⭐️

don't waste the mixture

[whore4wroetoshaw]

call me star. 8teen. she/her. w2s in that one picture with glasses and windswept hair. uk youtube girlie. sdmn. beta squad. nba. george clarkey and wroetoshaw are my two man. inbox and dm's open!

[ masterlist. ] [ rules. ] [ taglist. ]

requests are open!

© whore4wroetoshaw all work owned by me. please do not copy my fics!

[whore4wroetoshaw]

SHUT THE FUCKING FRONT DOOR I SCREAMED

[whore4wroetoshaw]

DID I JUST HEAR MR. BRIGHTSIDE IN THE NEW SDMN SUNDAY HELLO???

[whore4wroetoshaw]

i looove your intro to minter!reader - i feel like she gives such olivia neill vibes especially when you wrote about how she got into modelling and getting flown everywhere LOVE HER

THANKS QUEEN 🫶🏼🫶🏼 AND OMG YOU READ MY ACTUAL MIND??? I WAS GOING FOR AN OLIVIA NEILL MADELINE ARGY KINDA VIBE XX

[whore4wroetoshaw]

i loveee your minter!reader x harry series! when are you going to update next?

thank you sooo much 💕💕maybe during the weekend or maybe next week? idk 😅

[whore4wroetoshaw]

hiiii i love your introduction to minter!reader x harry!! what else do you have planned for them??

ACTUALLY SO MUCH. LIKE IDEAS HAVE BEEN FLOWING??? but i'm soo busy bcs college is literally about to start and i'm absolutely SWAMPED moving to cali is tough 😭😭 BUT STAY TUNEDD

[whore4wroetoshaw]

guys i just realised im going to start college in like 12 days.

[gabbytvclarke]

Whose Room? // George Clarke and Arthur Frederick

• Summary: Reader, George, and Arthur stumble back to their hotel, get stuck in an elevator, and play Put A Finger Down. • Pairing: Youtuber!Reader x friend!George Clarke and Youtuber!Reader x friend!Arthur Frederick (no George x Arthur) •Fluff to slow burn MILD SMUT (MDNI) • Warnings: Swearing, inclosed space, innuendos, NSFW discussions, sexual activities • Word count: 3,306 words • Note: This idea came to me in a dream of all places

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

The night summer breeze is sobering against her flushed cheeks as she bumbles out another pub, giggling with the two boys, their demeanour contrasting against their formalwear. The beauty of content creator events is that it’s all paid for, even all the cocktails and shots, alongside a room each in a nice old hotel. After spending the day influencing and the night drinking, the three decide it’s time to head back to the hotel.

“I do wish I wore better footwear though…” y/n mumbles as she begins removing her fanciest, yet most blistering shoes. “My feet are killing me.”

As she plants both unprotected feet to the Parisian concrete, Arthur clasps both hands to his head. “You can’t walk around like that, you might hurt your feet on broken glass or something!” He exclaims as he sprays the ‘dangerous’ floor with spit.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine Arthur, I’ll watch where I step.” She shrugs. George, after double checking how close the hotel is, pops his phone back in his pocket and bends at the knees.

“Go on, hop on y/n.” He sighs sarcastically. Y/n laughs.

“George, I’m not climbing on your back, I’ll crush you.” She scoffs.

“Rubbish!” Arthur shouts.

“No you won’t, I’m a big boy y/n. I can assure you I’ve carried much heavier.” George retorts.

“Right, fine. But if you fall and lose another eyebrow, it’s on you boys!” Y/n snorts before jumping onto George’s back. She instinctively wraps her arms over his shoulders, noting how broad they are. She squeaks as George jolts her up to gain a better grip, his hands clasped under her thighs and dangerously close to her butt cheeks - not that she minds.

Arthur also notices this, and can’t take his eyes off her, wondering to himself how soft her legs and cheeks would feel in his hands, clearly the drinks going to his head. The three continue their journey towards their hotel, George seeming unbothered under y/n’s weight and Arthur plodding alongside them, all appearing to have sobered up a little under the cool French sky. It doesn’t stop him from waffling on though. Thankfully the other two enjoy listening, with each step George takes causing the shoes in y/n’s grip to swish in rhythm.

Although she enjoys the view of George’s curls at the back of his head, paired with the occasional waft of his aftershave, the pressure of her stomach begins growing. “OK, when we get to the end of this road, you can put me down. I can manage the rest.” Y/n instructs sweetly. George huffs.

