bethorwhateverr - Tumblr blog

bethorwhateverr · 13 hours ago

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Right Where We Belong

~Fluff~

Will stood in the kitchen, balancing a mug of tea between his hands, trying to ignore the sounds of chaos coming from the living room. He could hear your sister’s children- Max, a bundle of energy with a mischievous streak, and little Ellie, who still thought her teddy bear could solve all problems- bickering over some toy.

You were sitting on the floor, calmly trying to intervene, a smile tugging at your lips as you soothed them with your patient words. Watching you, Will felt something warm stir in his chest. It wasn’t just the love he had for you, though that was undeniable, deep, and steady. No, this was something else.

The moment felt… full. Full of laughter, full of noise, full of something that was always just out of reach, like a question that lingered in the air. He had never been good at answering those sorts of questions, never particularly keen on thinking too far ahead. But now, as he watched you, as you gently told Ellie to share with Max, his mind couldn’t help but wander.

It wasn’t the first time. Not by a long shot. But today, with you caught between the chaos of your niece and nephew, there was something different in the air. Something that had him wondering how this might look in the future. Would he be here, like this, years from now, watching you with a small hand in yours, the sound of children laughing and bickering filling their home?

He didn’t know what the answer was yet, but he couldn’t help thinking it might not be so bad.

Will pushed himself off the counter, the mug of tea now abandoned on the surface, and made his way into the living room. Max was in the middle of trying to build an enormous tower of blocks, one that teetered precariously and threatened to collapse with the slightest breath. Ellie, on the other hand, was fidgeting with her teddy bear, clearly bored with the whole situation.

He crouched down next to Max, grinning. “You know,” he said, eyeing the shaky tower, “if you add a few more blocks on this side, it might just stand a little longer.”

Max looked up at him, his eyes wide with that intense focus only children seemed to have when they were truly determined. “You think so?” he asked, his little brow furrowed in concentration.

“I know so,” Will said with a wink, reaching over to grab a couple of blocks. He placed them carefully on the other side of the structure. “You’ve got to balance it out, mate.”

Max’s face lit up as he quickly added another block, and the tower grew taller and steadier. “You’re really good at this!” he said, his voice full of admiration.

Will chuckled, a little surprised by the compliment. “Ah, well, I’ve got a lot of practice with... er... not knocking things over,” he said, his eyes flicking towards Ellie, who was now attempting to tie her teddy bear’s shoelaces.

Ellie looked up at him, eyes sparkling. “Will, will you play with me too?” she asked, holding out the bear as if it was the most precious thing in the world. “He needs a nap, but he can’t sleep unless you sing him a song.”

A laugh escaped Will before he could stop it. “A nap, huh?” He took the teddy bear from her with exaggerated care. “Well, I suppose I can sing him a little lullaby. I’m a world-class singer, you know.”

“Sing!” Ellie demanded, clapping her hands in delight.

Will cleared his throat, preparing himself for an impromptu performance. He glanced at you from across the room, a smile tugging at his lips as he saw you busy with dinner. The sight of you, your back to him but clearly so comfortable in your own skin, made his heart flutter for reasons he couldn’t quite explain.

Max was now almost done with his tower, his concentration breaking every few seconds as he looked to Will for reassurance. Will gave him a thumbs-up before turning his attention back to Ellie.

“I’m warning you,” he said with a grin, “this might be the best lullaby you’ve ever heard.”

He began to hum softly, then sang a few words that only vaguely resembled a melody. Ellie giggled, her eyes sparkling with approval.

You shook your head in the kitchen, laughing at the sight. “You’re hopeless, Will.”

He glanced up, catching your eye for a moment before you quickly turned back to the stove, trying to hide your smile. But Will knew that smile, knew how it made him feel like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Max, after a few more moments of serious tower construction, finally stood up and declared, “It’s done!”

Will took a step back, his eyes widening. “Well, would you look at that? You’ve got yourself a skyscraper, mate.”

Max beamed, his chest puffing out with pride. “We should make it bigger!” he said eagerly.

Ellie, now content with her teddy bear's nap, wandered over and poked at the blocks. “Can I knock it down now?” she asked, her voice innocent and sweet.

Will shot a look towards you, his lips curling into a grin. “Uh-oh, I think we might have a bit of a demolition artist on our hands.”

“I’m not going to stop her,” you called from the kitchen, turning to face him with a teasing smile. “You’ve created a monster.”

Will laughed, moving out of the way just in time as Ellie, with all the grace and precision of a wrecking ball, sent the tower tumbling to the floor.

“Perfect timing,” he said, taking a step back and watching the pile of blocks scatter across the room.

Max was disappointed for a moment, but Ellie’s laughter was infectious. The two of them sat there, staring at the mess for a beat before diving into the chaos together, building something new from the wreckage.

As the sounds of giggles and playful arguments filled the room, Will found himself glancing at you again. There was a quiet moment where everything seemed to still, where he imagined a future filled with this- laughter, messes, the little moments that made up a life shared.

He couldn’t help but wonder if this was just a taste of what was to come. And though he wasn’t sure of all the answers yet, one thing felt undeniably certain: he wanted to be there. With you. In all the beautiful chaos.

The evening had quieted down after the whirlwind of playtime. The house, once filled with the clattering of toys and the occasional burst of laughter, was now peaceful, save for the soft hum of the kitchen light. Will found himself sitting on the couch, the worn cushions beneath him a comforting weight, while you cleaned up the remnants of dinner in the kitchen.

The house seemed to hold its breath as he glanced over at you. Your silhouette was framed by the warm glow of the light, the way you moved so easily, so naturally, as if this place was already home to the both of you. He’d seen you in moments of calm before. Quiet, content, focused. But tonight there was something different in the air. Something just beyond the edges of his thoughts, something that had been there all evening but now seemed to pull at him with a gentle tug.

