ru ꨄ︎

𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬...

[peachmd]

ꨄ︎ WANNABE COOL GIRL ꨄ︎

YEAH, YOU WANNA FIND LOVE THEN YOU KNOW WHERE THE CITY IS ꨄ︎

ꨄ︎ ru; ruru to friends | australia | she/her | beach n surfer babe | ukyt enthusiast | chris dixon's babygirl | matty healy's groupie | shut up im talking | gold jewelery | winfield blues | embodiment of "boys and girls" by blur | mini cooper | clairo ꨄ︎

i have 18+ content! mdni

this blog contains themes of dddne!

MASTERLISTꨄ︎

[peachmd]

hello handsome!!! okay golden hour

[catlenneys]

would you write a threesome? if so could you do an arthurtv and chrismd one?

THREEFOLD - CHRIS DIXON AND ARTHUR FREDERICK

a/n: i guess the answer to your question is yes, anon! here you go, the smut that was making me horny while i was writing it

wc: 7.3k

summary: chris and arthur have been friends forever, and decide to bring you into their friendship for the night to tick an item off of their bucket list

warnings: 18+, smut, swearing, threesome, p in v, multiple orgasms, oral m and f receiving, unprotected sex, praise, slight intox - reader and both boys have drunk alcohol but everything is consensual! kinda dom!arthur? 

The club was hot, hotter than it had any right to be. 

Music thumped throughout the room, bass thudding so loud it rattled your skull as you danced half-heartedly. Your friends were nowhere to be seen, their faces blurring into the crowd of moving bodies. Heat seemed to radiate off of the ground itself, causing your hair to stick to your face and sweat to climb uncomfortably up your spine. People pressed into you on either side, hips moving and bodies grinding with the beat of the music, hands wandering and bold in the low lights. Your mouth felt dry, the alcohol that had gotten you this far into the night beginning to wear off as you searched for any way out of this madness. 

To stop moving was certain death by trampling, so you kept yourself busy by tapping your feet carefully amongst the mess of plastic cups and straws that littered the floor as you craned your neck around to search for any familiar face. When you found none, you sighed loudly, the sound lost against the grating bass and melody of the music pouring out of the tinny speakers. Throwing your head back in despair, you gulped down a few lungfuls of air, cringing at the smell and taste of secondhand smoke and cheap alcohol that seemed to permanently hang in the air. 

You watched as a long line of girls passed by you, their hands locked together as they fought their way through the crowd. Sensing your opening, you quickly grabbed onto the last girl and let yourself be pulled along with them. She either didn’t notice or was too drunk to care, and you breathed a huge sigh of relief once you were out, raking a hand through your hair and grimacing at the sweaty strands. 

Right, water, you told yourself, the cottony dryness of your mouth suddenly becoming unbearable. You managed to claw your way to the bar, flagging down the bartender. He took one look at your sweaty, flushed face, and slid a cup of water towards you wordlessly. You nodded in thanks, downing half of it in one go, eyes sliding shut in relief as the cool water soothed your burning throat. The music continued to blast around you, the mixture of exhaustion and alcohol sending you into an almost dream-like state as you leaned on the bar, hand curled protectively over your water as you lost yourself in the sensations of the club. 

You might have fallen asleep standing up at that bar if it wasn’t for the sudden flash of pain that burst up your side as someone knocked into you, quickly followed by a shock of cold as the remainder of your water spilled over your top. 

‘What the fuck!’ You shouted, jumping back and cradling your side and arm, blinking against the haze in your mind to focus on the scene in front of you. The next thing you registered was a pair of warm hands bracing against your waist, holding you steady as you swayed with the force of the impact. You swallowed thickly, willing your head to stop spinning as you leaned heavily against the bar. You distantly registered that someone was trying to talk to you, your fuzzy vision just about making out a man in front of you. His curly hair fell in his eyes a little as he looked at you, his sharp blue eyes wide with worry. 

‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Someone just knocked into me- I really didn’t mean to shove you like that. Are you alright?’ His voice filtered through the buzz of music and voices, and you nodded absently, finally coming to your senses enough to wave him off. 

‘I’m fine, yeah. Don’t worry, just- just surprised me, is all. Shit, I spilled my drink though-’ You said, suddenly very aware of the nearly-transparent nature of your already skimpy shirt. The man shot you an apologetic smile. 

‘Yeah, sorry about that. Could I- Can I buy you another to make it up to you?’ He said, pushing forward slightly to come and stand next to you at the bar. Up close, you could see a slight dusting of freckles across his nose, and the scruff of a beard that honestly suited him across his cheeks and chin. He was cute. You smiled slightly at his earnest expression. 

‘Is that your way of picking up girls, then? Knock into them and then offer to replace their drink?’ You joked, smiling wider as he immediately tried to backpedal. 

‘What? No, no- not at all. I was just trying to say sorry. Sorry if it came across like I was trying to-’ He rambled. You laughed, reaching out to place your hand on his shoulder, effectively silencing his apologetic rant. 

‘Relax, I’m messing with you, I know you didn’t do it on purpose.’ You said, laughing again at the way he visibly relaxed at that. 

‘Though, I might take you up on that offer. Seeing as you did make me spill my drink, and all.’ You said, letting your hand fall back to your side, taking the long way round to run your hand down the length of his arm. The man coughed slightly, cheeks tinting pink under the flashing lights overhead. 

‘Sure, of course. What would you like?’ He asked. You smiled again, giving him your order which he dutifully relayed to the bartender. You thanked him as he handed you your drink, sipping it slowly as you leant against the bar. The heady taste of the alcohol was soothing after the rush of adrenaline, and soon you found yourself relaxing again, words flowing easily as you chatted to the mysterious man, who you finally learned was called Chris. Once your drinks were finished, you set your glass down and crossed your arms decisively. 

‘So, are you gonna ask me to dance, or what?’ You asked. Chris just laughed, offering you his hand without a word. You took it, letting him pull you back into the swarm of bodies on the dance floor.

Almost immediately, his hands found your waist, guiding your bodies close until they were nearly flush together. You wound your arms around his neck, dipping your head down to rest on his shoulder as you danced slowly. Surprisingly, you felt none of the usual panic you’d get when a guy tried to get close to you in the club. Maybe it was way Chris held you gently, his hands simply placed on your waist instead of gripping, as if giving you the chance to get away if you really wanted to. 

The music swelled around you, flooding your senses until you were breathless, pressing in closer to Chris until you were nearly chest to chest. His hands grew bolder, running up the small of your back and down again until they ghosted over the curve of your ass.  You smiled into the crook of his neck, swiftly turning around so your back was to his chest, your ass pressed against his pelvis. You guided his hands to rest on your stomach, letting him get his fill of you as they ran across your skin, fingertips skimming the underside of your tits over your now-damp top. You tipped your head back, breathing heavily as you felt your underwear grow damp at his featherlight touches, especially as they dipped boldly under the waistband of your skirt, just barely ghosting over the edge of your panties. 

His breath fanned across your collarbones, your nipples hardening against the thin fabric of your shirt in response. Chris’ breath hitched at the sight, and you nodded slightly to encourage him as his hand slid higher, thumb gently flicking over the peak. You grabbed his other hand, bringing it up to cup your other tit before sliding it back over your stomach towards where you were starting to crave him desperately. 

‘Chris-’ You started, voice breathy and strained as you turned to get in close to his ear, but you stopped when you felt another hand on your waist, ever so gently pushing you out of the way. 

‘Sorry, love, just trying to talk to my mate.’ Another voice, this one rich and smooth, yet the slightly clipped accent gave it a boyish quality that you couldn’t deny was cute. You let yourself be shuffled to the side, stubbornly keeping a hold of one of Chris’ hands around your waist. You weren’t about to let the first guy you’d actually liked in a while get taken away form you like that. 

‘Chris, Will’s fucked. I’ve got him outside but he’s asking for you. I dunno why, sorry.’ He said with a shrug, dragging a hand through his hair. You couldn’t help but track the movement, noting appreciatively the curve of his bicep as he did so. 

Chris sighed against you, clearly torn between staying with you and going to help his friend. You turned to look at him, offering him a small smile. 

’It’s okay, I’ll look after her for you.’ The other man said, sending you a wink when you met his gaze to politely object. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help the answering flutter you felt in your cunt. He was gorgeous, after all. His warm brown eyes bored into you as Chris reluctantly peeled himself away from you, muttering apologies, all of which you waved off. You watched him go, pointedly avoiding the heat you could feel radiating from the other man’s gaze. 

Turns out, he wasn’t interested in giving you an option. He reached out, gently winding an arm around your waist and tugging you back into him, hand splayed possessively on your hip. 

‘Don’t get lost, gorgeous. Chris won’t be happy if he comes back and you’re not here.’ He said, leaning down to speak against the shell of your ear. You shivered against the rich timbre, nodding. He seemed happy with this, slowly beginning to move your bodies in time with the music. 

‘I’m Arthur, by the way.’ He said. You smiled, replying with your own name. Arthur nodded again, drawing you closer still towards him. You gasped when you felt your ass press against his crotch, your admittedly tiny skirt doing nothing to disguise how worked up you’d been getting over the past hour or so. You could practically feel Arthur’s smirk as he slowly ground his hips into yours, swaying you two along with the beat. A breathy moan broke from your throat before you could help it, molten heat pouring through you to collect in your panties. Arthur’s hands, much bolder than Chris’ had been, trailed down over your ass, one slipping boldly under your skirt to trace his fingers over the soaked gusset of your panties. 

You sucked in a breath, the slight feeling sending bursts of nervous pleasure zipping up your spine. His touch was fleeting, gone before you could fully register, and yet you found yourself missing it as soon as his hand replaced itself on your waist. You opened your mouth to protest, only for it to snap shut when you felt him begin to trail a line of hot kisses up the line of your shoulder, licking a stripe up your neck until he reached your jaw. You moaned, tipping your head back against his advances. Arthur huffed out a laugh, hands squeezing slightly on your waist. 

‘Needy little thing, aren’t you? C’mon, let’s go sit down.’ He said, not giving you time to respond before you two were moving. You were pliant in his hold, letting him take you towards one of the booths tucked into the corner. You sat down heavily, leaning into Arthur’s embrace when his large palm found its home on your inner thigh, just edging under the hem of your skirt. Your breath was coming in quick little pants, eyes screwed shut as your world zeroed onto those little touches. Arthur slid his hand further up your thigh, squeezing the plush flesh and just ghosting over the lace edge of your panties. 

You’d almost forgotten about Chris entirely at this point, your mind a haze of pleasure and alcohol as Arthur continued to tease you, whispering filthy little nothings in your ear that had you squeezing your thighs together. Your eyes were screwed shut, sparks popping behind your eyelids as your head span. Somehow, another drink had appeared in front of you, and Arthur helped guide the straw into your mouth, humming appreciatively as you took a long sip. 

‘Good girl. Taste good?” He said, running his thumb along your lip to catch the few drops that had missed your mouth. You moaned as he sucked the digit into his mouth, making a noise of approval at the taste. You just smiled, fully aware that your cheeks were probably glowing red with how turned on you were getting. Just then, a sudden vibration against your thigh caused you to jump, Arthur only barely catching you in time with an arm around your shoulders. He pulled out his phone, brows furrowed in exasperation before pressing it to his ear. He listened for a few seconds before sighing loudly. 

‘Sorry, gorgeous, have to take this. Don’t move, okay?’ He said, grabbing your chin gently so you looked him in the eye. You nodded slowly. Arthur stood up quickly, knowing that logically, leaving you alone and drunk probably the best thing to do, but you were really quite drunk. 

You sat in the booth, breathing heavily. Your eyelids felt like lead, your heart thudding in your chest as heat continued to pulse through you. 

‘Hey, there you are, I was looking for you.’ The familiar voice drew you out of your haze, and you lifted your head, blinking up at Chris. He slid into the booth next to you, arm automatically draping over your shoulder. 

‘Chris, please-‘ You said, though you weren’t really sure what you were begging for. All you knew was that you were now incredibly horny, and you had not one, but two very handsome men at your disposal. You figured you could get at least one of them to fuck you in the bathroom of the club. Or finger you, you weren’t really fussy. Anything to dispel the ache building between your thighs. 

‘What, love? What do you need?’ Chris asked, one hand coming up to cup your cheek. You looked up at him, and Chris groaned softly at just how gone you looked. Your pupils were blown wide with lust, eyes wide and glassy in the dim lights. Your gaze dropped to his lips, and Chris didn’t even hesitate. 

He cupped the back of your head, pulling you to him until his mouth met yours with a groan. He could taste the alcohol on your tongue as it swiped against his lower lip, and he opened easily for you. You moaned at the warmth and taste of him pushing forward to get closer to him, hands scrambling for purchase. Chris helped you, one hand coming to grip your ass as he hauled you onto his lap, never once breaking the kiss. You moaned slightly as you felt the half-hard line of him under your cunt, instinctively grinding forward to chase the sensation. The kiss was messy and desperate, tongues sliding against each other in a frantic rhythm. His hands were everywhere, and you couldn’t get enough of him. 

‘Sorry, I- oh.’ Arthur stopped dead at the sight that met him as he rounded the corner to your booth. Not only had Chris miraculously reappeared, but you were perched in his lap, practically eating his face off. He laughed, pushing his tongue against his cheek as he shoved his hands in his pockets. You two didn’t even seem to register him, something that sent a hot stab of jealousy and…something else spiralling through him. He watched for another minute, noting the way his cock stirred with interest in his trousers. Chris wasn’t a half-bad kisser, he realised. 