“We’re not far from the hotel now, I’ll be fine.” He replies, giving her legs a squeeze.

“No it’s all good George, it’s actually me who’s struggling in this position.” She awkwardly laughs in response, “It’s my tummy up against your back, I’ve been holding in a lot of cocktail burps.” The boys break out into giggles, but George gently kneads her soft thighs in an almost soothing manner, as her face starts burning.

The street corner comes sooner than expected and y/n slowly slides back down to her feet. “At least let me carry your shoes.” George offers chivalrously. Y/n rolls her eyes with a smirk and hands them over. Arthur shines his phone’s torch to the ground, gasping at all the shimmers along the pavement.

“No way are you walking without shoes on here, there’s actual glass everywhere.” He complains. Y/n laughs and gets ready to call him ‘dad’ but before she knows it, she’s being carried bridal style by the concerned nerd. He smiles down at her sweetly, their faces achingly close, her nose scratching past the stubble on his jaw as she looks up at him wide eyed. Again, for him it seems effortless as he carries on yapping gleefully, while George makes his usual playful jabs.

As the breeze picks up, Arthur naturally holds y/n even closer to his chest, as if to protect her from the cold. He looks down at her again to ensure she’s comfortable as he loosens his grip slightly, his breath fanning her face engulfs her in a mix of alcohol and his aftershave.

Luckily they turn a corner and their hotel is glowing right in front of them. Once inside, Arthur lowers y/n to her feet. “Thanks for the lifts guys,” she jokes, the three tipsy idiots giggling. “Is it OK with you both if we take the elevator though? My blisters can’t handle the stairs tonight.” The pair oblige as they make their way to the old style elevator. It’s no problem, all the influencers have their rooms on the same floor anyway.

As they step into the cozy space and hit the ‘3’ button, y/n eyes up the two boys standing either side of her through the reflective wall. “I can’t believe you both can carry me, it’s genuinely impressive…” her words trail off as her mind goes to a completely unexpected place. A dirty place. She can’t tell if it’s the alcohol, the ‘city of love’, or if there maybe is a shift in the air. Before the boys can answer however, there’s a sudden jolt and the lift stops while barely passing level 2.

“Shit.” George mumbles. Catching y/n as she stumbles towards him slightly, while Arthur naturally reaches out and grips her arm protectively.

“What was that?” Y/n asks, her voice wobbly from shock, from the lift and the dirty thoughts.

“Yeah, the lift’s broken down I think.” Arthur mutters to himself, immediately pressing the big red bell button to alert the staff. Y/n peers around for a CCTV camera to wave at, but the old lift doesn’t have one. Within seconds, dead air begins humming through the elevator’s speaker. A staff member starts speaking in French but George interjects.

“Hi, bonjour, sorry... We’re English.” He chuckles anxiously.

Straight after, Arthur awkwardly adds: “Um, nous sommes Anglaise?”

“Ah, yes, OK.” The member of staff replies, before politely instructing the unfortunate three that the lift has a habit of breaking down due to its age, but they're not in any danger. A mechanic was already called and is making his way there now, but there may be a 20-30 minute wait as he isn’t onsite due to it being almost 1:00 am.

The crackling abruptly stops and the three look ahead to the mirrored wall. George checks his watch. "OK, so let's say the lift stopped three minutes ago..." He mumbles, "This means the mechanic should be here no later than 1:25." Arthur and y/n sigh.

"There's no service in here!" Arthur huffs, waving his phone around frantically while his screen shows a chess game. He puts his phone in his pocket defeatedly, murmuring "My match..." under his breath.

Y/n also tries checking her signal. "Nope, nothing for me either." She adds and George shakes his head too.

"Looks like we gotta sit tight until we're rescued." He groans with a shrug.

Y/n slides down the wall and sits down, giving her feet a rest. Arthur slides down next to her, shooting her a sweet smile, then they both look up at George. He smirks down at the pair then sits too.

"Don't want to be left out now." He chuckles, setting y/n’s shoes on the floor beside him.

"So boys, what shall we do to pass the time?" She asks, instinctively looking over her right shoulder, past George at the doors.

"Truth or dare?" Arthur asks quietly.

"I don't think we can do many dares in such a tight space." Y/n replies, giving him an apologetic look. He tried.

"I can think of a few things..." George mutters under his breath, but doesn't repeat it when the pair ask.

