making your back arch as you moan loudly. “Yes! Yes!” You encourage, and when he curls his fingers again, knuckle deep inside your cunt, you felt yourself be completely overcome by pleasure and your words slip past your lips without even thinking of them first, “Oh my– Fuck! George, your fingers feel so fucking good.”

His fingers are slipping in and out of you with ease from how wet you are, your hips erratically moving as he thrusts them inside you to meet him in the middle. “That’s it, cum on them baby.”

The dirty talk has you completely fucked over, “George, I’m so– Fuckkkk!” You can’t help but scream out when he pushes a third finger inside you, feeling completely stuffed with him.

It feels so good how much he’s opening you up, and he’s loving the way whenever he pulls his fingers back your walls push him off so he has to slowly sink his fingers deep inside your cunt again. “I know, I can feel you clenching hard around them.” You’re squeezing his fingers so tight, his throat goes dry just thinking about how good you’re gonna feel milking his cock, “Can’t wait to fill you up and feel how tight you’re around my cock baby.”

You agree, so drunk in pleasure you just want to feel even more of him, “I need you. George, I need–”

But he tuts before you can complete your mumbled sentence, “You’re cumming on my fingers first.” You’re about to cry out like a brat, about to beg for him to stuff you up with his big cock but his words beat yours, “Come on baby, give it to me like the good girl you are.”

His voice is low in your ear, so sultry and inviting you feel it deep in your core and you just can’t say no. Not when you’re gonna earn his praise, those words he says that have you wrapped around his little finger.

So you let go. Your toes curl as his fingers keep pumping in and out of you, hitting that spot perfectly for your to see stars as you come, white heat enveloping you and taking ahold of your entire body as you cum, “Fuck, fuck! Oh– George!”

“That’s it, baby. So fucking stunning.” He encourages, watching his fingers continue to disappear inside your tightening cunt, your legs shaking and your hips moving clumsily to meet his hand. He gets impossibly hard at the sight of it all, biting his bottom lip as he moans.

You gush all over him, slick drenching his hand and dripping down your cunt onto the duvet. He can’t let it go to waste, so he pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean, moaning around them when he tastes you again.

So fucking sweet. He needed more.

You feel his fingers gathering your mess and you manage to peel your eyes open to watch as he sucks it all off his fingers again.

Shamelessly, you just watch as he dips down time and time again until he deems his work of cleaning you up done, the last one being offered out to you and you obey enthusiastically, wrapping your lips around his fingers and sinking your mouth on them to suck them clean the best you can. Your eyes stay on his as you do so, moaning loudly around them while you batted your lashes at him, just fully putting a show on for him.

The view makes George’s cock twitch, a bead of precum leaking from his head. He reaches out behind you for the forgotten camera and when you’re trying to catch your breath, eyes closed in bliss, he takes a picture of you.

Your eyes snap open at the sound of the shutter going off and you look at him all startled like you need an explanation.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” He quickly justifies, lifting the device back up to his eyes and adjusting the focus to take another one as he adds, “All fucked out. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Stop.” You whine when the shutter goes off again, hand coming up to grab at the lenses and forcing him to put it down, “I must look a mess.”

His head shakes in disagreement, tongue swiping at his bottom lip with his eyes drinking you in all over again, “You don’t. You look hot.” Skin glowing due to the thin layer of sweat your activities have caused, lips swollen and wet, your chest heaving and flushed, the gorgeous pattern of every bruise he’s sucked on your skin which are darkening more and more, hair disheveled and splayed over the pillows.

“I’m confiscating this.” It’s the brief ultimatum you give him, grabbing the camera and turning the action on him instead.

You take just one picture of him and he allows it, only to then complain by saying, “You have enough of me.” and taking the camera back.

Rolling your eyes, you fake being annoyed and kiss him quickly before pushing yourself up and off the bed, telling him, “Gonna go to the bathroom.” making a beeline for your wardrobe and getting yourself a new pair of underwear first, adjusting the cups of your bra so they hold your breasts again.

It isn’t longer than five minutes that you take, coming back to him wearing his boxers again and laying over the bedsheets—he’s discarded the duvet and left it a big crumpled knot on the floor by the foot of the bed—, a hand behind his head whilst the other is scrolling on his phone.

His position looks inviting, so you crawl on the bed and sit on his lap with a mischievous smile on your face. You reach out to get the camera he has placed on the bedside table at the same time as he drops his phone there and his hands go up to hold your hips.

“Put your hands behind your head again.” You instruct him softly, almost a mutter that sounds so shy, the corner of his lips tug into a smirk.

You take a picture of him like that and another when he runs a hand through his hair but you stop when his hands come back to grab at your skin, going from your waist until they softly come down to rest at your hips.

With a soft squeeze on your sides, he tilts his head to ask, “Am I allowed to smoke?” to which you nod and get off him to open the windows and get him a cigarette and a lighter.

Getting back on top of him, you place the cigarette between his lips but before you can give him the lighter, you grab the camera again just so you can capture the moment he ignites it alive.

George looks so fucking hot lighting it up: cheeks hollowing ever so slightly, brows furrowing, long fingers that make the lighter look minuscule in his hand, lips pursed around the stick.

You snap away and capture the moment he blows out the smoke upwards, before taking another drag and then blowing it in your direction.

The familiar scent of the tobacco and just how arousing you’re finding it all, impulses you to start moving your hips slowly on him. The sudden movement makes his breath hitch in his throat, causing him to erupt in coughs when the smoke goes up the wrong hole. He had been half hard beneath you when you sat on his lap, so you can’t really hold back from wanting to have him in a new way now.

That’s when you guide his hand to your mouth so he can place the cigarette in between your lips for you to take a drag. His mouth opens agape as you do so, the rolling of your hips only growing more intent and he starts twitching and getting harder in his boxers.

He can feel your heat, the way you’re wetting your underwear and starting to wet his own, the pulsing of your swollen clit. He can see how your nipples grow hard through the lace of your bra, and the way goosebumps rise in your skin as you go. Soft gasps that turn into hush whimpers that he wants so badly to turn into those loud moans of yours that he’s quite enjoying getting drunk on.

“Have you brought a condom?” You ask breathlessly, camera being once again forgotten somewhere on the bed for you to be able to rest your hands on his chest as leverage.

A flip switches inside George, the simple hint of him finally being able to sink himself deep inside you making his blood rush down to his cock.

“Yeah.” He nods eagerly and it’s a relief when you quickly get off him so he can rush to get it, not without going up to your dresser so he can put out the cigarette on the ashtray that’s laid there by your jewelry.

He had thought it was foolish of him to pocket a couple condoms before he left his flat earlier today, fully scorning himself for being so ridiculous as to assume you would want to shag after your date but oh was he glad he had still done it right then.

Condom in hand, George goes back to the bed but not without shedding himself off his boxers first. You bite your bottom lip as you get your bra off to throw it on the floor behind you, seeing him wrap his hand around his length and pump it slowly as he watches you almost naked figure. Your hands go down to your hips so you can quickly tug down your underwear, eagerly taking it off and throwing it on the same spot on the floor you had dropped your bra.

Crawling up to the edge of the bed, you hum as you watch him stroke himself up and down, your mouth watering for another taste of him. So when you get right in front of him, you dip your head down until your mouth is right before his hardening cock and sticking your tongue out, you lick at his head slowly.

He grows heavier on your tongue as you go, twitching in your mouth when you wrap your lips around him again, his head thrown back at the feeling of your wet mouth enclosed around him and sucking him off patiently.

But he has to use an incredible amount of self restraint to pull you off him, a hand delicately coming around your neck to have you let go off his cock with a pop and pull you up to face him.

“I’m fucking you now.”

George isn’t asking, he’s simply informing you and that makes you squirm under his gaze in anticipation. Thighs pressing together and eyes drinking in the way lust makes his behavior change. But you want a bit of control, even if it’s just for him to ruin you.

“Can I ride you?” You ask innocently, puppy eyes that you pray will get your a yes.

You take the way he pulls you in for a messy kiss as one.

In no time he’s laying on his back with his head resting on the pillows, teeth ripping the condom wrapper open while your hand wraps around him, waiting for him to put the latex on. The anticipation grows and hangs in the air like a heavy cloud as George rolls it down his length, sighing at the feeling of it around him.

You catch a glimpse of your camera through the corner of your eye and you can’t help but think there won’t be a better thing than capturing his pure ecstasy in a picture so you grab it before you straddle him again.

You lift the camera up to your eyes with one hand while the other gets ahold of his cock to line him up, rubbing his head on your clit and making yourself gasp at the feeling. You clench around nothing as you do so, and you can already feel yourself drenched.

Even after he’s stretched you out with his fingers, it’s slightly challenging for you to take him when you start sinking onto him.

Your jaw drops in a silent gasp when every inch of him starts stretching you out, eyes watering at the initial sting. Your eyes want to flutter closed at the feeling but you do your best to not let them close entirely so you can capture the way he groans loudly with his head thrown back as you let your cunt swallow him whole.

Breath hitching in your throat, you sink down completely until you can feel him so deep a pathetic cry of pleasure slips past your lips.

You draw your hips up and back down on him slowly, testing the waters on his size and what angle is good for you to feel the best. You’re both a mess of loud moans at the feeling. He’s so big, he’s filling you up in a way you’ve never felt before so your walls are clenching hard around him which has his head spinning.

“You–” George breathes out, hands flying to your hips and clutching them so tightly just to show how bad he’s holding himself back from just thrusting up into you, or better yet just flipping you around and fucking you into the mattress.

“Fuck–, I know. I know.” You say in a high pitch tone. One of your hands falls to rest flat on his chest and use as support, “I– oh, fuck…” You curse as you roll your hips forwards and then backwards this time, making you completely still at the insane sensory overdrive you’re getting from it.

George knows you need a second or two but you stay frozen for longer than he can hold so he pleads, “Baby– Fuck, baby, I need you to move, you’re so tight.”

“Just–” You try to say, rolling your hips again and mewling loudly. George moans back in response, his hands sliding down to your thighs as your head hangs in pleasure.

You establish a slow place, George’s fingers digging into the flesh of your upper thighs grounding you into the moment and allowing you to take another picture. A picture that captures your legs on each sides of his toned chest, his fingers digging into your skin, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps back a moan, the box tattoo on his thumb right next to the red ink of your ‘Divine Feminine’ tattoo on your thigh.

But after you press the shutter on that one, barely being able to clumsily roll the film, you just toss the camera to the side mindlessly and use your new free hand to rest on his chest as well, and the second hand of support helps you start moving your hips faster.

It’s fucking delicious the way he keeps hitting your g-spot from that angle, and when he starts bucking his hips upwards, meeting your in the middle, you can’t hold back the noises you let out. “George, fuck baby! Oh fuckkkk.” You cry out, clit feeling a bit of pressure every time you roll down and hit your pelvis, so you’re fully drunk on pleasure.

His hands run up from your thighs to mercilessly grab your ass, fingers harshly digging into your skin and stinging just in the best way. “Just like that baby. You feel so fucking good.” He praises you with a groan, helping you actually lift your hips up and down on him.

“You’re so– Oh fuck–” You’re so cock drunk, your thoughts are all stupid and leaving you without even being able to finish a sentence.

“Tight little cunt, can barely fit inside you.” George can feel himself meeting the hilt inside you every time, your cries growing in volume the faster the pace gets. “You love it huh, being filled to the brim?”

“Yes, fuck! Yes, I love it, love your cock!” You’re dripping all over him, the noise of the wetness and your skin slapping every time you meet bouncing off the walls and, combined with your moans, makes for a pornographic scene you wish you were recording.

“I know you can go faster. Can you do that for me, baby?” George genuinely can feel himself not lasting any longer with how tight you’re squeezing him.

“I can, I can.” You promise desperately, wanting to be good for him. So you pick up your pace, your hands moving ever so slightly so you can straighten up a bit and when you do so you curse out loud at the new angle, “Ah fuck!”

Your hips grow erratic, your knees helping now when you bounce up and down his cock ever so more intently, enough for you to incessantly gasp in a high pitch every time he hits that spot.

“Such a good girl for me.” His hands stop groping your ass to spank you, making you jolt forward with a loud gasp that turns into a mewl and a whine that tries to pass as a ‘yes’. His cock twitches inside you at that reaction so he does it again and again, feeling your walls flutter around him with every hit, “You're squeezing me so fucking tight, baby. Gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Yeah, yes…” You gasp, and if you hadn’t been so adamant on chasing your high, you would’ve noticed George quickly getting the camera and snapping a picture of you riding him. Hair a mess covering up your face but your mouth wide open in a moan, tits bouncing as you ride him, hands on his chest as support.

He’s just about managed to put the camera back down when he feels you squeezing him the tightest and that’s when you finally cum. “George! George! Ge–” You cry out his name like a prayer until it breaks down into a loud moan that tips him over the edge along with your cunt milking him dry into the condom as you sloppily continue to ride him.

“Fuck! Y/N!” George moans loudly, his hands going to your ass again to help you continue as he cums, his cock twitching the more he spurts into the condom, sweet relief making him see stars.

Unable to uphold yourself any longer, you collapse over him, chests heaving in sync as you both come down from your highs. It’s hard catching your breaths when your skin burns from the heat and sticks from the sweat. And George knows you’re rather uncomfortable from the way you groan into him, your fingers lazily trying to brush the hair out of your face but huffing as it sticks to your sweaty forehead.

He brushes your hair back, fingers delicately grazing your face and earning a soft smile and a sigh from you. But then his hold goes down to your hips so he can lift you up and off himself to set you beside him. You whine and pout at the loss of him, feeling so empty after he’s stuffed you to the brim.

You don’t even try to open your eyes, completely spent from your activities and snuggling into the pillows to find some comfort in your post orgasm haze.

George sits up on the edge of your bed and sheds himself off the condom, tying it so he can throw it away, and groaning as he pushes himself off the bed to make his way to the bathroom.

He takes about five minutes there and when he comes back into the room, he smiles, finding a sleepy you struggling to keep your eyes open and smirking at him. He giggles as he walks up to bed and after taking your camera and placing it on one of the bedside tables, he carries your bridal style to take you to the bathroom.

Yes you’re still on cloud nine after that orgasm but you still have a bit of sense in you then so, after thanking him with a kiss, you tell George you’re alright from there and he can wait for you in bed.

You only realize what you’d said as you wash your hands after peeing and you’re cringing just thinking about him being gone once you go back into the room. But you find that he hasn’t left and instead, he’s gone under the bedsheets and is waiting for you to cuddle up to him so you can get some rest.

You giggle like a fool when you get under the sheets and he hooks his arm around your waist to push you flush against him, your back pressed to his chest and he nuzzles into your neck from behind. Your legs tangle together and your breaths sync and slow down as the minutes go by until you succumb to their slumber.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

It’s bright outside when you wake up with the horrendous need to go to the bathroom, one that you’d been sleepily ignoring for a while but that had become too unbearable to endure anymore.

George has his hand around your waist and his leg thrown over yours, effectively keeping you trapped in his hold in bed, so you try to very slowly peel yourself away from him to escape to the toilet.

You’re careful so that you don’t wake him up just yet, but when you manage to get your legs untangled from his, he stirs and grumbles, “Where are you trying to go?” throwing his leg over yours again, his arm wrapping tighter around your waist making you chuckle.

“Bathroom.” You mumble as you try to get away again but he’s stubbornly holding you even tighter to him.

You feel him shake his head as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, a soft “No.” falling in your ears that makes you sigh.

“George.” You say softly to not disrupt the silence in the room, but he doesn’t reply so you try again a little louder this time, “George.” Once again, no response, so you end up whining, “Babyyyy.”

To the nickname he does listen, but his response is just a muttered, “Mhm?”

You turn around in his arms with a bit of struggle, cupping his face and pecking his lips a handful of times so he takes it as enough bribery to listen to you, “Please let me go. I’ll just be a minute.”

George steals one last long peck from you before smiling loopily and nodding, “Okay.”

He lazily retracts his limbs to let you get up freely from the bed, and though he’s fighting his sleep, he manages to peel his eyes open for long enough to watch your naked figure walk away from the bed and into your ensuite.

Keeping track of time is impossible to him when his eyes close again after you leave his line of sight, and he only opens his eyes again when he hears you giggle softly at the sight of him in your bed as you walk back to bed.

“You took longer than a minute.” He points out with his eyes still closed.

You snort and half heartedly apologize, “Sorry, I’m sore.”

His hand comes up to rub at his eyes, and when he does so, he sees the state in which you’ve come back so he frowns and tells you to, “Stop right there.” He sounds so serious, an amused smirk shows on your face because you have no idea what he’s about to say. An accusing finger waves in the air in your direction and he calls you out, “Why are you wearing a robe?”

“Shut up.” You say instantly when hearing that’s what is making him frown, your eyes rolling playfully at him.

“Get that off now.” He instructs but you take another step towards the bed with no intention of taking it off and he grumbles, “Y/N/N…” with a more stern tone that makes you too flustered for this time of day.

“You’re annoying.” You complain with a roll of your eyes, still listening to him and slowly undoing the knot that kept your robe closed, making it a little show as you open it up and let it fall off your body and pool at your feet on the floor.

Of course, George smirks at the sight and he has no shame in looking you up and down with hunger now shining on his sleepy eyes, his cock twitches just by seeing you naked in front of him again. Fuck, you’re stunning.

“Come here gorgeous.” The drummer invites you back into his arms and you don't have to be told twice for you to go back to bed and be the little spoon for him. You’d had such good sleep being completely enveloped in him, heavy limbs acting like a weighted blanket on you and it was utter bliss.

But after seeing you naked again, skin littered with love bites he had left all over your, hair messy and tits perky and bouncing as you walked, George feels the need to show you a bit more of the appreciation he had shown you the day before.

His hand brushes your hair to the side so he can have access to the skin on the back of your neck. Goosebumps breaking on the skin there when he starts pressing open mouthed kisses on it, fingers ghostly running down your back and stopping right on your lower back that had your back arching into him. Your ass grazed his cock every time, making it twitch and start to harden.

In search of friction, he pushes his hips forward and you reciprocate by pressing your ass against him. He keeps his actions going and sets a pace that the two of you keep up, mewling out loud when his hardening cock comes in contact with your cunt, “Hmm, George.”

“Yes, baby?” His lips brush against your skin, a shiver running down your spine and making you shudder, “You’re so fucking beautiful, please let me make you feel good.”

“Yeah…” You nod quickly, it’s a no-brainer. Your breath gets caught in your throat when he pushes his hips forwards again at the same time as you do and the tip of his cock presses on your clit.

“Yes?” He moans in your ear, hand coming around your front to play with your tits, “Can I make you cum again, sweetheart?”

You eagerly nod, swallowing a moan as he pinches your nipple and when he cup your whole tit with one hand, kneading it harshly, your “Please.” came out in the form of a whine.

“Good girl. M’gonna make you feel so good baby, I promise.” His hand continues playing with your tits as you keep grinding on each other. When his cock is hard enough, you feel it come up to rest heavily between his lower stomach and your lower back, and it’s then that he lets his fingers trail down until they hover over your mound and he breathlessly asks, “D’you trust me?”

“Yeah, George…” You’re basically pleading with him to continue, hand coming to clutch his and guide his fingers down to your soaked cunt and when he feels just how wet you are, he groans and pulls away.

“Wait.” George instructs you, leaving you alone on the bed to get a condom. You hear the wrapper rip and him moaning as he puts the condom on, stroking himself up and down a few times before he tugs the sheets off you and turns you from your side to your front so you’re face down and he can hover over you from behind.

His knees are on either side of your hips, forearms pressed on the mattress next to your shoulders and he kisses and sucks all over your back as he praises you for how gorgeous you are over and over.

He keeps bruising you up until you push your ass up and beg him to do something, the ache in your cunt too unbearable.