When you pulled away for breath, he seized his opportunity. He moved in close, reaching out to fist his hand in your hair. He pulled slightly, just enough to tip your head back. You made a little noise of surprise, tensing momentarily in Chris’ lap before you realised it was Arthur. 

Before he could think better of it and consider the fact that you were still sat in his best friend’s lap, Arthur ducked down to capture his mouth with yours. You let out a surprised moan as his tongue slid into your mouth, exploring it boldly. He groaned into your mouth at the taste of you and Chris, the sweetness of your drink mixing with the sharp taste of Chris gum that he’d chewed earlier into an intoxicating cocktail. His hand tightened in your hair, tugging your head back as he kissed you more insistently. You couldn’t breathe, the combination of Arthur’s mouth and the thick line of Chris beneath you almost too much for you. 

Arthur pulled away first, fixing you with a satisfied little smile as you gasped for breath. Not that you managed to get much air, because as soon as you were a safe distance away from Arthur, Chris was grabbing your jaw and kissing you again, more insistently this time. The kiss was hot, charged with something that hadn’t been there before. The thought of the boys fighting over you sent a little thrill through you. You could feel Arthur’s gaze burning a hole into the back of your head as you made out with Chris, moaning shamelessly when his hands began to wander again. You arched your back into him, knowing you’d got what you wanted when you heard Arthur suck in a sharp breath. 

‘I think we should get out of here. What do you think, gorgeous?’ Arthur said, leaning down to face both you and Chris. The other man didn’t reply, watching your face carefully to gauge your reaction. The men couldn’t help the sighs of relief they let out when you nodded your assent, carefully climbing off of Chris and standing up. 

You looked a mess - makeup smudged with sweat and kisses, eyes wide and blown with lust, tits barely contained in your shirt, thighs squeezed together under your barely-there skirt. Arthur caught Chris’ eye, the corner of his mouth curling up into a satisfied smirk as they led you out of the club, one hand each on your elbows as they held you close. They helped you gently into the Uber, the picture of courteous gentleman before they slid in next to you on either side. Almost immediately, two hands came to rest on your thighs, and you felt Chris’ stubble scratching slowly across your neck as he trailed kisses up the column of your throat. Arthur stayed where he was, preferring instead to run his fingers up and down the soft skin of your thigh, every so often dipping under the hem of your skirt to trace over your clit in maddening circles before sliding back down again. 

‘Gonna take good care of you, yeah?’ Arthur murmured into your ear, punctuating his words with a firmer touch against your clit, grinding his fingers in a slow circle that had you gasping for breath. 

‘You want both of us, pretty girl?’ Chris whispered into your other ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and tugging gently. You let out a small whine, hips canting up to chase Arthur’s touch and the heat of Chris’ mouth as you nodded frantically. Chris laughed softly against your ear, pressing another kiss to the spot just below your jaw. 

’Such a needy girl for us, aren’t you, gorgeous?’ Arthur said, leaning in to kiss behind your ear, laughing as you shivered. 

‘Please-’ You stuttered out, brain turning to mush under the onslaught of kisses and touches the two friends were inflicting on you. Both seemed determined to prove to the other that they could make you fall apart under their touch, relentless in their (welcome) assault on your body as their hands and mouths continued to wander. Your eyes, heavy and unfocused, stared unblinkingly at the road that stretched out endlessly in front of you, the lights of cars in front of you blurring into each other as your head swam with pleasure. 

Chris and Arthur continued to talk on either side of you as the car ride continued, but not a word of it registered with you. You were too busy thinking of how exactly you’d ended up here, sandwiched between two extremely attractive guys that both somehow wanted to fuck you. You hadn’t gone out tonight looking to end up in someone’s bed, but you weren’t exactly complaining, especially when you snuck a glance at each of the men’s pants, the tent in each visible now. 

After what felt like a century, the car finally pulled to a stop. Chris and Arthur briefly fought to get a hold of you, with Chris eventually winning as he wound an arm around of your waist and helped you out of the car. Arthur just huffed, stepping out of the car on his own side and thanking the driver before starting off to the front door. Your head was clearer now, the haze of alcohol now replaced by a burning lust that consumed your entire body, and so you were able to get yourself inside and your shoes off with little fuss. 

Arthur led you and Chris to what you assumed was his bedroom, your footsteps echoing throughout the empty house, the moonlight outside bathing everything in a silver glow as you walked towards what had been building all night. 

‘Hope you’ve cleaned up in here, mate.’ Chris’ jab broke the silence, a derisive laugh forcing its way out of Arthur as he pushed the door open. He didn’t reply, flipping off his friend without looking as he quickly turned on the lamps in the room, the soft light spilling across the soft decor of the room that, you noticed, was actually coherent. No sad single mattress on the floor and peeling wallpaper in sight. You stood in the centre of the room, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Chris seemed to notice this, and came over to you, resting a comforting hand on your waist. 

‘Hey, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, you know that?’ He said softly. You shook your head quickly, not wanting that sentiment to even begin to fester in your mind. 

‘No, no- I’m fine, just- never really done anything like this before.’ You replied. Chris smiled, the tension in his face easing a little at your reassurance. 

‘Don’t worry, gorgeous, we’ll be gentle. Unless, of course, you don’t want us to be.’ Arthur said as he crossed the room back to you. You smiled at his mischievous expression, shaking your head slightly. 

‘Just shut up and kiss me.’ The words were only just out of your mouth before he was on you again, both hands coming up to cup your cheeks as he drew you into a kiss for the second time tonight. He backed you up slowly until your thighs hit the foot of the bed, carefully lowering you onto the mattress. Once you were on your back, he pulled back for a second, shooting you a wink as he turned to face his friend. 

‘What do you want first?’ He asked. The crude words sent a shock of surprising pleasure through you, growing stronger as Chris simply shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets as he raked his eyes up and down your body. Your pulse fluttered under his heated gaze, your thighs parting automatically as his gaze traveled downwards. 

‘Hm. I think I wanna see what she tastes like, first. You can have her mouth.’ He replied. You let out a broken whine, the act of the men talking about you like you weren’t even there doing something maddening to your body and mind. Arthur hummed in response, tilting his head as he considered his friend’s proposal. 

‘Sure, but only if I get to fuck her after you make her cum. I want to see how wet she gets.’ Arthur said. Chris considered this for a moment before nodding his assent. Arthur turned to you, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Are you ready? 

You swallowed thickly, nodding. Game on. 

Chris didn’t waste a second, dropping to his knees in front of you and throwing your legs over his shoulders. You squeaked in surprise, not expecting him to be this enthusiastic. He flipped up your skirt and dragged your soaked panties down your legs until he could toss them to the side. Briefly, you wondered if you’d ever see those panties again, before your mind went blank at the first press of his tongue against your aching cunt. 

‘Fuck-’ The word punched out of you, hand flying to grip Chris’ curls as he licked a stripe up the seam of you, groaning into you at the taste of your slick. 

‘How’s she taste?’ Arthur asked, reaching out to comb a hand through your hair, his gaze fixed on where Chris was steadily making a mess of you and himself. 

‘Fucking amazing, mate.’ Came his reply before he was diving back down to suck your clit into his mouth. You moaned loudly, back arching at the harsh pleasure as he continued to eat you out. He alternated between broad licks up your cunt and tight circles on your throbbing clit, drawing patterns that drove you crazy as your hips ground against him of their own accord. He was messy with it, spit and slick dripping down his chin and spreading across his stubble as he fucked his tongue into you. He couldn’t get enough of you - he was addicted. He lapped obscenely at your leaking hole, not wanting to waste a drop of what you were giving him. You guided his head up and down, keening when his nose bumped against your clit just right. 

‘Fuck, you look so pretty like this, gorgeous. Chris making you feel good?’ Arthur asked, voice sickly sweet and edged with a condescension that had your toes curling as Chris took your clit into his mouth again, sealing his lips around it and sucking hard enough to force a scream out of you. 

‘Yes- yes, fuck- ’s good.’ You moaned out, turning your head to look at Arthur, your vision hazy with pleasure as Chris continued to feast on you like you were his last meal on earth. Arthur loomed above you, and your mouth watered at the sight of the prominent bulge in the front of his trousers, evidence of how much your little show was affecting him. 

‘Something you want, baby?’ He asked, watching the way your gaze dropped to his crotch. You whined, all attempts at forming words dying on your tongue as Chris added his fingers into the mix, sliding two in alongside his tongue and setting a harsh rhythm that had him stroking against your sweet spot with every thrust. 

‘You- please-’ You said brokenly, your free hand reaching out for Arthur, fingertips catching on his belt. He clicked his tongue at you, catching your wrist. 

‘Want me too? Greedy girl.’ He said when you nodded quickly, though he humoured you as he undid his belt and shoved his pants down enough to free himself. You moaned at the sight of him - thick hard, and already dripping for you. He gave himself a few firm pumps, moaning lowly at the rough pleasure before guiding the tip of him to your lips. You opened your mouth eagerly, groaning at the taste of him as he slowly fed you his cock. 

‘Fuck, you feel good.’ He said through gritted teeth. You gazed up at him through your lashes, hollowing your cheeks slightly as you began to bob your head to the best of your ability. Arthur placed one hand at the back of your head, helping you along with your faltering rhythm as you tried your best despite the pleasure surging through your body as a result of Chris’ mouth still valiantly working you. His fingers slid in and out of you, rubbing against your sweet spot insistently in a way that had your thighs clenching around his head. You gagged slightly as the tip of Arthur’s cock hit the back of your throat, but valiantly kept going. Arthur hummed in approval, eyes sliding shut as you continued to trace your tongue over the ridges and veins of him, the slick warmth of your mouth heaven after the build up of the night. 

Chris, apparently deciding you weren’t focused enough on him, decided to up the ante, sliding a third finger into you and twisting them. You keened around Arthur’s cock, the vibration sending a burst of hot pleasure through him that had his hips bucking forward to chase the heat of your mouth. 

‘Jesus, fuck- Chris, do that again.’ He ordered. Chris did as he said, repeating the motion, smiling smugly into your cunt when you let out a loud moan, molten pleasure licking up your spine as he worked your sweet spot over and over, his tongue never stopping its assault on your clit as he drew tight circles around it. Your mouth dropped open in a loud whine, and Arthur took the opportunity to fuck into your mouth faster, the hand on your head firmer now as he slid his cock in and out of your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, causing him to hiss with the sharp pleasure. 

You were pliant beneath them, your mouth hanging open for Arthur to use as pleasure wracked through your body. Your eyes screwed shut, rolling back into your head as you neared the edge. 

‘Keep going, Chris, she’s nearly there.’ Arthur said through pants. Chris moaned, flicking his tongue faster over your clit and fucking his fingers faster into you. Your back bowed off the bed, pressing his face impossibly close to your cunt as you drew nearer and nearer to your orgasm. The rough pads of his fingers drew circles over your sweet spot, working you with fervour as he sucked and licked at your clit. 

‘There she is, come on, gorgeous. Come for Chris, you can do it.’ Arthur said, voice gravelly and thick with arousal as he drew closer to his own orgasm. He was basically using you like a fleshlight at this point, the hand on your head moving you up and down roughly on his cock, spit dripping down the length of him and coating your tits in drool as he fucked you. 

Chris fucked his fingers once, twice, three times into you, tongue lapping at your clit insistently, and you were done for. Your back arched off the bed as your orgasm hit, pleasure burning through you and setting every nerve alight as you came. Chris worked you through it, pulling his fingers out to suck at your hole, drinking down every drop of come. Arthur swore, abruptly pulling his cock out of your mouth and jerking himself furiously. His cock twitched in his grip as he looked at you - mouth open in a silent scream, core muscles convulsing with the force of your orgasm and your thighs shaking where they were wrapped around Chris’ head like a vice. He ran his thumb over the tip of him, panting now as he worked himself to the edge. 

‘Look at me, baby. Gonna cum all over your pretty face, yeah?’ He said. The command just barely registered in your lust-addled brain, and you turned your head just as Arthur reached his orgasm, his head tipping back as he came. You moaned weakly at the feeling of his cum hitting your face, the warm droplets dripping down your cheeks and onto your lips, where your tongue darted out to catch them as they splashed onto your tits. He continued to pump himself, milking himself dry before standing back to admire you. 

You were on cloud nine right now, body twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm, though a coil of need still sat low in your gut, your cunt clenching around nothing, the itch deep inside you to be fucked and filled still not quite satisfied yet. You whined slightly, rubbing your thighs together, hoping that signalled the men into action. Specifically, you hoped, the one between your legs. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long - Chris stood up from his place in between your legs, making quick work of his belt and trousers as he freed his aching cock from his boxers. He gripped himself in his palm, smacking the wet tip of him against your clit with a force that had you hissing with pain and pleasure. He ran his cock up and down the seam of your cunt a few times before pushing in, immediately setting a brutal rhythm as he fucked into you roughly. 

‘Chris, what the fuck? Thought I was gonna fuck her next.’ Arthur said incredulously, blinking away the haze of his orgasm and folding his arms indignantly across his chest as he watched Chris’ cock piston in and out of you. Despite himself, he felt his spent cock twitch with interest, particularly as he saw Chris’ cock slowly get coated in the shine of your slick and cum. He watched it disappear in and out of your cunt, the obscene squelch echoing throughout the room, the air heavy with the smell of sex and the mixture of your hot breaths as you fucked. 