Max and Ellie were both fast asleep, tucked into their beds after a bedtime story and promises of sweet dreams. Will had helped tuck them in, kissed their foreheads, and said his goodnight, but as the door closed softly behind him, a quiet sense of longing had settled in.

He was still staring at the spot where you stood, your back turned to him, when the question slipped out before he could stop it.

"Do you think about kids?" His voice was quieter than usual, almost hesitant, but the words were there now, hanging between you.

You paused in the middle of wiping down the counter, your movements slowing. Will watched the way you collected your thoughts, how you set the dishcloth down before turning to face him. There was a softness in your eyes that made his heart beat a little faster, a tenderness he hadn’t realised he was hoping for.

"Kids?" you echoed, your brow furrowing slightly as you took a step closer. You must have noticed the shift in his tone. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, like... our future, I suppose." He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous laugh escaping him. "I guess seeing Max and Ellie running around today got me thinking."

You leaned against the counter, your arms folding across your chest as you studied him. Will could feel the weight of the question now, heavier than he’d expected it to be. It wasn’t a question about right now. He knew you were happy with him in the present, with the way things were. But something about the way you held yourself, the quiet care you gave those kids, made him wonder what you imagined for the years ahead.

"I’m not asking because I’m trying to rush anything," he added quickly, "I just... I guess I was curious. Do you think about having kids one day?"

There was a long silence between you, the kind that filled the space but didn’t feel uncomfortable- just thoughtful. Then, slowly, you crossed the room to join him on the couch, sitting down beside him with a sigh. You didn’t speak immediately, your fingers tracing patterns on the edge of the cushion. Will’s heart skipped a beat as you took your time, carefully choosing your words.

"I’ve thought about it," you said, your voice soft, not rushed. "I guess... when I was younger, I used to imagine all sorts of things. A family, kids running around, maybe a house somewhere quiet. But now?" You turned your head to meet his eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Now, I think I imagine it with you. Not just the kids, but... the whole thing. The life we’d build."

Will felt a strange sort of relief wash over him. It wasn’t a promise, not yet. But the way you said it made something inside him settle, something that had been restless all evening. "So, you’d want that? Kids... one day?"

You gave a small nod, a flicker of hope in your eyes. "Yeah, I think I would. But only when it’s right. When we’re both ready for it."

The air seemed to clear, the question no longer hanging between you like an unspoken weight. Will reached out, his hand finding yours. His thumb gently brushed over your knuckles as he let the moment stretch out, both of you just sitting there, side by side, feeling the warmth of the space you shared.

“I think I could see that too,” he said quietly, his gaze drifting towards the window, where the stars shone faintly. “But I guess I’m just glad I’d get to do it with you. Whenever that time comes."

Your fingers tightened around his, the words unspoken, but understood.

And for the first time that evening, Will didn’t feel quite so uncertain about what the future might hold.

The night stretched on, quiet and warm, the kind of evening that makes you feel like time is gently slowing down just to let you catch your breath. Will squeezed your hand, a small gesture, but it felt like everything in that moment was perfectly aligned.

"Well, I guess we’ve got a little while before we need to worry about that," he said, his voice playful as he leaned back into the couch, his free hand reaching for the last of the shared chocolate bar you’d left on the coffee table.

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and for a brief moment, everything felt utterly simple. There were no big decisions, no pressures, just the soft comfort of being together. "Guess so," you agreed, your eyes twinkling as you slid closer to him. "But I do think you’d be a good dad. If that helps."

Will raised an eyebrow, taking a mock-serious tone. “Oh? So you’re already sizing me up for fatherhood, are you? I’ll have you know, I’m excellent with kids,” he added, winking at you. “I built that skyscraper today, didn’t I?”

You nudged him playfully with your shoulder, laughing again, the sound so pure and bright that Will couldn’t help but grin. "You did," you teased. "But, uh, you might need a little work on your lullaby skills."

He chuckled and shook his head. "I’ll take that as a challenge. I’m getting better every time."

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment, your gaze softening. Then, you reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your voice quieter but filled with warmth. "You know, no matter what happens... I think we'd be pretty great at this whole thing. Whatever it is."

His heart fluttered at the sincerity in your voice. He leaned forward, his forehead resting against yours for a moment, eyes closing as he let the world outside slip away. The only thing that mattered was right here, with you.

"I think so too," he whispered, the words thick with affection, and before he could stop himself, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

The kiss lingered, soft and tender, and when you pulled away just a fraction, he could see the smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

"Well," you said, teasing again, "we’ve still got a few years to figure it out, yeah?"

"Plenty of time," he agreed, grinning. "But I think we’re on the right track."

You both settled back into the couch, your hands finding each other once again, content to let the world wait. The house was still, the kids were asleep, and for the first time all evening, everything felt as if it were exactly how it should be.

And, as the night grew deeper and the stars outside sparkled brighter, Will couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this messy, beautiful, unpredictable life was exactly what he’d always been waiting for.

——————————————————————————————————

So sorry it has been quite a while! I lowkey kept on forgetting to proofread this and post it as I have been super busy with work! I hope you enjoyed this and I also hope you are all having an awesome day/night.

Tags-

@themdera

@tyna-19

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bethorwhateverr · 14 hours ago

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「 ✦ George Clarke Headcannons ✦ 」

Hello!!! This is my first project I've done, there will most likely be some mistakes so BE AWARE...

(Includes SFW and NSFW)

Would love any feedback if possible , enjoy! ｡◕‿◕｡

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

GEORGE CLARKE IS THE TYPE TO...

George is the type to help you carry the shopping

George is the type to remember the most silliest, smallest details about you

George is the type to just admire you ramble on about you niche interests, chiming in with some 'mhm's and 'really?'s to make it seem as if he is listening. (you know that audio 'blah blah blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff 😭)

George is the type to help you with the most mundane chores

George is the type to tie and untie your shoelaces for you, he INSISTS

George is the type to plan dates for you both weekly (whether its going out for a meal, movie, etc.)