So George lets go of the patch of skin he’s bruising and does as you ask for, spreading your legs open as he kneels in between them and rubs his tip up and down your slit.

“Don’t tease, please.” You cry into the mattress, your cunt fluttering around nothing and it’s painful knowing just how good he felt inside you but he isn’t allowing you to feel it yet.

But then he just let himself slowly slip inside you and his jaw falls at your tightness in that angle, “Oh Y/N/N… Fuck me.” He feels like he can barely fit in, but you’re dripping with slick so it makes it a bit easier for him to slowly bottom out.

“George–” You choke out, head turning to the side to catch a glimpse of him. Your fingers clawing at the sheets beside your head for dear life.

“I know. You’re so tight.” He whimpers in pleasure, barely able to move an inch out of you because you’re so snug it feels like you’re pushing him out.

“Move baby, please.” You beg again and he starts going then, a slow pace at first that grows in speed rather quickly and has your cursing out loud, “Fuckkkkk!”

He gasps into your ear with every thrust, and it’s soon that the sound of your skin slapping drowns the room along with your moans. “Gonna miss this tight little cunt so much.” He says into your neck, sucking a bruise on the back of it before asking, “Gonna miss me too?”

“Ye– Yes! Oh shit baby!” You gasp when he hooks his left arm under your leg, pulling it upwards slowly and allowing you to stretch a bit more so you feel him even deeper, “Gonna miss you so much!”

He chuckles smugly, “I know you will.”

“Oh fuck!” You curse as he hits your g-spot perfectly from that angle, his hips hitting your ass and reminding you of how sore the skin there is from the spanking he gave you the night before. “Yes, yes! Don’t stop, please!”

“If you could only see yourself right now!” He curses under his breath when he looks down to see himself disappear into your cunt, over and over. If he keeps looking at how he keeps sliding in and out of you so easily, he will burst right then so he looks back up to your face and praises you once more, “Taking me so well, baby. You’re such a good girl.”

“Harder, please.” You ask in a whine, and he stills for just a second to get a better standing on his knees before giving it to you like you were begging to, making you instantly get even louder when he hits that sweet spot with more intensity, “Oh my– Fuck! Right there, yes!”

“Just like that, yeah?” His smirk grows on his face, feeling how it keeps getting easier to slide inside you which means you’re fucking drenched and dripping all over him, your walls fluttering around him already making him see stars.

“Yes! Yes!” You chant like a broken record, the coil in your lower stomach tightening by the second and threatening to snap at any moment, “I’m so close!”

His left arm lifts your leg even higher and then leaves it there to be able to bring his fingers down to rub at your clit and send you over the edge, “C’mon baby, cum for me sweetheart!” He encourages you as he rubs fast circles on your throbbing clit, which earns him choked out moans that turn into a throat ripping moan of, “F-fuckkkk! George!”

George feels you squeeze him so tightly as you cum, making it so much harder for him to continue thrusting in and out without losing the rhythm he’s set, he can’t hold it any longer, his hips stuttering as he cums and stilling as he spills his seed in the condom, “Ah shit! Y/N!”

His thrusts become sloppy and messy as he tries to ride out your highs while you spasm around him, whimpering as the aftershocks of your orgasm have your legs trembling under him and your white knuckle grip on the sheets falters.

Letting his weight fall over you almost entirely, George sighs in complete bliss and he kisses the back of your head and your cheek multiple times to say, “Did so good for me, sweetheart.” He drops a kiss on your lips and praises you once more, “My good pretty girl.”

The way he speaks to you makes your stomach flutter, and he feels it when you clench around him. “You like that huh?” He teases with a smirk, his nose brushing up your neck until he comes up to your ear and bites your earlobe to which you mewl in response.

He pulls out, hearing you whine when you feel upsettingly empty again but he rubs circles on your hips soothingly and asks, “Shall we go take a shower? Do you want me to help you up?”

You barely manage to reply with a quiet, “Mhm…” when a loud ringing snaps the two of you out of your wonderful post orgasm bubble.

You don’t really recognize the ringing so you figure it’s George’s phone. Yet, the drummer doesn’t make an attempt to go and get it, as he flops beside you in bed for a second before pushing himself off the bed and sheds himself off the condom you just used.

He gets up to discard it in the bathroom and just as he crosses the threshold of the ensuite, he hears his phone start ringing again. He fully ignores it again, taking his time in the bathroom until he hears you call out for him to pick up the unrelenting calls.

A grunt leaves his lips when he comes back to the room and picks up the phone only to read his sister’s name on the screen so he answers with a meek, “Y’alright?” to let her know he isn’t in the mood for the constant ringing.

You hear pure silence surrounding you for a good half minute before George sighs out an annoyed, “Fucks sake.” Opening your eyes to see him, you move onto your side to watch him as he speaks. “Right now? Really?” He asks, entirely unamused. “Yeah, really busy actually.” He says sternly, looking at you naked in front of him with wide eyes. That makes you purse your lips not to laugh but what gets the giggles out of you is when he sighs loudly and mutters, “I hate you.” to whoever it is on the phone.

It’s barely another half minute that he listens to whoever is on the other side, before he ends the call with an impatient, “Yeah, yeah. Sure. See ya’.”

“What’s wrong?” You ask curiously, your fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

George rolls his eyes at the situation, “My sister needs me for something. She says it’s urgent but I doubt it.” He shrugs then, ignoring the importance of whatever it was his sister needed him for, he had only been half listening really. “I can stay though, it wouldn’t be the first time I ignore her.”

That has you snorting in laughter, “Go, you idiot.”

“But–” He tries to argue as he comes to hover over you, head dipping to steal a kiss out of you which you break after a few seconds by pushing his shoulders softly so you can reassure him it’s fine. After all, you had really enjoyed yourself so you’re genuinely considering another date with him.

“It’s okay. I had the best time with you, and that’s all I wanted.” Your hands come to the back of his head, fingers digging into the hair at the nape of his neck and scratching his scalp softly.

George clicks his tongue and he pouts to joke, “Knew you only wanted me for my body.”

You cackle at his antics and tell him to “Shut up.” only to do it yourself by pulling him into you so you can share one last kiss. It’s sweet but it isn’t soft, your lips moving together with intent as if to prove you need to do it again because it’s just too good.

But you have to stop it before it can turn into something more. You pull on his hair so your lips separate with a smack and, with the sweetest smile and looking at him with doe eyes, you say, “Thank you, George.”

“I had the best time Y/N/N.” He replies wholeheartedly then, agreeing with your previous point.

“Me too.” You nod softly to reiterate, your hands coming back down to cup his jaw, thumbs rubbing circles on his skin.

One last short kiss is all you get in that bed before you both stand up and get dressed. Well, George does, in the same getup as the day before, while you put your robe back on and tie it around yourself slowly as he finishes getting his shoes on.

“I’ll see you soon for a second date, yeah?” He says when you walk him to the door, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“You definitely will.” You assure, knowing you’d be texting him very soon about a second date if he doesn’t text you first about it.

He winks right as he opens the door, stealing one last peck from your lips before walking away. Leaving you with a stupid smile on your face that only gets bigger when you close the door behind you and go back to your room, seeing the mess you had left the bed looking like.

Yes, you were definitely going on a second date with him.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

A/N: What did you think? Hope you lot enjoyed it! Thank you for reading, I'm so excited to see your reactions! xx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @kennedy-brooke @drinkurkombucha @vinylandcoffeecollection @butyou-callmewhenyourebored

#george daniel #george #daniel #the 1975 #george the 1975 #george daniel the 1975 #george daniel smut #george daniel fluff #george daniel fic #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel fanfic #george daniel one shot #george daniel blurb #george daniel imagine #george daniel drabble #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #george daniel x y/n #matty healy #adam hann #ross macdonald

[lottiecrabie]

bartender george blurb please i'm begging please please please u know who this is Asking

i will do crazy things for a bartender!george blurb before you leave us

bartender!george warriors are Lucky it’s my bff’s birthday and they’re one of yall🕺

shift drink has the usual suspects scattered across some tables, nursing a beer or a glass of wine. normally, you’d be sitting across veronica, advising her on her tinder swiping and laughing at adam’s poor attempts at avoiding participation in this mating ritual. you’d twirl a blue umbrella in your sex on the beach, and wince when a man showing off a fish would appear on veronica’s screen.

this time, you sit across george, his forearms on the bar showing off tatted skin and glinting silver rings, looking you directly in the eyes with that intense gaze of his, and not down the cleavage you’re purposefully trying to show off.

‘so?’ his grin teases at the corner of his lips. ‘opinions?’ his new cocktail idea resides in a tall glass in front of you, half downed and sticking to your lipgloss.

you hum, faking some sort of deep reflection, as though you haven’t started drinking for the first time merely six weeks ago. the entirety of your knowledge in cocktails start and end with whatever he decides to serve you. still, you say, ‘i like it. very flowery.’

‘it’s not too intense?’

‘not to me.’ then you smirk, cheeky. ‘but i’m a very intense girl.’

george snorts. ‘that so?’

you gape in faux offense. ‘you don’t believe me,’ you say, accusatory.

‘apologies, sweets, it’s just that you’re— you know.’ his hand— your eyes jump to those ringed fingers, long and rough— wave vaguely.

you arch an eyebrow. ‘what?’

‘well,’ he says, and his shiteating grin shows he’s not even a bit bashful in saying it, ‘a bit sheltered. y’know, daddy’s girl.’

a secret part of you tenses and melts at the words, slithering up the muscles of your legs. it hits to your core, where something shameful and hot grows. a bigger part of you feels the telltale signs of competitiveness buzz under your skin. you set your eyes on him with a challenge.

you down the remainder of your drink in one long mouthful, glad for the sugary taste of it drowning out the bitter vodka. you slam the glass back on the counter, jump off the stool and stare at george, absolute. ‘maybe i am. want to find out?’ george chokes on his own breath, and just that reaction could be enough.

you don’t wait for an answer, too afraid of losing your cool. you practically flee out of the dining room, walking down the hallway to the safety of the dry storage. you wait there a moment, back to the door, feigning not to be listening for the sound of his steps, not to be hoping. your heart slams in your chest. god, why did you do that? you’re so stupid—

the door cracks open and slams closed. you smile, spinning with bone-deep relief, with thrilling excitement. his eyes are dark and intense, staring with that uneasy way of undressing, unspooling, unmaking. he sees through your bones and you can tell he wants what’s underneath.

‘did you—‘

‘yes,’ you cut, eager to get to it. ‘what are you gonna do about it?’

‘depends. are you gonna be sweet for me, sweets?’

you cock your head, teasing, ‘gonna make me?’

george is on you in a second, lips catching yours as you crash against the nearest shelves. he pins you in place, hands flying to your waist, digging under your shirt. you barely have enough place to arch your back into them, to invite him in. he crushes you against his body, against the metal, while he steals and steals and steals from you. breath, moans, the letters of his name. licks them all up until you lose your head, then goes down your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

your shirt is off and your bra cups down before you’re aware of what’s going on, and now george’s head is bent to your breasts, sucking a nipple and teasing the other with his hand. your head bangs against a shelf with a guttural groan. ‘fuck, george.’

he hums, coming back up, though already busy with hiking your skirt up your thighs. ‘thought you were gonna be daddy’s girl?’ your cheeks heat when confronted with your previous bravado. ‘what?’ he pouts, a little mocking. ‘too intense?’

‘fuck me,’ is all you answer, his teasing having made you horribly wet and needy. you rake your nails through his short buzzcut.

he grips your thighs and picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. your ass half hangs off a shelf, another one digging into your back. you barely feel them, too busy with him unbuckling his belt. your core drips at the mere sight, needing him so thoroughly it threatens to make you crazy.

‘ask nicely.’ you shiver at the sound of his voice, authoritative and demanding. you grind your hips into his as best you can, though the angle is awkward and not enough to get you off.

‘please,’ you whisper. he gives you a look, unimpressed. ‘fuck, i—‘ you shake your head. his finger pushes your underwear aside and finds your clit, rubbing it as added argument. with a moan, your eyelashes flutter at him, playing a part. ‘i need you, daddy. i’ve been wet every time i see you. just thinking of you and i— oh!‘ george slams into you with a groan.

you cling onto his back, digging into the fabric of his shirt, trying to hold on as he bucks into you fast and wild. you cry in his shoulder, trying and failing to catch your breath, to get used to him.

his head falls to your neck, sucking and biting. you moan in his ear, something primal waking inside of you at the thought of him marking you. of being his. he licks his branding, whispering in your ear, ‘should’ve told me my little girl needed me. didn’t mean to leave her all wet every day.’

he raises you up higher, changing the angle until he hits a spot that has you gasping for air. you tremble under his fingers and they dig into your skin, keeping you in place, leaving new branding marks to revel in later. he’ll be everywhere on you, in you.

‘gonna take care of you,’ george promises. ‘gonna fuck you all dumb and drooling to make up for those times, baby.’

you pull his face closer, burying a moan into his parted lips. ‘make me your girl.’

he snorts. ‘i don’t have to.’ he grins, cheeky, ‘you already are.’ his mouth crashes against you. you lose sense of coherent thought.

george fucks you until you’re whining and babbling, stringing swear words and begs in-between equal amounts of georges and daddys. he relishes in all of them, kissing and groaning at them, muttering sweet promises into your skin, as if planting the seeds into your very pores.

‘come for me,’ george pants. ‘come for daddy.’ you’re putty in his hands, only held up by him and the shelf banging against the wall. ‘wanna see you fall apart on my cock. wanna feel you.’ he groans, a hand flying up and digging into your cheeks. ‘god, you’re so goddamn sweet.’

as if trying to make him right, you come between two moans, shaking and crying for him. still, the pleasure somehow takes you by surprise, and you’re knocked off axis just by the sheer intensity of it.

george follows right after you, yelling your name as he spills inside of you, still buried so deep you have to assume he’s just fiending for another way to mark you.

you stay there as you catch your breath. finally, he slip out of you, letting your underwear fall back in place to keep his cum from running down your legs. he kisses your cheek, then pulls your skirt down and your bra cups up.

‘did so well for me, sweets,’ he coos. ‘such a good girl for daddy.’ you preen under his words, grinning up at him. ‘now let’s get you home so i can keep my promises.’

‘promises?’ you gasp, head flashing with filthy fantasies.

his smirk is dangerous. ‘don’t think for a moment i’m done with you.’

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY ILY #ask #blurb #bartender!au #george daniel x reader #george daniel smut #smut

[cowboylor]

cabin fever

the studio begins to feel small with george and matty. 

wc: 4k

warnings: (18+) smut, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, threesome, voyeurism, degradation, thigh riding, teasing, smoking, consensual workplace relations? (matty and reader have an implied situationship)

note: this is only what i can describe as a doozy

You’ve asked Matty three times already if he wanted you to go on another coffee run and he’s dismissively waved you off with a grumble each time. This leaves you with no choice but to perch on the edge of the couch, picking your nails and listening to the same demo blast through the speakers for the past three hours. 

Matty’s brow furrows. “Play it back.”

George sighs but relents by pressing the playback button.

He runs his hands over his face, muttering, “’s not like it changed from the last ten times we’ve listened to it.” 

Huffing, you shift in your seat. 

You’re past trying to get comfortable and past the hopeful idea you could rest your eyes until they’ve finished editing. The repeated track gives you a headache and only reinstates the thought that you really don’t know what else Matty needs you here for.

Sparing him a glance, you watch him mouth along to both lyrics and rhythm, tapping his fingers against the desk as he searches for anything he dislikes about the track.

You lean back. This day really should be over.

Daydreaming about a shower and your freshly-washed duvet cover has been the only thing keeping you sane throughout the day. Your errand running has proved to be your least favorite thing about being his assistant but the most needed thing when it came to perfectionist musicians. 

You glance outside the hallway to see the darkening window. You have to be the only three left in the studio. Every other member of their congregation has gone home by now.

Matty and George have a hushed conversation five feet away from you. Their secrecy has you rolling your eyes.

You pick and rub your eyes.

“I think we’re in for it,” George says finally, fidgeting with one of the many buttons across the set up until the song is paused. 

You perk up. “I’ll get coffee.”

“Don’t need you to get coffee,” Matty huffs at your constant insistence. You’re moving to grab your keys and bag anyway when he turns his chair to look at you. “I need you here.”

You meet his stare blankly, clutching your keys in your hand as he scolds you. George turns to eye both of of you, then shoots you a pointed look as if to say Don’t push it. 

“Why?” You groan.

Matty lights a cigarette and waves it in his hand for effect. “Unbiased opinion, secondary source, untrained ear–” You don’t give him the smile he’s looking for. “–my muse.”

You chuckle sardonically, repeating his words syllable by syllable, “My muse.”

He exhales smoke, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards as you also fight off an amused grin. He looks handsome like this; with his under eyes slightly drawn out and his hair free of gel. You would’ve told him so if not George being in the room.

“Exactly, love.” He nods.

You want to argue that you can’t be his muse or unbiased opinion; you work for him. Your paychecks have his full legal name scribbled at the bottom of the slip. You get him coffee and equipment and pick up his dry cleaning on days he just wants to spite you. But you don't say this–you just watch him watch you.

Turning back, George shakes his head. “Christ.” 

You sigh as they both become preoccupied with the soundboard again. In metaphorically defeat, you drop your purse back on the couch.

+

The untrustworthy coffee machine is your safe haven. You would rather venture into the break room of the studio, under the flickering lights and all, than sit in solitude and listen to Matty and George mess about for another minute. Dragging your feet to the counter, you begin to make a pot. If anything, the coffee-making is for your sanity.

While flicking on the power button, you go over grocery lists, bills, and the dinner reservation you need to cancel for Matty tomorrow.

You watch the dingy pot begin to fill right as the door to the break room creaks open. 

You whip around to see George.

You raise your brow at his uncharacteristic leave. “Hi?”

He wanders into the break room like he’s unsure of himself. His grey sweats hang from his hips and you can make out a flash of skin from when he stretches his arms and his hoodie rides up because of it.

Your face warms.

George looks good. George looks really good. 

“I was going to piss,” He says like he's explaining his departure from the studio. “Then I saw you.” 

“Ah,” You rub your hands over your eyes in a half-hearted attempt to stop your gaze from wandering down to his waistband. “Piss break.”

He laughs and then glances at the brewing pot. His brow furrows: “Fulfilling your unsolicited desire to get coffee?”

“Can’t help it,” You mutter, agitated and sore. “It’s like I have fucking cabin fever or something.”

He nods but then eyes you carefully. You suddenly grow self-conscious over your appearance. Your makeup is bound to be smeared by your constant rubbing and you would say you’re in desperate need of an everything shower, but his eyes still skirt over you slowly–like he’s unapologetically checking you out.

Then he glances at his watch and you can breathe again. 

“Maybe you should go home,” He says sympathetically in a way that has you shaking your head. Then in reference to Matty adds, “He’ll get over it.” 

“Not at this point,” You huff a laugh, craning your neck to stare up at him directly. “I’m no quitter, George.”

A brief pause.

His eyes give you the up-down again. “I believe it.” 

Coffee filters loudly to make up the silence between the two of you. 

“Well,” You say, switching off the machine and gathering three cups in hopes of looking busy. “I hope you have a great piss.”

He chuckles wryly. “I’ll try my best.” 

You shake your head when he leaves, pouring questionable brew into styrofoam cups and muttering a string of “Fuck me”’s.

+

The coffee was left untouched by Matty and you know he’s purposefully ignoring it just to irritate you. George takes occasional sips from the small cup if only to humor you. 

Your eyes are closed by this point; listening to every word, pitch, and musical texture there is drone from the speakers of this godforsaken studio. 

“Shit,” Matty curses after the demo nears an end. “Let’s scrap it–Deal with it later.”