‘Fuck- too late, mate. Had to have her. Plus you’ve already cum, gonna take you ages to get it up.’ Chris panted out, unable to resist making the dig at Arthur’s age. The other man rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. 

‘Asshole.’ He tutted out, though he made no move to push him away, instead simply watching from where he stood. 

The pain of overstimulation had begun to melt into pleasure as Chris fucked into you like a man possessed, the rough drag of his cock against your sensitive walls scratching that deep-seated itch, his thick cock filing you oh-so perfectly. He fucked into you hard and fast, hips slapping against your ass obscenely as your cunt sucked him in over and over again. The coarse hair at the base of him ground into your sensitive clit, sending your mind reeling as you flailed under the pleasure coursing through your body. Never in your life had you been so worked up, restless energy and pleasure thrumming through every nerve in your body and setting you alight under the two men. 

‘Fuck, feel so good- shit, so warm-’ Chris stuttered out, reaching out to grab your thighs and press them to your chest, driving himself deeper into you. You keened at the new angle as it shoved him impossibly deep inside you, the blunt head of him dragging deliciously against that spot that made you see stars. You felt your second orgasm rapidly approaching, the pleasure gentler this time, spreading warm throughout your gut as Chris fucked into you with long, deep strokes that had you moaning breathlessly. 

’Shit- look at her, mate- already so fucked out.’ Chris said, throwing a look over at his friend as he slowed his thrusts slightly, shushing you when you let out a mournful whine. Arthur dragged his eyes to your face, smiling at your (indeed) fucked-out expression. Almost of its own accord, his hand wandered down to where he was now half-hard against his thigh, palming himself at the sight of you being fucked by his best friend, something that had him getting hotter than he’d care to admit as he stroked himself to full hardness. He continued to pump himself slowly, timing the strokes of his hand with Chris’ thrusts in and out of you, spurred on by your little whines and whimpers as you drew near the edge again. 

‘Get her tits out, Chris- fuck-’ Arthur said, voice breaking slightly as he rubbed over the sensitive head of him, using the mixture of cum and precum to slick his grip as he began to pump himself faster. Chris obliged, reaching up blindly and tugging at your shirt until your tits spilled out over the top. He immediately leant forward to latch his lips around your nipple, teeth digging in ever so slightly on the sensitive flesh. You moaned, pushing your chest up into the new sensation. Arthur stepped closer, the hand not on his cock reaching out to take the other into his palm, squeezing the soft flesh roughly and massaging it. He pinched your nipple in between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it slightly before letting it snap back into place. Chris switched to the other, taking the abused peak into his mouth and laving his tongue over it, soothing the pain that Arthur had inflicted. You reached up to card your hand through his curls, scratching slightly, to which Chris let out a soft moan. 

He continued to fuck into you, spurred on by your eager moans and whines, picking up the pace once again. 

‘C’mon, Chris. You can fuck her harder than that. You can take it, right gorgeous?’ Arthur asked, though it wasn’t really a question. You nodded anyway, hooking your legs around Chris’ neck to keep him there as he sped up his thrusts, the angle dragging him right along all your most sensitive spots, battering them with his cock as he thrust in and out of your now thoroughly soaked cunt repeatedly. 

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck- not gonna last-’ Chris grit out, his hands leaving your thighs to grab onto your waist, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, forcing you to meet him halfway. You cried out, hands fisting the sheets beneath you, knuckles turning white as your mouth dropped open in a silent scream under the intense pleasure. Arthur’s hand picked up speed once more, jerking himself faster to the erotic sight in front of him. Your tits bounced with every thrust, your nipples red and raw and shiny with spit from Chris’ mouth. His cock jumped in his hand as he caught sight of your stomach bulging slightly in time with Chris’ thrusts, and he swore softly as he swiped his thumb under the head of him, sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. 

‘Jesus- love, gonna come- inside?’ Chris stuttered out. You just moaned in response, so far gone you couldn’t even think of the implications of what was about to happen, but Chris’ cock felt so good splitting you open, you found you really didn’t fucking care at this point. Chris fucked into you somehow harder, burying himself in you over and over again until he thrust in one final time, all the way to the hilt as he spilled inside you. Arthur’s hand was a blur on his cock as he worked himself to his orgasm, a guttural groan punching out of him as he spilled across your stomach, painting your skin in his cum for a second time that night. 

Chris rest his head against where your knee was still hooked over his shoulders, catching his breath. You squirmed slightly at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you around the base of his cock, trying to fuck yourself back on his cock to bring you to that second orgasm you so desperately craved. 

‘Oh, baby, do you still need to cum?’ Arthur cooed, voice scratchy and thick with the residual pleasure of his orgasm as he tucked himself back into his trousers and knelt by you on the bed. His fingers found your cunt easily, spreading your folds and coming to rest on your throbbing clit. You moaned loudly, clenching down on Chris’ cock and causing him to hiss with overstimulation as Arthur began to rub your clit in tight little circles. 

‘It’s okay, gorgeous. I’ll get you there.’ He said, applying more pressure and smiling when your eyes fluttered shut, hot sparks exploding behind your eyes. You were breathing heavily now, muscles tensing as you neared the edge again. 

‘Fuck, oh my God, keep going, please-’ You babbled, one hand reaching down to lock around Arthur’s wrist to keep you where you needed him most. He huffed out a laugh, never stopping his movements on your clit. Chris watched from where he stood, basking in the slow ebbs of pleasure he felt when you clenched around him involuntarily. The slick sounds of your cunt, coated in your own and his cum lubricating Arthur’s fingers a strangely attractive sight to him. 

‘Fuck-!’ Your voice broke halfway through as your orgasm crashed into you, sharper and more intense this time. Chris let out a low curse as your cunt clamped down on him, milking the last few drops of cum out of him as he spurted weakly into your cunt. Arthur didn’t stop, rubbing over your clit until you were whining, at which point he pulled back, taking a brief moment to taste your slick on his fingers. You were boneless on the bed, breathing heavily as you came down from your high. Chris rubbed soothing circles into your thighs, muttering praises and reassurances as you came back down to earth. 

You waited until your breathing was semi-normal before opening your eyes, cheeks heating under the gazes of both the men. 

‘You okay, gorgeous?’ Arthur asked softly, stroking over your hair and brushing it out of your face. You loosed a huge breath, tipping your head back against the bedsheets. 

‘Yeah, I’m good, just- holy fuck.’ You said, stuttering slightly as you searched for the right words to describe how you were feeling right now. Your hands gestured uselessly, trying to convey some metaphysical feeling that words couldn’t describe. Chris and Arthur just laughed softly, shrugging in agreement at whatever feeling you were trying so hard to convey. 

‘Yeah agreed. Deep breath, love, I’m gonna pull out.’ Chris said, bringing your attention to him through a careful hand on your hip. You did as he said, taking a deep breath in and quickly exhaling as he pulled out, unable to stop the whine that the motion pulled from you as you were left empty. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on your waist, keeping you occupied as Arthur peeled off to go and find something to clean you all up. 

He came back with a cloth and a few bottles of water, one of which he tossed to Chris before passing the other to you. You drank deeply, the cool water against your aching throat a welcome sensation. Chris did the same, accepting the cloth to clean your messy cunt after Arthur had cleaned the remnants of his cum from your face and chest. You hissed slightly at the rough feeling of the cloth as Chris gently ran it over your folds and hole to collect as much of the mess as he could. Arthur came and sat next to you, pulling you up so your back was against his chest as he brushed his fingers through your hair to detangle the knots before deftly weaving it into a loose braid, the motion quick and unconscious but enough to make your heart skip a beat at the tenderness. 

When he was finished, Chris sat back, tucking his cock back into his boxers before coming to join you and Arthur on the bed. The other man shuffled slightly to accommodate the both of you, ending up with you sandwiched between them with a leg hooked over each of theirs. You leaned back heavily, letting your eyes slip shut. Your head tipped sideways onto Chris’ chest, one hand reaching out for Arthur until your fingers linked together, wanting to keep yourselves as connected as possible as sleep threatened to overtake you. The two men shared a look over your head, small smiles tugging at their mouths as they settled into bed, each holding you close. There was a silent agreement that passed between them, that now that they had you, they weren’t letting you go in a hurry. 

tags: @zo-05 @finchytv @mangoicecreamx @mattsfrenchtoast @themdera @lenneyswhore @peachmd @ghostwrittenbygrace @sillybilly4sillybilly @theoreticallythe

[aanyam123]

Okay but the way Arthur pulled Bach’s hair back bro done that before ik it

[peachmd]

any fic planned for chris or atv?

hi lovely!!! i def have some lined up xx as i mentioned before, ill be a little preoccupied with exams for the next 2 months, but theres def a chance ill drop some here and there. i have my new debutante arthurtv series, with chap 2 in the works!! along with oodles and oodles of chris fics, drabbles and headcanons. i have intox, ytuber, age gap and tons more in the drafts xx

[peachmd]

son they done cropped me out of frame..... pretty boy

[peachmd]

CHAPTER 1 — YOUR CAR'S FUCKED ⛐

summary: hungover and post-hookup, you're more than eager to get home. one problem — your car's broken down in a town you've never heard of. lucky for you, there's a mechanic there to help. unlucky for you, he's an asshole.

author's notes: oh my god finally! my first proper long work. i hope you enjoy!! sorry if you dont see much of me after this cuz its exam season. babys first arthur fic xx

Your vision blurs at the edges, little black spots dancing like they’re mocking you. Your head is pounding so hard it feels detached from your body. Your mouth tastes like regret and cheap alcohol, and your stomach flips every time you move too fast, and worst of all, your poor Mini Cooper — newly bought, secondhand — now sputtering on the side of the road at the asscrack of dawn. You’re in the middle of nowhere; just trees and greenery, with maybe a cafe and some smaller shops dotted around. You laugh (and regret it, because your head spikes with pain) when you see horses and cows and sheep. Jesus, you really are nowhere.

You had been at a birthday party the night before, and all you could remember after doing shots was waking up with a man you didn't know. The shame crawls back up your spine just thinking about it. The hurried, half-dressed escape. The way you didn’t even look back, just grabbed your things and left. When your car started faltering through a town you’d never been through on your way to a long journey back home, you were almost in tears. You rifled through the glovebox to find anything — this was a second-hand car, and you hadn’t put anything in the glove yet. You haven’t even had the car long enough to put anything in it. No tissues. No charger. You laugh sadly as you see a pack of cigarettes with no lighter.

“Shit,” you groan, which seems to be the only word you can say before you feel the tears sting your eyes. Your hands drop uselessly into your lap as your chest tightens, that awful, helpless feeling creeping in. 

You reach for your phone, in a flash of supposed ingenuity, before realising it's dead. 

“Fucking grand,” you spit, angry at yourself, because this was surely some sort of divine karma for not opting to round up to 2 dollars at the counter last week.

Checking the car mirror as you wallow in uncertainty, you ponder how the fuck you even got here. Red-rimmed eyes with your smudgy mascara, chapped lips rubbed raw from biting anxiously, and hair all messed up — worse, because you know it’s not just from sleep. Someone else’s hands were in it, tugging, pulling. Anger hits faster than embarrassment this time—sharp, immediate, cutting through the fog in your head. 

Because there they are, impossible to miss. Dark marks scattered along your neck, blooming down into your collarbones, disappearing beneath the neckline of that stupid minidress you didn’t even remember putting on.

Heat floods your face—part humiliation, part frustration, part something uglier you don’t even want to name. You don’t remember asking for that. You barely remember anything at all, and somehow that makes it worse.

You slump back in your seat, blinking hard, the pounding in your head syncing up with the irritation buzzing under your skin.

Arthur’s running late.

Not by much—but late enough that he skips going back for the coffee he left on the counter and just grabs his keys, dragging a hand through his already messy hair on the way out. He can grab one on the way, even if he actually prefers tea, but the only cafe in this town makes it all wrong. The morning is quiet, slightly unnatural way country roads get at this hour. Trees line the stretch ahead, long shadows still clinging to the edges of the road. No real noise except his truck and the low hum of The Smashing Pumpkins fade into the morning.

The café he usually stops at is just ahead. Its faded sign is wearing, a crumbling illustration of a coffee bean, lights already flicking on inside, someone probably turning the machine on behind the counter. He stops on the opposite side of the cafe, kindly dubbed as “Arthur’s spot” by the teenage employee who always opens.

He’s already parking thinking about nothing more complicated than caffeine, when the sound cuts through — not loud enough to demand attention but an uneven splutter. A car that’s trying very hard to keep going and inevitably failing. Arthur eases off the thought of coffee immediately without really meaning to.

Ahead, right beside the café, a small Mini Cooper jerks forward awkwardly, in all honestly, a little pathetically. It hesitates, coughs, then dies. It rolls a little farther before coming to a complete stop in the roadside parking outside the café. Not tucked away, but right in view of the glass windows and the early morning routine inside. Arthur winces and watches it for a beat longer than necessary. Coffee can wait. He’s more of a tea guy anyway. He signals, pulls over ahead of it, and kills the engine.