George is the type to bring home souvenirs for you when he goes abroad for YouTube shoots (if he isn't able to bring you)

George is the type to just watch you do your skincare/makeup and haircare (asking what everything does, asking if he can help possibly? just to touch your face without making it weird LOL)

George is the type to constantly be touching you in public, not in a sexual way, just in a way that he knows you're okay and there with him (hand on back and hip subtly, holding hands)

George is the type to change/expand his music taste to fit yours so you are able to make playlists and listen to them together

George is the type to be the mature one during arguments, letting you speak without interruption and maintaining a calm tone

George is the type to stop your stressed out rambles by suddenly kissing you

George is the type to hold your chin while kissing you OR cupping your cheeks as he likes how soft your face is

♡

George is the type to be a COMPLETE munch, he would eat you out for an hour straight and expect nothing in return.

George is the type to enjoy 2-3 rounds

George is the type to LOVE marking you in places no one else can see (inner thigh, breasts)

George is the type to enjoy cream pies

George is the type to like face to face positions, he likes how intimate it is

George is the type to be down for make out sessions anytime, anywhere

George is the type to get off on your pleasure, constantly checking up on you as he fucks you senseless - 'you doin' alright sweetheart?', 'c'mon use your words for me love', 'yeah? you like that?', 'my slut, isn't that right?'

George Clarke is the type to lovingly call you a slut/degrade you in the nicest possible way

George is the type to tease you and secretly like edging you

George is the type to be mostly gentle during sex, he thinks you are so precious and angelic

George is the type to only get rough when he is jealous, or during make-up sex when you guys argue

George is the type to LOVE maintaining eye contact with you as he thrusts - ‘cmon, let me see those pretty eyes of yours’, ‘god you’re so beautiful’

George is the type to make up a really odd/funny safe word you can use

George is the type to have the best aftercare

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

thoughts? let me know what you would add/what you disagree with! could use your thoughts to give inspiration with my other fics/hcs

THIS IS MY FIRST FIC, so I do think the writing/ideas are a bit shit but hopefully I'll improve... I hope... LOL

TBH, this it my first actual time using tumblr so please bear with me while i learn how to use it tysm for reading! x

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bethorwhateverr · 15 hours ago

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Please do use the last two will ideas girl!! ❤️❤️

Bride and groom -Willne

words: 1.4k+

warnings: just fluff fluff and more fluff.

summary: in the weeks leading up to your wedding will seemed fine, then just moments before the ceremony starts he freaks out and runs straight to you.

notes: i got this request and did the first two so here’s the others!🫶🏼 i’m obsessed with the idea of being will’s wife so this was a fun one to indulge in🤭💍🤍

"So... red or white roses?" You asked your soon to be husband Will, the both of you sat at your dining room table. "Uh- I dunno, white?" He leaned his elbows on the table. "I agree, next!"

You were in the process of preparing for your wedding, sorting out all the little details together. Will wasn't that bothered and he trusted you to pick the best options but he sat there anyways, since you'd asked him to.

The idea of a huge, fancy wedding abroad didn't appeal to either of you so you're having it in the uk, in a sweet little venue, with just over forty people attending so it's only your closest friends and family.

"Which place holders do you prefer?" You questioned as you flipped another page in the large photo book. He took a deep breath, scanning the page.

"Those are nice." He pointed to some white, card signs that had black cursive writing and soft white flowers stuck to the corners. "Wow. I didn't even look at those but they're perfect," I said softly.

"Oh... really?" He seemed surprised. "Don't knock your taste babe, it's pretty good, I mean you did close to marry me," you smirked teasingly. He chuckled and then turned over the next page for you, now more interested in the process.

Months later your wedding was finally just around the corner. You'd been running around for the past week making sure everything was ready. Today you spent the day having your nails and toenails done, getting a fresh spray tan and having a facial.

"I'm going to make it very clear that you aren't getting lucky tonight. I've just had a spray tan and I'm not willing to ruin it," was the first thing you said to your fiancée after saying hello.

"Alright alight." He held his hands up in defence but then pulled you into a hug anyway, a cheeky smile on his face. Recently you've been all over each other. You put it down to the excitement of getting married, though for you two it wasn't exactly out of the norm to be having sex almost every night.

The day before the wedding you arrived at your venue and checked into the master suite on the top floor of the beautiful building. You'd decided against the whole 'not seeing each other the night before the wedding' thing, though in the morning he was going straight to another room to get ready with his groomsmen and then you weren't going to see each other until you were walking down the isle.

"This place is insane!" you yelled excitedly as you stared out the huge windows that you could see the courtyard from, the same courtyard you're getting married in tomorrow. Will came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your centre, after he'd just got all your bags situated in the corner of the room.

You leaned back into him, letting out a content sigh. "You nervous? For tomorrow?" You asked him softly. He took a deep breath. "Shitting myself to be honest," he confessed lightheartedly. "Me too," you agreed.

You couldn't wait to marry the love of your life though there's a lot of pressure with weddings so it was nerve wracking, since you wanted everything to be perfect.

The night was spent tangled in each other's arms, nothing sexual (you were saving that for the honeymoon) just enjoying your last moments as fiancés before you became something much more serious.

The morning of you squeezed each other goodbye and then he swiftly left to go and join his groomsmen. You weren't alone for long since a fast knock came to your door just moments later.

You opened the door to reveal Sabina, Faith and Talia, your three bridesmaids. All four of you let out a squeal. "Our girls getting fucking married!" Faith yelled excitedly as she hugged you.

Hours later, you'd had your makeup done, your hair was in a beautiful up do and the girls looked amazing in their dresses, it was now time to put yours on.

They'd seen your dress from when you tried it on but you'd had it altered and a few things changed since then, plus it always looked so different on the day when you were completely dolled up.

