spencer reid and his tongue fixation. at first you thought it was just a run-of-the-mill oral fixation. you’ve seen his chewed up pen caps and you’ve watched his fingers fidget with his lips while he’s deep in thought, it just seemed obvious. but now that you’re a far more seasoned lover, you’ve come to discover it’s nothing to do w the mouth. it’s everything to do with the tongue. when you’re kissing, he always gets straight to the point. he parts your lips with his, introducing his tongue as if he couldn’t wait to wedge it in there. he wants to slide it against yours and feel it twist around. he wants the kiss to be wet. he wants the drool to gather at the corners n drip down the chin. he wants to probe the back of your throat, tilting his head so he can reach in deeper. if he could get you to gag on his tongue he would. he goes fucking wild if you suck on it. first time you did it it was like magic. he fell limp against you with a sigh of pure relief that shot straight to your core. it was rewarded with an adorable fervor when it was your turn, sucking on the shaft of your tongue with a subtle bob of his head. although you didn’t have the same delighted reaction—perhaps the sensation was different for you—something about his enthusiasm made it worth it.

the way his hands grab or thread at your hair, if there’s anything to latch onto he will. it’s the kind of touch that sends tingles from your scalp to your spine while he’s tilting your head for you to get in deeper. heads are practically perpendicular while he’s shoving his tongue in to swirl around. sucking in a breath through his nose while he’s burrowing into your mouth, you can feel yourself at the beginnings of a choke. his other hand cups the underside of your chin, thumb and fingertips on opposite sides of your jawline, pinning you in place while he keeps surging in. your eyes squeeze shut while an ache surfaces in your neck from the position and the pressure of his fervor. when he pulls away or you push at his chest for oxygen, a fat string of spit connects you two, breaking to fall down the line of your chins.

50 Types of Kisses - Writing Prompts

Send in a number and a pairing!

NASTY DOG • S.REID

SUMMARY: sometimes spencer can’t help the impure thoughts he has about you…

tags: reader is a bombshell, reader wears heels, reader canonly has big breasts, Spencer cannot stop fiending over reader, he needs a face full of boobs

a/n: perv Spencer solves all my problems 😵‍💫 not proof read and I’m currently high as a kite

w/c: 3.0K

DR SPENCER REID had a problem. A big one. And it wasn’t his IQ, eidetic memory, or statistical knowledge of serial killers.

It was you.

You, with your radiant smile, your effortless charm, and a body that could make grown men weak in the knees. The worst part? You had no idea.

And that drove him absolutely insane.

You were oblivious to the effect you had on people, strutting into the BAU in heels that made your legs look just a little bit longer, wearing dresses that clung in all the right places. It wasn’t intentional—you just liked to feel cute—but Spencer? Spencer suffered.

He tried to be a gentleman. He really did. But then you’d absentmindedly play with the chain around your neck, biting your lip in concentration as you studied a file, and suddenly, his mind wasn’t on the case anymore.

It was on you. Your lips. Your fingers. Your throat.

The way your perfume lingered whenever you passed him, floral and sweet, was enough to short-circuit his brain. You’d lean over his desk, oblivious to how your cleavage was right there, and ask something completely innocent.

“Hey, Spence, can you help me explain this profile again? The LAPD is a little confused.”

His throat would go dry. His hands clenched under the desk, willing himself not to let his gaze drop. Not to let his mind wander to things it definitely shouldn’t.

But his thoughts always betrayed him.

And God help him when you stretched, arms above your head, making your shirt ride up just a little, exposing the soft skin of your stomach. Or when you bent over to pick up a fallen pen, giving him an unholy view of your curves.

Spencer wasn’t proud of it. The way his thoughts turned filthy in a matter of seconds. The way he sometimes found himself staying late in the office just so he could sit in the chair you had occupied, inhaling the lingering scent of your perfume like a desperate man.

The way he memorized the little noises you made when you were frustrated, so he could imagine how they’d sound in… other contexts.

He was down bad.

And the worst part? You had no clue.

You giggled at his jokes, touched his arm casually, leaned close when he talked—probably thinking he was too sweet, too innocent to ever have impure thoughts.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

One day, you caught him staring—really staring—as you licked a bit of icing off your thumb after a slice of cake Garcia brought in. Your brows furrowed.

“You okay, Spence?”

His jaw clenched. He tore his gaze away and nodded stiffly. “Mhm.”