The air outside is cool and sharp, the crispness in the air indicating autumn’s arrival. Arthur shuts his door and starts walking back. As he gets closer, the Mini comes into clearer view. It's an older car, tired like it's been pushed a little too far and hasn’t had much help along the way. His eyes dart around methodically to see if there’s anything visibly wrong. But one thing perplexes him. The driver is showing no signs of getting out. Just frantically rummaging in the glovebox, another hand on her head.

He stops at the window, lifts a hand, pauses just long enough to register that something isn’t right. Arthur knocks on the glass, then waits.

Two abrupt knocks on your window make you jolt so hard your spine hits the seat, breath catching somewhere between your chest and your throat. For a second, your brain refuses to process it as real, chalking it up to another fragment of the headache, another symptom of the morning trying to split you open.

Your head turns slowly toward the window. There’s someone there, standing just beyond the glass. You blink, trying to focus properly, vision still unstable at the edges, and the world outside starts to sharpen into shape. A man. Leaning slightly toward the car. One hand still raised from the knock, the other resting loosely at his side. Sleeves rolled, hair messy in that way that looks unintentional but still somehow put together. He’s watching you, not in a way that feels invasive, but in a way that says he’s already figured out something is wrong.

It takes you a second too long to fully register that this is real, that you’re not imagining him along with everything else this morning. Then your stomach drops slightly as you realise you’re no longer alone in the middle of nowhere beside a café you don’t recognise. He taps the glass again, softer, like he’s checking you’re actually conscious. You crack the window just enough to breathe.

The man opens his mouth, but you swiftly cut him off. 

“Look,” you say, your voice rough, thinner than you mean it to be. You drag a hand over your face like you can wipe the whole morning off with it. “It’s been a hard… whatever this is—morning, night, I don’t even know anymore.”

You let out a small, humourless breath, shaking your head slightly.

“I’m not—” you hesitate, swallowing. “I don’t have the energy for, like, conversation right now. Or… anything, really.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond. When you glance back up, his expression has shifted. He doesn’t look annoyed or dismissive, just more focused, like he’s adjusting to you rather than pushing against you.

“Alright,” he says after a moment, voice quieter now, steadier. “Fair enough.”

The lack of pushback catches you slightly off guard, and you find yourself looking at him properly for the first time, squinting against the light. There’s no urgency in him. He has a steady sort of presence that feels oddly out of place against everything else about this morning. You actually look at him, and with a sinking heart, you realise he’s hot. Fuck, of course he is. Of course—on top of everything else—this is the moment your life decides to introduce a man who looks like that. You’ve just told him, essentially, to go away, and you’re sitting here looking like a mess.

He doesn’t react to the way you’ve clearly decided to look anywhere but directly at him. If anything, he just shifts his weight slightly, the mystery man giving you space to breathe. God, he probably wants to get away from you as quickly as possible.

“Right,” he says after a moment, glancing briefly toward the front of the car before looking back at you. “Your car’s fucked, or so I think.”

You blink dumbly, taken aback by his words, almost as if he’s commenting on the weather instead of delivering what feels like the final blow to your already disastrous morning. Any lingering chance of being charmed by him slips clean out from under you, gone as quickly as everything else seems to be today.

“Oh,” you say, because what else is there to say to that?

He huffs a quiet breath through his nose, a little smile on his face undoubtedly due to your dumbfounded expression.

“Look, it's best if I give it to you straight. Don’t want poor city girl stuck in this place.”

Your grimace deepens, and you’re a bit hurt at his tone.

“Car’s not making it an hour like this,” he says, voice carrying just enough to reach you without him looking back. “You can try, if you want.”

You sigh again. “Do you know where I could go to get it fixed, or even just looked at? I live an hour away, and I’ve never been in this tiny town before.”

He doesn’t answer straight away. Instead, Hot Mean Guy studies the car for a moment, then gestures vaguely over his shoulder with his thumb, the movement casual.

“Yeah,” he says. “There’s a place a few minutes from here.”

Your shoulders drop slightly in relief. “Oh—okay, good. I was worried I’d have to—”

“It’s mine,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

You blink.“…What?”

“Couple minutes down the road,” he adds, tone still even, still carrying that same blunt edge. “Not much else around here unless you feel like waiting a few hours for someone who’ll charge you double and do half the job.”

That shifts something immediately. You look at him properly now, your eyes moving over details you hadn’t fully registered before—the rolled sleeves, the grease on his workshirt under his jacket, the way he carries himself like none of this is unfamiliar.

“I just asked you where to find a mechanic,” you say, dragging a hand over your face again, “while you were standing right there looking exactly like one.”

There’s a flicker of amusement at the corner of his mouth, subtle but definitely there. “Yeah,” he says. “You did.”

You let your head fall back again with a quiet groan. “Great. Really making a strong impression here.”

He laughs at you meanly, which only makes you feel something in your stomach.

“I’ve got a truck,” he says, nodding once toward the road. “Could  tow it back and save you trying to limp in those shoes of yours.”

He glances at you briefly, then, eyes flicking over your face—not lingering, not soft, but checking. Like he’s gauging whether you’re going to argue, or shut down, or just stand there looking like the day’s already wrung you out. 

You nod with a relieved smile, the kind that comes more from exhaustion than genuine ease, but it’s still something—still better than being stuck here alone with a dead phone and a car that clearly isn’t going anywhere on its own. The tension in your shoulders loosens just slightly as you shift in your seat, as if the decision itself has taken some weight off you. 

“Yeah,” you say, quieter now, like you’re only just catching up to what’s being offered. “That would be… really helpful. Thank you.”

He gives a small nod in return, like it’s nothing out of the ordinary for him, already half-turning his attention toward the front of the car again. There’s no fuss in the way he moves, no dramatics about it.

“Pop the hood for me?” he asks.

You lean forward, fumbling briefly for the latch near your knee. Your fingers catch it on the second try, and there’s a small click as you pull it.

 He smiles, and it catches you off guard more than it probably should. It’s not dramatic or overly familiar, just a small, easy expression that seems to sit naturally on his face as he turns his attention toward the engine. Still, something about it lands strangely in your chest, unexpected enough that your stomach gives a faint, uneasy flip.

He pokes around a little bit under the hood, shifting pieces of the engine slightly as he looks, his attention fully absorbed now in the rhythm of checking, listening, adjusting. There’s a quiet confidence in the way he works that makes it feel less like something is wrong and more like something is being solved, even if you don’t understand any of it.

Inside the car, the stillness starts to feel heavier than helpful. You’ve never been good at sitting in uncertainty, especially not when something is happening just a few steps away that you can’t quite see properly. Curiosity starts to win out over exhaustion.

You open the door carefully, the sound of it breaking the quiet, and step out into the morning air. It’s cooler than you expected, sharp enough that it wakes you up a little more than anything else has so far. You take a moment to steady yourself before walking around to the front of the car.

Arthur doesn’t see you approaching,  focused on what he’s doing, hands resting near the edge of the engine bay as he leans in slightly. Only when he's leaning down to look closely at the engine does he see a pair of pink heels next to his boots. The contrast makes the corner of his lips lift before he’s fully aware of it.

“You didn’t have to get out,” he says, voice even, not looking at you yet. 

You shift your weight slightly, arms folding loosely against the cold. “Yeah, I know. I just couldn’t sit in there anymore.”

And while this mysterious girl hesitates, caught somewhere between exhaustion and reluctant trust, he finds himself watching you a second longer than necessary. He’s intrigued to say the least. You’re a whirlwind, rushing into this sleepy town. The smudgy mascara, red eyes, clearly crying — though Arthur doesn't blame her. An hour away from home, and with a hangover, he’s guessing, and from what he can see, post-party, and his eyes — not purposefully— notice the red marks trail down your collarbones into the tiny dress you’re wearing. Typical, he thinks as he rolls his eyes, just another entitled big town girl rolling through. He’s had his fair share. Though you’re shockingly pretty, he’ll fix the car, send you on your way, and that’ll be the end of it. 

“Do you need a jumper? It’s pretty cold out.”  

Before you can answer, he undoes his zip-up and drapes it around your shoulders. It’s warm from him still, heavier than expected, settling around you all too naturally.

“Here,” he adds simply, already half-turned back toward the car like it’s just part of the process. 

It feels slightly too big, sleeves bunching at your arms, the scent enveloping you, somehow soothing the noise in your head. You hesitate for a second, hands curling loosely into the fabric like you’re not entirely sure what to do with it, but Arthur has already turned back toward the car. And if he notices the way you go still for half a second too long after it settles around you—warm from him, heavy in a way that feels oddly grounding—he doesn’t show it.

Ouch, you think. Does he just give any girl he sees on the side of the road his jumper?

It’s petty, and you know it is almost immediately, especially as you stand there watching him work like you’re the one misreading something simple. It's just fabric over your shoulders because you were cold, and he noticed.

Your gaze drifts past him, past the raised hood and the quiet focus of his hands — lost staring for a second or two — and lands on the small café next door. It’s more charming than you first registered through the fog of your morning—plants along the windows, soft light inside, the faint movement of someone behind the counter who looks barely older than a teenager trying to look awake.

“…sounds like it’s struggling to turn over,” he’s saying to himself — and you find it endearing before you scold yourself— crouched slightly near the hood, voice calm, like this isn’t the worst morning of your life. “Could be the battery, could be—”

“Hey,” you start, your voice a little uncertain at first. You clear your throat, trying again, a bit steadier. “Um—do you maybe want a coffee or tea? From there. It’s… the least I could do.”

Arthur doesn’t answer straight away. He finishes what he’s doing first, like making sure the car is in a stable enough place before he pulls his attention away. When he straightens, he looks over at the café, then back to you. There’s no hesitation in him, just a simple acceptance of the offer.

“Yeah,” he says, roughly. “That’d be nice. Thank you.”

He wipes his hands on his shirt before adding, a little nicer, “Whatever they make there, I’ll take it. Don’t worry too much about it.”

You turn to go, but spin back around with a bite of your lip. “Could I maybe get a name for that cup?”

You’re still standing there in his hoodie, hair slightly windswept from the cold, and Arthur finds—briefly, annoyingly—that his usual annoyance about girls like you doesn’t sit quite as cleanly as it normally does.

Town girls usually come through loud, impatient, half-checked out of whatever place they’ve ended up in. They don’t linger. They don’t look at him like they’re trying to decide whether to trust him while simultaneously acting as if they’ve already decided not to. They don’t stand there wrapped in something that still smells faintly like him, looking like they don’t quite know what to do with the fact they’ve been looked after.

“Arthur,” he adds simply, like it should’ve been obvious.

His attention doesn’t quite snap back to the engine the way it’s supposed to when you turn.

You step into the café and the warmth inside hits immediately, soft and almost disorienting after the sharp morning air, and you’re suddenly very aware of how you must look standing there in the doorway. The bell above the door gives a small, unnecessary jingle that makes you flinch internally more than it should.

The place is quiet in that early-hour way, only half-awake. A teenager behind the counter looks up at you from where they’re half-slumped against the espresso machine, blinking like they’re trying to decide if you’re real or part of their shift hallucination.

You become very aware, very quickly, of yourself.

The hoodie that isn’t yours. The messy hair. The tired face you didn’t get to fix. The fact that you’re still not entirely sure what or who you did last night, and yet you’re now standing in public trying to order coffee like you’re a functioning person. Arthur is outside. Still completely unbothered by the fact that your entire morning has detonated and somehow he’s the only stable thing left in it. That thought lands again, unhelpfully clear now: he does know what he’s doing. Not just with the car, either. With everything, it seems.

Looking at the engine, Arthur doesn’t notice the way the café door swings shut behind you, the soft bell fading into the background. His focus has narrowed again, the rest of the world dimming out as he leans further into the engine bay.

What started as a rough idea has settled into something clearer now, each small check confirming the last. He listens first, head tilted slightly, like the engine might give something away if he’s patient enough. Then his hands follow, steady and deliberate, tracing connections, testing tension, adjusting without hesitation. It’s methodical, logical — exactly what Arthur loves. There’s no frustration in it, no second-guessing. It’s kind of a quiet certainty, like he’s seen this before in a hundred different variations and knows how it usually ends.

He shifts slightly, reaching deeper in, fingers tightening something that had just enough give to be wrong. There’s a pause after, not idle—intentional. He listens again.

Better. Not fixed, but closer. His gaze flicks across the rest of the engine, running through the possibilities quickly now, ruling things out one by one. Whatever’s caused it isn’t catastrophic, but it isn’t something he’s going to fully sort out on the side of the road either. Not properly and not in a way he’d be satisfied sending you off with.

Mystery Girl comes back with 2 coffee cups in hand. You’re closer than before now, two cups in your hands, his hoodie still draped over your shoulders like it’s settled there for good. You must’ve gone to the bathroom and freshened up — no more streaky makeup, just a fresh face.  For a second, he just takes that in—the contrast of it, the way you look a little less like you’re about to fall apart and a little more like you’re holding yourself together. The biggest difference, though, is the slight smile on your face.

His gaze drops briefly to the cups, then lifts back to your face, and there’s something warmer in it than before. Still not chummy, but less distant. “Cheers,” he says, like it’s nothing.

He takes it from you, fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary this time. It’s not enough to be obvious, but enough that it doesn’t feel entirely accidental either. He doesn’t pull away quickly, either. He reads the name on your cup.

“Reader. Nice to put a name to the car.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” you say, a little exasperated,  and this time he’s looking at you properly.