You managed to get the dress on without any help. You took a second to stare at yourself in the floor length mirror and just take everything in. Then you stepped out into the main room.

All three of them gasped when they saw you. "You look absolutely breathtaking babe," Sabina complemented with her hand on her chest adoringly.

"I always thought Will was punching but this definitely confirms it," Faith muttered jokingly as they all hugged you.

With just half an hour to go before the ceremony started you were taking pictures and filming videos when there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" Talia hopped up from her seat. When she opened the door her brows furrowed, she looked from whoever was standing there to you and then back to them.

"Everything okay?" You asked, standing cautiously. "Uh- it's... Will," she replied. "Will?" You repeated, now slightly alarmed.

"Love?" He called from the other side of the door, "can I please talk to you, just for five minutes?" All of the girls looked at you, awaiting your response.

You nodded to Talia. "You sure? Isn't it supposed to be bad luck?" Faith whispered quickly. "I don't really read into that stuff. Plus, whatever he needs to say must be important," you replied calmly.

The three girls left the room and Will stepped in, closing the door behind him. He stopped in his tracks and his eyes slowly raked up and down your body. "You look- Jesus fucking Christ... you look beautiful."

You smiled shyly. "You don't look to bad yourself," you complemented before stepping towards him and brushing both of your hands over the fabric of the suit covering his shoulders, "you brush up well William."

You turned your head to the side slightly. "So... what's going on? Is something wrong?" You asked cautiously, worried something catastrophic had happened or that he was having second thoughts.

"I'm just- I don't know," he sighed, his head hanging slightly showing that something was clearly troubling him, "I guess I'm just anxious? There's just so much fucking pressure and we always deal with this shit together so it just didn't feel right to be away from you," he admitted.

Truth be told, you were relieved. It was just nerves, which you definitely felt too and you were glad he'd come to see you so you could walk onto the isle with a clear mind and enjoy it.

You nodded and placed your hand on his cheek, bringing his eyes back up to meet yours. "That's totally valid Will. I'd rather you come and talk to me than run off and leave me at the altar in a panic," you lightheartedly joked, lifting the tension from the room.

"Well, I'd never do that. Miss the opportunity of marrying the love of my life? No chance," he replied surely. You smiled. "I'd kiss you but I want to save that for the ceremony, so you'll just have to settle for a hug."

You leaned into each other and shared a strong embrace, releasing any remaining nerves and replacing them with pure anticipation and excitement.

Within twenty minutes you were stood around the corner of the entrance to the isle. The music was playing, your family and friends were quietly chatting as you stood with the girls.

Then it went quiet, everyone was shushed when Talia was the first bridesmaid to walk down the path. Sabina was next, then Faith and finally... you.

You immediately locked eyes with Will, a soft and genuine smile on his face as he watched you walk towards him.

When you finally reached the end of the isle he took your hands and whispered, "you look heavenly." Like he hadn't seen and spoken to you half an hour ago and was seeing you in your dress for the first time.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride!" Will has never kissed you like he did on that altar. He didn't waste any time. It was dramatic yet so romantic and sweet, hands down the best kiss you've ever had.

The rest of the day and night was spent partying and having fun with your friends and family though most importantly, your husband.

#so fkin feral for this man atm #willne

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bethorwhateverr · 15 hours ago

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the other woman - j.m

james marriott x fem!reader

word count: 1442 words

summary: you like james. he likes you. you are both oblivious idiots in love.

request: james marriott fic where he and reader are friends but she really like him and on a night out he kisses some random girl. Reader sees and gets sad but when he realizes she's sad cause he kissed another girl he confesses to her.

James Marriott is a man that many would call 'Angelic. You would say the same to be fair, but could never admit it out loud.

That was the main problem that you faced with James, no matter how close the two of you got, you could never be fully honest with him, because being completely honest with him would mean telling him your love for him. You would rather die with not knowing if he feels the same than risk losing him forever.

You met James on a night out in Brighton. You went to a pub with friends for a good night out and saw him, up on stage, playing a gig to a crowd with a large number of people with dyed hair. Lot's of people with blue hair jumping and singing their hearts out to this man with a guitar.

As his set ended and he came off stage, he went to the bar to order, sitting right next to you. After almost spilling your margarita all over the front of his pants, the two of you hit it off straight away. You have been inseparable since then.

But with proximity comes problems.

You see, spending more and more time with James has many benefits, as he is probably the most amazing man that has ever walked the earth. It does, however, come with a ridiculously large crush that could rival one of a teenage girls.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the annual Sidemen Christmas party, where drinks are flowing and conversations are blooming across Bez's house. You had been invited as a plus one, the invite obviously coming from James. You don't know how he had been invited but assumed it was through the help of Will.

As you enter the house, thick coat wrapped tightly around your shivering body, you scan the open planned house in search for the man of the hour.

Your eyes sweep the crowd, finally landing on him. A bright light that moves through the crowd lands on James at just the right moment, mid laugh and wearing the gorgeous jumper of his. You weave your way through the crowd, sorry's leaving your mouth as you accidently bump into people.

Just before you reach him, a voice pulls you out of your focus, eyes leaving James' figure to turn to the culprit.

"Hiya darling! Haven't seen you in a minute!" Faith. An angel sent from heaven that ended up with a nonce. You love Faith, you really do. Her timing, however, could be better. This isn't the first time she has interrupted your path to James and certainly wont be the last.

"Faith?! Long time no see?"

"I could ask you the same! Thought you vanished off the face of the Earth." Faith enthusiastically yells over the music, her smiles shining with a level of brightness that even the sun couldn't rival.

"Not vanished—just... hiding from scenes like this." You say, eyes looking beyond Faiths shoulder

"And yet here you are, in the middle of one."

"I got dragged. Blackmailed. Tricked with promises of good music and free drinks."

"Whoever did that deserves a thank-you card. It's really good to see you."