“Later is now.” George bites back. 

You hear a click and the track falls silent.

“Then, fuck,” Matty’s frustrated laugh rings out. “I don’t know. Maybe we need to try something new.”

For a moment, there’s silence in the room. Pure, unfiltered silence that makes your chest swell with satisfaction and gives your budding headache momentarily relief.

Wait. 

Your brow quirks up in confusion. Raising your head from the cushion you open your eyes slowly. When you see the joints in their hands, you roll your eyes so far back it aches.

“You’re joking,” You mumble, tucking your knees to your chest as you nestle further into the couch. “I’ll never get to leave.” 

“It’s called the creative process, love,” Matty quips without turning around. 

George stretches to pass you the poorly rolled blunt. “Don’t want you to feel left out.”

You accept it begrudgingly, pouting at his slightly facetious expression until he swivels back to the soundboard and you’re left blinking dully at their backs. You lightly suck air through it and then rest your head on the back cushion. 

The demo is being played over again and they bicker when it comes to the last section of notes. 

Another puff. You’re going stir-crazy. 

You watch the clock on the wall until your eyes burn and the ticking begins to sound like the song that’s being blasted through the speakers. 

“The hell am I doing,” You mumble to yourself. You brush your wrinkled clothes down and fix your hair before clearing your throat. “Can I do something other than watch you roll joints and bicker? Be helpful?”

They turn to eye you carefully, finally acknowledging your frustration. 

The corners of Matty’s mouth fight to twist into a smile and you glower at him–always taking the piss out of you when you get like this.  

“What?” You snap.

“Wanna be helpful?” Matty asks.  

George glances over, saying his name as a warning for whatever he might say next. Matty doesn’t acknowledge it, still looking you up and down with a familiar glint in his eye. 

He chuckles, “I know how you can be helpful.”

You grow silent, eyes narrowing and flicking between the two, feeling like you’re being left out on a joke.  

George sighs and shakes his head. “God, you’re a twat.”

“How?” You question, still mildly confused about what exactly he’s implying.

Because he couldn’t be implying that. And if he even is, you’ve never done anything in the studio. With someone like George there. You’re disbelieving; you want to draw it out of him, make him say it. “How can I?”

Matty taps his right thigh. “Take a seat.”

He absolutely could be implying that.

Your jaw hangs open for a second. 

But then, wanting to spite and wipe the shit-eating grin off his face, you wander over to him. Plunking down on his thigh, Matty spins you back into his chair, pressing you against the desk and his chest while he goes back to fiddling with buttons like this isn’t out of the ordinary.

Straddling your employer’s thigh definitely violates all codes of ethics. But none of them feel as entertaining as sitting in Matty's lap.

You try to share a look with George from beside you but he avoids your eyes, instead muttering, “Let’s get back to it, then.”

+

You’re flushed against Matty by the time they’ve moved on from the last demo. Now, they’ve moved onto the particulars and you’re growing a different type of frustrated. 

When Matty talks his breath courses down your neck and makes you feel warm in every way possible. You’re fighting the urge to nestle into him, bury yourself in his neck and be closer to him–until your face grows unbearably warm and you become embarrassed about how just sitting on his lap is drives to this point.

Because this is all a game to him. And you play into it perfectly every time he beckons you.

But George–

George can’t even look at you while you’re on top of Matty; avoiding your eyes altogether and talking brashly to his bandmate like you’re not even there. And you can’t help but subconsciously long for his attention again. Whatever that looked like before–however he was looking at you in the break room.

Matty brushes his hand behind your neck before tsking: “It’s rude to stare, you know.”

You avert your eyes from George.

“While you’re in my lap, too,” He scolds quietly.

He chuckles at the reaction, making shivers travel down your body. 

You shift on his thigh, your body growing intolerant of the compromising position he has you in. You grab onto his arm that holds you at the waist, dragging your nails across his forearm. 

“I’m still your favorite,” His lips find the crest of your ear again to murmur. “Right, babe?”

You bite your lip to silence a whine as his fingers toy with the hem of your skirt. Watching his fingers go lower until your mind starts to cloud.

“You–” You breathe out sharply, brow furrowing as you struggle to not yell at him. “–were never my favorite.”

His laugh even sends chills down your spine and you lean into him, pressing yourself against him in an effort to get any relief for the pooling heat in your stomach. 

“Stop fucking around,” George mumbles more to Matty than to you.

You watch him fiddle with the amp set up beside the desk; you can’t tell if he’s actually unhappy with the sound system they’ve been using for the past ten hours with no complaint or if he’s looking for any reason not to look at you. 

“I’m completely present,” Matty insists, removing his arm from your waist to make an example of being hands-free. “But she can’t help it; I think she has a crush on you.”

You sit up straight at the accusation but find that you have no reason to be embarrassed because Matty’s right–you are in another man’s lap. He toys with the tip of your chin as you do your best to sneer at him.

George glances at you quickly and your cheeks burn. 

“Matt,” He sighs. “Don’t be a dick.”

“’m serious,” Matty defends, looking at your poker face expression you hope comes across as disinterested. You may be sitting in his lap but you’re unbothered by all of it. You’re cool, you’re collected, and you definitely won’t give him the reaction he’s looking for– “Bet she thinks about you fucking her all the time.”

Fuck him. Absolutely fuck him. 

You shift your hips at the thought and roll them against his thigh. His expression remains the same. If not for a sly smirk at your physical reaction because it was a reaction nonetheless.

“Is it true? Think of our George like that?” He teases, tapping a finger against your thigh. “That's so naughty.” 

Heat spreads between your legs and the tips of George's ears turn crimson. 

But now, you can’t help but picture what George would look like when he’s in you. How he would sound, where he would put his hands while he's fucking you. And soon you’re moving against Matty in a way that you wouldn’t have fathomed an hour ago.

“Thoughts?”

Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.

You blink at Matty. “About what?”

“The song,” He says.

You pause, staring at George and his slightly more readable expression as his eyes wander down to your thighs and the way they’re glued to Matty’s. Watching carefully as Matty slips his hand into your skirt to swipe his finger under the elastic band.  

“It’s nice, yeah,” You reply, gasping sharply when Matty prods at your folds. Your eyes flick back to George and he's not looking away this time. You whine when his finger teases over your clit. Arching back into Matty, you mumble through half-lids, “I fucking love it.”

His finger circles in ragged motions, making you jerk into him at an unrhythmic pace that has you uncomfortably screwing your eyes shut in frustration and grabbing him by the arm: “Matty.”

He smirks, knowingly. “Yeah, babe?”

“You're–” You sigh. “You're trying to be annoying.”

He barks a laugh at this, slipping his hand out of your underwear to give you a gentle slap on the thigh.

“Bein' so ungrateful.”

You mewl at the loss of friction but are too proud to beg for it. Your eyes wander back to George and his stiffened stature as he watches you with a slack jaw.

“Grab me that mic, yeah?” Matty says to you as your gaze lowers to George's lap. Sighing, he grabs your chin to redirect your line of sight. “Right over there.”

Right over there happens to be on the other side where George sits. Without thinking too much about it, you’re getting up from Matty's lap and leaning over George to reach it.

You don’t so much apologize for the reach before looking up at him.

“Need anything?” You prod.

His eyes run over you; his gaze dropping down to your disheveled skirt before traveling up to your blown-out expression. You plead with him through your eyes, glancing down to his lap to stare at the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Fuck it,” George exhales, pausing the track with one hand and beckoning you with the other. “C'mere.”

He holds your hand while guiding you on top to straddle him, mumbling in your ear something along the lines of you being a ‘minx’ as you settle in his lap. While your hands go straight to the neckline of his jumper, his go straight to your cunt.

Slipping his fingers past the material, you gasp into his shoulder, breathing out a pitchy ‘oh god’ as he’s quick to work against you.

“Good?” He says, making tight circles around your clit. Then to tease his bandmate, chides, “Better?”

Matty rolls his eyes. "Oh, fuck off."

Numbly, you nod into him, rolling against his fingers as he nips at your neck. Your fingers etch into his neckline, clutching the material like you're desperate to cling to him as he prods at your bundle of nerves.

“Are you going to fuck me?” You ask brashly, through ragged breaths.

You're tired of waiting; you've made it clear for the past three hours.

His chuckle is low against your ear. “Would you like that, sweet girl?”

You assure him you would through hurried moans and shifting your hips against him as he pulls the thin fabric of your underwear to the side. Letting him kiss down the side of your neck, you turn to look at Matty.

He stares at you through parted lips as he watches you get off with his best mate. He gives you a wink before he fishes for some packing paper.

“This alright?” George asks, guiding the tip of his cock into you.

“Yeah,” Your lips are on the cusp of his ear as he does, splitting in two when he pokes at your entrance. “Yes, yes.”

Matty busies himself by rolling another joint, only peering up to watch you sink onto George’s cock. 

A loud moan rips through you, prompting Matty to quip: “Everything alright, love?”

“Fuck off,” You repeat his words back to him through gritted teeth.

He chuckles. “Ever the professional.”

You don't care for his banter right now. Your mind is cloudy and the only thing you can focus on is George's grip on you as the way he raises your hips up to fuck into you.

“You’re huge,” You whine into his ear without thinking too much about it. 

His fingers dig into your waist as you wrap your arms around him. 

“'Told me you weren't a quitter," He mumbles though you can practically hear the smirk threatening to break on his face.

You watch your cunt spread around his cock, over and over again until everything feels white-hot and is searing through your body.

He stills his hands, making you hiss as you let him stretch you out fully. You begin to protest the lack of movement, shifting your hips forward until you whimper at the intensity of it all. Ignoring it, you lift your hips off him again. If George wants you to ride him you will.

But then he slaps your thigh. “Bend over.”

He wraps his arm around you to situate you as you look around the studio. Looking for a place where you could bend over in a practical manner. You furrow your brow, a choked sob buried in your throat as the ache between your legs grows more intense with every passing second of no one touching you.

"Need to be told everything?" George teases, turning you around to push your lower back down into the desk. Bend over meaning here, you think as you rest your burning cheek against the counter. He pushes his hips back into you with a groan. "Bein' so patient."

Patient, patient, patient.

You groan into the desk. You don’t want to be patient anymore.

“Shit.” You hiss as you feel your walls tug onto him greedily. "Please, please, please."

Matty's laugh ringing out makes you tilt your gaze over to him. Smoking surrounds him as he toys with one button on the soundboard (perhaps mockingly) by rolling it on the tip of his finger.

You whine, dipping your head down again as George's hips snap against yours roughly.

Matty whistles, lowly. "Soundin' a little pathetic, love."

The edge of the table is malleable in your grip. You gape at Matty who looks at you with interest. You plead for him with your eyes.

“Matty.”

“Yeah, babe?”

Your nails dig into the wood. “Need you.”

He hums like he's considering. "Need me?"

You don't respond; instead, you chant a chorus of 'please' to George as he grazes that one spot inside you. It makes your eyes roll back and gasp into your hand until you're blinking repeatedly in an effort to see straight.

Only then, Matty's convinced.

He makes a show out of unbuttoning his pants and pushing down the elastic band of his boxers but you can barely see straight as you bobble forward. 

You can make out him pulling out his cock, stroking himself a few times while peering down at your submissive state. You think he’s going to make you beg for him and you almost sigh in frustration at the thought because you really don’t have the energy for that right now. 

But he just grins at you and says, “Open up.”

And you do. 

When he juts his hips into your mouth, you’re steadying yourself with one hand and you’re feeling up his thigh with the other. He busies himself with your hair, tugging it forward roughly until your lips reach the base of his cock.

"My girl," Matty sighs as you hallow your cheeks around him. "My girl is so helpful–isn't she?"

George's hand presses down to your middle back–maybe in agreement with what Matty said–as your name falls from his lips.

"Gonna let me come in your mouth?" Matty muses while gathering a fist of your hair in his hand. His hips stutter, jerking back when he feels you moan around him. "Fuck, you always take it so well."

Your lips grow numb just as you feel your body build to a climax. You know George is close with the way he's grabbing at your hips as he plows into you. Your stomach coils as you push your hips into him–wanting him to finish, wanting Matty to finish as you work against them.

Matty's grip on your hair lifts you up so you can see him. His teasing smirk is vacant, just watching your expression as his mouth forms an o shape and he's bringing you roughly down on his cock until he's coming in your mouth.

Swollen and raw, you swallow (because you always do).

When you come you're arching into George and then pulling your hips away from him as you grapple with the sensitivity bundling in your core. His hand falls between your legs as you jerk against him.

His thrusts turn sloppy, lazily bucking into you until he's flushed against your ass and spilling into you. You breathe his name repeatedly as your body comes down; pushing up from the desk you move to stand, leaning back against George.

And then his hand disappears from in between your legs and he's pulling up your panties that stretched around your thighs. You let him mess with your skirt until he's pulling it down your ass and brushing down the material like he's concerned with making you appear decent.

Amused and out of breath, you stare at him as he fumbles with the material of his sweats. Shifting your gaze, you watch Matty–whose hair is even more disheveled now–tuck himself back into his pants.

His eyes catch yours and you expect him to beckon you back to him with the wave of his hand. Matty gives you a lopsided smile and your heart twinges.

"One more thing, babe," He says, fiddling with the buttons of his trousers.

You realize George's come is soaking through your underwear and running down your inner thigh when you start to wander over to Matty.

Squeezing your legs together, you burn hot.

"Coffee," Matty finally says and you blankly stare at him. He grins, and you can't find it in yourself to despise him for it. Not ever. "Hot coffee would be great right now."

#matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #matty healy smut #george daniel x reader #george daniel smut #george daniel imagine #the 1975 imagines #*my writing #i listened to savior complex on repeat while editing what does that say about me #anyway this is my official resignation letter as a smut writer #i want to be a fluff and angst writer i can't handle the p*rn life anymore

[not-alien-girl-v]

Disconnected (Matty Healy)

warning: not smut but it might as well be. mentions of doing the dirty but. it doesn’t happen. you know. also george gets roasted sorry georgenation

note: meow

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

he collapses on top of you, sweat coating his bare skin. a long exhale releases from his lungs as he sinks into your body. you keep your hands on his back, rubbing up and down comfortingly, soothing the angry red marks left by your nails just a few minutes ago.

he hums in contentment and places featherlight kisses to the right side of your neck. you giggle and push him off you.

“what? done with me already?” you don’t say anything, expecting him to just fall asleep like he usually does at the end of your ‘after he gets back from the studio quickie.’ it’s not always like this, your sex life with him, this is just one, predictable aspect of it.

it’s almost like you both know how good he fucks you when you ask for it, that it makes up for all the simple, mundane sex you have most of the time.

suddenly, he turns to his side, propping his head up on his hand, and his silent stare is harrowing. “yes?” you ask him, wishing you could read his mind. sometimes you swear he can read yours.

“can i ask you something?” he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says this, and you can only assume the worst.

1. would you still love me if i was gay?

2. will you help me bury the body?

3. when i die of terminal cancer, will you promise not to remarry?

you’ve just been staring at him staring at the crisp white bedsheets and when he looks into your eyes, you are reminded that he can’t actually read your mind, and your attempts at telepathic communication are feeble.

“sure, baby.”

“ok. i’m gonna ask you, and no matter what your answer is, i promise i won’t get mad. you hear me?”

“yes?”

he reaches out to grab your arm, “i mean it, i won’t get mad, i’m just genuinely curious, i’m not fishing for a compliment or anything, i just really want to know.”

what on earth is he on about?

“just ask your question.”

he sighs again. “who’s the best man you’ve ever hooked up with?”

you close your eyes in a mix of both confusion and a bit of disappointment. “like… character-wise or sex-wise?”

“sex-wise.”

you nod, about to say something.

he doesn’t let you.

“i bet it was george, wasn’t it. i’m sure of it. god, when you two hooked up, he was in his prime. i mean, not that he isn’t fit now, i’m sure he still fucks, but back then… i bet he knew what he was doing. how was it with him? be honest, i won’t be upset.”

you just smile silently as he can never shut his big mouth. “that’s pretty gay.”

he chuckles at your response, still egging you on for a real response. “come on, he’s a drummer, so obviously, he’s got rhythm, and he’s a very big boy, so you know he’s got the size.”

you reach forward to brush a stray curl behind his ear, enjoying his beautiful tranquility for as long as you can, because you know he will inevitably get riled up the more this conversation continues.

“i’m starting to think you just want to hear about what it’d be like to fuck your friends,” you brush your fingers through his hair continuously, and he closes his eyes, nearly forgetting about your conversation.

“you’re changing the subject darling,” he leans into your touch.

“so you’re saying you don’t want to know? what it would be like?”

he opens his eyes, “of course i want to know! we’re all straight men in committed relationships to beautiful women, i may never get the experience.”

you rest your hand on the edge of his face, rubbing his temple in circles with your thumb. “you know, if you ever wanted to fuck any of them, i think i’d let you. it’s only fair, since me and george, you know.”

“it wouldn’t be the same, though, because when you and him fucked, we weren’t together yet, i hadn’t told you i liked you. it would mean too much if i shagged my mates now since you and i are you know… whatever.”

you gasp in amusement, “did you really just refer to our relationship as whatever?”

he pouts, but you know he’s laughing on the inside. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine, i guess.”

“wait, you never answered my question!”

“alright. i’ll get into it. you ready?” he nods, looking more prepared than you are for what’s to come. “george was… i mean… it was good. to somebody else, maybe it was great. but to me? i don’t know, we just didn’t mix well together.”

“what d’you mean, baby?”

“like, okay, you look at a guy like that, you assume a certain thing from him while fucking. like you go into doing it with a level of expectations, somewhat high, and he just didn’t meet them.”

“can you be a little more vague? i think i’m almost understanding you, god forbid that happen.”

“fine, fine. truth is, he was too gentle. like you said, he’s a drummer, he’s super muscular, and he’s huge, you expect him to give a rough fucking or even something adjacent to it, and like, i mean, i’m a big girl, i can take it, but every 5 minutes was like ‘are you okay?’ ‘is this too much’ ‘do you need me to stop?’ you’d have thought he was a virgin the way he was so awkward and nervous and gentle. it was weird.”

“that is weird. i never thought that’s how it would be with him.”

“did i ruin the magic for you? now that you know fucking your best friend would be underwhelming?”

“it wasn’t magic, more morbid curiosity,” he speaks.

“morbid? it’s not like we’re talking about fucking a dead body, it’s just george.”

“agree to disagree, my love.” he gets up, butt ass naked, and pulls on some clean boxers from his closet. then, he stops in his tracks, and turns around to face you again. “wait, answer the question, for real this time. i won’t be mad.”

“it’s you.” you speak it plain, simple, and true. you wonder why he even debated the question.

“really?”

“really. it’s always been you.”

“aw, that’s so sweet. just don’t go getting feelings for me, i’m a lone wolf, don’t do relationships,” he warns as he walks out of his room, heading to his kitchen.

the irony hits you as heavy as the new engagement ring on your finger he presented to you a week ago. you laugh to yourself, feeling smitten.

he returns in a moment with a glass of water and sets it down on the nightstand next to where you lay. “drink, darling”

you obey, giving him a look over the rim of the cold glass as it rests against your kiss-swollen lips. you swallow, “you’re being pretty sweet to me, for a ‘lone wolf.’”

he smiles, enjoying the near endless banter between the two of you. “every alpha needs their omega.”