Spencer was unraveling.

The moment you caught him staring, really staring, at you licking icing off your thumb, he knew he was doomed.

He’d been careful before. Kept his thoughts contained, maintained the illusion of control. But that moment? That single, fleeting second when your brows furrowed in concern, your lips still slightly parted, your thumb glistening? It had cracked something inside him.

And now, everything was worse.

Everything about you was a test, and Spencer was failing.

Like now.

You were sitting on the edge of his desk, swinging your legs slightly, the soft click of your heels against the wood filling the space between you. The team had just wrapped up a case, and everyone was unwinding in their own way—Morgan and Garcia were engaged in some playful banter, JJ and Emily were chatting quietly, and you?

You had made yourself comfortable next to him.

“So,” you mused, tapping a manicured nail against the case file in front of him. “Explain this whole… psychics magic thing to me again? I swear, sometimes I think your brain runs on another frequency.”

Spencer swallowed, his hands tightening into fists in his lap. He could explain it. It was an easy enough request.

But you were so close.

Close enough that if he turned his head just a little, his lips would nearly brush against your shoulder. Close enough that your perfume was clouding his thoughts, floral and sweet, a scent he’d come to associate only with you.

And then you did it again.

You bit your lip in thought, eyes scanning the file, completely oblivious to the way Spencer’s gaze dropped like a magnet, drawn to the soft, plump curve of your mouth.

He had to force himself to look away, focusing on a spot anywhere that wasn’t you.

“Right,” he started, voice tight. “Well first of all the reaction—”

But then your fingers brushed against his.

It was nothing. A fleeting touch. You were just shifting, adjusting, existing in your usual, unconscious way.

But to Spencer? It was an electric shock straight to his spine.

He inhaled sharply, shifting in his chair, pretending to be deeply invested in the case file when, in reality, he hadn’t registered a single word on the page.

“Spence?” Your voice was soft, teasing. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

No.

Not even remotely.

Because now, your fingers were still touching his.

His pulse was a frantic drumbeat against his ribs. He needed to move. Needed to put distance between you before he did something stupid.

But then you tilted your head, your hair cascading over your shoulder, and that was when he noticed it.

Your necklace.

That damn, delicate chain you always fidgeted with. The one that had driven him insane more times than he could count.

And now? Now it had slipped down slightly, the pendant resting against the hollow of your throat, drawing his attention there.

Spencer clenched his jaw.

He could not be thinking about your throat. He could not be wondering how it would feel if he pressed his lips there, how your pulse would flutter beneath his mouth—

“Spence?”

His head snapped up.

You were staring at him, brows raised, a small, knowing smile on your lips.

Oh, no.

You knew.

Or at least, you suspected something.

“I, uh—” He cleared his throat, yanking his hand away as if your touch burned. “I should—uh—get some tea.”

Lame. So unbelievably lame.

But you just giggled. “You don’t even drink green tea .”

Spencer muttered something unintelligible and practically fled to the break room, gripping the counter so tightly his knuckles turned white.

This was getting out of hand.

He had always been good at controlling his impulses. He had trained himself to push past distractions, to focus, to keep his thoughts in check.

But you were proving to be an impossible equation.

It only got worse when the storm hit.

The team had been planning to leave early that evening, but the universe had other plans. A sudden downpour, heavy and relentless, had trapped everyone in the office. Morgan had grumbled about the drive home, Emily had sighed dramatically about her soaked shoes, and you?

You had sighed, looking out the window with a soft pout, clearly disappointed.

Spencer had to look away before he did something stupid, like stare at your lips again.

Eventually, the team had scattered, each person waiting out the rain in their own way. Garcia had dragged JJ off to help her with something, Morgan had disappeared down the hall, and somehow—somehow—Spencer had ended up alone in the bullpen.

With you.

You were perched on his desk again, scrolling through your phone, completely at ease.

Spencer, on the other hand, was about to lose his mind.

You stretched your arms above your head, letting out a small hum, and his gaze betrayed him again, dropping to where your shirt rode up slightly, exposing a sliver of soft skin.

He needed help.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you mused, looking up from your phone.

Spencer blinked. “Uh. Just thinking.”

You smiled. “About what?”

You.

He coughed. “Uh. The, um. Rain. It’s—uh—very hard- I mean uhm heavy..?”

A beat of silence.

Then you laughed.

A real, soft, sweet laugh that made his stomach flip in the most inconvenient way.