Without the mess of last night on you, you look less frazzled; your kind eyes and your pretty smile are all too captivating. But he snaps out of it. God, he’s only helping out, and clearly you’re just itching to get back, probably to a boyfriend or something. He’s trying very hard to ignore the reddish hickies dotting you. You’re just passing through. Whatever’s brought you here, it isn’t him.

He glances down at the cup, then back up again, something faintly amused settling at the corner of his mouth.

“You went with coffee,” he notes, tone light.

You hesitate, suddenly aware of it. “Was that wrong?”

He shakes his head slightly, a quiet exhale of a smile following.

“No,” he says, “Not wrong. Just means you don’t know me yet.”

He takes a sip, eyes still on you for a second longer than necessary before his attention shifts back toward the car, like he’s giving you space again without fully stepping away.

“I usually go for tea,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

He takes a small sip, more out of habit than anything, then glances back toward the open hood, the practical side of him settling back in.

“It’ll run,” he adds, nodding faintly toward the car. “At least enough to get moving. But I wouldn’t trust it for an hour drive like that.”

He looks back at you then, a little more direct this time, like he’s offering something rather than just stating it.

 “If you’re alright with coming back, I can take it there and sort it properly.”

Mystery Girl bites her lips into a pout, and worry graces her face, making something arise within Arthur before he knocks it off.

“…You’re not going to, like, disappear with my car, are you?” you ask hesitantly.

“Not a great business model,” he says, tone easy. “Hard to run a garage if I start stealing the cars that show up.”

That makes you laugh, a strange, proud feeling purring in Arthur’s chest. The tinkling sound of your laughter goes straight to my head, pocketing it and saving it.

“…Okay,” you say, a little more certain this time. “Yeah. I’ll come.”

Arthur hooks the truck up to your Mini with the kind of efficiency that suggests he’s done this more times than he’d probably admit. The chain clicks into place, the car shifting slightly as it settles behind his vehicle, obedient now in a way it wasn’t an hour ago.

 You keep checking the side mirror, antsy to look presentable, for no specific reason at all. You adjust your hair once, then again, then stop when you realise there’s nothing you can actually fix from here. 

Your eyes are almost magnetically attracted to his hands. His large hand effortlessly steering, sleeves rolled, and veins popping. His forearms are tanned, so tanned. He keeps one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely, driving steady like the road itself isn’t worth rushing. Arthur’s focused profile sits just ahead of you, jaw relaxed but intent, eyes tracking the road with the kind of concentration that makes it look easy. It’s annoyingly steady. And annoyingly hot.

“...and that’s basically it, I think, once I get to the garage, it’ll be brand new. Well..”

He’s in the middle of speaking to you when it finally registers with him.

“You okay there?” he asks, voice lightly smug but like he’s trying to mask it for your sake.

Your throat tightens slightly, and you cough, a little too quickly, being caught staring so shamelessly.“Yeah,” you manage, immediately too casual. “Fine. Just—road. Distracting.”

Arthur hums once, like he’s not buying it at all, but he doesn’t push. His attention returns to the road, though the corner of his mouth lifts slightly anyway.  

You’re antsy in his car, fidgeting, tapping your fingers against the skin of your bare thigh. The crackling sound of his radio fills the space between you, some old Arctic Monkeys song playing. 

“It’s not far,” he says. “You’ll survive.”

The road narrows as they turn off the main stretch, trees closing in a little tighter on either side like the town is trying to keep this place tucked away. The truck’s engine shifts pitch as Arthur slows, guiding them down. The garage comes into view gradually rather than dramatically—no big signage trying to impress anyone, just a functional building that’s clearly been here long enough to earn its status . The roller door is already halfway up, and there’s the faint smell of oil and metal in the air before you even properly stop.

“We’re here,” he adds, matter-of-fact. “You can wait in the truck if you want,” he says, then corrects himself slightly. “Or come in. Up to you. Just have a seat inside while I get your Mini in here.”

You hop out of his big truck, trying to land carefully in the heels that could definitely roll your ankle. He doesn’t make a thing of it. Just moves around to the back, focus shifting immediately back to the job in front of him. The earlier conversation seems to get filed away somewhere for later—or maybe just not at all.

He unhooks the chain without fuss, the motions efficient and unshowy, like his hands know exactly what they’re doing without needing permission from anything else. Your Mini shifts slightly as it’s freed, settling back onto its own wheels with a quiet weight that makes you realise how dependent you’ve been on his truck getting you here at all.

 “Can I borrow your phone, maybe? I should call my friend, tell her I’m alive.” 

He nods easily. “It's in the jacket I gave you.”

You fish it out, his phone in your hand. The lockscreen is Arthur—same messy hair, same steady expression—but softer somehow, caught candidly smiling. He’s holding a little girl, tucked into him with a familiarity that doesn’t need explaining. She’s laughing, his arm around her. You don’t mean to stare at it for as long as you do, but it holds your attention anyway. He doesn’t look like someone who would end up involved in your kind of morning.

“Is this your daughter?”

He laughs at that, and it’s short, genuine, almost disbelieving, like you’ve just suggested something wildly out of character for him.

“No,” he says, turning his attention back to the road, still smiling faintly. “God, no. That’s my sister. Anyway, the reception’s better inside, might want to call her there.”

You nod and turn to go inside the garage, which captivates you. It’s all brick walls and high ceilings. There are racks and racks of tools—some neatly arranged, others clearly returned wherever there was space at the time. Metal cabinets line one side, drawers half-labelled or not labelled at all, the kind of organisation that only makes sense to the person who lives in it. Old signs hangs on the walls, slightly crooked, faded advertisements and vintage metal plates that don’t match anything else in the room, with huge steel beams within the garage. There are stray gloves everywhere, and tyres stacked up. It’s big enough to swallow you whole.

You quickly dial your friend’s number, waiting impatiently for her to pick up. You start to lose hope after the 3rd ring, same old anxiousness reappearing in your stomach and then —

“Hello?”

Relief hits so fast you finally breathe.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, the words coming out in a rush. “Okay, so basically—”

“Girl? What’s going on? Where are you?”

You let out a small, shaky laugh, dragging a hand over your face as you glance back toward the garage floor again.

“In the middle of nowhere,” you say, only half exaggerating. “My car broke down. I’m at some garage—I don’t even know what town this is. I’m an hour from home.”

“Jesus,” you hear your friend process, “I thought you went home with… um.. what’s-his-face?”

“Yeah,” you cut in quickly, wincing a little. “I did.”

“Oh, my god. Don’t tell me—”

“Save the lecture, I'm annoyed at myself too,” you admit, lowering your voice slightly. “I woke up, left, got in my car, and now it’s dead. Like, fully dead.”

“And you’re safe?” your friend asks, more serious now.

You look back at Arthur, face concentrated as he pulls your car in, eyebrows furrowed together.            

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m safe. There’s this guy,” you add, glancing instinctively toward the open space of the garage. “He’s the mechanic. It’s his place.”

“Is he weird?”

You huff out a quiet breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

“He’s an asshole,” you say, honest without thinking.

“That’s concerning,” your friend replies immediately.

“He’s… blunt,” you settle on. “Almost painfully. But he knows what he’s doing. With the car, I mean.”

“And with you?” your friend teases lightly.

You roll your eyes, even though she can’t see it.

“No,” you say quickly. “God, no. If anything, I think he actively dislikes me.”

There’s a small pause on the line.

“Hot?” she asks.

“…That’s not the point.”

“Oh my god, he is.”

You groan softly, dragging a hand over your face again. “I hate you.”

“You like him.”

“I’ve known him for twenty minutes,” you shoot back. “And he called me a city girl like it was an insult. ”

“Okay, but hot?”

You press your lips together, glancing toward the open garage again, where you can just make out movement—him, probably, still working as if nothing else exists.

"Annoyingly,” you admit under your breath.

Your friend makes a noise of triumph on the other end.

“I’m coming to get you.”

“No, you’re not,” you say immediately. “It’s fine. He said he can tow it to his garage—well, we’re already here— he's fixing it properly. I’ll just wait it out.”

“You sure?”

You hesitate again, then glance down at the hoodie still wrapped around you, at the strange, steady feeling sitting underneath all the chaos of the morning, at the moody man with rolled up sleeves, who’s working meticulously on your stupid car. 

“…Yeah,” you say, quieter this time. “I think I am.”

[catlenneys]

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS - STEPHEN TRIES

summary: stephen’s a patient man….most of the time. so when the kids go to visit their grandparents for the weekend, it’s the perfect opportunity to make up for lost time

a/n: thank you to @lenneyswhore and @peachmd for helping me to fill the stephen tries fanfic void ily <3

wc: 6.6k

warnings: 18+, smut, p in v, husband!stephen because i said so, him and reader are mentioned to have children, swearing, multiple orgasms, oral f receiving, a lot of smut like. a lot

Listen, you loved your kids. Really, you did. They were your entire world and more, both of you certain that you couldn’t ever love anything more than them. But sometimes, you wished they would just fuck off. You would never say it out loud, of course, but you knew that Stephen shared your sentiment (at least on occasion), if the shared looks of frustration and exasperation as he was forced to pull away from you yet again was anything to go by. 

Every single time you and Stephen would start doing anything even remotely sexy - whether that be using one of your precious moments alone to exchange a few heated kisses, or his hands finding their way into your pants under the cover of the duvet in the morning, or genuinely even one of you sitting down in the bathroom to sort yourselves out before the tension drove you mad - a little voice would pipe up from a few rooms away, or a thunder of footsteps would come clattering down the hall towards you and your husband. 

He was actually very good about it, contrary to what people may believe. He never got angry at the kids, always hauling himself up from the bed or wherever you two were to follow the sound of their voice, or quickly moving to cover you two up if the children were imminently approaching something indecent. Whatever the situation was, Stephen seemed to have no problem snapping back into dad-mode the second your two dearly beloved interruptions made themselves known. 

It had actually started to become a game between the two of you, how far you could get before you got interrupted. 

So far, Stephen was winning, having made it three fingers deep in your cunt and bringing you right to the edge before your alarm clocks went off, blaring loud and jarring in the dark of the early morning and cutting off what would have been your first proper orgasm in probably over a month. You’d just smiled, resigned, and shuffled away from him to get up to rouse your children awake for school, and left it at that. 

You’d gotten close a few times, running out of time just as you were lining his cock up to your entrance before having to stop, leaving both of you restless and snappy for the remainder of the day as you desperately clenched around what should have been. But that was it from you, your deftness not quite on par with Stephen’s quick fingers and smart mouth. 

There were of course also the odd quickies you managed to squeeze in - you on your knees in the shower, frantically sucking him off before you had to go and do the school run, or a quick fuck as you put in a load of washing while the kids were occupied with a movie. Short and sweet, but not nearly enough. Just enough to scratch the itch and prevent you from actually going stir crazy, but never enough to leave you actually satisfied. You always found yourself wanting more the second he pulled out of you or stepped away, and you knew he felt the same - his gaze burning a hole in you as he tucked himself away or helped you fix your clothes, both of you longing to pull the other back and give in to the desire building inside you. 

You made it work. Slowly but surely, you got through it. You and Stephen had been together long enough to navigate through dry spells such as this one - after you’d had the kids, your sex drive had all but disappeared for a good few months while you were nursing, and you’d been so worried that Stephen would grow tired of you. But he hadn’t. He’d stayed by your side every step of the way, pretending to be much less ecstatic than he was when you told him you were finally ready to go again. Thankfully, that turning point just so happened to coincide with the kids learning how to sleep through the night, and so you were awarded with at least five hours of uninterrupted time with each other, something that Stephen used to thoroughly remind you how much he had missed you. 

You sighed at the memory, blinking back into the present where you were currently sat at the kitchen table, hands wrapped loosely around a mug of tea as you stared at nothing. The clock on the wall showed 3pm, meaning the kids would be back soon, and your nice quiet day of chores and actually indulging in your hobbies for once was coming to an end. Stephen was in charge of pickup today, so you had at least another twenty minutes to yourself before all hell broke loose. 

You used the time to clear up slightly, anticipating the chaos of art projects, dirty PE kit and homework books, all the while trying to ignore the insistent throb between your legs that had become your daily companion over the last few weeks. 

Something that didn’t help the situation in the slightest was a fact that initially, you had loved about your husband, but in recent weeks was becoming the bane of your entire existence - Stephen was an absolutely horrific flirt. 

You supposed it came with the territory - he was a YouTuber, an entertainer, he was bound to crack jokes on reflex. That didn’t bother you most of the time, but it certainly did when the jokes were downright obscene. Always dropped in the heat of the moment, when you two were having a perfectly normal discussion about breakfast or clothing or whatever domestic you’d gotten into that day, and always accompanied by the drop of his voice by approximately an octave into a register that had you shivering without him ever even touching you. 

Shaking your head to dispel the memories and thoughts of his hands roaming your body or his voice in your ear, you quickly moved to the living room to sit on the couch, and not a moment too soon. 

The door burst open with a flurry of voices both child and adult as Stephen herded your children into the house before kicking the door shut behind them. You stood up to greet them, pulling them into a hug and pointedly avoiding your husband’s gaze as your children talked to you about their day. You listened diligently, not noticing the way Stephen kept pulling out his phone to type out a message or check the time. Probably just scheduling another shoot, you thought as you watched him send his third text in under two minutes. 

Eventually, the children scurried off to their rooms to change and get on with homework, and you two were left alone once again. You swallowed thickly as you finally looked up at him, steeling yourself against the heat you found there - not unexpected, but disarming all the same. 