"Oh! What about 'never have I ever'?" Arthur chirps. Leaning forward to seek agreement in y/n and George's eyes. Y/n nods slowly with a smile.

"We could, but we don't have any drinks." George sighs.

Arthur pauses for thought. "We could hold up our fingers and every time we've done something, we put a finger down. Last person to put down 10 fingers wins."

"So, 'put a finger down' then." George snorts.

"Oh yeah..."

"OK, never have I ever been trapped in an elevator before tonight." Arthur declares. George and Arthur both put a finger down. Y/n looks left then right at the boys.

"Arthur, you've shot yourself in the foot!" She giggles. Arthur throws his head back and frowns his eyebrows with a grin, realising his mistake. George chuckles quietly and shakes his head. This explains why they both were calmer than her though.

"Umm, put a finger down if you knew a person before they started content creating." Y/n commands. The boys both put a finger down. "OK, cool." She adds with a smile.

"Put a finger down if you've fancied another creator." George suggests with a raised eyebrow, all three put a finger down. No one notices George’s own-goal, due to the essence of gossip in the air.

"Interesting." Arthur whispers with a nod as he looks at y/n's hands.

"Very interesting." George adds, also spotting y/n's finger down. "You're lucky this isn't 'truth or dare or we’d be asking for names." He continues. Y/n giggles sheepishly. If only they knew.

The game continues for some time, George purposefully making declarations that he knows the other two have done, whereas the other two play fair and yet, George is still unlucky.

He has three fingers left up and y/n has two. With Arthur also only having two fingers left, it's his turn to make a suggestion. "Never have— Put a finger down, if you've ever, um..." He scratches his jaw with his free hand, "Uh, b-been to a sex party?"

"Arthur!" George and y/n shout simultaneously.

"Sorry, I panicked!" He defends, his voice breaking.

"Which one of us did you think went to a sex party mate?" George bellows with a toothy grin, his face flushing slightly red as he looks to y/n. Meanwhile she can't stop laughing at Arthur.

"I don't know! My mind just went blank!" He shrieks, now joining in with a giggle.

"And you thought of sex parties." George retorts in a fake scolding tone.

Once the laughter dies down, y/n has a think. "Put a finger down if you've been invited to a sex party." No one puts their finger down. Both boys look at her inquisitively. "What? I thought if Arthur came up with the question, maybe he'd been invited." She chuckles awkwardly, becoming shy for also suggesting something dirty. The air in the lift starts feeling warmer, with the boys finding themselves eying her up more as their minds start racing too.

"Well, now the tone has been lowered, I might as well ask: put a finger down if you've ever had a threesome." George states in a teasing tone. He leans over to excitedly see if either of them put a finger down, but no one does again. "Hmm." He wonders.

"OK then, to piggyback off of that, put a finger down if you've been invited to a threesome." Arthur adds, his voice a little lower and quieter. George chuckles shyly and puts a finger down.

"Really?" Y/n calls out.

"No way!" Arthur adds. "How did I not hear about this?"

"It was at a night out, before I made videos, and some much older women offered me and my mates a chance to join them in the bedroom." George explains. "We declined of course, except one friend. I don't think he enjoyed himself though."

Arthur chuckles. "That's fair enough mate."

"Yeah." Y/n adds, followed by silence. The air becomes thicker, but she can't place why. Just the sheer thought of a threesome with them pops into her head and sends her heart racing. It seems the boys are having a the same thoughts, as she can feel their eyes on her and their breaths gently fanning her shoulders.

Arthur shifts his hand on the elevator floor, inching it along until his pinky finger touches hers. Her eyes flick forwards to look at him through the reflective wall, only to see he's already watching her, a tense unreadable look in his eyes. His eye contact lingers for a moment, before he looks down, but he keeps his hand against hers.

George on the other hand awkwardly looks down at his lap, his red face obvious. He lets out a sigh and gently pats y/n's leg. "So," He starts, before the crackling noise reappears on the speaker.

Before the employee is even heard, the three rush to their feet. "Hello, the mechanic is here and will start working in a minute." A gentle French voice informs the sweaty three. Their shoulders slump, upon hearing they're not quite free yet, and the elevator is back to dead silence.

"So, how many fingers do we have left?" George asks sheepishly. The three raise their hands out front, all with two fingers left. The boys hold their hands against y/n's, either side of hers. She looks at how big their hands are in comparison, then looks up to their reflection again and notices how much bigger the boys are to her in general, something she never realised before. "It's your turn." George whispers, his breath tickles her neck as he leans close, sending a shiver down her spine.