“ew, that’s gross, get out of here, you freak!” you gently nudge him off of the side of the bed where he sits.

he gives you his classic dumb smile as he leaves the room with the now empty glass of water, likely returning it to the dishwasher.

when he gets back, you can’t help but continue his dumb conversation. “i think i’m the alpha in this relationship, anyway. you’re my bitch.”

he nods in agreement, “i’m your bitch.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

taglist: @indierockgirrl @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @milkluvr8 @americanangel

#the 1975 #matty healy x reader #ratty matty #matty healy x you #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy 1975 #matty healy imagine #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy #matty healy smut #george daniel fanfic #george daniel smut #george daniel the 1975 #george daniel fic #george daniel x reader #george daniel #george daniel fanfiction #the 1975 fluff #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 fic #matty the 1975 #1975 band #the 1975 fanfiction #the 1975 smut #Spotify

[abiiors]

three's a party 🍸// george daniel x reader x ross macdonald

a/n: hi. thank you so much to my darlings @bookish-strawberry and @ughgoaway for helping me with some of the scenes!!! this is quite tame compared to some of the others i read for "research" but it is still quite...porny. this note is so long, but i'm just rambling because i'm nervous!!! anyway, here, have this unholy piece of writing with barely any plot

cw: threesome (obv), "good girl" and other feminine words/pronouns, uhhhh...yeah, just. general nastiness.

wc: 3.6k

the pub lights are dim, ambient. people chatter around you in low volume, a friendly humdrum of couples out on date nights and old friends catching up, it’s nice—this place. the food is good, the alcohol is even better; the playlist is just the right mix of sensual and exciting. absolutely perfect for a casual first date.

except for the man in front of you who drones on and on and on about one thing or the other—none of which you have given two shits about in your entire existence. but now you have to sit there and pretend that the local football team—the bulls or the foxes or some other inane animal—are the most riveting conversation you’ve ever had. 

you also have to pretend like you haven’t been checking out other people sitting at the bar, laughing and joking and having way more fun than you in general—the group of drunk girls out on a friday night, couples on dates, two men sat at the edge of the bar who haven't stopped glancing your way since you first walked in.

a blond and a brunet, one with a sharp, clean-shaven face, the other with a softer face and a thick, dark beard. one with close-cropped and buzzed hair, the other with long hair tied up. two ends of the spectrum, yet they both have the same aura of je ne sais quoi about them. it’s tempting, distracting. and certainly a million times better than whatever’s happening in front of you. 

every time one of them looks over at you, you lower your eyes coyly, pretend to be engrossed in a conversation with your date—nodding along to whatever he’s saying and laughing when he pauses expectantly. it’s truly a testament to his intelligence that he hasn’t caught up to your little game yet. 

the blond man looks at you again, intense eyes and a full pink mouth. his eyes linger, lazily staring you from head to toe in your tight black first-date dress. then out the corner of your eye, you watch him mumble something to his friend. 

he’s a bit subtle, turning only slightly and checking you out from the corner of his eyes, making sure he doesn’t get caught every time you look over in their general direction. 

your date clears his throat. 

“so i was thinking we could get one more drink and…take this back to my place?” 

well… shit

“i had a lot of fun…” you begin, trying to hide the wince in your words but your date’s face falls as realisation finally dawns. “but i don’t—”

“so you’ve wasted my time then,” he cuts you off, nostrils flaring in anger as he clutches his beer pint harder than necessary. 

“excuse me?”

“bitch,” he spits under his breath yet you hear it clearly. 

all you can do is roll your eyes at his petulance. the glasses clatter as he stands up abruptly, gathering the attention of a few people nearby. you’re beyond feeling any sort of embarrassment; and why should you? it’s not you making a scene. 

“classy,” you mutter, taking a leisurely sip of your aperol spritz.

it’s great, no reason for you to ruin a perfectly good evening for a little bitch baby. in your peripheral vision, the two men snicker. the rational part of your brain knows they’re laughing at an inside joke; nothing to do with you. but your delusional brain can’t stop imagining the two of them listening in on your conversation, smirking at your date’s little temper tantrum. you take your own sweet time finishing your drink after he leaves. he’s already out of your mind before he’s even halfway across the pub. you can finally indulge in your other pursuits after all.

“well, that was a pathetic date."

it's after fifteen minutes when you've sought solace in the first floor balcony of the pub. a few people loiter in the nooks and corners, making out and sneaking quick puffs of cigarettes, some wait for their turn to use the loo. some linger in search of peace.

you focus your attention on the stranger.

his voice is deep, deeper than you would have imagined. there’s a gravelly and rough edge to it that makes his words skitter down your bones. even just the way he walks towards you, slow and leisurely, has you hypnotised and transfixed on him. but you won’t be swayed so easily. 

“are you always this straightforward with strangers?” 

he comes to a stop a few inches away from you and leans against the railing; his body mirroring yours. his spicy cologne permeates the air around you. it's a struggle to not inhale sharply and get a lungful of it. even in your heels, you’re a good few inches shorter than him. 

“no,” he shrugs and the movement makes his arm brush against yours ever so slightly, “i guess you caught my eye.”

you attribute the goosebumps on your arms to the chilly night air even as a small voice in your head reminds you that it’s august. 

“george,” he extends a hand. it’s big, rough-looking with callouses all over his palms. either he’s a gym rat with pretty show muscles, or… you can’t exactly place the or. but it leads to quite a few interesting theories. 

“your…friend didn’t come out with you?” 

the man—george—raises an eyebrow, either at the way you leave his hand hanging in mid-air or at the mention of his friend but he does a rather good job of hiding his surprise. if he even felt any, to begin with.

“why? you’re more interested in my friend?”

a small part of you almost purrs in delight at the tinge of jealousy in his tone. good, possessive men know how to make nights like these into memorable ones. his fingers curl slightly, ready to put the extended hand down. the nicotine stains on them should have put you off a long time ago. instead, you find yourself looking at those fingers; imagining things you really shouldn’t. 

“you always answer questions with more questions?” you bite your bottom lip, letting just the hint of a smile ghost over your mouth. let him work to figure out your tone. your intentions.  

george chuckles deeply, sucking air between his teeth, and about to say something when you hear the second set of footsteps. these are imperceptibly heavier, almost like you know who it is…

a smirk curls up your mouth as george turns around to look at—

“ross…” he says quietly. 

possessive men know how to have wild nights.

possessive men are also…incredibly easy to predict.

george is behind you, pressed up against your naked ass, hard and thick. the only thing that separates you are his cotton brief. it only took you fifteen minutes to decide to take both the men home with you. and judging from the minimum resistance you got from either of them, one thing is clear—this isn’t their first rodeo.

“you feel this, darling?,” george whispers, mouth brushing over the shell of your ear while rolling your nipple softly between his fingers. 

it’s a lot of stimulation. it’s the good kind of stimulation, the kind that has your toes curling and your thighs shaking. and if it weren’t for the other man kneeling between your legs, holding you up with his hand on your hips, you would have fallen to your knees a long time ago. 

“mm–yes, fuck, it feels good,” you moan, head rolling back to rest against george’s chest. your fingers are tangled up in ross’ hair, long graceful fingers twisting and turning traces of his soft hair between them, guiding him as he licks and sucks your clit until you’re nothing but a wet trembling mess. 

ross won’t be outdone so easily. he hums against you, sending vibrations that shoot through your entire body at lightning speed. “is he making you feel better than i am, baby?” he pouts, stopping entirely. 

his beard glistens in the ambient lights of the room as he stares at you with intense, blown-out eyes. a whine escapes you, your fingers tighten in his hair—tugging at it harshly and making him groan. it’s so close to your cunt, enough for you feel it but not close enough. you writhe against george, trying to thrust your hips back into ross’ face, trying to get him to continue. but george tsks. 

“not before you answer him, baby.” his fingers are back to pinching your nipples; pain and pleasure blending in together in a heady mix. “don’t we deserve to know?”

his voice is gruffer than before, barely restrained—a man so used to commanding people that it rolls off his tongue effortlessly. 

ross smirks when you mumble something incoherently, ready to finish what he started but george is not satisfied. “use your words, darling.”

it sends a spark of desperate annoyance through you, clearing the fog in your brain. “ross is better,” you grit out, guiding the man back between your legs smirking at the way george tenses behind you. 

for someone who seems so calm and composed he certainly has a competitive streak…

ross grazes his teeth against you, licking it after—almost like a reward for declaring him the winner. you throw a leg over his shoulder, hissing at the way his tongue has better access now, crying out when he swipes his fingers against your folds almost lazily. 

you suck in a sharp breath, ready to cry out again but the scream dies in your throat. rather, it’s strangled—literally—by george wrapping his free hand around it, applying pressure to the sides. 

“you want to be a brat?” he tsks again, “she wants to be a brat, ross.” 

ross laughs breathlessly, letting go of you for just a second, “you’re just a sore loser.” he smirks, eyes alight with mirth. there’s a hint of danger in them, not the kind you sense in george—one that comes with a touch of sadism. ross’ brand of danger feels more arrogant. someone who knows what effect he has on people, on women. he’s not a taker. he’s a giver. and right now, he looks at you like he’d give anything to watch you fall apart with his name on your lips. 

the almost lack of oxygen has your head spinning, combined with the knot pulled taut in your stomach—it’s almost impossible to stand up, to make your legs hold you up. but that’s what george is here for. 

his fingers adapt a rougher pace, pinching and flicking your nipples, matching ross’s movements. your mind feels like it’s torn both ways, fighting hard to keep track of two sensations, two feelings. it’s too much.

a string of curses fall from your lips. “gonna cum,” you plead, struggling against ross, desperately trying to get more and more and so much more. “can i cum, please. please–fuck.”

“what should we do, george?” ross hums, ignoring you entirely. his nails dig into your ass, feeling up the curves and the firm muscles. you are nothing but a toy in his hands, for him to use and control. all your bossiness from before melts away as soon as george snakes a hand around your waist, stroking ross’ head and guiding it the way he wants to. 

ross doesn’t resist, he only chuckles, making you cry out pleas once again. 

“have you earned it, sweetheart?” george asks, whispery rough voice burrowing on the insides of your skull. 

have you? 

you nod, or try to at least. it’s hard when your head rests limply on his chest, throat gripped between his hands. 

“please, yes. i’ll do what you want, pl–fuck, fuck.”

“whatever we want?” 

“whatever yo–you want.”

“go on then,” george pinches your nipple, twisting it between his fingers, “give him a taste.”

he’s barely halfway through the sentence when you scream out incoherently, falling apart as waves after waves of pleasure hit you all at once. everything goes white for a split second, all that remains is intoxicating pleasure. you have no sense of time, of self. only that one man holds you up as the other laps at your folds greedily, licking away every last drop of what you have to offer. 

“want a taste?” ross smirks. his voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere under water. you’re unsure if you can stand up on your own just yet. vestiges of the orgasm course through you, heady and hot. “she’s fucking sweet, george, like honey.”

ross stands up, right in front of you, tall and imposing. and for the first time, you’re between both of them, feeling their sweaty skin on yours, inhaling them greedily.

“open your mouth,” he commands, fingers taking hold of your chin and roughly tilting it up. you know what’s coming as you watch the sinister half-smile on his face. and oh how delightlfully right you are. 

the moment you open your mouth for him, ross spits in it; saliva mixed with your slick still coating his tongue. 

“good girl,” he whispers, turning your face to george who captures your mouth in a rough kiss. his tongue flicks on the insides of your mouth, searching, tasting you and ross together. he moans, satisfied. “now about that promise…”

“be a good girl and get on all fours” 

it’s a shock to you how ross takes charge when he wants to. george doesn’t contradict him, he only watches with vague amusement as you try holding yourself up on shaking arms and legs, drenched in sweat and thighs sticky with your own slick. 

your entire body buzzes with adrenaline, shivers racking down your spine, still needy for more and more, still wanting to please the men who have been pleasing you for… what feels like hours now. 

“now,” george says, walking up to you and stopping just in front of you, “you can take both of us, can’t you?”

you peer up at george, tall and imposing george who looks at you with such blatant lust that it makes a tiny moan slip out of you. you can, you have been dying to do just that. now you look at him through your eyelashes and through the sweaty hair sticking to your forehead, falling in your eyes. 

“yes,” you nod eagerly, “please, yes.” 

the men smile, all teeth and hardness and intensity—it’s intoxicating. almost hypnotising, you get on your knees, hand drifting between your legs one more time just to feel the friction again but ross is quicker. 

“ah–ah!” he quickly catches your wrist, before it’s even reached past your navel. “that’s our job, darling. all you need to do is get on all fours and look pretty.”

“but she already is so pretty,” george tsks, palming himself through his briefs. his cock is a stark, thick outline that stands out, making you drool. if he already looks so big and delicious then how good would it be to feel him on your tongue and stretching out your mouth?

the moment stretches on—you on all fours, on trembling, shaky limbs, waiting there like a good little slut for either one of these men to fill you up. 

george continues to play with himself, fingers dipping in and out of the waistband of his underwear, touching and teasing. until finally he pulls his boxers down. you watch, transfixed as george shamelessly pumps himself in front of you, head thrown back, throaty moans echoing in the room as he slides his fist around his cock. you stare, eager and waiting, almost leaning forward. 

behind you, ross is silent. you can almost imagine him staring at the scene in front of him in awe and lust. you try to imagine it from his perspective. your dripping swollen cunt right in front of him growing wetter still the more you watch george. 

“don’t tease,” you almost whine, unable to take more of this. you need to know what he tastes like. and you need it now. 

“eager, are we?” george asks, walking up to you. “are you not pleasing her enough, ross?” he tuts and ross chuckles; throaty and distracted. 

you get little warning before you feel ross sliding a finger up your slit, lazily collecting your wetness and then the tell-tale sound of his tongue lapping it up from his fingers. it’s filthy and disgusting, it makes you arch your back and drives you almost crazy with want. 

“i could do better than your hand.” your grin matches george’s who comes to a stop in front of you. 

“guess she likes me better, ross.”

ross huffs, “we’ll see.”

before you have the chance to respond, ross draws a hiss of pleasure out of you. his length drags against your cunt, almost between your ass cheeks, sliding just the tip in. no further. red, hot need spears through you. if the men are determined to tease and taunt you then it’s for you to take matters into your own hands. 

before george can registers it, you cup a hand around his ass, pulling him forward until his cock practically rests on your face. 

a thick vein runs along the side, pulsating, practically inviting you to trace it with your sharp fingernail. you let your tongue swirl over his slit, humming at the salty taste of his precum. george moans as the vibrations of your hum hit. ross moves his hips slowly, almost pulling out before slamming into you fully. the force of it has you choking on george, gagging around him, drooling messily. 

“breathe,” he commands softly, stroking your hair. you do as he tells you, relaxing your throat more and letting his weight rest on your tongue. 

the sides of your mouth burn from the stretch, black, glittery mascara tears stain your face. and yet all you care about is this, here, now. it’s fullness like you’ve never experienced before, delicious and thick, drawing out gasps and moans from you that mix with his grunts.

“such a perfect girl,” he coos, “isn’t she ross? doesn’t she feel fucking great?” 

ross hums behind you, thrusting into you again at a steady pace. shameless need and lust pools in your belly, bleeds through your veins as you trace along george’s cock with your tongue. his fingers remain tangled in your hair, guiding you, commanding you to please him as he wishes.

you hollow our your cheeks, licking and sucking until his hips move in much the same pace as ross’ do. 

ross’ hand snakes up your waist, between your legs again, finding your clit again to rub and pinch, to make you whine. each one of his flicks makes you moan around george, sending small hums of pleasure right up his spine. he looks blissed out, head rolling and eyes half-lidded. a surge of pride runs through you at the sight. 

ross’ fingers dig into your hips, bruising the soft flesh. twinges of pain intertwine with sparks of pleasure as he pushes in, stretching you out and filling you in. 

“taking me so well, sweetheart,” he praises. the term of endearment from his mouth makes your knees weak and your legs tremble but ross holds you up, slamming into you until he bottoms out again and again. 

flesh slaps against flesh—rhythmic sounds punctuated by guttural grunts. the position you’re in allows ross to thrust deeper each time, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. if your mouth weren’t otherwise occupied, he would have had you mewling by now. but that doesn’t mean you don’t let out the occasional whimpers as you continue to bob your head up and down george’s dick. 

the man is close, you can tell. his cock twitches and spasms in your mouth. he has lost some of his rhythm, hips bucking wildly as he chases his pleasure. you can’t help but caress the base of his cock with your hand, moving it lower to softly squeeze his balls. 

“shit–shit,” he curses loudly, “do that again.”

so you oblige, letting your nails graze on the sensitive skin. within seconds, you feel his hold tightening in your hair. george fucks your mouth with wild abandon, careless thrusts—he couldn't care less about the drool dribbling down your chin, about your tear-stained face. the burn around your lips.

“gonna cum, darling, doing so well,” he grounds out. your own body mirrors the feelings as ross continues to thrust faster and faster. 

the knot in your stomach tightens, blood pumps through your veins, infused with lightning until the bitter-salty taste of cum fills your mouth. george cums, groaning loudly and shooting spurts of his release down your throat that you lap up hungrily. some of it dribbles down the side of your chin but you don’t swallow just yet. instead, you open your mouth wide open for him to have a look. 

“you’re killing me,” he swears, trying to get a grip on himself. only then do you swallow, whining loudly when ross pinches your clit, kneading the bundle of nerves in rough circles. 

“go on,” he commands, “cum for us. wanna feel you around me before i fill you up.”

it only takes one more thrust from ross before you’re almost falling down face first from the force of the orgasm that hits you. vaguely you’re aware of ross cumming inside you, of it spilling down your thighs, mixing with your own release. vaguely you’re aware of george falling to his knees in front of you, legs still spasming as he watches you fall apart again and again. 

you cry out something unintelligent—perhaps their names, perhaps something else. the world blacks out, until slow, blurred images creep back into your line of sight. 

the beginning of the night, the pathetic date is long gone from your mind. right now all you can think of is ecstacy.

and then perhaps a round two.

lemme know what you think <3

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @beachesgetpeaches, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855

add yourself to the taglist

#RIGHT. GOODBYE. #ross macdonald #george daniel #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #ross macdonald smut #george daniel smut #the 1975 #the 1975 smut #matty healy #adam hann #smut writing #smut fic #minors do not interact #female reader #the 1975 fic #three/some

[kennedy-brooke]

Dress pt. 2

George Daniel x (Fem)Reader

Summary: You’ve been best friends with George Daniel for as long as you can remember, but your relationship has always suggested something more. The pining and waiting quickly becomes too much to handle, and you finally decide that something has to be done. A night out with your friends is the perfect excuse for you to wear the dress you bought, with the only intention of having him take it off.

Part 1

heavily based on the song dress by taylor swift

Word Count: 14.4k

a/n: hello again, lovely people - it's here!! The second half is all yours. i know it's much longer than part 1, but this is without a doubt my favourite part and im so excited for you all to read it. WARNING!!! there is heavy smut in this part!! 18+ MDI im not joking. I feel like i need to drown myself in holy water after this one - its complete and utter filth for 3.6k words and I have no idea where it came from. i hope you very thoroughly enjoy it!! mwah xxx

He is miserable. 

Completely and utterly miserable. 

George had come in with the rest of the band and made his way to the bar, making sure to sit in a spot with a clear view of the club’s entrance. 

He’d hoped to catch you as soon as you walked in, so he made himself comfortable, ordered a drink, and pretended like he wasn’t watching the door. 

But then this girl came along - he couldn’t remember her name if he tried - and sat next to him, fully blocking his once clear line of sight to the door you would be walking through any minute. 

She had immediately sat down and started talking, laying the flirting on thick and trying to get his attention - it just hasn’t been working. 

It isn’t her fault; she’s not awful to look at and he’s sure that she is probably a really nice girl - but she just isn’t you. 

You, his best friend, his Darling, who he is absolutely completely in love with. 

He’s felt this way for a while now, it’s not exactly anything new, but it’s been recently that George has actually come to terms with all of it. 

He loves you. Loves your laugh and the way you don’t hesitate to quip back at Matty. Loves your smile and the way it lights up the room. He loves the way you play with the rings on his hands, which is the reason he started wearing them in the first place - though if you asked him he would wholeheartedly deny it. 