“Wow, Spence. You’re really on a roll with the small talk tonight.”

He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “I don’t—I’m just—”

And then you did it. The final straw.

You scooted closer, your knees brushing against his, tilting your head ever so slightly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

And that was it.

Something snapped.

He didn’t think. He didn’t analyze. He just acted.

One second, he was struggling for words, drowning in the scent of your perfume. The next?

His lips were on yours.

Soft. Hesitant. Like he was waiting for you to pull away, to laugh, to tell him he’d completely misread the situation.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you melted into him.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer, and suddenly, hesitation was gone. His hands found your waist, gripping tight like he was terrified you’d disappear.

And when you let out the softest little noise against his lips?

Spencer was done for.

By the time you pulled away, both of you were breathless, your eyes wide, lips slightly swollen.

“Wow,” you whispered.

Spencer let out a breathless laugh. “Yeah. Wow.”

A slow, teasing smile spread across your lips. “So that’s what’s been distracting you.”

He groaned, dropping his head against your shoulder, and you laughed, wrapping your arms around him like you’d been waiting for this moment just as much as he had.

Even now that you were dating, Spencer Reid still had a problem.

It was worse, really. Because now that he was allowed to touch you, kiss you, and hold you close, the temptation had only become harder to resist.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you. He did, more than he could put into words. But Spencer, being Spencer, was always just a little too shy, a little too embarrassed to fully admit how much you affected him.

Like right now, for example.

You were sitting on the couch in his apartment, your legs draped over his lap as you typed on your phone. Spencer sat beside you, trying desperately to act normal, though his mind was anything but.

He was so close to you. Too close, really. The scent of your perfume lingered around him, sweet and intoxicating, and every time you shifted, the soft curve of your body pressed against him. His fingers itched to touch you, to run his hands over the smooth fabric of your clothes, but his brain screamed at him to keep his distance.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, attempting to focus on something other than the way your skin seemed to glow under the soft light of his apartment. “Just thinking.”

You paused and glanced at him, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “About what?”

Spencer’s heart raced as his mind blanked. Don’t look at her, he begged himself. He could feel his gaze drifting toward you, the curve of your body so impossibly close. “The case from yesterday,” he managed to croak out.

You seemed to sense the tension, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Sure, Spence,” you teased, “the case. But you seem… distracted.” You leaned forward slightly, your legs shifting in his lap as you adjusted yourself. Spencer’s throat went dry. His heart pounded.

He wanted to touch you so badly. He wanted to let himself just be with you—really be with you. But the thoughts swirling in his mind were overwhelming. He didn’t know if he could handle it. You were so beautiful, so confident, and here he was, the shy, awkward genius, struggling just to sit beside you.

“Sorry,” he muttered again, unable to help himself. “I’m just… not good at this.”

You tilted your head in that familiar, concerned way, and Spencer knew it was now or never. He couldn’t keep bottling everything up. “At what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Being close,” he admitted softly, “being… with you.”

You blinked, a soft understanding crossing your features. “Spence, you don’t need to be embarrassed. We’re together. You can let go.”

Letting out a breath, Spencer closed his eyes, feeling the overwhelming warmth of your words. He shifted slightly, too aware of the heat between you, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you shifted again, this time with a casualness that took him by surprise. You leaned back slightly, looking at him with those soft eyes of yours that made him feel like the world had faded away.

“Come here,” you said gently, pulling him closer. Spencer’s stomach twisted with nerves as you guided him down to your chest. The way your body moved against his made it almost impossible to concentrate. He was on the edge of losing control, but you were just so warm.

And before he could stop himself, he lowered his head to rest against your chest, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat calming him, making him feel more relaxed than he had in weeks. He let out a shaky sigh, feeling a mix of relief and discomfort flood his senses.

Your fingers gently combed through his hair, and Spencer couldn’t stop the tiny hum of pleasure that escaped his throat. He was so close to you now, so deeply buried in the softness of your chest, and all he could think about was how he was finally allowed to feel you like this.

“You’re so warm,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. The tension that had held him rigid before melted away under the comfort of your embrace.

You smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair again. “I’m glad you’re relaxing, Spence. You deserve it.”

He wanted to stay like this forever. In this moment, there was no case to worry about, no evil lurking in the world. Just the two of you, together, as you held him close. He closed his eyes, his body relaxing into yours.