‘Hi. Good day?’ You asked. Stephen nodded curtly, fidgeting with his phone. His hands were trembling slightly, no doubt with the effort of restraining himself from reaching out and bending you over the nearest flat surface and fucking you until you forgot your own name. 

‘Yeah, just- just did a shoot with Chris and Will and, um- yeah.’ He said. You nodded, heart thumping as you looked anywhere other than where he was now twirling the string of his hoodie between his pointer and middle finger, the veins standing out on his hands doing nothing for the heat curling in your stomach. 

‘Good, sounds- sounds good. Uh- dinner?’ You stumbled slightly as your gaze caught on the way his fingers twisted the fabric between them, for a fleeting moment wishing they were buried inside you instead and twisting like that to hit your sweet spot in the way he knew you liked - just on the side of harsh, with broad, long strokes instead of quick little ones. Stephen had learned your body until he knew it like the back of his hand, and knew exactly how to get what reaction out of you depending on the day and the mood. When you were in a rush, he knew it was fast and hard that got you there, knew there was a particular spot on your clit that had you coming in under two minutes if he really knuckled down. 

‘Uh- I don’t mind. Whatever we’ve got already is fine by me.’ He said, grateful when his phone chimed again and he had an excuse to look away from you. Any longer and he probably would’ve done something stupid that most likely would’ve resulted in the kids getting a younger brother or sister. He pulled out his phone, tapping out a quick reply before shoving it back into his pocket and facing you again. Distantly, he could hear the sounds of the kids shuffling around in their bedrooms, doors propped half-shut in a compromise you’d fought long and hard for. He cleared his throat once, twice, all too aware of the thick tension between you two. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and his eyes tracked to the movement, something in his chest giving out at the sight of the flash of pink. 

In a moment of desperation (or stupidity, both were equally likely), he crossed the kitchen and closed the gap between you, hands coming up to cup your cheeks as your lips met in a searing kiss. You made a soft noise of surprise before melting into it, hands fisting in the fabric of his hoodie. His tongue swiped against your bottom lip, and you opened easily, groaning at the familiar taste and heat of him. It wasn’t perfect - a little messy, more teeth and tongue than you were used to at this stage, but the sheer want and hunger you felt as Stephen practically devoured you made your knees weak. He was everywhere - his hands in your hair, at your waist tugging you closer to him, tongue exploring your mouth and tangling with yours with an earnestness that left you breathless. 

He nudged you forward slightly, backing you up until your back pressed against the edge of the kitchen counter, never stopping kissing you even once. He’d pull back for breath, then dive back down and kiss you harder like he couldn’t bear to go a second without feeling you. The counter dug into your back, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as you kissed your husband, unabashedly feeling him up through the fabric of his hoodie, nails dragging down his stomach and causing him to groan into the kiss. Molten heat spread through your body, collecting in your panties where your clit had begun to throb more insistently now. 

There wasn’t an inch of space between you, your mingled breaths fanning over your mouths as you kissed each other, parting only to take a few shallow breaths before pressing your lips back together. Your blood rushed in your ears, deafening over the slick sounds of your lips on each other. Stephen shifted his weight slightly, kicking your legs apart and wedging his thigh in between yours, never once faltering as he held you steady against him. You whimpered into the kiss, the pressure of his thigh already too much against your aching core as you instinctively ground down against it. The noise only seemed to spur him on, and he flexed his thigh experimentally, laughing into your mouth when you keened softly. 

Just as you were finally allowing yourself to get lost in it, Stephen pulled back, the sudden loss sending you reeling as your head tilted upwards to instinctively chase his mouth. He rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, gaze locked on your spit-slick lips. Almost like he couldn’t help himself, his thumb traced your lower lip, pulling it back slightly before snapping it back into place. He inhaled sharply, eyes closing for a second as he tried to regain his composure. 

‘Kids-’ He started, and your cunt fluttered at just how utterly wrecked he sounded after one kiss - his voice gravelly and thick with arousal and restraint. ‘Kids’ve gotta pack. They’re leaving soon.’ He said. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

‘What? What do you mean?’ You asked. Stephen stilled for a second, stepping back so he was eye level with you. 

‘They’re staying with my parents for the weekend. Remember?’ He prompted, when your frown only deepened. Stephen exhaled softly, the sound edged with the frustration he hadn’t quite been able to shake out of his tone for the last few weeks. 

‘Yeah, love. My mum said that we needed a break after the last time she was here. So she and Dad offered to take them for the weekend. Said it’d be good for us to…..reconnect.’ He whispered that last part, voice dropping as he closed the gap in between you again, one hand coming up to grab your chin softly and tilt it up so you were looking at him. You swallowed, and Stephen’s eyes tracked the way your throat bobbed, mouth curling into a smirk as he caught the glimmer of want in your eye. 

‘So, we’ll be-’ You started, not even daring to speak it into existence for fear that something would suddenly rip it away from you. Stephen had no such concerns, smirk widening. 

‘Yep. We’ll be all alone. No kids, and I’ve told Chris to fuck off until Monday, so no friends to disturb us either. Just me and you, love. All weekend.’ He said, thumb rubbing gently over your jawline.

You really should’ve felt guilty at the intensity of the relief you felt at those words. But you couldn’t bring yourself to, not when your husband was looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive and was deciding where he wanted to start. The heat in his soft brown eyes was palpable as he stepped away from you, full of promise for the days to come. You shivered slightly, finally allowing yourself to smile as you watched his figure recede down the hallway, taking an extra second to admire his broad shoulders in the dim light of your house. 

The next hour was a blur to you. Thankfully, Stephen seemed more than ready to take on the responsibility of getting the children ready, and you could almost laugh at his brisk tone that left no room for nonsense if you weren’t so desperate to get your hands on him as he was you. 

You made polite small talk with his parents when they arrived, standing dutifully in the doorway whilst your husband chased up missing stuffed animals or forgotten items of clothing, your children chattering away to their grandparents. Stephen appeared at your shoulder, a warm smile plastered on his face, convincing to all but you who saw the slightest hint of frustration twitching at the corner of his eye the longer his parents stood in the door. He was getting impatient. 

Sensing this, you pushed off the doorframe, bending down to press a kiss to each of your children’s cheeks and hoping the adults got the message. Stephen thanked them over and over again, the picture of a courteous son and father, giving his mother a quick kiss on the cheek before joining you at the threshold once more. You waved until your arms hurt as they got into the car, your kids immediately sticking their heads out of the window to shout goodbye. You watched until the car was nothing more than a pinprick in the distance, and you were out of the danger zone of them needing to turn back for anything. 

Sighing, you stepped back into the house, letting Stephen shut the door behind you. 

He didn’t even give you a moment before he was on you. 

He backed you into the wall, one hand cupping the back of your head to stop it from knocking into the wall, the unconscious gesture giving you butterflies as his mouth found you for the second time. Gone was the element of restraint he’d tried to hard to keep earlier - this time, he didn’t hold back. His teeth dug into your bottom lip, drawing a sharp gasp out of you as you kissed back as best you could under the onslaught of his mouth. The hands at your waist snaked down to grab firm handfuls of your ass, gripping tightly and making you gasp into the kiss as Stephen groped you shamelessly. He lifted your thigh, guiding you to wrap your leg around his waist. You did as he asked, letting out a broken moan when he used the newfound angle to press his pelvis into yours, grinding the now-prominent bulge of him against your core. 

He used the interruption to break the kiss, tilting his head to press a line of hot kisses down your jaw, sucking and licking and biting at any skin he could get access too. His stubble scraped deliciously across your skin as he mouthed at the hollow of your throat, deftly nudging your head up with his nose to trail his mouth along the opposite side. 

You were practically putty in his hands, held up only by the pressure of his body against yours. Hot pleasure licked up your spine, settling in your stomach as Stephen kissed along the sharp line of your collarbone, hands sliding from your waist over your stomach to tug gently at the hem of your shirt - asking, as always. You nodded frantically, helping him as he pulled the clothing over your head and tossed it on the floor. You reached for him, popping open the button of his jeans and shoving them down just enough to free him from his boxers as he tugged your trousers down at the same time. 

Stephen’s head tipped back as a throaty groan ripped itself from his throat as you took him in your hand, giving him a few firm pumps. The feeling of your hand wrapped around him knocked the wind from him, especially as your thumb brushed against the head to collect the precum beading there, swirling it around the tip and letting it drip into your palm. You stroked him steadily, entranced by the way you could see his control unraveling in real time. 

‘Fuck, sweetheart-’ He said brokenly, voice catching on a breath as you tightened your grip slightly as you palmed over him, his hips stuttering forward involuntarily to fuck into your hand. You smiled, doing it again, and again just because you could, watching him closely as he braced one hand on the wall beside your head as his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. 

It wasn’t long, however, until he knocked your hand away, pinning it to the wall to stop you when you tried to grab at him again, desperate to feel him come undone under your touch. 

‘Mm-mm, love. None of that. I’m making up for lost time.’ He said in your ear. You swallowed, nodding again. Stephen copied you, patting your cheek in approval when he figured you weren’t going to try and grab him again. 

‘Good girl. Now stay right there for me, okay?’ He instructed. You nodded again, not really trusting yourself to speak at this point. Stephen met your gaze, holding it with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat as he slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of you. You let out a weak moan as you realised what he was doing, body pliant as he lifted your leg, dropping your thigh over his shoulder as he knelt. His cock bobbed between his legs as he looked up at you, but he paid it no mind, especially as his gaze finally broke from yours and landed on your cunt, your panties the only barrier left between him and salvation. 

‘You have no idea,’ he started, and you groaned at the want lining his tone as he reached up to pull your panties to the side, ‘how long I’ve been wanting to do this - how much I’ve wanted to taste you. God- every time I saw you- wearing those little skirts of yours, or in the morning when you’re just in your pyjamas- I just wanted to pin you down and make you cry.’ He said darkly, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to the top of your crotch, taking a deep breath and groaning when your scent hit his nose - heady, raw, and entirely yours. His cock twitched pathetically against his thigh, unhappy at being ignored. Stephen didn’t even seem to notice as he lifted his head up, tongue falling out of his mouth to lick a long stripe up your cunt. 

After so long, the pleasure was almost overwhelming. Your knees buckled, leg locking around Stephen’s head to keep him where you wanted him. He let out a muffled moan as he was suddenly shoved deeper into your cunt, but he put up no fight, arms instead coming to wrap around your raised thigh and waist to hold you steady as he licked into you. Your hands tangled in his hair, gripping probably harder than you meant to as you helped him find a rhythm, guiding his head up and down so his nose bumped your clit at just the right angle while his tongue fucked into you, darting around your hole as he drank each drop of your slick. He moaned, the vibration causing you to moan out loud, head tipping back against the wall as you lost yourself in the feeling of him. 

Stephen was in heaven right now. Your plush thighs on either side of his head, and your sweet cunt before him, wet and warm and inviting. He couldn’t get enough of you - your taste, your scent, the sound of your moans above him, he was obsessed. He sucked your clit into his mouth, drawing patterns over the swollen flesh with the tip of his tongue, moaning into you when your hands fisted in his hair. Your muscles heaved, stomach sucked in as your face contorted with pleasure. You knew it wouldn’t take much for you to cum, not when Stephen was working you with such fervour, his tongue lapping at your folds like it was his last meal on earth, sloppily making out with your cunt and spreading your slick all across his jaw and nose. 

‘Ste- Stephen-‘ Was all the warning you could give before your orgasm barrelled into you. Your muscles spasmed, your legs shaking as you reached your peak. The sheer intensity of it made your eyes roll back, shockwaves of pleasure rolling through you with a force that made your head spin and jaw drop open. Stephen guided you through it, jaw working tirelessly as he sucked on your clit before ducking his head down to catch your cum on his tongue, moaning helplessly at the taste of you. 

When your fingers finally unlocked from where they were fisted in his hair, he sat back on his calves and looked up at you. You moaned again at the sight of him - eyes blown wide with lust, lips shiny and swollen with your slick, chin and jaw painted in a shiny layer of your cum, and a satisfied smile on his face. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, wasting no time as he stood up and grabbed you by the waist. You yelped as he picked you up, helping you to wrap your legs around his waist. 

He carried you to the living room, sitting down on the couch and manoeuvring you until you were sat on his lap, wasting no time in sliding his cock into you in one smooth thrust until he was seated fully inside you. The stretch sent you reeling, cunt clenching and unclenching around him as you adjusted. The added lubrication of your cum helped, but after so long without him it felt like your first time again. Stephen’s breath came in short bursts as he resisted the urge to fuck up into you, giving you a few gracious seconds to adjust to his size. 

‘Okay, love?’ He said, brushing some hair out of your eyes. You nodded, whimpering slightly as you shifted around on his lap, trying your best to distill the pressure you were experiencing right now. It wasn’t pleasurable just yet, but it was getting there as Stephen ran his hands up and down your sides, touch warm and light as he helped you relax. 

‘Mhm, just- ’s been a while.’ You muttered. Stephen laughed derisively, humming in agreement. Your mouth snapped shut as you shifted your hips again, the tip of him brushing against that spot inside you that had you seeing stars. 

‘Mm, you can say that again.’ He said, taking your silence to mean that you were ready for him as he thrust his hips up, a moan punching out of him as you clenched around him again. 