George is in love and all he really wants is to see you. It’s been two very long months without your presence and it was during that time that he came to the conclusion that he had to do something. He has to tell you. 

His feelings are inescapable, and at this point he isn’t even going to try pretending that he saw you as just a best friend. 

The longing George felt over tour made him decide to fully fuck the consequences - he is going to tell you how he feels, because he has never felt this way about anyone before. And if, by some chance, he’s read the situation wrong and he gets burned? At least he was electrified. 

He had wanted to be there to greet you when you got here, which is why he sat at the bar in the first place. 

But this girl. She just showed up and will not leave. 

He doesn’t want to be a dick and just leave her by herself, but she just keeps talking. She’s flirting, and he’s not showing any interest, yet she still keeps going. He’s not even attempting to listen to her right now, too busy trying to see around her head and catch a glimpse of the door, but she isn’t taking a single hint. 

She keeps going on about the band, talking as if she’s everyone’s best mate and has known them for ages - even though George swears he’s never seen her before in his life. 

It's in the middle of his internal monologue and declaration of love that she directs a question at him that he actually has to answer, effectively breaking him out of his head. 

“Oh my god, do you remember?”

He blinks at her, “Remember what?”

She giggles, leaning forward and laying her hand on his forearm for the third time tonight. 

“Silly- remember that time when Matty completely fell over and Adam rolled his eyes at his antics and Ross turned around to laugh with John - while you just sat there at your set looking all stoic?”

He sighs before dryly remarking, “Which time?”

At his response, which was obviously sarcastic and did little to hide his annoyance, she lets out a loud, witch-like cackle. She clutches her chest and laughs like it was the funniest comment in the world - it wasn’t. 

George’s eyes go wide, watching in horror as she tries and fails to stop fake laughing. She leans forward as if she’s attempting to catch her breath, and reaches her hand out to grab onto his.

As soon as he catches on to what she’s going for, he moves both of his hands out of her reach - opting to tightly hold on to his glass instead. She, however, doesn’t take the hint and simply places her hand on his thigh.

George physically cringes and looks pointedly at her hand as he shifts his legs away from her.

Her eyes briefly flash with annoyance before she quickly covers it with a smile and reaches to take another sip of her drink.

George takes the moment of her distraction to try and see around her head, hoping to see you come in and have a valid reason to excuse himself. He genuinely doesn’t want to be rude - but she’s getting to be a bit much now.

As if she’s able to read George’s mind and has decided to amp it up even more, the girl reaches out again, for the fifth time, and flirtingly places her hand on George’s bicep… again.

George tenses his muscle immediately, unable to hide the physical reaction to her unwanted touch, but she seems to take it a different way.

She gasps, fucking full-on gasps, and squeezes his arm. “Oh my gosh, George, your muscles have gotten so big! You must be so strong-”

His eyes widen. “I’m sorry?”

She squeezes his arm again. “You’ve just gotten so muscular, imagine what you could do with these arms.”

George swears that if she were to say one more thing, his eyes would pop out of his head. He huffs and subtly shakes her hand off - though he debates doing it and making it rudely obvious.

He looks around the room, looking to see if anyone else was witnessing this. Does anyone else hear her? 

George drags his hand down his face before he looks around the room again, specifically looking for any hidden cameras and waiting for Matty to jump out laughing. This has to be a prank. There’s no way any of this is real. Absolutely not.

He’s not sure where the others are- they had all gone their separate ways after arriving. Adam had left to go find Carly, Ross to find Waughy, and hell if anyone knew where Matty disappeared off to - likely to find someone to irritate with his presence (someone save that poor person’s soul).

Regardless, George needs an escape, he’s honestly not sure that he can take anymore of whatever this is.

Pulling out his phone, George unlocks it and goes to his messages and hovering his finger over your name. He could text you and see if you were here yet, but he doesn’t want to push you or rush you on a fun night out. 

He shakes his head, clicking on Matty’s name instead. Matty almost always has his phone on him, he’s more likely to answer than the other lads.

Before he has a chance to type anything out, he’s interrupted. 

“You lot are touring the UK soon, right?”

George blinks for a moment before nodding and looking down at his phone, “Huh? Oh, right - yeah we are.”

“Wow, touring for that long must be exhausting.” She rests her head on her palm, tilting her head and sighing.

He has a feeling he knows where this is going, and he really doesn’t want to stay for it - so he quickly types out a text to his mate.

Help

Mate seriously

Get me a glass of milk

He pauses for a moment before adding a short: 

Asap

It seems easier to just go along with whatever she’s saying at this point. Sighing, George responds with a simple, “It can be tiring sure.”

“God, and I bet it just gets so lonely being gone for months on end like that.”

George looks up and blinks at her - what? - before immediately going to message Matty again, not bothering to respond to her this time.

Milk me, seriously

Help

Now

She pauses as if she’s waiting for a response and when she realizes that he doesn’t plan on commenting, she continues on. “It must be hard settling down when you’re gone like that.”

He quickly looks around the bar, and for a moment he thinks he sees Matty’s curly mop of hair on the opposite side of the club - but he blinks and it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. George sighs. There’s no way she’s about to suggest what he thinks she is - right?

“And I’m sure it’s just such a hassle finding normal groupies to pick up in order to have a good time.”

Wow. Okay, so she definitely is. He glances at his phone again - no response. That dickhead - what in the world could he be doing that’s so important right now. He sends another three messages.

Please

At this point come throw a glass of milk on me

So she will fucking fuck the fuck  o f f

George is staring holes into his phone, not daring to look up at her. The awkward silence is growing, and just when he thinks that she might be done, her voice grabs his attention again.

“Don’t think you’d turn down the company would you?”

He balks at her words. In what world- in what world has he done anything that has even remotely suggested that he wants to bring her on tour with him? That sounds like the worst possible outcome of this situation and he’d be damned if it ended that way.

Matty I’m spamming you for a reason

I know you’re laughing

Stop it

“I could come along, make sure you don’t get lonely.”

There’s no way George is even deigning to respond to that. He doesn’t hesitate to continue firing off messages to Matty left and right.

Can you actually be a good mate for once please

He tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling. In all honesty, he would give anything for it to open up and swallow him whole right now. Of course this happens to him, it’s just his luck. This is not how he wanted tonight to go.

“Gosh, and it’s been right cold weather lately…”

George doesn’t look at her, but he barely sees her try to move closer out of the corner of his eye and he immediately moves out of the way. He needs her to stop.

Matty

Matt

MATTHEW

You fuckhead why don’t you have your phone on you

WHY is he NOT ANSWERING. 

THIS IS WHY HANN IS BETTER THAN YOU. 

It feels like he’s been here for months, years even. She just keeps going, and just when he thinks she might be done - 

“I mean, we could wrap up tight together- keep each other warm…” Trailing off, she tilts her head and smiles what she probably thinks is a seductive smile.

She has to be kidding. Is his lack of response not enough? George feels like he might explode if someone doesn’t help him as soon as possible. WHERE IS MATTY.

I need you to

HELPMENOW

He’s desperate, he’s begging, and now he is pissed the fuck off. He angrily types out one more message and aggressively hits send before he slams his phone down. 

cunt. 

“I can think of a few other ways I could help keep you warm.”

George’s jaw drops. He’s not sure why she’s being so bold, but he is definitely not a fan and it’s getting old now. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s even responded to her and he sure as hell isn’t going to start now. 

He blankly stares at her, praying she gets the message and leaves. But she simply looks back at him, smiling and waiting for him to comment, scoff, huff, anything. He doesn’t, and the silence simply grows.

The awkward silence is broken by George’s phone buzzing, causing him to quickly scramble to grab it from its place facedown on the bar.

He unlocks his phone, only to be greeted by three messages from none other than Matty Healy himself.

Calm down mate lol

Help is on the way

You’ll thank me later xx

The fuck is that supposed to mean?

George stares at his phone for a moment before quickly looking around. Is this some joke? Does he think he’s funny? Because George is not laughing. At. All.

“I mean…” And just like that his irritation grows. Is she not done? The girl keeps pushing, not realizing that this may be George’s final straw. “...we would probably be sharing your bunk by the end of the tour, anyways.”

She shrugs, and George can feel his eye start to twitch. That’s it. He’s ending this now, forget about being a gentleman. He should have stopped whatever this was as soon as she sat down.

George opens his mouth to give her a piece of his mind, but he’s cut off by the feeling of a hand sliding across his shoulder to drape around his neck and the weight of a body being pressed into his side.

“I think he’s got that bit covered, thank you though.”

George stops breathing at the sound of the all too familiar voice, and looks up to be met with your side profile and a clear view of the tight-lipped smile you are currently sporting.

At the sight of you, George’s eyes light up and his entire demeanor changes. He lets out a sigh of relief, sagging against your side and giving you the biggest smile. “Hello, Darling”

The girl across from you bristles at the pet name, while you practically melt in place. God, did you miss him.

“Heya, G.” You lock eyes with him and you both get lost simply taking each other in - it’s been way too long.

Your small moment, however, is broken by the girl scoffing and crossing her arms. “I’m sorry, and who are you, exactly?”

There is zero hesitation as you respond. “His girlfriend.”

You bat your eyelashes and give the girl the widest, most passive aggressive smile you can manage.

George raises his eyebrows at your words and smirks to himself before wrapping his arm around your back and quickly tugging you into his lap by the waist. Your eyes go wide for a moment in shock before you manage to gather yourself and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Girlfriend, huh?” He leans in, whispering in your ear.

Your face heats up. You didn’t have a plan when you came over here - you were completely winging it and the title had slipped out of your mouth without much thought.

George however, seems unphased - if anything he seems quite content with your method of helping and is fully prepared to play into it. He nudges his nose at the side of your face, completely ignoring the presence of the girl seated next to the two of you.

To sell the idea that you are actually his girlfriend, you turn your head so that your nose meets his in an eskimo kiss - but you don’t go as far as actually kissing him on the mouth.

He brings the arm that’s not resting around your back over and places his hand on your thigh, lightly squeezing and giving you a dopey smile.

The girl makes an angry sound somewhere between a scoff and a whine, before standing up and storming her way back to the table full of her friends - most likely to rage about the dickhead who wasted her time and his bitch of a girlfriend.

You laugh at her retreating form, throwing your head back before resting it against George’s.

He wraps both arms around you, giving you an all-consuming hug that you had been desperately craving. “God, I missed you so much.”

You can’t help but smile at his words. “Missed you too, G. How’ve you been?”

George shakes his head. There’s no way that you’ve missed him half as much as he’s missed you. “I’ve been alright, yeah. Much better now that you’re here.”

“Well aren’t you just the flatterer tonight? C’mon, let’s get you over to the others.”

You stand up, bringing George with you and begin the walk across the club to your group’s table.

George takes the opportunity to wrap his arm around your lower back again and pull you into his side, holding you tightly against him. 

You let out a short laugh at his actions before looking up at him. “What are you doing, G?”

“I’m holding my girlfriend, is that a problem?” Your eyes widen, which George takes immediate note of and causes a smirk to dance its way across his face.

Glancing over your shoulder, you catch a glimpse of the girl from before who’s currently glaring daggers into the back of your head. You can’t help but smirk at her reaction and it’s at that moment you decide to go all out with your little stunt.

You turn back to look at George, where the smirks are still present on both of your faces. “Nope, not a problem at all - but you should at least do it right.”

George’s smirk falls, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion at your words as you  reach down to cover his hand that’s placed on your waist with your own. Grabbing his hand, you slowly drag it down your waist and over your hip before moving it behind you and placing it firmly on your ass.

His eyebrows shoot up in suprise at your actions, “Of course- right, can’t be doing it wrong now can I?” But you can clearly see the barely masked mischief and excitement in his eyes as he gives your ass a squeeze.

You let out a squeak and take your hand off of his, leaning further into George’s side. He looks down and smiles at the sight as you keep walking. “How’d you know I needed help, anyway?”

“A little rat told me you needed saving.”

George rolls his eyes, “Yeah, well that rat will be getting an earful later. I was desperate and in a right panic when he wouldn’t respond.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh at that, “Oh, I know. I’d say this is better than getting a glass of milk thrown on you though, wouldn’t you.”

He huffs and pulls you further into him, “Definitely better than a glass of milk.”

Reaching over, you poke at his side and joke, “So, is Hann better than me? Is he still your favourite?”

You give him a wide, cheeky smile and you fully expect his response to be in the form of a witty or sarcastic remark - but you’re completely taken aback as he makes eye contact with you and simply says, “You’re always my favourite.”

Woah. You weren’t expecting that - but his eyes show the most genuine sincerity mixed with a look you can’t quite decipher, and you can tell he means it.

His words fluster you, and you can feel the heat crawling up your neck, but luckily you both arrive at your table before he has a chance to notice.

“Well, well, well - look who decided to join us.” 

The two of you look up at the sound of your friend’s voice and you huff out a laugh, knowing what’s about to come next.

“Yeah, no thanks to your rat ass. Answer your phone next time you dickhead.” George glares at Matty and if looks could kill, he would be six feet under.

Matty, however, is completely unphased. He smirks as his eyes dart between you and George before stopping and zeroing in on the placement of George’s hand that has yet to move since you arrived.

“Seems like my solution worked just fine.” Matty looks over at you and sends you a quick wink before looking back at George.

“Oh piss off with that-” George starts, feeling slightly less confident than he had felt before when it was just the two of you, but you cut him off.

“I’d say I did a fine job as your knight in shining armor, wouldn’t you G?” You send a glare (that lacks any heat) towards Matty before looking up at George and smiling.

George looks down at you, unable to stop the smile that appears on his face, and pulls you to lean further into him. “I guess you did alright-”

You cut him off by scoffing and pushing at his chest and away from him, to which George laughs and brings both arms to wrap around you. “I’m kidding, Darling. I’m kidding. You did a wonderful job.”

You huff at him and rest your head on his, letting out a soft laugh. George chuckles at your behavior and presses a kiss to the top of your head before he moves you both to go sit down.

By now, the pair of you have committed to the bit of acting like a couple, if only for the sake of convincing the girl from earlier - who happens to still be watching you both like a hawk. So after sitting down with your friends, you lean into George’s side and look up at him.

You’re met with his eyes, and you have a silent conversation. We’ve already come this far, we might as well have fun with it. 

And for the rest of the night, you both put on your best performance at being in love - though neither of you know it takes absolutely no effort and is much easier than the alternative of pretending you aren’t.

As the night progresses, you grow more handsy with each other - unable to stop yourselves.

It starts with George holding your hand while you are both sitting, rubbing his thumb soothingly over your knuckles. You’re locked in a conversation with Ross when George lifts your joined hands to his mouth, and softly kisses along your knuckles before bringing your hands back down and into his lap.

A little while later, he has one arm resting around your shoulders and is softly playing with your hair, while the other hand is firmly placed in the crease of your leg where your thigh and hip meet.

You reach down, grasping his hand in yours, and begin messing with the rings on his fingers. He looks over and smiles seeing your actions, having missed the habit of yours.

At one point, you’re basically sitting on top of George with how closely you are sat next to him. 

Throughout the night, you start increasing the physical affection from the level of innocent touches to that of kissing one another anywhere possible; but never on the mouth.

George places kisses along your jaw and up to your ear, where he feels your breath hitch as he whispers to you.

You turn towards him, bringing your hand up to his chest and subtly unbuttoning an extra button on his shirt. No one seems aware of your actions, no one except for George himself, and you feel him stop breathing as you lean forward and place a kiss on each collarbone.

Eventually, the two of you grow tired of sitting down. You stand facing the table, tugging George up to stand behind you. Reaching towards him, you grab his hands and pull him to wrap his arms around you. More than happy to comply, George holds you tightly to him as you lean back into his chest and he affectionately nuzzles his nose into the side of your face, making you let out a soft giggle before returning to the group’s conversation.

No one in the group dares to question your sudden open affection - not even Matty. They’re too scared to interrupt your moment, afraid that if they mention it or point it out, you’ll both stop and revert back to the way things were before tour.

So they stay quiet, observing the way you two look so perfect together, noting that you have yet to properly kiss, and praying that one of you grows a pair and finally makes a move.

When the opening your favourite song to dance to starts playing, you don’t hesitate to drag George to the dancefloor.

You glance over at George, smiling wide as the bass begins to reverberate through your body and you start moving. You sway your hips to the beat, throwing your hands into the air and dancing like there’s no one else around.

While you start sensually dancing to the music, George jumps at the opportunity to simply take in the sight of you.

You are absolutely breathtaking - George swears he’s never seen anything so beautiful. The way the lighting falls on your face, casting a halo around you, paired with the way your hips move side to side makes him feel weak at the knees.

And that dress- God, that dress. It was fucking gorgeous on you. George immediately thanks the universe for the existence of such a stunning piece of clothing. 

He admires the way it highlights your features perfectly, dipping and running over each and every one of your curves in the most alluring way. With your back to him, he’s able to take in the criss-crossed lacing of the back of your dress, following the strings’ pattern to the delicate tie lying beneath the back of your neck.

How easy it would be to tug at the string, to unlace the dress and let it fall to the floor so he could take you in without the covering black material.

You turn around, eyes finding his and you slowly make your way over to stand directly in front of him. With the new position, George ogles the way the dress’s neckline dips low, showcasing your breasts with its rim of gold.

You immediately take note of his stare, basking in his attention and the obvious lust dancing in his eyes. Sliding your hands up his chest, you bring them to wrap around his neck and pull yourself closer to his body.

George’s hands quickly fly to your hips, moving along as they slowly start swaying to the beat again. He watches the material move with your body, the cuts in the thigh of the dress allowing you full motion. Your thigh flashes through the gap in the material and George closes his eyes, slowly swallowing. 

The dress might be stunning, but George is certain that it would look even better lying on the floor - his floor, to be exact.

You turn around in his hold so that your back is to his chest, and George firmly grabs your hips and pulls your body flush to his. You throw your head back onto his shoulder as your hips move in sync.

Dancing, you feel a surge of confidence - whether it’s from the rush of your song playing or from the pulse of need that’s coursing through your body as a result of George’s stare, you aren’t sure. Regardless, you take that feeling and press your hips backwards, grinding against George’s front.

With your head by his neck, you feel his breath hitch and hear his light groan at the feel of your ass pressed into his now obvious erection. His grip on your waist tightens and he cant help it as his hips involuntarily buck into yours.

He leans down to your ear, so close that you can feel his breath as he whispers, “Careful, Darling.”

It sends a shiver down your spine and you’re unable to stop yourself as you smirk and push backwards again, pulling a soft grunt from his mouth before you move your body off of him completely.

Smirking you turn around to face him, still dancing and watching his face as you move in and place open-mouthed kisses along the side of his neck. You stretch your neck upwards, reaching his ear and pushing yourself that last bit closer so that you can nip the bottom of his earlobe.

As the song comes to an end, you lean in and let out a breathy whisper of “Or what?” before you pull away and slowly begin walking backwards to your table.

You send a wink George’s way and turn around completely, leaving George standing in the middle of the dancefloor staring after you in shock.

Oh, he is so fucked.

After being frozen in place for a moment, stuck watching the way your hips look as you walk away, George snaps out of it and quickly follows your retreating figure.

You get to the table first, not daring to look back after the stunt you just pulled. It’s only a minute later that an arm wraps around the front of your waist and pulls you backwards into a firm chest.

You don’t have to turn around to know that it’s George - of course you know it’s him.

There is no hesitation as you grab both of his arms and wrap them tightly around you, resting back into his hold with your hands still on his. George looks down at you, smiling softly before leaning forward and resting his chin on your head - savouring the feeling of you in his arms.