"It is really good to see you was well darling, but I have to go find James. But I will be back to talk in a bit, yeah?"

You walk off in search for James again, and again - like magic - he appears in a gap between the crowd. A smile appears on his face, looking down at someone who you can not see.

Shuffling through the crowd, you finally make it to him, however as you turn around a sight you never expected to see happened.

He was kissing a girl.

Not just regular, fun kiss. Full make-out session in the corner of Faith's mansion.

Your heart sunk, falling to the bottom of your stomach. You didn't want to look but you couldn't pull yourself away from the sight of it. The man you loved and cared for most in this world was kissing another girl.

Its hard, though. You couldn't be mad at him, I mean how could you, he isn't yours. This realisation came rushing at you at full force, he wasn't yours and he did not want you back.

Blinking tears away from your eyes, you leave, running away from your problems like always. The elevator to you right dinged as people got off from coming back from upstairs. You run to the door, entering the elevator and pressing the top floor, the rooftop sounds like a perfect place to be to cry your heart out, doesn't it?

The elevator dings as it reaches the rooftop. The doors open to a beautiful scene, fairy lights scattered across the railing of the roof and a beautiful outside lounge set to complete the cozy atmosphere. You pick one of the chairs to sit on and let it all out, every emotion you have ever held towards James coming out in a streaming trail of tears and cries.

After a while, you finally compose yourself, whipping your tear stained cheeks and breathing in a deep sigh. Suddenly, the ding of the elevator sounds, bringing you out of your state entirely, reminding you where exactly you are.

Heavy boots pad towards where you are sitting and all of a sudden James head appears from around the corner.

"Hey," He says, cautiously walking towards you. "Is everything okay? I saw you for a second then you completely disappeared?"

"No everything is not fine, James". You turn to face him, standing up to try to be on his level. Regadless of your height, you still had to crane your neck to look this man in the eyes. "I am going to be honest with you now because I have held this in for too long its taking over me."

James looks into your eyes concerned, his expression reassuring you that no matter what you revealed to him, that you were there for him.

"I like you, James. A lot actually, and I can't keep going on like this and holding it from you, when I saw you kissing that girl I knew that what i thought was real wasn't and I just needed a moment to process what happened and-"

"Woah, slow down" He cuts you off, stepping closer to you. "You like me?"

"Yeah, I have for a while now"

His eyes move over your face, taking in every detail of it. You stand in silence, just looking at each other, breaths in time with the others.

"For the love of god James, say something" You look up at him stepping closer, hands going to his chest to try and snap him out of whatever trance he had been put under.

His hands move to your cheeks, cupping them and pulling you closer. A breath is stolen from you as he moved closer, his eyes searching yours for answers.

"I'm so glad you feel the same"

He moves slow, his mouth coming to yours at a pace that felt both too quick but too slow. The second contact was made, feelings you didn't kow you expressed for James erupted with in you. Magic would be the only real word to describe the feelings you felt.

His mouth moves against yours in an angelic way, gentle but desperate, like he had been waiting just as long for this moment. His thumbs brush over your cheeks, grounding you, as his lips mold to yours: soft, certain, and full of every unsaid thing lingering between you.

The world feels quiet, time slowing to nothing but the steady rhythm of your heart thudding wildly in your chest. His lips move in perfect sync with yours, tentative at first, then deepening as the walls finally crumble between you both.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours, his breath uneven, eyes flickering between your gaze and your lips. "I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?" he murmurs, his voice rough around the edges but laced with relief.

You manage a small, breathless laugh, hands still pressed to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. "The biggest," you whisper, a teasing smile curling at the edges of your lips.

James chuckles softly, his hands trailing down to your waist, anchoring you there. "Guess I’m lucky you put up with me anyway."

His eyes soften, and without another word, he leans in again—this time with no hesitation, no questions, just the undeniable certainty that this moment, this feeling, was real.

An Angel had truly made this man because god all-mighty, he was perfect.

note: thank you to @mcgarrets-world for the ask!! this is my first fan fic i have ever written, so i hope you like it y'all! please let me know if anyone would like any more in the future. I currently have one in the works but god knows when that will be out. hope everyone has a good day/night! much love

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bethorwhateverr · 1 day ago

Text

not to be a dannie on main but i fear i may never recover if he cuts his hair

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bethorwhateverr · 1 day ago

Note

w2s dad fic next?

When you told Harry he was going to be a dad, he had the exact response a lot of fans assumed he did.

He screamed. Not a little yelp. No, this was a full-blown Harry freak out; throw chair at the TV, scare the dogs, knock over a mug of tea type of scream. The kind of scream that made you stare at him like he was the one about to give birth right this second.

“You alright?” you asked, already amused. Harry stood there, frozen, a pregnancy test in one hand like it was radioactive. “I—I don’t know how to be a dad! I can’t even keep mint alive. Mint! You just water it!”

“We don’t even have mint in the garden,” you replied.

“Exactly! I forgot to buy the fucking little pot it comes in! We have a shit tone of Coriander. What if our baby is mint and not coriander?” He panicked.

You walked over, put your arms around his neck and kissed his cheek lightly in an attempt to calm him down. “You’re going to be brilliant.”

He didn’t believe you. At least not then.

He watched YouTube tutorials like “How to hold a baby without dropping it” and “Do babies bounce?” (He didn’t stop asking questions of Ethan and Simon, something that you found incredibly adorable.

He overprepared. He thought if he was going to be a shit dad at least the child should want for nothing so he bought a car seat it took four of you to work out how to install. He spent over a grand on a pram that looked more like a Mars rover than anything a human child should be in. Painted the nursery yellow because he read somewhere it was a “neutral, calming colour,” then immediately hated it and repainted it blue. Twice. It had to be blue.

When their son finally arrived, something switched in Harry’s brain. One minute he was a nervous wreck with hands that hovered uselessly like he was defusing a bomb, and the next, he was cradling him like he’d done it his whole life, he stared it his tiny little son in his huge hands and all of sudden there was something which just felt… right. Like it always belonged.