She looks at their reflections again as she thinks, struggling to take her mind off the idea of a threesome now. By this point she's sober enough to not flat out suggest it, but still tipsy enough to keep testing the waters.

"OK then, put a finger down if you've ever wanted to have a threesome." She declares with a playful grin. She watches their reactions ahead of her. Arthur's eyes widen as he blows air out his lips, his cheeks puffing out. George on the other hand clears his throat and shakes his head with an embarrassed smile. Three fingers go down.

This time, Arthur leans in and speaks quietly. "Y/n you've done yourself dirty this time." His breath caresses her ear as he subtly emphasises the 'dirty'. As goosebumps line her skin, her cheeks heat up and she's sure her face is glowing red at this point.

Trying to save face, she mumbles. "One finger left each." As they continue to hold their hands out close together.

"OK, my turn..." George murmurs, before clearing his throat again. There's a short pause as Arthur and y/n exchange a quick glance before both look at George in the reflection. He returns y/n's gaze, then Arthur's. "Alright fuck it. Put a finger down if you want to have a threesome tonight." His eyes snap to their hands as he hesitantly pulls his away, silently declaring he's out the game.

Arthur takes an audible gasp through his nose as he then closes his hand, pulling his fist away too. Everything starts feeling too real for y/n, being the only one still holding a finger up. She can feel George and Arthur's eyes burning into her. She eventually pulls her hand away and begins picking at her nails nervously.

Her eyes fixate on her hands, she misses the boys look at each other and nod, before she breaks another intense silence. "So, looks like we all lost." She chuckles weakly.

"At the same time." George utters, his voice deep, turning his body to face towards y/n. His eyelids are heavy as he peers down at her lips.

"I wonder what else we can do at the same time." Arthur purrs, his voice extra gravelly as he gingerly takes a step closer to y/n and reaches for her hand once again, which she takes. His dark eyes gaze down at hers as he waits for any objections, but none arise. George then grazes his knuckles softly against her upper arm, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss to her temple, his lips lingering for just a second before pulling away.

Arthur follows suit, placing a kiss just behind her ear as he strokes the back of her hand with his thumb. She shudders and sighs, watching them through the reflection as they edge even closer to her, their faces mere inches away from hers. “A-are we really doing this?” She asks, barely audibly.

“I will if you guys will.” Arthur whispers, squeezing her hand gently as he looks into her eyes.

“I’m in too.” George adds, his voice rough. He brushes hair away from her neck to expose it more to him. The boys still their movements, both standing in front of her and looking down at her patiently.

Y/n peers up, looking from one to the other. “So we are doing this.” She mumbles, loud enough for them to hear. With this go-ahead, the boys snap.

George attaches himself to her neck, sucking and nipping slowly from the base to her jawline, causing her to gasp. Arthur sees his opportunity to capture her lips in his. His hand finds the back of her head and grips her hair as their mouths work in a hungry rhythm. He whines desperately against her lips as she whimpers into his, George’s own mouth already making her already feel so good.

George hooks his finger under her chin and turns her head to face him. “Come ‘ere.” He growls before connecting their lips together. He hums into her mouth upon contact, while Arthur tugs on the neckline of her top to reveal her collar bone and immediately begins kissing along it. Y/n pulls back and gasps, catching her breath. “Oh my god…” she mumbles.

“Having fun?” Arthur murmurs against her neck, she can feel his smirk against her skin. Speechless already, she nods her head.

George steps behind her, pulling her flush against him, where she can feel him pressing into her lower back. Arthur closes the gap between them, almost pressing the pair against the elevator wall and kisses her lips again as his hands cup her jaw. She allows his tongue into her mouth as their kisses get sloppy, while George is back to attacking her neck again, gently with his teeth.

“Fuck, y/n. We’re gonna make you feel so good.” George whispers lowly in her ear. “Right Arthur?”

Arthur pulls back, a line of mixed spit connecting him to her lips. “So fucking good.” He groans.

“Wow…” is all she can muster, already feeling tension in her lower abdomen.

George slides his hands from her waist up to her breasts and begins kneading them over her top, whilst grinding his hips into her ass. Meanwhile Arthur reconnects his lips to hers as he too grinds himself against her, eliciting another gasp into his lips.

A loud clanging noise causes the three to jump and stop their movements, followed by creaking by the elevator doors. They step away from each other, all catching their breaths. Y/n adjusts her top as George and Arthur adjust their shirts over their tented trousers. Within seconds, the doors are pried open.