The temptation to touch you, to feel every inch of your body under his fingertips, was nearly unbearable. He kept his hands at his sides, gripping the fabric of his pants, trying not to act on the thoughts swirling in his head. But the sensation of your soft chest beneath his cheek, the faint scent of your perfume filling his lungs—everything about this was too much.

As if sensing his internal struggle, you shifted slightly, and your hand slid gently over his back, drawing lazy circles against his skin. It was a simple gesture, yet it sent a jolt of heat through Spencer’s body.

“Spence,” you murmured, your voice tender. “You can touch me. It’s okay.”

He immediately froze, unsure whether he should listen to you or not. He felt a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over him. What if I touch her wrong? What if he crossed a line he wasn’t ready to cross?

But then, your hands found his, guiding them to your waist as you softly cupped his face, bringing his gaze back to yours. The softness of your touch, the way your hands moved over his body so effortlessly, made him feel like he was losing control in the best way possible.

Spencer swallowed, heart hammering in his chest. “I don’t know if I can… I don’t want to make it weird,” he admitted, his voice cracking as he spoke.

You smiled at him, your lips curving up in a gentle, loving way. “Spence, it’s already a little weird,” you teased, “but that’s what makes it fun. We’re figuring this out together.”

He gave you a nervous laugh, a small chuckle that held all his uncertainty. And then, before he could stop himself, he pressed his lips gently to your chest, right where your heart beat beneath your shirt. He felt the warmth of your body against his lips, and the contact made him dizzy with sensation.

When he pulled back, he saw the softness in your eyes, the affection. You didn’t push him away. You didn’t judge him. You just… let him be.

“Spence,” you whispered again, a hint of amusement in your voice. “You’re so cute

i know we’re not really There yet but rafe does make sarah piss herself and then he cums his pants when she does .

i love pee i love piss so much golden showers are so hot and nobody understands

SHUT UP LOOK AT HIM 😭😭😭

Credit: luigiprosper on TikTok

temptation | george clarkey

summary; george misses his girlfriend, yn, so the sidemen bring her in during his time on 'inside'... but her visit comes at a cost.

word count; 4.2k

** warnings; slight mention of sex but just some sickening fluff. **

“Whatever you do, just resist whatever they throw at you.”

“I mean, I don’t really think I should be taking spending advice from the one guy spending the most of our prize money in here,” George taunted playfully, a guilty look spreading across PK’s face that soon broke apart with a cheeky grin before his hands came up in a surrender, acting like the innocent man he was portraying to the cameras yet those around him could just about see right through him, “but that was the plan, my man.”

George shot a playful finger gun in PK’s direction with a wink following suit before he disappeared around the corner of the fake living room, all put together in a studio for the sake of the show, and away from the chatter and the laughter coming from the other housemates. Their conversations becoming distant, almost inaudible mumbles, as he rounded the corner to the Temptation Room and awaited the fate of his next decision. His thoughts raced through his mind because he wasn’t sure what his plan was. 

He’d seen the temptation that Whitney had faced, knowing it was one she definitely couldn’t resist,  and he’d seen the temptation Jason had accepted, just a day prior to his own moment in the temptation room, that had been something he was passionate about happening. 

George really didn’t want to follow suit.

He wanted to resist. 

He was going to resist…

… or that’s what he told himself.

He told himself to be strong and to remember that whatever they were going to put before him, he could probably have once he’d left the show. He told himself to ignore what the Sidemen were about to put before him because he knew they were doing it for the content of the show. Yet he had a gut-feeling it was going to be something difficult for him not to be tempted by, and they knew what his weaknesses were, telling himself to think about how the prize pot would be worth splitting if he chose to resist, if he ever had the chance of becoming a finalist.

“Welcome to the Temptation Room, George,” Vik’s voice echoed around the empty room, catching George’s attention as his eyes dodge where the cameras were placed, looking anywhere but the lenses that were filming his every move because he knew he was going to be sussed out, “if you take a look to your left, there’s another door. Resting on top of the doorframe, above your head, is a card which has your temptation in. If you could reach for it and read it out loud.”

“Yes, Vikstar.”

And he did as he was told.

“In the room before you-” George started reading but he caught a glimpse at what was next to come on the card and his words, as well as his breath, caught in his throat, “shut up, you’re joking me?”

“If you could finish what’s written on the card,” Vik warned him gently but there was a hint of a smile in the words that came through the speaker, “please, George.”