‘Fuck- so tight, Jesus Christ, love-’ He said through gritted teeth, hands settling at your waist to guide you as he fucked into you. The angle shoved him deep inside you, impaling you on his cock with each downward movement. You were boneless, not a single thought in your head besides the way the head of him nudged your cervix, the ridges and veins of him dragging along your walls and pressing against every single one of your sweet spots. Your cunt twitched with overstimulation, the pleasure turning sharp and bordering on painful as Stephen fucked you. 

‘Stephen- ’s too much, I can’t-’ You whined, falling forwards to rest your head in the crook of his shoulder. Warm hands came up to rub circles over your back, and you felt him press a flutter of gentle kisses to the crown of your head. 

‘I know, sweetheart. But feels good, yeah? Come on, be brave for me, love. Can’t have you tapping out so soon, not when I’m only just getting started with you.’ He muttered, cupping the back of your head and holding you to him as he thrust into you more gently this time. He fucked you like that for a while - slow, deep thrusts that had you whining as you adjusted, the pain slowly melting into mind-numbing pleasure as you relaxed around him. 

‘There she is, that’s my girl. Okay now?’ Stephen murmured. You nodded, lifting your head up to look him in the eye. Stephen stifled a groan at your appearance - your eyes were wet, a combination of the pleasure and relief of having him after so long almost too much for you. Sweat beaded at your hairline, and your cheeks were flushed red from exertion. 

‘Yeah, ‘m good. Fuck- ’s deep.’ You gritted out, experimentally grinding your hips forward. Stephen couldn’t help the moan that came out of him as he felt you around him, gripping him so tightly as you fucked yourself on him. His hand traced down your back until it found yours, linking your fingers together as you set a faltering rhythm. He brought your linked hands to his mouth, brushing a kiss across your knuckles, before guiding them down to press against your lower stomach. You whined as he flattened your hand over your stomach and placed his over the top. As he rocked his hips forward, you could feel the indent of him against your palm, a slight, prodding feeling that sent your mind reeling. 

‘Feel that, love?’ He said. You nodded, gaze hazy with pleasure and love as you thrust your hips faster, pure need for your husband throbbing throughout your whole body. 

‘Mhm, I can- can feel you. Fuck- I’ve missed this.’ You gasped, throwing your head back. Stephen nodded, squeezing your hand as he started to fuck into you faster. He planted his feet on the floor, giving him the leverage he needed to meet your thrusts halfway, the slap of your skin filling the room as your ass hit his bare thighs repeatedly. 

‘Fuck- God, Stephen- feels so good-’ You moaned brokenly, grasping blindly at his chest to ground yourself. He caught your flailing hand, pressing it to his chest to help steady you as you bounced on him. He leant forward to wrap his lips around your nipple, sucking into his mouth, laving his tongue over it before swapping to the other one, smiling against you as you pushed your chest forward to chase the feeling of his mouth against you. 

‘I know, angel. Feels- feels good for me too. Fuck- not gonna last-’ He said, driving up into you harder now, chasing the slick warmth of your cunt wrapped around him, the pressure of you sliding up and down his throbbing cock almost too much to bear after so long apart. 

‘’S okay, me neither- fuck.’ You stuttered out as your orgasm approached you once more. 

It didn’t take long until Stephen was fucking into you with reckless abandon, cock pistoning in and out of your cunt as he gripped your ass to move you up and down on him. Your head lolled backwards, eyes fixed on the ceiling above as you gave yourself over completely to your husband. You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, clit throbbing and swollen where it ground against the coarse hair at the base of his cock, the sensation making your eyes roll as he fucked into you deeper. 

‘C’mon, love, wanna feel you cum around me again, yeah? Gonna do that for me?’ Stephen said, voice low and wrecked in your ear as he dropped a hand to where you connected to rub at your overstimulated clit. You let out a choked scream, orgasm ripping through you at the sudden added sensation. Sparks exploded behind your eyelids, entire body locking with the force of it. Stephen held onto you, keeping you upright as he fucked you through it. 

‘Fuck, there she is- such a good girl for me. Just a little longer- nearly there, love.’ Stephen moaned out, grabbing onto your waist and pulling you towards him so you were chest to chest, using the new angle to fuck into you faster, watching as your mouth dropped open. He was close, so close now- the combination of watching you fall apart on top of him and the feeling of being inside you after so long, your soft, slick cunt sucking him in over and over bringing him closer to the edge he’d been chasing for the better part of a month. 

‘C’mon, Stephen- want you to cum inside me- fill me up- want it, please-’ You whined, voice high and breathy with overstimulation and the aftershocks of your previous high, but still edged with enough neediness that sent pleasure rippling through Stephen’s body, the thought of you still needing more from him sending him over the edge. He fucked into you one last time, sheathing himself fully inside you with a growl as he came. His cock throbbed inside you, twitching as he emptied himself inside you in the most powerful orgasm he thinks he’d ever had. His hips continued to thrust into you in desperate little movements as he rode out his high, a guttural groan spilling out of him. 

He stayed inside you as you caught your breath, the ends of your fingers and tips of your toes tingling with the force of it as you came down from your high. Stephen rubbed your sore thighs, coaxing feeling back into them from where they’d started to go numb. 

‘Breathe for me, love. In and out.’ Stephen directed, patting your cheek so you looked at him as he guided you through it. You followed him, taking a deep breath in and out until your heart stopped pounding in your chest. Slowly, you became aware of the sensation of the mixture of Stephen’s and yours’ cum dripping out of you, leaking around the base of his cock onto his thighs. He followed your gaze towards it, laughing slightly as he tilted his head to get a better look. 

‘Messy girl, aren’t you?’ He teased, laughing again when you made a noise of offence. 

‘Shut up, half of it’s yours.’ You shot back, folding your arms across your chest. You didn’t miss the way Stephen’s gaze dropped to where your tits spilled over your forearms for half a second before flicking back up to your face. You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Your husband just shrugged, tipping his head back onto the back of the couch. It was your turn to eye him up, tracing your eyes along the long column of his throat, watching as his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, still catching his breath. 

You two stayed like that for a while, until the feeling of the sticky liquids between your thighs became too much for you to bear. You shakily stood up, grabbing onto Stephen’s bicep for support (and because you kind of just wanted to feel him up a little more), before guiding the two of you into the shower, grimacing when you felt the mess between your legs dripping down onto your inner thigh. Stephen got it started whipping off his hoodie before stepping in, adjusting the temperature to your liking before extending a hand to help you in. He positioned you so you were under the hot spray, hands automatically coming up to rest at your waist as you rest your head against his bare chest. 

‘This ’s nice. We should send the kids away more often.’ You murmured, watching the droplets as they raced down the broad expanse of his chest and onto the tiled floor. His chest hair glistened with the moisture, and you couldn’t resist running your tongue over his collarbone where the water collected for a brief moment before tumbling to the floor. Stephen’s breath hitched slightly, barely audible over the rushing of the shower. 

‘Hm, yeah. But I think we’d miss them, y’know?’ He replied, idly running his fingers through the damp ends of your hair, working out the knots that had formed over the last few hours. You hummed in agreement, letting your eyes slip shut as you basked in the warmth of the spray and his body beneath you. Stephen held you close as he reached around you for your body wash. 

‘C’mon, then. Let’s get you cleaned up. The night’s still young.’ He said. You laughed, begrudgingly standing up so he could grab your washcloth. He squirted a small amount onto it before pressing it to your skin, carefully brushing it over your sore cunt. Your eyes fell shut again as he washed you, a feeling of contentment coming over you as you stood under the shower, head tilted back to run it over your sweaty face. 

You insisted on doing the same, never one to miss out on an opportunity to take care of your husband. Stephen had always been one to do things without a thought for himself, solely focused on you and the kids and keeping you happy. So, whenever the opportunity presented itself, you jumped at the chance to do anything for him, even if it was something as small as this. You used a generous amount of body wash - his own, not yours - spreading it across his chest and back. He let out a soft breath, leaning his forehead against yours as your nails scraped gently over his stomach, the muscles flexing under your touch. 

‘Stephen….’ You breathed, hands ghosting lower, your fingertips barely brushing over where his cock lay half-hard against his t high. 

‘Mm?’ He said, not opening his eyes, but you caught the amused edge in his tone. You swallowed thickly, sliding your hand down the strong curve of his thigh to cup him gently. His breath stuttered, cock twitching slightly against your hand. 

‘Could you- can you turn around?’ You asked. Stephen hesitated slightly, before complying. The ease with which he listened to you made your heart flutter with love, and you pressed a kiss to his shoulderblade as you moved yourself closer until your stomach was against his back, taking his cock in your hand once again. You pumped him slowly, your palm slick with water and soap, and so it wasn’t long until he was fully hard once again in your grip. He bent forwards, bracing his elbow against the wall and resting his head on his forearm as you stroked him. 

‘So pretty, Stephen.’ You murmured, turning to rest your cheek against his back as you tightened your grip slightly, dragging your palm over the head of him and spreading the wetness you found there over it. Stephen gasped, hips twitching forward into your grip. You shushed him softly, rubbing your thumb over the slit and dragging your hand back down the length of him. 

‘I’ve got you. Just relax.’ You said. Jerking him faster now, his breath came in ragged bursts as he locked his gaze on the sight of your hand wrapped around him. You loved him like this - pliant and soft beneath your touch, for once unburdened by familial duties or work. You wished you could’ve seen his face, but the sound of his breathy moans and whines was more than enough for you right now. His cock throbbed in your palm, the velvety skin slick and warm in your grip as you stroked him, twisting your wrist on each upstroke and causing him to moan as he fucked slowly into your hand. 

‘God, love-’ He said, panting now as he neared the edge again. You nodded, kissing a line across his shoulders and down his back, following the little freckles you loved so much as you kept working him. 

‘I’ve got you. It’s okay.’ You assured, swirling your thumb around the tip, shamelessly dipping into the slit to collect the precum to slick your grip as you stroked him. Stephen moaned helplessly, eyes screwed shut as his world zeroed in on the feeling of you around him, your palm dragging across every vein of him, thumb swiping at the sensitive spot just under the head in an irregular rhythm that drove him crazy. His cock jumped in your grip as you brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, and he couldn’t help himself from bucking forwards into your grip to chase the feeling. You obliged him, focusing on the head in small, tight strokes until he was breathless, thighs trembling as he came again. It was gentler this time, his cum dribbling into your palm. You didn’t let up, pumping him until he pushed you away with his other hand, turning around to face you once again. 

You smiled up at him, quickly sticking your hand under the spray to wash it off before huddling in close so you could both be under the water. Stephen returned your smile, gaze warm and fond as he held you to him. 

‘Love you.’ 

He squeezed you briefly, returning your sentiment wordlessly. 

You stayed in the shower until the hot water ran out, reluctantly stepping out into the cold air of the bathroom. Stephen handed you your towel before grabbing his own, following you out into your shared bedroom. You didn’t bother getting dressed as you dried off before flopping onto your bed, Stephen quick to follow behind you. All the exhaustion of the last hours caught up to you as you lay there, and you felt yourself quickly falling asleep, comforted by the solid warmth of your husband next to you. 

‘Go to sleep, love. I’ll still be here when you wake up,’ He murmured, stroking over your hair where you lay. You nodded sleepily, burrowing further into the sheets as you got comfortable. 

‘And besides, we’ve still got the whole of tomorrow. So rest up, you’re gonna need it.’ 

[mclarengf]

the provocateur⭑.ᐟ 

mclarengf’s 200 follower celly again, thank u all so much (!!!) for this and i really hope u guys choose to celebrate w me via this event !!

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˚₊‧꒰ა superscar ໒꒱ ‧₊˚— send me a request for a sfw blurb!

˚₊‧꒰ა sexonthebeat ໒꒱ ‧₊˚— send me a request for an nsfw blurb!

˚₊‧꒰ა machinegirl ໒꒱ ‧₊˚—  tell me a bit about yourself and i’ll say which driver i would pair you with!

˚₊‧꒰ა homewrecked ໒꒱ ‧₊˚— send me a non-f1 character and a prompt and i'll write a little something! (list of characters here)

˚₊‧꒰ა go ໒꒱ ‧₊˚— send me a driver and a prompt and a) i’ll write u some headcanons or b) make a mini playlist! (pls specify which u want, both is ok too♡)

˚₊‧꒰ა deathbydevotion ໒꒱ ‧₊˚— talk to me !! ask abt my favourites, tell me what you’ve been up to, any gossip, memes, wips... the stage is yours!

˚₊‧꒰ა finallyapologizing ໒꒱ ‧₊˚— send me a game to play! (e.g. would u rather, cym, expose ur spotify, top 5, etc.)