“Okay lad you listen, screams are for FIFA and for freaking out your uncle Chris during football challenges yea fella? Not at 2am.”

Of course it didn’t work but Harry took it in stride. You were breastfeeding but even so he saw it as his duty to take Elliot and settle him back down placing him to sleep, when he wouldn’t settle he would place him on his chest, talking to him about anything and nothing but mostly plane crashed. You would joke it wasn’t appropriate for a child to hear but it didn’t matter, weirdly it worked. Mostly you loved the sight of your two boys, Elliot snuggled on his daddy’s chest both with small smiles on their faces.

He made up games like “Catch the Nappy” (it was never caught), “Burp or Explosion?” and “Milkface,” where he’d put on a bib himself and pretend to chug a bottle. It was for him, obviously. Not because it made his you laugh until you cried.

Bath time became Harry’s favourite thing to do and it became incredibly chaotic, it was his favourite time to make up games.

Elliot would splash, and Harry would retaliate with a tiny cup of warm water over his head, gasping dramatically. “YOU DARE WET THE KING?” he’d yell, causing your son to go into a fit of giggles, his first ever giggles were in the bath.

But for all the chaos, he was good. Really good.

He could soothe him with a gentle rock, do nappies in record speed, he still gagged at them but he got them done incredibly quickly and by the time he turned one, he knew who the fun parent was.

“Dada!” Elliot babbled one day, pointing directly at him, you never saw him smile as widely before.

When you told him you were pregnant again, Harry blinked slowly and whispered, “We’ve done this once. It’s fine. Right?” He was surprisingly calm but when he found out you were having a girl, the panic set in again a little, what did he know about raising girls? Turns out quite a lot.

But when babyLeah arrived, Harry was calmer. Still fun, still slightly chaotic. Still prone to yelling things like “THE BEAST IS FED!” after a bottle, but calmer, he loved his little girl HIS little girl to protect and love.

And Elliot? A surprisingly sweet big brother, considering he was his fathers son he could be sweet at times. Harry’s mum told you it reminded her a lot of Harry and Rosie. There were the odd moments like when Elliot was trying to “share” his half-eaten biscuit by shoving it in Leah’s ear.

Harry loved having two. He joked he was now running a starter Pokémon team.

“Water-type baby and Normal-type toddler. Soon, I will evolve.”

His favourite pastime became launching them into the air in turns, safely, he said and catching them with dramatic “DA-DAAA!” poses like he was on stage. His arms were constantly tired, but his heart was full.

Bedtime routines? A full production. Songs, dances, plushie puppet theatre. Elliot refused to sleep unless Harry did the bedtime story with all of the silly voices. Leah insisted daddy tucking her in as tight as he possibly could.

He suggested the Sidemen do a “father Olympics” video, everyone was sure he would win.

By the time Baby Number Three came along, another boy named Sebastian or Seb—Harry was a seasoned pro.

By now, your house was a noisy, toy-strewn kingdom of tiny humans who all worshipped him like some chaotic, bouncy god. Three mops of blonde hair, three very loud and cheeky personalities

“Seb, this is a football,” he said proudly one day, placing it in front of her at six months. “Your brother kicks it, your sister throws it, and I step on it, fall and scream into the void.”

Elliot now six had learned sarcasm, which was terrifying, Leah was approaching four and had a love of airplanes, Seb the baby was small, squishy, and already mastering his “Dad can’t say no to me” face.

He built pillow forts bigger than his sofa. Turned bedtime into laser-tag hide-and-seek. Once installed a ball pit in the living room “for early stimulation” (and also for diving into like a gremlin when the kids went to bed). You of course made him tidy it all up after as he grumbled.

“Daddy, come play castle!” Was a frequent request.

Harry would sigh, pick up a foam sword, and declare, “Right. I’m the dragon now. You have to slay me before bedtime!”

And they would. Usually with plastic pots on their heads as helmets and the dogs joining in for no reason.

He wasn’t the most traditional dad. He let them stay up late just because. Let them eat cereal with forks “just to see what happened.” He once accidentally let Leah eat a crayon (“It was non-toxic! It said non-toxic!”) and got yelled at for laughing too hard.

But when they were sad, he was there. When they were sick, he was bedside with cuddles and Paw Patrol. When they learned something new, he was front-row with a proud tear in his eye and his phone camera zoomed way too close.

And despite all the chaos, the house filled with laughter.

One night, after finally getting them all to sleep, he collapsed on the couch next to you and sighed, “I used to be famous, you know.”

“You still are,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Am I?” he yawned.

“Yeah. You’re Dad Famous. You’re the king of puddle-jumping, the pillow fort architect, the fart noise champion of the world.”

He smiled, looking around at the toys, the laundry, the crayons on the walls.

“I’ll take it.”

Then he paused.

“…Wait. Why is it too quiet?”

“Harry, no—don’t jinx—”

A crash.

A scream.

A giggle.

He stood up with a sigh. “Round four begins.”

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bethorwhateverr · 2 days ago

Note

so yk how george always does his live streams late at night? yeah so, basically, can u write a fic where the reader is a pretty deep sleeper so during the streams she’s asleep in the background sometimes while he’s doing god knows what, but while he’s doing one he accidentally wakes her up while he’s doing something and feels bad????

masterlist | main masterlist

contains: established relationship, sleepy!reader

george clarke x fem!reader

george always streamed late-way later than you could ever manage to stay awake. you'd try, at first. sit next to him with your cheek on his shoulder, fingers grazing the fabric of his hoodie, half-listening to him talk to chat. but by the time the second hour rolled around, your eyelids would get too heavy, and you'd curl up somewhere behind him, soft snores and slow breathing becoming the gentle background noise of his stream.

tonight was no different.

he was mid-rant about something—probably nonsense—and leaning way too far back in his chair when his elbow caught the edge of a glass on his desk. it tipped, wobbled, and crashed to the floor with a sharp, echoing smack of sound against wood.