“In the room before you is your girlfriend, YN. For thirty thousand pounds of the prize money, you can spend half an hour with her. Do you accept your temptation, George?” He read from the card and he could feel his heart pumping sporadically in his chest, his hands trembling and his legs turning into jelly as he stood before the door, knowing just who was on the other side. “This is a new low, Sidemen.”

“We know you miss her, George. We’ve heard you speak of her a lot whilst you’ve been in here so it wouldn’t be so bad if you accepted it,” Vik said with a hint of mischievous and cheekiness in his tone and George groaned exasperatedly, rolling his head back and letting go of the card, completely dismissing it as it floated to the floor and landed by his feet, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes out of frustration, “she’s made it very clear to us how much she misses you, too.”

“But the final is only a couple of days away and I swore I wouldn’t take this temptation so we could keep the money. The guys back in the house, they thought I was the strongest member who wouldn’t get tempted,” he said, almost as a reminder to himself as he spoke aloud his thoughts, “but, God, I do miss her though. A whole lot. We spend almost every single day together so it’s strange for her not to be in bed when I wake up in the mornings or walking around telling me stupid jokes in the silence. Instead, we have KSI’s hollering to get us out of bed.”

There’s no response to him - part of him wanted Vik to give him some guidance but he knew that was a long shot - and he frowned.

He wanted nothing more than to accept.

When he woke up in the morning, he thought of her routine. Not that he knew the time but he checked off a list that he thought she’d have done by then; made the bed, ate her breakfast, got herself showered and dressed for the day, watched what she missed on television before she started her work day. He thought about what she might have had for lunch, what she might have been planning for dinner, who she was out and about with as she passed the time and filled the void of him not being there.

He missed her small daily updates as she informed him what she was up to. Silly pictures to accompany her tasks, updating him on how she’d bumped into Arthur unexpectedly for lunch or went out for an impromptu pint with Chris because she’d seen him out and about, expressing how she couldn’t wait to come home and have him all to herself because that feeling was always matched and he was never ashamed to tell her how he wanted to a night in with her.  

When he went to bed at night, all he could think about was YN. Wondering what she was up to, whether she was asleep or scrolling through TikTok because she couldn’t drift off, knowing she would be frustrated at herself because she liked to be up early so she could plan out her day. He wondered whether she was thinking about him like he was thinking about her, wondering if he was okay like he was wondering if she was okay, wondering if she missed his cuddles and how she wanted nothing more than to be curled up by his side which was a feeling he missed a lot.

His routine had changed, not that he had much of a routine to follow, and having a YN-shaped hole in his life for that week was tough for him to deal with.

“Your radio silence makes this so much easier for me,” George grumbled sarcastically, sitting himself down on the floor and resting his back against the wall beside the door, “I don’t want to spend money because I haven’t spent a lot of money but because I haven’t spent much money in here, it almost feels like it’d be acceptable for me to go ahead and agree.”

He sighed with slight aggravation because the decision that he needed to make had the cogs in his mind working overtime.

“I’m surrounded by strangers here and as nice as they are and as great a conversation they hold, and it’s been nice getting to know them but no-one beats YN and that’s why I’m so stuck. I want some normalcy and the feeling of home, just to feel like I’m in my safe space,” George argued with himself, the back of his head colliding with the wall behind him, “I know she’s in there and I know she would say we only have two days left before we see each other and that it would be a waste this far into the week.”

“What’s your answer, George?”

“I need a moment,” he admitted and, for the first time, he looks into the camera lens and it’s evident he’s torn up over both sides of the decision that he needed to make. His eyebrows are pinched together on his browline, his cheeks are a rosy-pink colour from how heated he was making himself feel over his thoughts, his eyes full of desire to see her yet his mind was telling him a whole something different, “I think-”

He cuts himself off and there’s a smile that twitches his lips.“I think you might want to turn off the cameras because I’ve really missed her and I might not be able to hold back,” he said with cheekiness in every word that rolled off his tongue, “I want to see YN. I need to see her.”

“I accept the temptation, Sidemen,” he said with slight trepidation to the sentence; he was really about to see the one person he’d been craving to see for the last few days and he felt… nervous. Of course he felt nervous. Because he didn’t know how the rest of the house would react to him spending 30k on seeing someone he had a possibility of seeing as soon as the next elimination rolled around but, at the same time and almost blurring the lines between the two, there were excited nerves that were fluttering around his insides because it was his girlfriend he was about to see. “Let me see her, please.”