The elevator had only just started leaving floor two before it broke down, leaving only a foot’s worth of a step down to the hallway. “Come through.” The mechanic instructs gruffly. George hops out first, then turns to offer y/n a hand. Arthur picks up her shoes for her as she takes George’s hand and leaps out, Arthur then leaving too. They thank the mechanic who just shrugs and heads for the stairwell.

“I can manage this flight of stairs.” She mumbles with a reassuring smile, a wave of shyness returning to her. The guys nod without uttering a word between them, following silently behind her as they walk up to their floor, being sure to sneak a preview has her hips sway. When they get to the hallway, they all pause.

“So…” George chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Whose room?”

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

Part two? - Gabby xo

[sdmnpact]

[whore4wroetoshaw]

hi! please could you do a fluff where harry is head over heels for girlfriend reader? like maybe they were shooting a chrismd vid and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her and then they go home together after? thanks!!

WORKING ON IT!!

[pretendyoucantseeme]

nsfw alphabet [harry lewis]

inspired by @raekensluver’s own incredible harry nsfw alphabet 💗💗💗

MDNI / 18+ !!!

—

a (aftercare) ♡ what’s he like after sex?

- he's beat, but so cuddly. he always makes you get up to pee before you get too comfy, but by the time you return, he's cleaned up, untangled the sheets, and gotten back in bed, ready to wrap himself around you like a koala, his big, warm hands caressing your body until you conk out.

b (body part) ♡ his favorite on you? on himself?

- harry loves your curves — especially your chest. he falls asleep with his hand on a boob regularly, always mumbling about how soft and perfect you are, and he can't resist kissing the tops of your breasts and burying his face in them when you're tangled together at night.

- to the detriment of his own humbleness, he is acutely aware of how beautiful his eyes are, and he loves knowing that you completely melt under his intense gaze. he can bat his pretty lashes at you and get whatever he wants. he's not the best at keeping direct eye contact with other people in his day-to-day, but he has no issue keeping his eyes locked on yours, especially in bed.

c (cum) ♡ where does he like to finish?

- nothing feels better to harry than burying himself deep in your pussy when he orgasms, feeling you squeeze around him and milk him dry. he loves finishing on your chest and your butt sometimes, but you're both lazy as hell after sex and can't be bothered to deal with the mess, so he usually reserves that for when you're in the shower (though he can't always help himself).

d (dirty secret) ♡ what are his fantasies? what’s he hiding?

- harry's never really hid the fact that he's into butt stuff, after being somewhat coerced into admitting it during a lie detector test video years ago. he was a little nervous to ask you about it at first, but he loves the nights when you give him some special attention back there. you haven't pegged him (yet), but he thinks about begging for it a little more every time you hit his sweet spot.

e (experience) ♡ does he know what he’s doing?

- he's experienced, but not too experienced, if that makes sense. he can still be a little clumsy and uncoordinated when he's impatient, but he does know what he's doing, and he knows what to listen for — your responsiveness to his touch telling him everything he needs to know to make you feel good. he's always been a great listener.

f (favorite position) ♡ how does he like it best?

- he knows that you're lowkey a total pillow princess, and he loves taking care of you. when he's feeling romantic, he likes starting in missionary before lifting your legs onto his shoulders and grinding deep into you, but sometimes he wants nothing more than to grab you by your hips and pull you to the edge of the bed, pressing your face into the pillow and slamming into you from behind.

g (goofiness) ♡ does he make you laugh during?

- harry is rarely completely serious, so of course you're laughing in bed. when things get really hot and heavy, he drops the bit and locks in, but beforehand when it's all just sweet kisses and teasing foreplay, he's got you giggling big time.

h (hair) ♡ is he well-groomed?

- he trims semi-regularly, but he's so clean in general that you don't even really care when he's a bit lazy between trims. his hair is so light that it's hardly even noticeable anyway.

- he doesn't really care what you do with your hair — knowing damn well you're not trying to deal with the torture of getting waxed — but he does love when you're freshly trimmed. you're lazy sometimes too though, and that's fine with him.

i (intimacy) ♡ is he romantic in the moment?

- he can be so romantic... sometimes. wanting nothing more than to kiss you all night and take his sweet time languidly unraveling you. he's much better at showing his love than saying it, and nights like those are when he reminds you just how much you mean to him, making sure there's no question in your mind that he fucking adores you.