“shit-”

his mic picked it up instantly. he scrambled to mute it and spun around, eyes already wide.

you stirred on the bed behind him, shifting under the blanket, brows drawn together.

“georgie...?”

“oh, love.” his voice dropped, quiet and full of guilt. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you.”

you blinked blearily, trying to sit up but failing. you were still half-lost in sleep, hair all mussed, his hoodie swallowing your frame.

“was dreamin’... thought you dropped a tree.”

george laughed under his breath, already crossing the room to crouch beside you.

“nah, just a cup. go back to sleep, sweetheart. i’ve got it.”

your fingers found his wrist, warm and loose. “you okay?”

his heart clenched. you were the one who just got startled awake, and you were asking him if he was okay.

“yeah, angel. i’m fine. just feel bad. you looked so peaceful.”

you hummed and curled closer to his pillow. “still am. come sleep soon?”

he brushed your hair back from your face, fingertips grazing the edge of your pink bow that had slipped a little. carefully, like it was something sacred, he retied it, smoothing it back into place with his thumb.

“course. just lemme end this. i’ll be right there.”

you nodded, eyes already fluttering closed again, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead before slipping back to his chair. when he unmuted, his voice was low, warm, full of something fond.

“sorry ‘bout that. woke the misses . we’re alright. she’s... back to dreamin’. probably about cupcakes and horses or whatever her brain gets up to.”

and even though he was back to streaming, his gaze drifted behind him every few minutes-just to check. just to make sure you were still there. still safe. still his.

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bethorwhateverr · 2 days ago

Text

when you're not here

description: even on opposite shifts, you and george never stop finding your way back to each other - one text at a time.

pairing: police officer!george clarke x er nurse!fem!reader

contains: fluff, talks of hospital injuries, talks of police work

song rec: work song by hozier- "i'm so full of love, i can barely eat. there's nothing sweeter than my baby."

w.c: 800+

a.n: oh, don't mind me....i'm just manifesting my future life as i go into nursing school.

your phone buzzed just as you stepped into the er locker room, the familiar fluorescent lights humming above you like they always did before a shift.

george: morning, love. just headed out. be safe today, okay? xx

you smiled before you could help it.

george had a way of reaching you even when he wasn’t there. even through words on a screen.

you tapped out a reply quickly, your fingers flying with muscle memory.

you: just clocked in. full moon last night so let’s see what kind of chaos we’re in for. you too, georgie. come home to me safe, yeah?

you added a red heart, hit send, and shoved your phone in the locker before pulling your scrub top over your head. already you could hear voices from the hallway - monitors beeping, gurneys rolling, the steady rhythm of a hospital that never really sleeps.

you wouldn’t see george this morning. you hadn’t seen him last night either.

shifts had a cruel way of keeping you apart.

he worked nights mostly - on patrol, sometimes in the city center, sometimes responding to calls that made your stomach twist when you heard about them. you worked swing shifts in the er, never the same two days in a row. on rare occasions, you passed each other in the apartment like ghosts: him coming home, you going out, the warmth of a kiss lingering on your lips but not enough to make up for the hours lost.

but you had the texts.

always the texts.

every morning, every night, even if you barely had time to breathe.

that was your ritual.

your shift began like all the others: chaos layered with urgency, layered with fatigue. a kid with a broken arm, an elderly woman struggling to breathe, a man with stab wounds refusing to say how it happened. you moved from room to room, stitching lives back together one second at a time.

around lunch, you ducked into the break room and pulled out your phone. a new message waited.

george: just came off a call. armed robbery. everyone's okay. thinking about you. did you eat?

you rolled your eyes with a grin. that was george. he could be shoulder-deep in danger, but he’d still worry if you skipped a meal.

you: bag of chips and a yogurt. so basically, i’m thriving. how about you, officer clarke?

george protein bar and two coffees. living the dream.

you leaned back, phone in hand, letting yourself imagine him just for a moment. his uniform slightly wrinkled, one of his sleeves rolled too far, hair tousled from his hat, eyes tired but steady.

the man who made you laugh even when your scrubs were blood-stained and your eyes burned from crying.

the rest of the day passed in a blur. more patients, more charts, more noise. when you finally changed out of your scrubs, it was nearly 8 p.m. the sky outside was dark, your body buzzing with adrenaline and exhaustion in equal measure.

another text came in as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

george: back at the station. end of shift in 20. got any plans to collapse dramatically into our couch tonight?

you: you know me. wine, takeout, and reruns. preferably with my husband beside me.

george: best plan i’ve heard all day. on my way soon. love you, always.

you: love you more. drive safe.

you didn’t need much.

just this.

just the ritual.

a string of words that reminded you he was still out there, still yours.

you made it home first. the apartment smelled faintly like his cologne and the coffee he drank too late in the day. you set your bag down and headed straight for the bathroom, needing to wash the day from your skin. the water was warm and soothing, and when you stepped out, you wrapped yourself in a towel and padded to the bedroom.

you opened his drawer.

you always did, on nights like this.

one of george's old shirts, soft and oversized, went on first. then a pair of his sweatpants, slightly baggy but comforting in a way only his clothes could be. you pulled your hair into a loose bun and grabbed a fuzzy blanket from the end of the bed.

you lit a candle on the coffee table, kicked off your slippers, and sank into the couch with a sigh. the tv played quietly in the background, but you weren’t really watching. you were waiting.

not anxiously.

just...waiting.

not until the front door creaked open.

george walked in, his uniform jacket slung over one arm, a bag of thai takeout in the other. you were already smiling.

he leaned down, kissed you slow, soft.

"hi, poppet."

you curled against him, arms wrapped around his waist.

"hi."

neither of you said much after that.

you didn’t need to.

the texts had said it all.