The lock of the door clicked beside him and it caught his attention from where he was still situated on the floor, a creak soon following as it opened, and he saw her trainers before he saw the rest of her. The Adidas Campus trainers that were coloured an off-white cream and a deep-green, that he always took the mickey out of because the laces were so chunky and made her feet look tiny compared to his own, were matched with baggy jeans and a white t-shirt fitted to her frame that was paired with one of his zip-up hoodies that seemed to swallow her up… yet she still looked comfortable and cosy. And seeing her face was all it took for him to feel all of his emotions flooding through him.

“Are you going to get up and hug me or what?” She wondered and he scoffed out a gentle laugh, his eyes glossing over and he refused to let his tears spill because he didn’t want to be deemed an emotional wreck all over Twitter when the show came out on Netflix, “come on, you silly billy.”

She held her hands out and he took them, without hesitation, pulling himself to his feet and wasting no time in wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to his body, her head slotting nicely underneath his chin, her arms linking around his waist as she gave him a squeeze that the both of them seemed to need in that moment. The first ounce of true happiness he’d felt in five days, the desired touch of the one person he wanted around, breathing in the scent of her perfume. His stresses from the previous few days, and the knowledge of him being on a television show that kept him away for a week, seemed to disappear and, in that moment, it was just the two of them.

In their own little bubble.

And they stood like that for a good few minutes.

Neither one of them wanted to break the silence that surrounded them as they stood together, arms wrapped around each other as they swayed from side to side in the baron room, their rhythmic breathing being the only thing that seemed to fill it. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered into her ear, a tickling sensation coursing down her neck from where his facial hair brushed over her skin. In the five days he’d been unable to groom himself, it had gotten a lot longer than she was used to (not that she was complaining - if someone asked her how she felt, a complaint would be the furthest thing from what she would say, if she was being honest), sending goosebumps down her arms and a shiver down her spine, “so much.”

“I’ve definitely missed you more,” she giggled sweetly and she reluctantly pulled away from him, loosening her arms around his middle and bringing her hands to cup his cheeks in her palms, “the boys have been driving me crazy, you know? They let me stay for the week whilst you’re not there and I have no idea how you put up with them.”

“You learn to drown them out,” he said and tilted his head to the side and into the gentle touch caressing one of his cheeks, “but I’m glad you’ve had some company this week. Even if they are annoying, they mean well.”

“I think they miss you a lot, too,” she informed him, “Chris has been coming to me for advice like he would go to you for. But I don’t know if I can give good advice as someone that isn’t a bloke.”

“Anything can be better than what I tell him,” George snickered and she rolled her eyes, “seriously. You think I tell him what he should do? He goes and does the opposite of what we say, anyway.”

He wrapped his hands around her wrists, pulling them from his face and along with him as he went back to the place he was sitting when she entered the room, the both of them sliding down the wall as they sat beside each other. He bent his knees up, resting his elbows on them and stretching his forearms out, whilst YN stretched out her legs and placed her hands in her lap.

“How are you finding this whole thing?”

“Not as hard as I thought I would,” George said and YN nodded softly as he spoke, a warm smile on her lips as she listened to him tell her everything he wanted to get off his chest, “but I think I’m just struggling to feel a part of something here. Everyone has someone they can go to, like a small group, when things get a bit difficult or when something happens so I just feel like I’m stuck in the middle. I’m friends with everyone here now which I think is helping me but,” he shook his head in denial, “I don’t know how the hell I’m still here. These guys have so much more going for them than me. They’re louder than me, have more of a personality, are definitely going to be shown a lot more than me so I have no idea what the hell I’m still here for.”

“You deserve your place here,” she clarified, “you must be doing something right if you’re two days away from the final day.”

“There are moments during the elimination rounds where I wish it wouldn’t play into my favour but I can’t seem to fail on purpose. I’m so thankful to be here and grateful that the Sidemen asked me to be here but, at the same time, I want to come home. I want to be back where I feel comfortable, in my own bed and my own flat, with my idiot friends and lovely you,” he looked at her and slotted his fingers through hers, holding her hand tightly, “I want to be back with you. I hate not walking into a room and not seeing you sitting on the sofa or waking up next to you in bed and watching you sleep or hearing you sing in the shower or see you making me some breakfast in the mornings, even if it is just some scrambled eggs on toast.”