It’s at this time that you both happen to look up and see the girl from earlier look away from the pair of you embracing - where she must have been watching you since the dancefloor - and watch as she angrily gathers her things before storming out of the club, leaving her friends looking after her in confusion.

You and George stare at the door for a moment longer before looking at each other and bursting into laughter. It seems like your plan worked better than you originally expected. The only problem is - now your fun is over. 

She’s finally left and George doesn’t have to worry about her catching him in another painful conversation again, meaning you no longer have to play pretend at being his girlfriend. You can go back to normal now - except you really don’t want to.

Despite your reluctance, you know that you can’t stay this way forever. So you begin to move out of his hold, trying to get away before he decides to move himself - you aren’t sure that you could handle that rejection anymore.

You work your way out of his arms, and go to step away when George grabs your wrist. “Hey, no - stop. Where are you going?”

He furrows his eyebrows as he feels you freeze before turning around to meet his stare. Were you not having a good time? He knows that the girl left already, but he honestly thought you had been enjoying yourself as much as he was. He doesn’t want to stop.

“G, she’s gone and left now, you don’t have to do that anymore.” You try your best to keep an even, lighthearted tone, but your voice wavers and shows a sliver of the disappointment that you currently are feeling.

He sees it though, he always does, and that’s why he knows that it’s okay to keep this going. You want it too.

“So? Come back here.” George sits down and tugs you to him by your wrist, pulling you to sit directly into his lap before he leans down and speaks into your ear. “Doesn’t mean we have to stop.”

Your breath hitches at his words, but you make no move to stand up. Instead you sink further into his hold, resting your head against the side of his. George swears that he’s never smiled this much in his life as he leans his head fully into yours before turning it and placing kisses along your jaw and up the side of your face.

You both stop holding back after that.

Where you had been engaging in moderate displays of affection while you had been “pretending,” you are now both going full out.

You’re constantly touching each other in some way - on the leg, on the arm, around the waist, with your sides completely pressed against each other, with you placed unmoving from George’s lap.

You’ve also begun kissing - not on the mouth, no matter how badly you both want it to happen - but anywhere else that the two of you can reach. It’s not overwhelmingly disgusting or obvious kissing, but it is definitely there. 

The only place, other than the mouth, that George has yet to kiss you is your neck, instead opting to direct his mouth around your face, jaw, and hands. You, however, aren’t neglecting his neck in the slightest - in fact, it’s likely that he will have a mark or two or three (or more) by the end of the night if you keep it up.

The pair of you keep getting more handsy as the night progresses, which has led you to where you are now, sitting directly next to George.

You had both stood up to stretch your legs a while ago, and had since sat back down in your own respective seats rather than sitting on top of one another. As soon as you sat down, George’s hand found your thigh.

It was perfectly normal, especially for tonight, so you thought nothing of it. You simply watch him as he starts talking to Ross, unashamedly admiring his side profile.

You lean forward to place your elbow on the table and then rest your head in your palm, but the movement on your thigh causes you to immediately sit up straight and goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

George had begun running his fingertips back and forth along the outside of your thigh, slowly dragging them side to side and running them up and down the length of your thigh.

You are completely transfixed by the movement, your entire body heating up at his touch and it only seems to be growing worse by the second. You watch as he switches from using just his fingertips to placing the entirety of his hand on your thigh.

He starts moving his hand along the side of your thigh, now rubbing his large hand back and forth and sending a shiver down your spine at the feeling.

You look up, only to find him paying you absolutely no attention. He’s still completely invested in his conversation with Ross. You’re not even sure that he’s aware of what he’s doing.

It’s not until his hand moves up and over the top of your thigh, squeezing once before he begins running his hand along the top and inside of your thigh, that your stomach starts to flutter and a hot surge of need pulses through your body.

It’s not scandalous - he’s not making any move to reach under the hem of your dress, hell, he’s not even looking at you - but, god if it wasn’t doing something to you right now. If he doesn’t stop soon you’re going to completely short circuit.

Leaning over, you place three kisses up George’s neck before you pull away and go to stand up. You are going to need a drink if he keeps this up, and you haven’t had a chance to talk to Matty after you left to go save George.

George watches you as you head to the bar and grab another drink before you walk back to the table and stand next to where Matty is sitting with Adam. Missing your presence, George excuses himself and makes his way over to you. 

He comes up behind you with every intention of attaching his lips to your neck for what he realizes is the first time tonight, and it’s as he leans down that he sees it.

He’s not sure how he missed it in the first place - the only reasoning he can think of being that he was too entranced by every other part of you to notice the familiar gold chain hanging around your neck. 

But there it was, laying nicely around your neck and matching your dress perfectly. It stuns him, completely freezes him in place.

He vividly remembers leaving it for you that night. You had mentioned the necklace more than once, both while sober(ish) and while drunk - and he selfishly had wanted to leave you with something to remember him by, in hopes that he could stand a chance once he got back. So he left it for you to find when you woke up the next morning. 

But never in a million years did he think you would genuinely keep it, let alone wear it out tonight.

George can’t help the urge that comes over him as he reaches out. He grabs the back of your neck and spins you around to face him, paying no attention to the fact that there are other people around and that he’s interrupted your conversation with Matty.

The action surprises you, and you let out a small gasp. “G, what-”

“Is this my necklace?” George slides his hand from the back of your neck and slowly runs his fingers down along the chain before taking it in his fingers.

You freeze for a moment, not expecting the question and you panic for a second. “Yeah - yes. It is.”

And then you wait, not knowing how he might react and unable to read his face to figure it out. George simply stares at you, a look in his eye that you actively choose not to read into as he looks at you - all of you. You are so beautiful. 

He pulls on the necklace and brings your face closer to his in the process, similar to the way you had done it on that night two months ago. His eyes bounce back and forth between yours before glancing down at your lips. “You were right, Darling.”

Your chest feels tight looking into his eyes. You break away and look down at his lips and breathe out a soft, “About what?” 

He looks at your lips for a moment longer and lifts his eyes to look directly into yours. “It does look better on you.”

And before you have a chance to respond, he tugs on the necklace again - closing the distance between your faces and crashing your lips into his.

It’s not soft, but it isn’t unbearably rough either. It’s passionate and all consuming, and neither of you can believe that you’ve waited this long to do it.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, thudding so violently that you swear it might burst out of your chest all together. The kiss starts slow, your lips moving in sync; but as he drags his tongue along your bottom lip, all gentleness is thrown to the wind.

His tongue slips past your lips, and your hands immediately move up to the back of his head, pulling his face impossibly closer to your own.

The hand holding the necklace shifts up to lay securely around your throat, and George's other hand slips around your waist to pull your hips against his. His grip on your throat tightens ever so slightly, causing you to let out a whine and tighten your grip on his head. 

The kiss continues on, all teeth and lips and tongue, trying to devour each other and make up for lost time.

Somewhere in the background you can hear your friends whooping and hollering - Matty being the loudest, shouting "Get a fucking room" with a wide smile on his face while everyone else whistles and cheers

It's only the need to breathe that forces you two apart, gasping for air and resting your forehead on his.

You let out a breathy laugh and look up as you trail slow kisses from the point of his jaw to the corner of his mouth, where you lightly nip at his bottom lip before catching both his lips in yours for another kiss.

His hand on your throat tightens again before he drags his hand down your body and slides both hands over your ass, where he pulls you in and slightly grinds into you.

You gasp into his mouth, causing him to smirk before he takes control of the kiss again. He slips his tongue into your mouth and groans as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. 

All you can think of is him. His lips. His hands. His face. His body. Nothing but him. Just George.

All he can think of is you. Your eyes. Your mouth. Your hips. Your neck. Only you. Just Y/n.

It’s not until Adam clears his throat, catching both of your attention, that you break apart again.

“As much as I hate to be the one to break it up, I feel the need to remind you that we are in a public place - and I dont know about everyone else, but I’d rather not watch you fuck on the table.”

The group bursts into a round of laughter as they watch you hide your face in George’s neck, feeling his chest move as you both laugh along with everyone else.

Matty, being the ass that he is, can’t help himself as he gives his own input. “I don’t know Hann, it could be fun.”

It sends the group into another round of boisterous laughter, which only grows as George lets out a quick, “Fuck off Matty.”

You keep laughing to yourself as you push your face further into George’s neck, making absolutely sure that no one is paying attention to you and that no one is able to see your face. Once you’re sure that the coast is clear, you boldly lick a stripe up George’s neck until you reach the bottom of his ear.

You feel his breath hitch as you whisper his name. “Hey, George?”

“Hmm? Yes, Darling?” He turns his head to look at you.

“I’m getting tired.” You pull away from his body to look up at him, and watch as his face scrunches slightly in confusion.

“You are?”

“Yeah,” you reach forward and grab hold of his belt, using it to softly pull him into you so that your faces are back to being only centimetres apart. You lean forward and make sure to look him directly in the eyes as you speak the words into his mouth, “I think you should take me home.”

George’s demeanor shifts and you watch as his eyes darken a bit before he’s spinning you around and moving you away from the table and across the club. “Right, yeah - yes. Let’s go. Home. Right now.”

He doesn’t spare a glance or a goodbye to your group, but you swear you hear Matty call out, “Don’t forget to wrap it!” before George is speed walking to the exit and practically shoving you through the door in his hurry to get you home and out of that damn dress.

You rush to the corner, where George calls over a taxi and helps you get in, quickly following behind you. He slides over to the middle seat and leans forward, giving the driver his address before he leans back into the seat and places his hand on your thigh. You won’t be doing anything in the taxi, you don’t want to make the driver uncomfortable, but the both of you are beyond anxious to get home. 

The tension has been building for far too long. All of the silence and patience, the pining and desperately waiting - it’s all been leading up to tonight.

• • •

The taxi ride back to George’s flat flew by and before you know it, the both of you are out of the vehicle and on each other, kissing like your lives depended on it.

You hurry your way to the door of his flat, not breaking apart until George has to fish his keys out of his pocket.

He pulls them out and fumbles through his different keys, trying to find the one to his flat - but he’s having a hard time. His breathing catches as you wrap your arms around his waist from behind him and begin to place kisses along his clothed back. God - where is that fucking key.

Finally, he finds it and wastes no time in unlocking the door and swinging it wide open. George moves to the side so that you can walk past him as he goes to remove the key.

You smile at him, unwrapping your arms from around his body, and you move to go inside. You barely have one foot past the door’s threshold when George comes directly behind you, closing the door and ushering you into the room.

Before you can blink, George is in front of you. His mouth is hot on yours as he slams your bodies back into the closed door, pinning your arms above your head with one hand while the other travels down your side to your waist, pulling your body against his.

He groans into your mouth as you buck your hips forward, grinding down on the thigh he’s placed between your legs.

His body presses further against yours as the hand holding your arms releases its hold. He keeps his mouth on yours as he slowly drags his hand down your arm and moves it along your shoulders before settling it snugly around your neck.

George lightly squeezes his hand around your throat and uses his other arm to pull your lower body further into him, causing you to let out a drawn out whine into his mouth.

Bringing your hands down, you cup them around his jaw and hold his face to yours as you kiss him again before pulling away, completely out of breath.

George doesn’t stop though, instead he begins kissing along your jaw and works his way down your neck, making your breathing stutter.

“George-” You breathe out, trying to get his attention.

He doesn’t stop his actions, simply letting out a rough “Mmm,” against your neck.

You need him to listen to you though, so you softly pull at his head so that he can see your face. “George, wait.”

He stops immediately this time, bringing his hand up from your neck to cup your jaw, rubbing his thumb along your cheek. “What is it, Darling?”

“If we do this- it changes things.” You search his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but he doesn’t miss a beat.

He leans down and presses a soft, slow kiss on your lips. “I know.”

You release a breathy sigh as he moves his mouth down and to the other side of your neck. “I don’t want to be your best friend, I don’t want you like that.”

“I know.”

And with that you push away from the wall and into him, your lips colliding as George starts walking backwards to his bedroom. He pulls you with him, leaving no space between your bodies and refusing to break away from you. You bump into furniture and walls, stumbling down the hall and into his room, where he finally breaks away from you.

He pulls back and looks at you, taking in the way your hair is disheveled from his hands, the way your lips are swollen and your eyes are glazed over in lust - both of which he’s sure that he mirrors perfectly.

He can’t help himself as he goes back in for another kiss, speaking directly into your mouth. “God, you are so gorgeous.”

George gives you no chance to respond before he’s on you again. “And this dress - so fucking stunning darling.”

Your breath catches as he moves to the side of your face and nips at the bottom of your ear. Your words come out far too airy, “I bought it for you.”

George smirks, “Yeah? Wanted to look all pretty for me, Darling?”

“Yeah- yes.” You breathe out. “Only bought it so you could take it off.”

“Is that right, baby?” Your knees go weak at the pet name. “I should get to it then, yeah? Say thank you for all your hard work.”

George moves in, face coming so close to yours that if you were to move forward your lips would touch, and runs a finger along the necklace hanging around your neck before reaching behind you. He slowly pulls the string behind your neck, undoing the tie holding up your dress.

He unlaces the back of your dress, holding your eyes as he does, before he leans back so that he can see your body properly. 

“You were so good to me tonight, Darling- saving me and getting all dressed up.” George moves his hand to the neck of your dress and looks up at you. “Is this okay?”

“Yes- please.” 

Not needed anything more from you, George grabs the top of your dress and begins slowly dragging it downwards - intently taking in every new inch of skin that is exposed to him.

As the material passes over your breasts, he pauses and visibly swallows, looking up to make eye contact with you as he leans forward and attaches his mouth to your left nipple. You gasp, placing your hand on his head as he kisses at your chest.

It doesn’t take long for him to resume pulling your dress down, relishing in the way it slides down your body and over your curves. He holds his breath as he moves the material past your hips, watching the way the black fabric shows slight resistance before falling completely to the floor and pooling at your ankles, leaving you in only your lacy underwear.

He stares, frozen in place for far too long. George’s lack of movement, or breathing for that matter, causes you to panic - feeling self conscious with the way his eyes are glued to you.

You bring your hands up, trying to hide yourself from his view; but his hands shoot out immediately to grab at your wrists and hold them away from your body.

“No.” His eyes sweep your body once more before he grabs your waist and starts walking you backwards to the bed, leaving your dress in the middle of the room.

“Look at you, so fucking pretty.” The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you stop moving, looking up at George before reaching over and tugging at his shirt.

“You have too many clothes on.” He smirks at your insistence before his hands find the hem of his shirt and he pulls it over his head in one swift motion.

“Better?” George looks down at you, raising an eyebrow at you.

You stare at him, ogling his chest. Sure, you’ve seen him shirtless before, but this is different. He’s shirtless for you. You smile up at him, “Much.”

He places his hands on your hips, not even trying to hide the way he looks at your chest. “You know, I really do think some thanks are in order.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

“Oh, yes - you were so perfect for me tonight, Darling. I want to make you feel good.” George’s hands begin to slowly run up and down your sides, trailing his fingers along your form and causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin. “You gonna let me make you feel good? Gonna let me see you?”

He leans forward, running his nose along your jaw. “Want to have you shaking for me.” He brings his right hand back up to your throat, lightly wrapping it around your throat as he uses his thumb to tilt your jaw upwards - urging you to look at him.

You let out a soft sound at the action, your underwear growing wetter by the second.

With his hand on your throat, he feels as you audibly swallow, resulting in the wide smirk that makes its way across his face. “Oh Darling, I’m going to make you feel so good. Nobody will ever compare.”

George uses the thumb that is still placed under your chin to reach up and pull down on your bottom lip, moving his face closer to yours and stopping just before your lips meet.

You reach out, slipping your fingers into the waistband of his pants before tugging his hips completely against yours. “I’m hearing a lot of talk G, maybe you should put your money where your mouth is.” 

Your hands are shaking from holding back from him - you can’t take the anticipation anymore.

George simply smirks at you before grabbing behind your thighs, lifting you off the ground and throwing you back down onto the bed. You slide your way up the bed, propping yourself against the pillows and watching as George removes his belt and nothing more.

Slowly, he makes his way up the bed, stopping as his head meets your stomach. He places kisses traveling from one hip to the other, right above the waistband of your underwear, and smiles as he feels your stomach quiver at the touch.

He runs his hands along the outside of your thighs before bringing them up to the top of your underwear and slipping his fingers into the waistband. George glances up at you, waiting for your nod of approval before he drags the lacy material down your legs and throws them somewhere into his room.

Coming back to your body, he lifts your legs onto his shoulders and begins placing slow, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your right leg, starting at your ankle and making his way up to where you want him the most. When he reaches the top of your thigh, he switches legs, repeating the motions and making his way up your left leg.

This time, when he reaches the top of your leg, he grabs onto the insides of your knees and pulls them apart, exposing your sopping cunt to him.

At the sight, George lets out a loud groan, bringing a finger up to run through your folds. He doesn’t even notice as he mumbles out, “Such a pretty pussy.”

You let out a whine, “George, please.”

The sound of your voice is all that it takes for him to rush into action, finally caving in and licking a stripe directly between your folds, catching your clit and making you let out a loud gasp as you throw your head back into the pillows.

George wastes no time, diving into your cunt and eating it like a man starved. He slowly flicks his tongue up and down your pussy, before directing his attention to your clit - feeding off of the sounds coming from your mouth. His tongue slowly circles the bud before placing just the right amount of pressure in the perfect spot, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.

The moan you let out is pornographic and you can’t stop your hips as they grind into his face. He never lets up, placing one hand on your hips to hold them in place. “Tastes so good baby,” he speaks directly into your cunt, slowing the movement of his tongue only so that he can bring his other hand up to meet his mouth.

With no warning, George slips a finger into you. “Oh my god-” Your words are cut off by your moan as he slowly starts thrusting his finger in and out of you, relishing in the sounds coming from your mouth.

He looks up and watches your face contort as he adds another finger, picking up his pace and attaching his lips back to your swollen clit. George has never been this turned on in his life, and is unable to stop himself from grinding down into the bed as he laps at your cunt.

You can feel the tension building within you, like a string pulled taught that is about to snap, and you cry out as you feel George curl his fingers inside of you, brushing against the perfect spot.

He picks up his pace and repeats the motion over and over again, thrusting his fingers in and out and sucking harshly at your clit. You can’t breathe, you can’t think. Any and all thoughts in your head completely vanish as you chance a glance between your legs and lock eyes with George.

You can feel his smirk, your mouth falling open as you watch him completely devour your cunt. “George- oh fuck-” Your breathing stutters as you catch sight of him rutting against the mattress as he eats you out and you release a drawn out moan, hands flying down to grab at his head.

He groans against you, the vibrations adding to the stimulation, and without any warning the tension building in your stomach snaps and you are cumming on his face. Your back arches off the bed, thighs clenching tightly around George’s head, and in that moment George swears that he could die a happy death between your thighs.

His fingers and mouth continue their movements, gradually slowing down and working you through your high; not stopping until you begin whining and push his head away.

Pulling away from your sensitive cunt and he moves up your body, placing sloppy kisses as he makes his way to hover above your face. He takes in the sight of you and his dick twitches as he surveys your disheveled state. Bringing his hand to your mouth, he places the fingers that were inside you just moments before on your lips, dragging down your bottom lip and watching it fall back into place.

What he doesn’t expect is the way your hand grasps at his wrist, holding it in place as you open your lips and take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his digits and sucking on them - maintaining eye contact the entire time.

“Fuck.” The groan he lets out at the action is guttural as he swiftly pulls his fingers from your mouth, immediately catching your lips with his in a heated kiss. His tongue makes its way into your mouth, pushing his hips down and grinding against you.

You whine at the feeling and reach for his pants, undoing the button and pulling down his zipper. Shuffling off of the bed, George stands and has his pants off in a flash - not wasting any time before climbing back onto the bed with you.

You sit up, immediately reaching out for him as you meet his mouth half way and drag your lips across his cheek before making your way down his neck.