(don't get it twisted: he still makes his love abundantly clear even when he's not feeling gentle or romantic. nothing reassures you quite as effectively as his insatiable need when he's aching to get his hands on you, his eyes hungry and mouth greedy against your skin. he leaves no room for uncertainty.)

j (jacking off) ♡ masturbation headcannon

- he definitely does it pretty regularly, especially with how much he travels, and he texts you the filthiest things when he's really missing you, often resulting in absurdly hot phone sex.

sometimes he gets off on the video he took of you sucking his dick once, but sometimes he doesn't even need it; just the thought of you moaning his name and the phantom sensation of your soft skin under his calloused hands is enough to do him in.

k (kinks) ♡ what’s he into?

- controversially (but of course, consensually), somnophilia. he loves waking you up with his head between your legs, on lazy weekend mornings or when he stumbles home drunk at 3 AM dying to have you. sometimes you repay the favor, waking him up with your lips wrapped around him... or taking him for a ride. he cums so fast when he rouses to you using him like that.

- he also likes to dabble in a bit of voyeurism, after coming home early one day and catching you pleasuring yourself in the shower. now you let him "catch" you on purpose, leading to some steamy mutual masturbation sessions... when he can keep his hands to himself.

l (location) ♡ where does he like to have sex?

- generally, he prefers to pound you into the mattress of your big comfy bed, but sometimes, you end up bent over the kitchen counter with your dress bunched up at your waist on the days when he really can't wait another second.

...and no one has to know that he fucked you on the moresidemen couch that one time.

m (motivation) ♡ what turns him on?

- massages. he lives for a good backrub, and your fingers work magic on his muscles. he can't help himself when he's lying face down and you're sitting on his butt in your underwear, expertly working the knots out of his shoulders, pulling soft groans from his chest with every firm touch. it almost always ends with him rolling onto his back so you can give him a classic happy ending. he loves giving you massages too — his fingers incapable of staying where they're supposed to, ending up between your thighs almost every time.

n (no) ♡ turn-offs and no-gos?

- harry does not enjoy being restrained or tied up, getting quite anxious about his inability to move his hands the one time you tried it, but he's okay if you just hold him down yourself, knowing damn well he can overpower you with minimal effort. he likes to stay in control.

- he struggles with verbal degradation — he hates being mean to you — but he's still more than happy to be a little rough when you want it, pulling your hair and choking you to your heart's content.

o (oral) ♡ giving or receiving?

- he finds himself equally blissed out whether he's giving or receiving: lapping at you for ages and soaking in your sweet whimpers, or burying his fingers in your roots and his cock in your throat. it's a very equal relationship.

p (pace) ♡ hard and fast or slow and sensual?

- sometimes, he likes it slow and steamy, wanting to gently worship you all night, but he knows that you want it hard and fast most of the time. he can go absolutely feral, driven by the sound of skin slapping together and your disjointed whines muffled against the pillows.

q (quickies) ♡ does he like quickies?

- he's never mad about some cheeky car sex when you're on the road — especially with your inability to keep your hands to yourself while he's driving — or the chance to drunkenly fuck you in the bathroom at a party, making you watch yourself fall apart in the mirror, your tits falling out of your top and mascara streaming down your face.

r (risk) ♡ is he down to experiment?

- harry may have calmed down with age, but he's still a bit of an adrenaline junkie at heart. he'll try anything once, and anywhere once.

s (stamina) ♡ how long does he last?

- he can go for a while, usually just for one long round but sometimes two if his body can handle it. he loves foreplay and riling you up, so it's rarely quick.

t (toys) ♡ does he have/use toys?

- using your toys together is always fun. he loves pressing your air pulse vibrator against your clit while he fucks you, having to keep his mouth on yours the whole time to stifle the way it makes you scream. he's also slowly working up the courage to present you with a modest strap-on to fuck him with.

u (unfairness) ♡ is he a tease?

- he's infuriating, messing with you around friends: his touch lingering just a bit too long, far-from-innocent whispers in your ear, a borderline evil glint in his eye when he gets you all fidgety — all to get you home and still take ages to give you what you want, the building tension making you crazy.

v (volume) ♡ how loud is he in bed?

- he can be pretty loud, especially if he's not sober. sometimes he talks, showering you in filthy praise when he's feeling bold; other times his moans speak for themselves, each pretty sound from his lips worth a thousand words.

w (wild card) ♡ ?!