“It’s not long and we’ll be back doing those small things you love,” she reminded him and her thumb rubbed across his knuckles in a soothing manner, “I can’t wait to watch you on Netflix either. I can’t wait to tell people all over the place that my boyfriend is a Netflix star.”

“A Netflix star may be a bit of a stretch,” he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, “you’ve not told anyone, have you?”

She shook her head.

“I know you and how bad you are at keeping secrets,” he teased and nudged an elbow into her side, and she rolled her eyes in response to him, “reckon I could smuggle you back in there? I don’t think they’ll notice if I sneak you in under my jumper and hide you in my bed.”

“Oh, I reckon they would,” she laughed and he groaned at her answer, rolling his head back and letting it collide softly with the wall, “I was really hoping you wouldn’t accept your temptation, you know?”

“Why?”

“Because it means saying goodbye to you again,” she said, turning on the spot and she sat herself upright so she was facing him, her vision looking down at her lap as her fingers played with the digits on his hands to distract her mind from thinking about the half an hour that was passing too quickly, “I hated it the first time so this one sucks even more.”

It was a night she couldn’t forget, still fresh on her mind, and she could feel the heartache so vividly. As if every time she thought about it, she was reliving that morning.

The morning started off early but slow. They woke up hours before they needed to so they could squeeze in a cuddle in bed, which soon turned into the slowest sex they could make that allowed them to drink in every single emotion in every single moment, holding each other close as if they would disappear if they let go. They showered together, they got ready together, all whilst shedding a few unwarranted tears as they prepared themselves to spend a week without any form of contact. They stretched out breakfast-time which consisted of quick goodbye sex on the counter as they waited for their food to cook and, by the time mid-morning had come by, they’d already squeezed in enough time together to feel satisfied in how they parted ways. His suitcase packed for the week and stood upright at the front door beside his shoes as well as the jacket he was going to wear for his entrance, the two of them holding each other as they whispered their goodbyes to each other.

A morning she was going to need them to relive once he was home so the memory had a positive connection. 

“I needed to see you though. As much as I hate saying goodbye, too, I just needed a little boost before the end.”

“I would have done the same though,” she admitted, shrugging nonchalantly and looking up at him, “you have such a strong hold on me, George Clarke.”

“As do you, YN YLN,” he repeated in the same manner, “I couldn’t not say yes knowing you were on the other side of the door. So close to me. I wasn’t going to let the opportunity of holding you and having you next to me pass me by. Some of these guys have accepted theirs and they’ve spent so much more than me through the week. I feel it was an okay choice to make.”

“Spoilers,” she warned him, pointing an accusing finger at him before covering her ears in protest to hearing anything else that she was going to watch in the show when it aired, “don’t tell me anything else, mister.”

Before they knew it, as if no time had passed at all, it was soon time for them to say their goodbyes. 

George could feel it in the pit of his stomach, heavy and twisting up into knots that made him feel sick, knowing that it was soon approaching the half an hour mark and he hated how quickly it seemed to go. And YN could feel her emotions building up, with an ache in her throat that made it hard to swallow and a feeling of dread coursing through her that made her feel tense and sad, trying not to look at him in fear that she would crumble on camera.

The door that she had entered opened again and they took that as their cue to stand back to their feet.

“What’s stopping me from walking out with you?” 

“You’d be an idiot to do that,” she laughed softly, shaking her head at his bizarre proposition, “you’ve got this far so you need to see this through till the end, you donut.”

His fingers connected with hers, keeping a tight grip on her as if she would walk out that door and never be seen by him again, and his thumbs stroked across the back of her hands. She could feel the shaking of his limbs from the disdain of having to see her walk out and disappear behind the door, and it was enough to bring tears to her eyes. 

“I love you,” she smiled sweetly, contradicting the tears that had threatened her eyes and had slowly started to dribble down her cheek, “forty-eight hours and you’ll be back with me.”

“It could be less,” he reminded her, bringing his hands up to wipe away the tears away from her cheeks with his thumbs, “I could see you tomorrow.”

“Be optimistic, mister. You’re going to that final,” she says, leaning up on her toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek and she allowed her lips to linger a little longer against the soft curve of his cheek, “I would give you a great big smacker on the lips but Netflix might have to change the rating of the show because I don’t think I can control myself.”