[peachmd]

frontman of the band - chris dixonꨄ︎

summary: he's the star of the stage, and your heart.

author's notes: anyone who guesses the inspiration for this gets a kiss from me 💋 very mild tbh! nothing too detailed but mentions of sex and suggestive scenes, they smoke weed

frontman!chris the first time you met, who introduces himself after a tiny gig in an equally tiny pub, hair sticking up in wild tufts, voice low and teasing. Before the fame, before the stage. “You’ve been staring at me the whole set,” he says, grinning. You stammer, cheeks burning, and he laughs, the kind of laugh that makes you immediately want to crawl closer, even though you barely know him.

frontman!chris writing songs about you. pencil in hand, messy scribbles, trying to capture the thought of you on a page — fruitlessly attempting to capture the complexity of whatever this is. The songs he writes about you end up being the band’s biggest hits: messy, elusive nights, heavy touches, someone who never quite stays till the morning. Fans dissect the lyrics online and speculate endlessly about the mysterious girl the band is singing about.

frontman!chris who doesn't talk to you at all during his tour, leaving you in the dark. You send voicemails, your slurring voice heavy with the ache you can’t help— selfish, maybe, because you know he’s busy, or worse — intertwined with another woman, because you said no labels. After all, nothing should, in theory, obligate him to care, or even to you. And yet, you can’t help hoping he’ll listen, that he’ll hear the tremor in your words and think of you the way you’re thinking of him. Your only updates come from paparazzi pictures of him with an assortment of girls on the streets and in cars.

frontman!chris using your previously mentioned voicemail in his songs. It renders you mortified. The desperate, exasperated tone of your voice, the half-laughing, half-crying words—it’s intimate and raw, and suddenly you’re both exposed and immortalised in the rhythm he’s built around it. It’s twisted with embarrassment — the knowledge that everyone in the crowd is listening to your vulnerability, and it makes your heart ache in a way only he can provoke. There’s pride too, though you’d never admit it aloud. Pride in the way he’s perpetuated this messy, unguarded side of you, the side you normally keep hidden. Pride that he even thinks of you— anywhere, anytime, long after the night you recorded that voicemail. 

frontman!chris showing up to your door the same day he lands after his tour. He slips inside with a kiss on your cheek, a rant about whatever’s bothering him, and somehow you let him in. You watch him move around your space, tossing his bag onto the couch, making himself a coffee too bitter, and it’s ridiculous how normal it feels to have him here—like the distance of the tour never existed. You watch him settle onto your couch, kicking off his shoes, and for a moment, it’s just quiet. Then he nudges your shoulder with his elbow, grinning, and you laugh despite yourself. That laughter, the way it makes him smirk, the way he lets his thumb trace idle circles along your arm — it’s effortless and infuriating at the same time. 

frontman!chris arguing with you in the middle of the street at 1 a.m. It’s cold and rainy, doom and gloom, and usually you would spend in your flat — a movie and disastrous dinner, but the hopes of a quiet night in are stolen away. It’s the kind of argument that starts about something stupid and spirals into everything else you’ve both been avoiding. The rain starts coming down harder, cold drops clinging to your eyelashes, soaking through your clothes. Neither of you seems willing to back down. His hands move constantly when he talks — frustrated gestures cutting through the air while he insists you’re impossible. You fire back just as sharply. At some point, you try to walk away, and his hand catches your wrist before you get two steps. He kisses you then, his tongue stealing your voice and along with it your anger. Your hand slips under wet layers of fabric against hot skin.

frontman!chris who scrunches his face up when you tell him you can’t make it to the show tonight. He looks genuinely disappointed, as if your absence in the crowd will shift the rhythm of the entire night. “Really?” he asks, voice tight, almost pleading, and you hate that even from across the city, he still manages to make your chest ache. Later that night on your timeline, clips are posted, endlessly, of him dedicating a particularly yearning song to you, saying “this is about you, you know who you are.” 

frontman!chris using a picture of you as an album cover. You don’t even realise at first — not until the teaser drops online and your phone starts lighting up with confused messages. The picture itself is grainy, taken on a disposable camera. It’s not recent either; you can vaguely recognise the old hotel balcony it was taken on. Your face is half visible, half veiled by your hair.  You remember leaning forward on your elbows, joint in hand, looking out over the street while Chris messed around with the disposable camera he’d bought from the convenience store downstairs. You rolled your eyes when the flash went off. The image sits stark and deliberate against the album’s dark background, your silhouette soft but unmistakably human. Fans zoom in on it, posting screenshots, speculating endlessly about the girl on the balcony. Some insist she must be a model; others think she’s a symbolic character from the album’s storyline. Later, when you finally see him again, the first thing you say isn’t hello. “Seriously?” you ask, holding up your phone with the album cover glowing on the screen. Chris barely glances at it before looking back at you, completely unbothered. A slow grin spreads across his face, the same one he’s always worn when he knows he’s gotten under your skin.

frontman!chris who texts you at 2 a.m., “You awake?” and somehow you are, scrolling through the screen, heart thudding. He knows exactly how to catch you off guard without even trying. You stare at the screen, torn between irritation and excitement, because he knows exactly how to catch you off guard without even trying. You know if he’s texting you, he’s already halfway here. You sigh, dragging a hand over your face as you swing your legs out of bed. You’re already reaching for the door.

frontman!chris communicating through songs. When he found out you were dating someone else, the notes twisted sharper, the lyrics cutting a little deeper. Each verse, each drumbeat, became a message only you could understand, even if you tried not to. Each verse feels pointed somehow, like a message wrapped carefully inside melody. Lines about late nights and unanswered calls, about watching someone walk away and pretending it doesn’t matter, about a girl who always slips through his fingers right when he thinks he’s figured her out.  

frontman!chris who plays a new song live and watches the crowd carefully, eyes scanning for you, the words dripping with the sting of jealousy and longing. You’re somewhere else, maybe laughing with somebody else, and it makes the music feel both empty and furious at the same time.

frontman!chris who texts you a photo of his messy hotel room, captioned “wish you were here.” You roll your eyes, but your stomach flips anyway. The bed is unmade, there are empty coffee cups on the nightstand, and a pack of cigarettes, some on the floor. There’s a pull in your chest that makes you ache, a mixture of annoyance and something you can’t quite name. You want to tell him to clean up, to stop tempting you with his presence from miles away, but you know if you do, he’ll just laugh and say, “Then come here, don’t just talk about it.”

frontman!chris who mocks you mercilessly for being dramatic, but then cups your face in his hands when he sees you tearing up. When push comes to shove, or he’s just being fucking mean, the tears sting. He smirks first, rolls his eyes, teases your flustered reaction — “Seriously, are you crying over that?” — but the second he notices the tremble in your lips, the way your eyes glisten, his hands stay. They linger against your cheeks, thumbs brushing softly over your skin like he’s trying to smooth out the ache you didn’t ask him to see. One moment you’re furious, the next you’re leaning into the warmth of his hands, heart hammering because he’s both the cause of your pain and the only person who can soothe it.

Frontman!chris writing a song about the time when you first touched, clandestine and hushed. It's not awfully romantic — the backseat of a car, ungodly hours into the night. The worn leather of your seats creaked every time either of you shifted, cramped in the back, the only sound of high-pitched whines and low groans. When he tries to capture it in a song later — a late night in a beat-up car with a girl with wide eyes— the lyrics make your lips twist upwards. There’s no denying it: the song is sly, tongue-in-cheek, teasingly aware of the mischief you both got away with that night. You still remember the handprints left on the car, sobering you the next morning. 

frontman!chris who praises you in a way that always makes your stomach flip. It slips out of him so easily, like second nature. A quiet, approving “good girl” when you finally stop arguing with him, when you lean into him instead of away, when his hands are intertwined with your hair, lips wrapped around his cock, when you nod yes for another round. It’s a strange feeling, being so pliant, so willing. To see his eyes shine with approval, dark and smouldering, makes your chest tighten, and your knees go weak, like his quiet words have the weight of a command—and you can’t help but want to live up to them, again and again.

frontman!chris watching you squirm as you take him, for the millionth time. You’ve never gotten used to him, still after all these years. His eyes darken with something equal parts pride and hunger, tracing every small movement you make, memorising the way your body bends and shifts. You’ve never gotten used to the way he watches you—like he’s seeing you all at once, every nerve ending, every hesitation, every shiver—and it makes your skin flush in ways you can’t quite control. He fills you up, the burn feeling both pleasurable and painful, and there’s a rush of satisfaction when he whispers “you feel so good” in your ear. When his fingers dip down where you’re most sensitive, and your head falls back with a soft exhale, his smirk only makes you want it more.

frontman!chris and shotgunning.  His eyes flick down to your lips for a second, and he holds your jaw. When he presses his mouth to yours, it’s deliberate, slow—the smoke from his lungs threading through the kiss, warm and slightly bitter, filling the space between you. You taste it on his lips, and the heat of him presses closer, chest against chest, the world narrowing down to this single, intoxicating contact. He holds the kiss just a second longer than necessary, enough to make your knees go weak, before finally pulling back, though his hands don’t move. His gaze catches yours, intense and unrelenting, the corner of his mouth curling into that familiar crooked smirk, as if daring you to tell him off or pull away—but you know you won’t. He’s already won this little battle, and he knows it.

frontman!chris and slow sex. Sometimes the weed makes both of you soft — it makes the sharp arguments a little hazy, a little soft-edged—and replaces quickies in the bar bathroom with unhurried, deliberate kisses, and the quiet press of his hands along your back. The usual teasing fades into something slower, more thoughtful, like he’s taking his time for once instead of rushing headfirst into you the way he usually does. There’s no frantic urgency, no loud declarations, just a real, simmering buildup — a quiet heat that coils in your stomach before finally spilling over. The quiet is heavy but comforting, broken only by the occasional soft murmur of his voice when he says your name, or the faint laugh that escapes when your fingers catch his hair. Even his usual smirk is gentler now, replaced by a look that’s all softness and curiosity, like he’s letting himself feel what he usually masks with bravado.

frontman!chris and his hands. Strong, agile and a little calloused. But mostly, large. They’re the first thing you notice when you’re close to him — the way they move constantly, never still. Drumming on tabletops,  twirling a pen between long fingers when he’s trying to write. Even when he’s talking, his hands are part of it, slicing lazily through the air to emphasise a point before falling back to rest somewhere near you. But when they’re on you, it’s different. A hand on the back of your neck while he leans down to say something in your ear over loud music. His palm slides along your spine when he moves past you in a crowded room. His fingers hook briefly into the belt loop of your jeans to tug you closer. His long fingers inside you, curling in just the right spot. 

frontman!chris with you 5 minutes before he’s meant to be on stage. He whines when you tell him he should go, tugging at your hands as if he could hold time in place. His lips brush yours in slow, teasing kisses, soft at first, then a little harder when he senses you pulling away. His fingers trace the curve of your jaw, slide into your hair, gripping just enough to anchor you. The smell of his cologne—sharp, familiar, and intoxicating—mixes with the faint sweat from the venue, wrapping around you like a tether. “I’ll be fine,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low and urgent, but it’s hollow compared to the way he lingers, forehead pressed to yours, eyes dark and unrelenting. His lips graze your cheek, your jaw, trying to tattoo himself into your brain before the lights hit. The stage waits, but for these last few heartbeats, you are his only audience.

[mclarengf]

we hit 200 followers (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) !! love u guys so much thank u thank u thank uuuu ⋆.ᢉ𐭩⋆˚࿔

[peachmd]

MECHANIC!ARTHUR ⛐

⛐ sweaty, rolled up sleeves, slick with grease. mussed up hair, scruffy stubble. a charming smile, someone too smart to be sentenced to a life of mechanics. big brown eyes with a snarky glint, never-ending curiosity. skilled hands and an even more skilled mouth. ⛐

PLAYLIST ꨄ︎

♬.ᐟ

CHAPTERS ꨄ

chapter one — your car's fucked

DRABBLES AND HEADCANONS ꨄ︎

COMING SOON..!

[peachmd]

INTRODUCING...

MECHANIC!ARTHUR ⛐

now playing...!

AURORA - FOO FIGHTERS ♬.ᐟ ❝ i just kinda died for you, you just kinda stared at me, ❞

SHE'S AMERICAN - THE 1975 ♬.ᐟ ❝ well, your face has got a hold on me, but your brain is proper weird, ❞

VALENTINE - INHALER ♬.ᐟ ❝ they say you're hard to please but i'll still give myself to you, ❞

CORNERSTONE - ARTIC MONKEYS ♬.ᐟ ❝ i smelt your scent on the seatbelt and kept my shortcuts to myself, ❞

VAPOR - 5 SECONDS OF SUMMER ♬.ᐟ ❝ savour your words, i won't ever waste them, ❞

DIRTY DIANA - MICHAEL JACKSON♬.ᐟ ❝ i'll be your everything, if you make me a star, ❞

DO YOU WANNA - THE KOOKS ♬.ᐟ ❝and would you like it if i put you into my world? ❞

COMPASS - THE NEIGHBOURHOOD ♬.ᐟ ❝ i know that you're not something to lose, now, ❞

GIRL ALL THE BAD GUYS WANT - B.F.S ♬.ᐟ ❝as i fail miserably, tryna get the girl all the bad guys want, ❞

extended playlist

[ghostwrittenbygrace]

5some pls xx

[peachmd]

hey r u doing that cheating fic??

hi anon! unfortunately, i feel that writing cheating isnt quite something that i would like doing due to personal experiences im so sorry! you could try another author maybe?

[mclarengf]

omg thank u so much to everyone who got me to 5000 likes! love u guys so bad ᯓᰔ

[peachmd]

YAY ORANGE

[peachmd]

hey just wanted to drop a little message and say your one of my fav creators rn and I'm loving the fics !! i've always been in to ukyt as a british girlie but only got into fics recently and your account is my absolute fav but thought i'd let you know as i know this community isn't always kindest to those who work the hardest 🫶🫶

omg you are so sweet thank you so much🥹🥹 this means a lot to me!!! it’s always uplifting to hear your audience enjoys your work❤️