- he gets surprisingly turned on just watching you work sometimes. you have a remote job, and there's something about seeing you so focused, hearing your professional voice come out when you're on business calls, that gets him going. when you're clearly stressed, he loves dropping to his knees under your desk to help you unwind.

x (x-ray) ♡ what’s he packin’?

- even his friends have confirmed it: bog's got a hog. he's slightly above average in length, but really, it's how thick he is that's impressive. he's the best stretch you've ever felt.

y (yearning) ♡ how high is his sex drive?

- he goes through waves, just like you. sometimes you'll have phases where you only have sex a few times a month, when one or both of you have been feeling especially burnt out, but then some periods when you'll have sex nearly every day, when you're both feeling particularly good and can't keep your hands off each other.

z (zzz) ♡ how fast does he fall asleep after sex?

- not too fast. he always cleans up in the bedroom while you go to the bathroom, and then pulls you close to his chest after forcing you to drink some water, stroking your hair gently and kissing your shoulder as he mumbles quietly about how soft you are or yaps about something random until you fall asleep on him and he passes out mid-sentence.

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taglist ♡

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[whore4wroetoshaw]

GUYS DO WE FW THIS??? i might’ve made minter!reader that girl but like… aren’t we all allowed to live out our delusions a little or am i just projecting w full chest😭 be honest. thoughts. concerns. applause.

[whore4wroetoshaw]

introducing... minter!reader.

taglist: @chrisolivia4l @dopeysunflowers @adaslvr @theoreticallythe @wolfiemarley @1011008

[whore4wroetoshaw]

minter!reader's full intro and backstory.

taglist: @chrisolivia4l @dopeysunflowers @adaslvr @theoreticallythe @wolfiemarley @1011008

[whore4wroetoshaw]

introduction and backstory to minter!reader.

it was always her and simon.

technically, there were four minter siblings—nick, johnny, simon, and her—but the age gaps had naturally split the house into factions. the older brothers were kind, calm, composed, and busy doing "older sibling" things. and then there was simon and his baby sister. built-in best friend, video game partner, co-conspirator since birth.

from the moment she could talk, she was yelling over him. and from the moment she could walk, he was dragging her into games she didn't understand but refused to lose in.

they did everything together. from football in the garden to secret snack runs to late night fifa. she couldn't care less about the offside rule—all she wanted to do was hang out with her big brother.

and simon? he let her. he shared everything. his room. his hoodie. his ps2. his terrible opinions.

when simon was 12 years old, he came home absolutely fuming. some boy at school — jj something — had called him 'lanky' in front of the whole class. she was nine. she didn't know what lanky meant, but she knew it had made her brother sad, and that was enough.

so the next time she saw jj's annoying younger brother, same age as her, teasing her in the school corridor with the same insult, she did the only thing that made sense to her at nine years old.

she punched him. in the face. broke his nose, even. it was a messy, chaotic fight that ended in two detentions, one very confused teacher, and a strange, shaky truce between the minter siblings and the olatunji siblings that would — against all odds — grow into a lifelong bond.

when simon started posting on youtube in his room, she wanted in. while he was uploading fifa videos on miniminter, she was sitting on the floor filming q&as on an old flip cam. lip gloss too bright. lighting non-existent.

they both grew. seperately, but together.

then came the sidemen.

by 2013, simon was filming every weekend, working with the og crew, growing a channel that would change all their lives. she was around for all of it — helping with thumbnails, occasionally hopping into a video, eating leftover pizza after shoots.

the boys loved her immediately. jj called her "miniest minter." josh made it a ritual to bring her iced coffee before a shoot. ethan was practically her cameraman. tobi let her paint his nails. vik even made vines with her. and simon? simon pretended he hated that she was always around — but never actually told her to leave.

wroetoshaw.

he wasn’t there at the start. he joined in 2014. which meant she didn’t know him. at least — not yet.

harry lewis came into their lives like a tornado in a blue hoodie. they brought him in like a missing puzzle piece. the perfect mix of explosive fifa rage and hilarious.

except… he didn’t know her.

the boys had been talking about her for months. y/n this, y/n that. so, naturally, harry asked. "sorry—who the fuck is y/n?"

simon didn't even look up from his phone. "my sister." harry's ears immediately perked up. "you have a sister? how old?"

“yeah, your age,” josh chimed in, like it was common knowledge. “she’s around a lot. how have you not met her yet?”

tobi nodded. “you’ll meet her soon. she's... something.”