His breath catches and he reaches for your hips, soaking in the way your lips and tongue trace across his collar bones. The large tent in his boxers is becoming increasingly hard to ignore, and he thinks that he might die if he doesn’t find some relief soon.

Little does he know, that’s exactly what you intend to fix.

You continue kissing down his body, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses and licks along his chest, working your way down to his stomach and reaching the waistband of his boxers.

You lightly nip at the skin directly above his underwear, smirking now that it’s his stomach quivering before you reach up to drag your fingers along the elastic of his waistband.

Glancing up, your eyes meet his and he lets out a laboured sound, one that falls somewhere between a sigh and a whine. He looks fucked out and you haven’t even touched him yet.

“Can I?” You slide your fingers beneath the waistband and tug, the material slipping lower on his hips, but don’t move any further.

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m not asking if I have to,” You lightly trace a finger around the bulge in his boxers, enjoying the way he quietly gasps. “I’m asking if I can.”

He’s nodding before he can process what he’s doing, and you don't hesitate to slide the material down his legs, releasing his hard on as it bounces upwards and hits his stomach.

Your jaw drops at the size. Sure, you figured George would be big - what with his height and with the way the skinny jeans he used to wear never truly hid much - but seeing it in full? Nothing could have prepared you for the sheer sight of it. You were practically drooling.

George watches as you stare at his cock in shock and his hips squirm. He needs you to do something, anything - or he isn’t going to be able to hold back from completely wrecking you. 

Not that he didn’t plan on doing that anyway, he just wants to let you have your moment - and the idea of your mouth on him is enough to have him cumming before you’ve even done anything.

“Are you going to keep staring? Or are you going to-” Before George can finish his sentence, you wrap your hand around his dick and anything he wanted to say flew from his mind, instead coming out as a rough gasp. “S-shit-”

You pump your hand up and down a few more times before you can’t stand it any longer. You lean forward, looking up to hold eye contact with him as you lick a slow stripe along the underside of his cock, staring from the base and making your way to his tip - where you tease your tongue along the slit at the top.

George lets out a grunt, doing his best to stop himself from bucking into your face. He can’t bring himself to look away as you swirl your tongue around his tip, paying close attention to what makes him twitch or grunt.

You pull away just to gather the spit in your mouth and let it drip down onto him, using the extra lubrication to start pumping your hand around him at an even pace.

He throws his head back at the feeling of your hand around him, unable to look at you as your hand moves up and down, up and down, over and over again. Your hand tightens its grip and he swears, letting out a groan. 

You watch him, admiring the way he looks with his head thrown back. You squeeze your hand again and you revel in the way he has to roughly swallow.

Not slowing the movement of your hand, you lean forward again and take the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue and sucking harshly, welcoming the salty taste of precum as it enters your mouth.

His head shoots up from its laid back position, eyes wide as he lets out a groan. “Holy fuck, Y/n.”

Something about the way he says your name, with the rasp of lust on his tongue, gives you the confidence to push your head further down - taking more of him into your mouth before pulling back for air.

You move down again, taking as much of him in as you can before you gag slightly, pulling a deep moan from George’s mouth. The sound is all you need to keep going, beginning to bob your head up and down.

George can’t believe this is happening. All of these years spent imagining this exact scenario and now it’s a reality - you are actually here, with his dick in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down while using your other hand to reach what you aren’t able to take in. 

He can’t stop the way his hips buck slightly upwards on a particular downward stroke and swirl of your tongue. You let out a loud moan around him, and he feels the vibrations in his gut. “Fuck, Darling- oh God, you’re mouth’s so- shit.”

His hand flies to your hair, gathering it into his hand and pulling as you continue bobbing your head. You moan again. “Yeah? Like when I pull your hair baby?”

You whine as he pulls at it again, and he groans. “God, feels so good- oh shit- don’t-”

You ignore his half-hearted protests as you slow your movements and press him further into your mouth, taking him all the way in, nose meeting skin, and swallowing around him to keep yourself from gagging.

George hits the back of your throat and chokes out a moan - he can’t do it anymore.

Before you can blink, George roughly pulls you off of him and flips your positions so that you are lying directly beneath him, his arms braced on either side of your head. 

“As fucking amazing as that was, I’m not done with you.” He grinds down against your dripping cunt. “I want to be inside of you. Now.”

You let out a whine, clutching at his shoulders as he grinds against you again - making both of your heads fall backwards at the friction.

“Please- George please. I need you.” You scratch along his shoulders and he shutters.

He smirks as he reaches over to the nightstand, quickly pulling out a condom. “Oh- you need me, now? What happened to all that talk?”

You scoff, far past the point of wanting to be teased like that - you are ready now, and you intend to make that clear. Reaching up, you snatch the condom from his hands, bringing it to your mouth and ripping it open with your teeth.

You toss the foil packet to the side and make sure to look George in the eyes as you ever-so-slowly roll the condom on. “Just fuck me, G.”

He groans at your words, and wastes no time lining himself up to your entrance. George looks up at you and smiles, “Yes ma’am.”

And then he pushes into you, slowly stretching out your pussy and making you both moan out.

“Oh fuck- George.” His pace is measured, using all of his restraint to keep himself from thrusting completely into you and possibly hurt you.

He works his way in and out of you, pushing slightly deeper with each forward movement until he’s completely inside of you - your pussy taking him to the hilt, your hips pressed directly into his.

He’s so deep inside of you that you whine out again, breathing heavily. He hasn’t even started moving yet. “Holy shit-”

“Christ, Darling- youre so fucking tight.” His muscles tense, trying not to rock into you until you are adjusted to his size and ready.

The pain quickly morphs into pleasure, and you clench down tightly around him. “Shit- don’t-”

“George, please- I need you to move.” You don’t have to tell him twice. He immediately pulls out of you, leaving only the tip in, before swiftly thrusting back into your cunt.

“Oh God,” you cry out - clutching at his shoulders and he starts moving in and out of you at a steady pace. 

He watches your face scrunching in ecstasy, your moans being music to his ears. He brings his hands up - one to grab tightly at your breast and the other to find its favourite place around your throat. 

He lightly squeezes the sides of your neck, and your jaw drops open - letting out a loud moan before snapping shut. He thrusts deeper at the sound, unable to help the immediate reaction.

George hovers over you, moving his hand from your breast and bringing it to your jaw and grabbing your chin. “Open.”

You immediately do as he says, opening your mouth and waiting in anticipation. He leans down and spits directly into your mouth, groaning at the way you immediately moan and swallow. “Good fucking girl.”

“George- fuck, faster- please.” You sound pathetic, you know it, but you can't find it in yourself to care as George immediately picks up the pace.

He’s pounding into your cunt, hand wrapped around your throat and eyes firmly on your chest, watching as your breasts bounce with each of his thrusts. He uses his free hand to lift one of your legs higher, allowing him to thrust deeper into you. “Fuck- You’re so good to me.”

Your moans grow louder at his words, loving the praise and wanting more. “George- oh my god-” You are cut off as you feel his fingers find your clit, rubbing circles in tandem with his thrusts.

“Shit- the best pussy - god you’re - always the fucking best, Darling.” He feels you clench tightly around him and he quickens his movements on your clit, pushing you further to your release. “Gonna cum, babe?”

“Yeah, yea- oh fuck George please-” You feel it building, that tension in your gut. You can feel it in your toes and you start rolling your hips to meet his. He leans down, catching your lips in a messy kiss.

He barely pulls away, speaking into your mouth as he says, “Give it to me, Y/n. Cum for me.” 

It doesn’t take much more before you are arching off the bed for the second time tonight, wrapping your legs around George’s hips as he continues thrusting in and out of you, moving his fingers over your clit and working through your high.

You’re a moaning mess as he reattaches his lips to yours, tightening his hold around your neck again before completely removing his hand, opting to place both hands on either side of your waist.

You start coming down from your high, but you aren’t ready for this to be over and neither is he. His dick twitches as you begin grinding down against him, crying out at the feeling of his cock dragging against the walls of your sensitive cunt.

It takes two rolls of your hips before George can’t handle it anymore. His hands are shaking from holding back from you. He wants to give it all to you, and the way your hips are pushing and grinding against him tells him you want it just as badly.

He quickly pulls out of you and you whine at the loss of him before you’re letting out a loud gasp - hands flying outwards as he grabs your hips and swiftly flips you onto your hands and knees.

His dick throbs at the sight of your ass and bare back on full display for him. His hands come up to your ass and he groans, grabbing at the flesh and kneading it in his hands.

You press back into his hands. “George, please- I want it.”

“Yeah? You gonna take it all for me, Darling?” His hold shifts from your ass to your hips, keeping them in place as he grinds against your backside. “Think you can do it?”

“Yeah - yes. I can take it - want to take it all.” You’ve never wanted anything more.

He smirks at your words before leaning down over you, hands still on your hips as he starts at your ass and licks a long, slow trail along your spine. You shutter as you feel his tongue glide along your back and make its way over to your shoulder. As he reaches your shoulder, he bites down and draws out a gasped moan from your lips. His tongue slides over the marks that his teeth left, before he places a kiss there and moves to speak into your ear.

“Put your hands on the headboard. Now.”

You don’t hesitate to do as you're told, immediately placing your hands on the headboard and bracing yourself as you feel George reach down to position your legs further apart.

“Good?” He checks, running his hand up your back and allowing him to feel the way your breathing shutters with need.

“I’m good, G. Just do something-”

Your words are completely cut off as George grips your hips tightly and roughly thrusts into you - knocking the air from your lungs in a drawn out moan.

He doesn’t stop once, hips immediately finding and setting a punishing rhythm. He’s deeper than he had been the first time - allowing him to reach places no one had been able to reach before - and you can’t help the pornographic moan that comes from your throat.

The sound that comes from George’s chest is almost that of a growl - the feeling of your pussy gripping him so tightly, pulling him back in every time he pulls back, only spurring him to quicken his pace.

“Look at you, taking it - fuck, such a good girl.” He watches as his cock repeatedly sinks into you, coming out wetter each time he pulls away. 

The room is full of the sounds of skin meeting skin and your moans of his name, your bodies colliding over and over as he rams deeper into you.

With one particularly deep thrust, your grip on the headboard slips and you push your face into the pillows, unable to hold yourself up any longer. The new angle directs George to the sensitive spot deep inside of you and you cry out into the pillows, pushing your hips backwards to meet his thrusts with your own.

“Yeah? That the spot, baby?” You moan back in response, nodding your head into the pillows. He grips your hips so tightly that it’s likely to leave bruises, watching as your ass bounces against his hips. “That’s right, take that dick baby - shit - doing so good for me.”

George keeps one hand on your hip, while the other comes to rest on your back, pressing your top half completely into the bed and leaving your ass up in the air. He pushes down, pounding into your cunt with no remorse and groaning as he watches his cock disappear into you. “Fuck, look at your pretty pussy - like it’s made for me.”

He lets out a growl as you clench down around him and his pace stutters. With no warning, your third release of the night comes crashing over you - causing you to scream out. The pleasure is overwhelming.

“Fuck - shit - gripping me so tight, i can’t - oh god-”

George doesn’t miss a beat, pulling out and turning you over before pushing right back into your dripping cunt. He places all of his weight on you, clutching you to his body as his hips snap harshly against yours. “Im gonna cum- oh shit - im coming -”

He thrusts in one, two more times before his movements stop and he’s spilling into the condom with a raspy groan of your name.

His body relaxes into yours, wrapping his arms around you and cradling you to his body as if he couldn’t bear the idea of separating from you. He peppers soft kisses over your shoulders and across your face as your laboured breathing slows to a normal rate.

After a moment, George places his hands on either side of your head and pushes himself up, giving him the opportunity to look at you.

Your hair is a mess, you have the beginnings of dark marks along your neck and over your shoulders, your lips are swollen and wet with spit, and you’re unbelievably sweaty - but he’s never thought you looked better. He can’t believe that he gets to see you like this.

At the same time, you’re taking in the adoration in his eyes, the way his shoulders are scratched to bits, the way his lips lift at the corners of his mouth into a soft, small smile. He’s perfect.

While you both would love to stay in this position forever, you’re both painfully aware of George’s softening dick and the mess on your thighs. So with great reluctance, George sits up and pulls out of you - murmuring a soft apology when he sees your face scrunch up in a grimace. He gets off of the bed and you watch as he disappears into the bathroom.

Holy shit - did that really just happen?

It’s only minutes before George is walking back into the room, wet cloth in hand and condom nowhere to be seen.

He moves back to the bed, leaning forward and spreading your legs. He brings the cloth up, softly cleaning away the sticky mess on your thighs, placing kisses on your leg every time you wince from the overstimulation on your sensitive cunt.

Throwing the cloth into the trashcan by his desk, George crawls back into the bed and immediately pulls you into him, wrapping his arms around you and cuddling you into his body as he pulls the blankets over the both of you.

You place a slow, soft kiss on his lips before you curl into his chest. He sighs in content and you relax into his hold. 

Neither of you speak. You don’t have to. You both choose to stay in the moment, laying pressed against the person you love, and save any conversation for in the morning.

It’s like that, wrapped snugly in George’s arms, that you begin to drift off - lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of his breathing and the arm rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

• • •

You’re the first to wake up, disoriented until you remember where you are and who it is that has their arm thrown around your waist.

You roll over and stare as you come face to face with your best friend, the man you are hopelessly in love with, fast asleep next to you. It takes a moment for the shock of your situation to pass out of your system - and even then it never fully goes away.

Turning to look at the ceiling, you run over the events of the last sixteen hours. Last night really happened. You shagged George Daniel - your George. It was real, the ache between your legs being a prime indicator of such. You couldn’t believe it - but what did this mean for the both of you?

You shift onto your side so that you can face George as he sleeps, taking in his peaceful state. His eyelids flutter in his sleep and he lets out a soft hum as he tightens the arm around your waist.

You don’t stop yourself as the urge to touch him takes over you. Reaching up, you begin to lightly trace his face with your fingertips - dragging them over his cheeks, his brows, his forehead - committing all of his features to your memory.

Your fingertips eventually reach his lips, and it’s as you run them over his cupid's bow that he stirs awake - but you don’t move your hand away.

He lets out a quiet noise, shuffling for a moment before his eyes flutter open to meet yours. George blinks once, twice and then smiles a soft, dopey-looking smile that causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

Noticing that your fingers are still resting by the corner of his mouth, George turns his head so that he can place a kiss on your index finger, following it with a kiss to your middle, ring, and pinky fingers.

You watch him in awe as he brings his hand up to wrap around your wrist before slowly trailing kisses up your arm and pulling you completely into his embrace. 

His arms wrap tightly around you and he begins peppering kisses across your face, sending a smile to your lips and pulling a giggle out of you. George chuckles, bringing his nose up to rub against yours before pushing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

The kiss grows in passion, your lips moving in sync as you roll on top of him, and it’s not until you’re pulling away for air that your moment is interrupted. Beneath you, George’s stomach growls, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your throat at the sheepish look on his face.

“Hungry?” You tease, lowering your face back down to his.

He hums, bringing his hand to the back of your neck and pulling your face closer to his, trying to go in for another kiss. “Maybe.”

“Well then,” You pull away from him, fighting the smile that tries to work its way onto your face at the offended look George gives you. “I think I can fix that.”

Rolling off of him, you get up from the bed and grab one of George’s t-shirts from a stack near his bed, throwing it over your naked form. You start walking towards the door before you throw a glance over your shoulder at George, who’s laying in the bed and watching you with a soft look in his eyes.

“Well? Better go freshen up while I start on breakfast.” And with that you make your way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, leaving George staring after you in shock.

It takes only a minute before George is scrambling out of the bed and hurrying into the bathroom, not daring to waste another moment that could be spent with you like this.

In the kitchen, you start cooking up the breakfast foods that you found in George’s fridge. You turn on the stove, prepping the bacon and eggs to be cooked.

George, now fully awake and feeling much better after freshening up in the bathroom, makes his way to the kitchen and freezes in the doorway at the sight in front of him.

There you are, swaying your hips back and forth to a silent tune as you stand at the stove cooking, wearing just his shirt. He crosses his arm and leans against the doorway, watching you flutter about his kitchen. The sight is overwhelmingly domestic - you in his clothes, in his kitchen, moving around like it’s your flat just as much as it is his. It makes his chest tight with the surge of adoration he feels looking at you.

He never wants to stop, and he will be damned if he lets this chance go.

“I think I could get used to this.”

You startle in place before turning around, finding George leaning against the doorframe in only a pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips - his bare chest on full display. You swallow and quickly turn back to the food on the stove with a small smile on your face. 

“Could you, now?”

“Oh, yes.” George pushes off the doorframe and makes his way to stand behind you, where he wraps his arms around your body and places a tender kiss on the side of your head. “I definitely could.”

You smile and turn around in his arms so that you’re facing each other, bringing your arms up to wrap around his neck. Your fingers start running over the short hair at the back of his neck and George lets out a hum, leaning forward to rest his head against yours.

He smiles as he moves in, placing his lips on yours. The arms around your waist tighten their hold, and you pull his face closer to yours by the back of his neck. 

You drag your tongue across his bottom lip and his breath hitches as he pulls back smiling. The both of you stand there for what feels like hours - when in reality only seconds have passed - simply basking in the other’s affection. 

Resting his forehead on yours once more, George sighs happily,looking directly into your eyes as he breathes out your name, smile not wavering once. “Y/n.”

And with that one word, the way he says your name like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard, everything just stops. 

It’s you and him, just like it’s always been, but the air has changed, something has shifted. Neither of you are scared of this - of the feelings, of the possible consequences - you’re both sure of what you want, and now you both know that you’ve been wanting the same thing.

It’s you and George. Your George, George Daniel, your best friend in the entire world - and you are so very head over heels for him.

That doesn’t mean that you aren’t worried that you’re completely reading into all of it. It could have been a one night thing and he could want to go back to being best friends, but you are absolutely certain that you won’t ever be able to go back to the way things were.

You need him to say it.

“George, I don’t want to just be your best friend. I can’t be.” Your words pull the both of you out of the moment you had created and you watch as George’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I thought we got past that last night?” He pulls back slightly to get a better look at your face. Had last night not been enough for you to realize how he felt about you?

You let out a sigh. “I know, I just-”

“Y/n.” The way he says your name is stern, demanding of your complete attention. George pauses, steeling himself for what he’s about to say before taking a deep breath and continuing. “I’ve been in love with you for ages. We’ve never been just friends and I don't exactly want to start now. Not after last night. Not after I finally got what I’ve been wanting for as long as I can remember.”

Your jaw drops at his confession, bringing your hand to your chest to rest it there - as if to slow the racing of your heart and keep it from beating completely out of your chest. “You what?”

George doesn’t hesitate in his response, looking directly into your eyes as he speaks. “I love you. A ridiculous amount, actually.”

“George-” This can’t be real. No way he just said those three words that you’ve dreamt of falling from his lips. He loves you. He loves you.

He cuts you off. “You don’t have to say it back, that’s not why I said it-” His eyes scan over your features, trying to read your expression, “but god - please tell me last night meant something to you too, because I really don’t want this to be a one night thing and-”

You grab his face in your hands, cutting off his words and looking back into his eyes as you say those three words back. “I love you.”

The tension leaves his body, his eyes shining.“Wait, you-” 

You cut him off again. “I. Love. You.” You punctuate each word with a kiss before attaching your lips to his in a passionate kiss.

You cup his jaw as he brings a hand up to tangle in your hair, holding your face against his and pulling you closer to him by your waist.

The kiss is full of love and adoration, years worth of affection that was once suppressed is now spilling out -  showing itself through every look and every touch exchanged.

George is the first to pull away as he glances down and smiles. He brings his hand away from your hair and moves it to your neck, where he gives a slight tug on the gold necklace that you didn’t take off last night.