He smirked at her and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

“Yeah, we best not do anything too risqué. We’ll save that for the privacy of the bedroom,” he whispered with an almost growling tone, “I love you.”

“George, YN. I’m afraid your time together is up.”

“Yes, thank you, Vikstar. You don’t need to remind us,” George grumbled to the camera and, as saddened as she was, she giggled at his attitude to the voice that echoed around the room, “I guess this is it.”

“Sadly,” she pouted and neither one of them could take their eyes off each other, “someone’s going to have to pry me away from you, I think. I can’t bring myself to step away.”

“Go on,” he mumbled dejectedly, his eyebrows pinching together, “forty-eight hours to go.”

“I’ll see you on the other side,” she grins, pulling her hands away from his at an agonisingly slow speed, “good luck. I love you.”

“I love you more,” he watches as she steps towards the door. 

Deep down, she didn’t want to turn around to look at him and, truthfully, George didn’t think he could handle it if she took one last look at him; he was okay with watching the back of her as she disappeared around the door and, as it slowly closed behind her, he felt his heart plummet to the floor.

As he stepped foot back into the small bubble of Inside, he felt sad yet he seemed to find a new found excitement to finish the show. That one half an hour with her being a pick-me-up, giving him a new lease of happiness, and he was determined to finish. The quicker the time went, the sooner he’d be back with her. The laughter and distant chatter seemed to get closer as he rounded the corner and ascended up the three stairs back into the main area, poking his head around the corner and looking into the room, a timid smile on his lips.

“You didn’t get locked in the room then,” Jason teased as George fell to the sofa and slouched down into the cushions with a grumpy expression on his face, “what was it? What happened?”

“Uhm,” he coughed into his fist to clear his throat, as well as to drag out the moment for dramatic anticipation for those around him and for those who would be watching when it was released to the world, “so, they uh- they tempted me with YN.”

“Oh, no way! Your girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” George nodded, “I couldn’t resist saying no so I took it. I had to see her. I needed to see her.”

“I think I’d have done the same if it was my partner,” Milli-Jo said, sitting beside George and resting her hand on his shoulder and rubbing it soothingly, “I don’t think anyone is going to be crazy mad at you for giving in. It happened last season, it was bound to happen this season. We should have seen it coming, truthfully.”

“I think I just needed to feel a sense of home. My normal life,” he admitted, guilt soaring through his veins at how the entirety of the room was watching him as he explained his reasoning, “she gets me through a lot, always has done since I’ve known her, so there was no way I was passing the opportunity. I thought about it but,” he shrugged, “I don’t think I’d have been happy walking out of that room if I turned it down.”

copy + paste

"fucking two bad bitches at the same damn time"

full size images of luigi’s tinder

one more round

description: you would've never thought that going out for a few drinks with your best mates would have led to the three of you in a bed together.

pairing: george clarkey x fem!reader x arthur frederick

contains: smut, intoxication, porn with no plot, mean dom!george, switch!arthur, switch!reader (?), threesome, mmf, double penetration, unprotected sex, p in v, p in v from behind, oral sex (m recieving), female ejaculation (squirting), handjobs, fingering, pet names (poppet, pet, love).

song rec: meddle about by chase atlantic- "baby, show me what you're doing, come and turn around"

w.c: 4.8k

a.n: this is for my girl bri- @clarkeybabey. she just matches my freak perfectly.

also sorry- this feels like a mess but i just needed to finish it and post.

you, arthur, and george stumbled into george's apartment, the door swinging wide to reveal a cozy, dimly lit space. the scent of men's cologne filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of takeout from earlier in the evening. the living room was a mess, with discarded shoes and jackets scattered across the floor, evidence of his roommates' recent departure.

"chris and arthur are out, thank fuck," george murmured, his breath hot against your neck as he closed the door. the sudden quiet of the apartment was a stark contrast to the noisy streets you'd just left behind. you nodded, your heart racing as you took in the sight of him, his eyes dark with desire. the sexual tension between the three of you was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

FREAK = MATCHED

"what's wrong, pet?" he said, his voice low and teasing. "not getting enough attention?"

flash sale!! my clothes 100% OFF!!

BACK OF THE CAR - S.R x READER

A/N: Hello pookies! I hope you all enjoy this one shot that I lowkey pulled out of my ass 😭😭. The request was by @notlongtolove my pookie wookie heehee. Border was made by @cafekitsune and thank you to @beenreidingaboutyou for proofreading it for me!!