"she's fuckin' gorgeous, is what she is." ethan grinned.

simon groaned. “don’t say that.”

twenty minutes later, as if summoned, she walked in. oversized hoodie (stolen from simon), lips glossed, phone in one hand, coffee in the other, speaker poking out of her bag blaring graduation.

she didn’t even glance up at first. just waltzed in like she owned the place, humming to the beat of the song, nails clacking lightly against her phone screen as she dug through her tote bag. “simon,” she called casually, still not making eye contact, “did you take my charger last night?”

simon didn’t look up either. “no.”

“liar.”

“check your bathroom drawer.”

“i did. all I found was your deodorant and a full bag of haribos.”

“so that’s where i left them—”

jj cut in, already grinning. “y/n, meet harry.”

she paused. looked up. finally. harry stood there, awkward and wide-eyed, a half-eaten flapjack in his hand and his soul visibly leaving his body because, what. the. fuck.

nobody said she’d be hot. he hadn’t known what to expect — maybe someone who looked vaguely like simon with glasses or braces or weird posture. he wasn’t ready for this. she didn’t look like simon at all. not lanky. not awkward. she was… gorgeous. completely unaware of it. or maybe very aware. either way, he was spiralling.

she tilted her head. "you're wroetoshaw?"

he nodded. “technically, yeah. i mean—yes. harry. i’m harry. but that’s—uh—yeah.”

she blinked. "... okay."

he cleared his throat. "you don't look like simon. at all."

"i'll take that as a compliment." she grinned and moved toward the couch. "hold this for a second, will you?" she gestured toward her coffee.

of course he took it without thinking. zero hesitation. and then… she walked off. sat herself on the couch like it was hers, casually pulling things out of her bag, legs tucked under her like she’d been there forever.

harry was still standing there. clutching her half-melted iced coffee. blinking. breathing weird.

she held out her hand, palm open, not even looking. he gave it back. obviously.

she leaned back, finally looking up at him properly. “nice to meet you, wroetoshaw.”

“harry,” he said again, a little too quickly. “you can—uh. call me harry.”

she smiled, lips glossy, eyes unreadable. “okay, harry.”

and just like that, he was gone. done. dead. buried. six feet under. fully fucking smitten.

from that day on, they just clicked. in a “bickering all day but also maybe sharing snacks” way. in a “she steals his hoodies and he pretends not to care” way. in a “everyone else noticed before they did” way. in a way that looked a lot like love — long before either of them would call it that.

it was just harry and y/n. y/n and harry. like it had always been them. like it would always be them.

then her youtube career really took off. people loved her. she never planned anything. just set her camera up on a pile of books, lit a candle for vibes, and started talking. about boys. about bad dates. quick grwms and girl advice. a stupid challenge or two. but they really loved her.

it didn’t take long before she had a solid fanbase. then a manager. then pr packages. then brand deals.

the modelling thing started by accident—like most things in her life.

she had posted a photo promoting her new video. that was it.

messy hair. glossy lips. stacked necklaces. low rise cargos and a white tank top. the most basic fit ever. mirror dusty. lighting mid.

someone at a beauty agency saw it, and that was it. in the blink of an eye, she was being flown to paris. then milan. then london fashion week.

one minute she was filming chaotic mukbangs on her bedroom floor — the next she was wearing silk dresses and glass heels and getting flown out for perfume launches.

suddenly, she wasn’t miniminter's sister, or the girl with good advice—she was walking for campaigns, fronting lookbooks, holding tiny designer handbags she used to manifest in her notes app. but she didn't change. not even a bit. she was still the same girl who pulled up to sidemen shoots with pizza boxes in her hand. still vlogged in her pajamas. still did football slip-n-slide challenges with the boys because it was fun.

and harry?

harry watched it all happen — quietly, protectively, helplessly in love. he was never far behind. in her vlogs. in her comments. in the background of paparazzi shots, holding her hand. in her phone, always.

because no matter how many runways she walked or editorials she booked, she always came home to him. her favourite face to see after the cameras stopped flashing.

[whore4wroetoshaw]

guys bear with me as i take a week to create an intro for my au thanks love u bye

[livvymd]

guys stop with the fluff im horny i need smut

[whore4wroetoshaw]

SOMEONE GIVE ME REQS

[whore4wroetoshaw]

So what's so fascinating about George Clarke?

honestly what ISN'T just look at this man