He looks up at you with so much love that you have a hard time breathing. You’re frozen in place, overwhelmed by the feeling in your chest that grows the longer you look at him. 

All of the silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting, it’s all led to this moment - and you’ve never been happier.

That is until George’s smile falls and his nose scrunches up. 

“Do you smell that?”

Oh my god the food.

“Shit!”

• • •

a/n: And that's a wrap! I hope you all enjoyed George and Darling as much as I did :)) I honestly had a lovely time working on this (minus the part where i lost 9k of it while i was writing and had to completely rewrite the last half) and im happy to have been able to share it with you. The lack of George fanfiction is devastating, especially as a team George truther (iykyk), and i am glad that i was able to contribute to the cause. Its been fun!! I'm going to go drown myself in holy water now, see you later &lt;3 xoxo - K

#george daniel #george daniel smut #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #george daniel fic #team george #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #i maybe have something else planned #but itll be a while #K's 1975

[wreckedandpolemic]

car head with George?? I have been thinking about it a lot lately

ok so i know i said blurb night but then i got home and immediately crashed out Sorry about that one

(mdni) in which you get a little bored during a long drive. 796 words.

warnings: oral (m receiving), praise, degradation, unsafe driving practices

george looks so fucking good. he always does, but there’s something thrillingly gorgeous about the way he looks now, tense with frustration as he stares out at the crawling traffic before you. it’s dangerous to play with him when he’s like this; there’s no telling when he’ll lose patience and practically torture you however he sees fit until he’s satisfied. heat pools between your legs at the thought.

you can’t resist running your hand over his jean-clad thigh, the muscles bunched under your touch. “so tense,” you croon sympathetically. “you want some stress relief?”

george grins. “go ahead. so good to me, love.”

it’s almost not as fun when he accepts immediately, the scrape of degradation when he mocks your neediness forlornly missing. you aren’t complaining, though, popping the button of his jeans and freeing his cock from his boxers. god, you’ll never stop being more than a little awed at the sight of him, heavy and thick in your palm before he’s even fully hard. drool pools in your mouth as you pump him slowly, savouring the way he groans softly at the contact. teasingly, you dip your head to lap at his tip, the salt of him licking across your tongue.

“taste so good,” you murmur, wrapping your lips around his tip and digging your tongue into his slit.

one of george’s hands finds its way into your hair, gently tangling in your curls as you take him into your mouth slowly. the stretch at the corners of your mouth sends heat spiralling between your legs, spit dripping down his length. you swallow around him, his quiet groan delicious as his other hand grips the wheel for dear life. “fucking love that mouth of yours, angel,” he says around a low moan. “can take a little more, hm?”

obediently, you lower your head, bobbing up and down on his cock, the slide of your mouth against his spit-slick skin messy and hot. “that’s it. good girl,” george murmurs as his cock bumps the back of your throat and you swallow a gag with practised ease. “such a good little cockslut for me, baby. look so fucking pretty with my dick in your mouth, god.” you squirm at the praise, arousal pooling in your underwear as you moan around him. his hand leaves your hair to come up to the wheel, the car rumbling slightly as it inches forward.

george’s focus leaves you as you take a turning and the road empties out almost completely. the car accelerates breathlessly, your nails digging into his thighs as you swallow him even deeper, inhaling deeply through your nose and swirling your tongue. “fuck,” he hisses, bucking his hips into your mouth. the burn in your throat has tears pooling in the corners of your eyes, dizzying waves of arousal sweeping through you as george fucks your mouth lazily. “sweet girl,” he praises softly, the taste of him overwhelming on your tongue as you moan around him wantonly. “getting off on this, huh? bet your pretty little pussy’s fuckin’ dripping for me, yeah? fuckin’ made to suck my cock.”

his words wash over you, your head deliciously hazy as you pull off him, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his tip for a moment. you grin up at him, eyes blown wide and hair messy. “want your cum down my throat,” you whine, taking as much of him back in your mouth as you can at once.

your cheeks hollow, garbled moans falling from your lips as george tightens his hand in your hair, dragging you up and down his cock like a toy. “pretty, dirty girl,” he murmurs, tears rolling down your cheeks as your heartbeat kicks wildly in your cunt. “‘m close. just a little more, then you’ll get what you want,” he promises as you try every trick, swallowing and moaning around him to the soundtrack of george’s low, rhythmic groans. you feel his muscles tensing. “fuck, shit, m’gonna–” it’s all the warning you need to pull up as his cock pulses, hot ropes of cum spilling on your tongue as he gasps breathlessly. his body strings with tension, his focus intent on the road so that he doesn’t send the pair of you spiralling off the road. you ride out his orgasm, taking every drop he spills as he thrusts shallowly into your mouth.

pulling off him, you pose with your tongue out, showing off his cum pooled there. george groans at the sight, hips shifting as you swallow deliberately. “love your taste so much,” you whisper. “you feel better? less tense?” you tease, smirking. in response, he throws on a burst of speed, pinning you back against the seat.

“just wait until we get home, baby. m’gonna fucking ruin you.”

#george daniel x reader #george daniel smut #george daniel imagine #george daniel #the 1975 #the 1975 smut #the 1975 fanfic #writing #smut #request

[tillthelandslide]

Masterlist []

name: Lou ✌️

24 🌸

pronouns: she/her

time zone: GMT 🇬🇧

Add yourself to my taglist here

Key: Smut 💦 Instagram AU 📸 One shot ❤️ Series📓

*read the lastest: Prove It Princess 💦 || Can't Get Enough📓

The 1975:

Same for you 📓 (in progress)

One Shots

Stupidly Happy Smiles ❤️

Mr Macdonald 📸

Touring with the 1975📸

Filth💦

Stubborn, Whipped, Insatiable💦

Sweet Cheeks ❤️

Throughout the Years 📸

Request: domestic fluff with Ross x Ross smut 💦🍭

Daddy Ross 📸

You've Got Me Forever ❤️

My Person 📸

She's Got A Boyfriend Anyway 💦

Poor Baby ❤️

Made For Me 💦

Go Get Your Man

Travelling 📸

You're Not Alone ❤️

We've Got Forever After All 📸

For Better or For Worse ❤️

Happy Valentine's Day ❤️

Series

Pressure 📓(on hold)

Instagram AU

Blurbs / Short Fics

Under the Weather ❤️

One Shots

Yours ❤️

Obsessed 📸

Blurbs / Short Fics

Lovey Dovey G ❤️

Series

Love It If We Made It (coming soon)

One Shots

Unbelievably so ❤️

Babe You Look So Cool📸

She's Got A Boyfriend Anyway 💦

My Wife ❤️

Best Friend Day ❤️

Post-Stoned with Matty Interview ❤️

Perfect Girl (chain matty)💦 || Prove It Princess (part 2)

Wintering ❤️

Definitely Don't Hate It

I love you, don't you mind?

Blurbs / short one shots

Dinner with the Healy's (post Finsbury Park)

Series

Insufferable Arsehole 📓 (completed)

Then Because She Goes (coming soon)

#the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #the 1975 x reader #the 1975 imagine #the 1975 masterlist #matty healy fan fic #matty the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #ross the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald smut #ross mcdonald fanfic #ross macdonald x reader #george daniel fic #george daniel smut #george daniel x reader #george daniel #tillthelandslide the 1975 masterlist #same for you the 1975 series #insufferable arsehole matty healy series #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy imagine #adam hann #ross macdonald imagine

[werentwethestarsinheaven]

i’m your sun

george daniel x female reader

a/n: hi :) i don't really know what this is, but i guess it's sort of a continuation of this little thing i wrote yesterday. let me know what you think!

The crystalline water laps eagerly at the edge of the yacht, rippling on the barnacles that grip the fibreglass. The Amalfi sun seeps into you, leaving behind fresh freckles and pink tender skin. You lazily flip at the pages of a trashy romance novel, tossing it away and scoffing with annoyance when the Italian summer breeze tugs at your hair and sends it spiralling into your eyes.

George’s head perks up from where it lies in the crook between your thighs and your torso, carefully observing your change in mood, his bleached buzz cut tickling you. His slender fingers reach up to your forehead, fingerprints cold from the condensation that dripped off his icy glass of limoncello spritz. Coolness trails across your face, hair now gently tucked behind your ears. His touch keeps travelling, down your neck and into your sinking collarbone, his once cold touch now warm from your radiating skin. He hooks his fingers into the strap of your bikini top, toying and teasing, pulling lighty to reveal a harsh tan line that he attempts to soothe with soft caresses. The inked box on his thumb flexes as his hands continue to move lower, brushing over your breasts, his smirk deepening as he can feel your body tense. You expect him to keep moving, but he stops. The palm of his hand opening and pressing against your chest.

“Your heart is so warm, the sun’s too much angel, I think we need to to cool you down”, he murmers, brows furrowing with genuine concern.

“I’m fine,” you reassure, smiling at his overprotectiveness, holding his face with your hands and letting his stubble press into you.

“George, I’m fine I promise it’s not the sun,” you squeal, he ignores you as he picks you up, pulling you tight to his body. He stands at the edge of the yacht, eyes glistening with deviltry.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s not even the sun it’s you-” Your desperate pleas are cut off.

He’s plunged you both into the ocean, the sea water immersing your bodies and immediately cooling your burning skin. You both break the surface at the same time, cackles and shrieks filling the humid air as you scold him.

“Why did you do that? You could have killed me,” you giggle, playfully sending a splash of water towards him.

He leaps forward through the waves of water and grapples to your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace. His forehead rests against yours, you’re both panting, hearts beating quickly. The distance between you closes, you never know who pulls in during these moments. He would tease and say it was you, while you argue it was him, deep down knowing it’s always you. You don’t think he quite knows the effect he has over you.

You can still smell the countless cigarettes he chainsmoked on the yacht, as well as the sneaky joint he let you have a few puffs of. You can still feel the sticky sun cream he generously applied, somehow blissfully ignored by the sun as a pink tinge has now crept on the bridge of his nose. You can still taste the limoncello, now mixed with a slight tinge of the grapefruit lip gloss he picked out for you at the airport.

Your lips move against each other languidly, wet and soft and passionate. Your fingers are curled at the nape of his neck while his wisp away at your hips. Pulling him closer and closer to you until you can feel his heartbeat pressed against your pebbled nipples. You need him closer. Your legs are coiling together beneath the surface, goosebumps sending prickles shooting from your shaven skin. The water ripples around you as you slowly drag him down, breathing heavily and softly moaning.

It all happens so quickly, now you’re underwater again. Lips still moving together, saltwater gushing into your mouths. Your hold on him grows impossibly tighter, digging your nails into his neck to hold him in place. You don’t even realise how long you’re both under for. How hard you’re clawing into his flesh. How desperately you need him. Sizzling bubbles, the last remnants of oxygen, rise against your bodies as your souls intertwine. You feel like one entity.

Muffles of screaming and thrashing limbs, his fingers finally pry your grip off of his neck.

You break the surface. He weakly pulls you both back onto the boat. You’re no longer in his arms anymore. He’s gasping and coughing and yelling, bent over at the waist. Your knees are pulled to your chest, your body shivering despite the sweltering sun.

“What were you thinking? Why did you do that?”, he spits, turning his head to glare at you, “you could have killed us.” He bitterly repeats the same words you told him earlier.

You fight the salt that stings into your eyes. You can’t tell if it’s the ocean water or your tears. He’s never spoken to you like this. You don’t know what to say. You yourself don’t even know what you were thinking.

“I want you to need me George,” you splutter, holding back coughs as sea water burns at the back of your throat.

“What are you even talking about? Why the fuck did you do that?” he hisses again, confusion and anger still flooding his eyes.

This time you don’t answer.

He just doesn’t understand. You want to be the barnacles that suction onto his body. You want to be the UV rays that burn and make the melanin in his cells scream. You want to be the one to splatter freckles onto his back. You want to be the salt that stings his eyes. You want to be his oxygen and his life.

He’s not allowed to breathe without you.

You want him to need you.

You don’t realise how long you’ve been sat there for. The wooden planks of your rented yacht imprinting it’s patterns into the flesh of your thighs. The sun is saying her last goodbyes, kissing the apples of your tear stained cheeks with an orange glow before sending the moon to glimmer in her place. It seems like George has left long ago, the half empty bottle of limoncello and the neat charcuterie board he delicately fed you earlier packed away and taken with him.

By the time you return to the villa you can tell George is already in bed. He left the door unlocked, the light by the entryway sends a flicker of warmth through eternal darkness.

You trudge through the villa quietly to not make a sound. A trail of your bikini and old sandals and a stolen button up of George’s is left behind you down the hallway. He lies in bed, his bare back illuminated in moonlight and facing away from the door, away from you. Your naked body is caked in salt and sweat and tears. You’re too exhausted to care. Climbing into bed, the ruffle of linen sheets cuts through the uncomfortable silence. You know he’s awake, you can tell by the way his breathing is unevenly paced. That, and you know he can never sleep without you in his arms.

You bring your hand to his back, tracing your fingers softly across his skin, admiring the constellations the sun has branded into him as freckles. You feel jealous of the sun, you wish to somehow eternalise yourself into his body too. Your eyes fall upon the back of his neck. The small crescent shaped indentations from your nails from today have faintly scarred. You reach up to kiss the little moons. You turn over, facing away from him, letting the everlasting flow of tears dampen your pillow.

He’s a barnacle that clings to your mind, the salt that stings your soul, the oxygen that courses through your veins.

Your silent sobs shake the bed, fighting with the movement of the mattress that sinks and rises as he tosses and turns. It feels like an eternity you lie there for. And then you feel it.

His lips press against your shoulder, arms wrapping around your torso. He pulls your soul into the crook of his body that is shaped like you. He sighs contently.

“I do need you my angel,” he whispers, lips brushing on your back. His open palm reaches for your chest.

“I’m your sun.”

#george daniel #george daniel fic #george daniel x reader #george daniel imagine #george daniel smut #the 1975 #the 1975 fic #matty healy

[uramilf]

Masterlist

* = smut/mature content 18+

MATTY HEALY

Insatiable * Tease *  Good Boy * Backseat * You’re Losing Me Stress Reliever Reputation

The Record Shop (Series) Prologue Chapter One * Chapter Two * Chapter Three Chapter Four* Chapter Five*

Mutual Attraction (Series) Chapter One Chapter Two* Chapter Three* -----------------------------

GEORGE DANIEL

Stuck With Me Takeover *  -------------------------------

ROSS MACDONALD

Caught *  Hypnotised *  --------------------------------

CHRISTMAS 75 Masterlist

#the 1975 smut #the 1975 imagines #matty healy imagines #matty healy x reader #matty healy #george daniel #George Daniel x reader #george daniel smut #ross macdonald #ross the 1975 #ross macdonald smut #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald x reader #George Daniel fluff #adam hann #matty #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine

[lottiecrabie]

if ur still doing these lol... matty and george anything smut ... but in general just like angry sex or taking frustration out on you.... maybe ..

i had a funny quip when i started this but It’s lost now

the album isn’t turning out. it all needs tweaking; the vocals, the instruments, the mere bones of it. the lyrics are changed again and again, the same turn of phrase transformed until it comes back to its original form. you make a funny quip about it, but it seldomly seems relevant by the way they react.

you’re getting restless by the time george pipes, ‘control your girl.’ it’s a bit ridiculous, you’re as much matty’s as george’s, but the effect is the same. matty forces you on his knee, gripping your hip as he peers at the computer.

you rub yourself on matty’s knee, still obedient as they ignore you. whatever they’re working; you didn’t get out of bed to get nothing. the hem of the jeans hit you just right. you fall back on matty’s chest, puppeteering his hand on your chest, groping your own breast with his digits. you feel his breath hitch in his throat as you moan, grinding quicker and harder on his thigh.

george and matty try to ignore you, stubborn, but you’re so pretty and ready and needy, scattered moans blooming from your lips, that you easily draw them out of their heads.

matty rubs two fingers around your nipple first, kissing up your jaw. ‘dirty girl,’ he whispers, and you giggle in agreement.

‘think our slut needs some attention,’ george says next, and you twist a sloppy grin to him. his hand finds your lonely breast, playing with it.

your tired hips are soon relieved of their duty. first you’re mindlessly bucking on matty’s lap, and next you’re bent over the console. you smirk at the instruments beyond the glass, as if you won some sort of game.

george pushes your skirt past your hips, dipping his fingers in your underwear. you push against every button you can get your hand under, petty.

‘fuck,’ matty moans, dipping his head and entering your wet hole, thrusting his tongue in and out as george rubs your clit.

you’re easily overwhelmed by all of it, screaming their name, building and building that sinful pleasure in you. you think it’s so simple; and it almost is, until they retreat out of you, vengeful and sticky. you turn around with a gasp.

george licks his thumb, smirking. you pout, trying to bargain with some merciful parts of them, though you know how few of them exist. they like you exactly like this: wanton, begging, needy. drooling and moaning and dirty, so ready you’d do anything for their cocks.

‘c’mon,’ you plead, already kneeling. matty still sits in his chair and you go for him first, spotting weakness. ‘i need you so fucking bad.’

‘is that so?’ matty says, pushing your hair off your forehead as you work his belt. he throws a funny look george’s way. ‘george, i think our slut is getting desperate.’

‘it’s cos you don’t treat her right enough.’

‘me?’ matty gasps. ‘she’s always satisfied when i leave her.’ and then, for once, he looks down and acknowledges, ‘right, baby? say how much you want me.’

actions speak louder than words, and you take his hard cock in your mouth instead of saying anything. you bob up and down eagerly, drawing your cheeks in until matty makes a familiar moan. you watch as he rolls his eyes, puffy breaths leaving his lips, hand drawing through his hair.

‘fucking hell,’ he mutters.

‘real satisfied,’ george mocks, working at your underwear. ‘guess i have to do everything myself.’ he rubs your clit over your underwear. you moan around matty’s length, a crude swear leaving his lips.

you bob your head rhythmically until you falter, feeling george’s length press against your heat. you throw a look, pleading, and he grins at you. your wet heat welcomes him home, almost begging, as he enters you.

‘shit, i can’t get over this.’ george hits you deep, thrusting and thrusting until you want to cry for him.

you moan around matty’s length, making him shiver. ‘feel her?’ george taunts.

‘yes.’

‘our fucking slut.’

‘she’s so ready for us, isn’t she?’ matty makes eye contact with you, almost cooing as he watches your open gaze. ‘would do anything we ask.’

george hums. ‘ask her to arch her hips, then.’

‘you heard him.’

you do so dutifully, arching your back as george hits you just right. euphoria pumps through you. their breaths ring in your ear, muffled moans that strike true through you. you want to scream, and cry, and call their names. everything in you tenses.

‘finish soon,’ george says. ‘she’s gonna come and i want her to clean my cock.’

‘greedy,’ matty calls, and you can’t tell if he’s talking to you. you make a sound still, gagging on his dick dutifully. your clit tightens, ready. ‘make her come, then. want to feel her scream.’

you make a faraway moan, but it feels like you’re entirely ignored from this situation. pulled every which way, demanding you’re here and there. you scream, moan, cry. matty strokes a hand through your hair while george rubs at your clit, and it’s the mix of it that has you coming around their cocks.

‘shit,’ matty screams. george laughs above the sound, still pumping into you.

your orgasm rocks up through you. you barely make sense as matty pumps once, twice, and comes in your mouth. you’re even less aware as your head hangs limply on his thigh, catching your breath, while george comes inside you. you say his name, maybe. the shape of it at least.

the world feels far and wide. matty catches his breath, laughing, ‘can this be added to the song?’

#i’m drunk in a spoons Nothing can be faulted to me!!! #blurb #matty healy smut #george daniel smut #george daniel x reader x matty healy #ask