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bethorwhateverr · 2 days ago

Note

smut with george where reader sits on his face PLEASEEEEE

love ya work btw xx

masterlist | main masterlist

contains: smut, established relationship

george clarke x fem!reader

you’re already breathless when he lies back, head on the pillows, lips wet from earlier kisses and eyes dark with nothing but hunger.

“come here,” he says, voice low, lazy, like he knows exactly how this ends. his hands are on your thighs, warm and steady, guiding you up and over him.

“you sure?” you ask, teasing, even though your pulse is a mess and your thighs are already shaking a little from want.

his grin is all wicked charm. “love, if you don’t sit on my face right now, i’m going to start begging.”

you hum like you’re considering it, but you’re already shifting forward, knees on either side of his head, one hand braced on the headboard.

his hands tighten, tugging you gently down, and when your heat brushes his mouth—he moans. loud. desperate. his fingers flex, holding you in place as his tongue slides between your folds, slow and greedy.

you gasp, head tipping back, one hand flying to his hair as your hips start to rock on instinct. he’s everywhere - his mouth hot, his tongue insistent, his nose brushing just right - and he’s so fucking into it.

you glance down, and the sight nearly ruins you.

his eyes are half-lidded, gaze locked on yours like he needs to see you fall apart. his hands on your hips, guiding your rhythm, like he’s savoring every slick grind of your cunt against his face.

“fuck, george,” you whisper, hips stuttering. “you’re so- fuck-”

he groans into you, the vibration making your legs tremble. and when you try to lift off, overwhelmed, he pulls you right back down.

his voice is wrecked, breathless. “no. stay.”

and you do.

you grind. you ride. you let go.

and when you come, thighs clenching around his head, mouth parted on a helpless moan, george’s grip never falters.

he just keeps licking, like you’re his favorite fucking flavor.

and maybe you are.

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bethorwhateverr · 2 days ago

Text

i can please you better

Summary: you need george’s help to get ready, leaving him in your room alone as you go change, where he finds your most private items

Pairing: George Clarke x Fem Reader

Warnings: mature content (MDNI)

WC: 1300

the rush of getting ready was dawning on you, the panic rising like a tide in your chest as you realised just how far behind schedule you were. george was already on his way, and you’d barely gotten started. your makeup was half-finished, your eyeliner uneven. your hair had been curled with the kind of haste that left strands sticking out at odd angles. and just as you reached for your mascara, there it was — a knock at the door.

you darted through your flat, bangs still secured in a roller, pyjamas hanging loose on your frame. opening the door, you were met by george’s familiar grin — and an immediate laugh.

“are those… whinnie the pooh pyjamas?” he smirked, eyes glinting as he poked at your roller. “big night ahead, clearly.”

you swatted at him with a half-hearted glare and ushered him inside, heart still racing from the surprise.

“i need your help,” you muttered, already heading toward your bedroom. “pick an outfit for me.”

george followed, casually throwing himself onto your bed, arms behind his head like he owned the place. you pulled outfit after outfit from your closet, laying out three options on the bed. compared to his relaxed look — jeans and a striped overshirt — your choices looked like they belonged to an entirely different kind of night.

a pair of tight, flared jeans with a sleek black tube top. a red corset with a black mini skirt. and then the most daring of all — a slinky, backless black dress.

“definitely not the jeans,” george said, barely looking. “try the other two on. i’ll be the judge.”

you grabbed the corset and skirt first, slipping into the bathroom. changing quickly, you stepped out again and struck a pose.

george’s face turned a faint shade of pink, barely containing a laugh.

“what?” you asked, checking yourself in the mirror. “do i look ridiculous?”

“no, not at all,” he said quickly. “it’s hot — i mean, it looks good. just… try the dress too?”

you sighed, rolled your eyes, and disappeared again. halfway back to your room, something made you pause. a faint buzzing sound. silence. and then more shifting, like movement on your bed.

when you pushed the door open, your heart sank.

“what are you doing?” you rushed forward, mortified, as george held something up in the air — the unmistakable shape of your vibrator, buzzing softly in his hand.

your drawer was open. that drawer. the one you’d meant to lock. the one that hid everything.

he was laughing now, eyes gleaming with mischief, completely unphased.

“didn’t know you were freaky like that,” he teased, holding the toy like it was some kind of trophy.

you snatched it from him, cheeks burning. “girls don’t exactly get off the same way guys do, you know. we have to be… resourceful.”

george leaned back, still grinning. “resourceful, huh?” he reached in again, pulling out the dildo this time, inspecting it with mock seriousness. “really? this is your go-to? it’s so… average.”

“you say that like you’re any better,” you said, snatching it from him too.

“you don’t know that,” he shot back with a grin.

the room shifted then — subtly, but unmistakably. the air heavier. his smile didn’t fade, but there was something else behind it now. curiosity. tension.

he picked up the bunny vibrator, holding it gently. “this one i’m curious about.”

you narrowed your eyes. “why?”

his voice dropped just a little. “show me what it does.”

you stared at him, the words hanging in the air. your heart beat faster. his eyes never left yours.

you moved closer, deliberately, placing the toy into his hand. “your move, clarkey.”

his expression changed — focused, hungry. “well i can’t leave my best girl hanging” he reached for you, pulled you in, and kissed you. not playfully this time. not teasing. it was deeper. needier. his hands roamed with an urgency that made your skin burn. his hands wander all over your body, yearning to touch everywhere at once, but landing beneath your skirt. he pulls aside your underwear, groaning as he feels how wet you are ‘fuck, all for me?’ you nodded. ‘show me, tell me what to do’.

you turn the bunny on, handing it to george. ‘figure it out’. he looked up at you, his eyes, captivating and full of lust, staring into yours, grinning as he moves the toy towards your most private area. he inserts the longer side, allowing the smaller to place perfectly on your clit. you were filled with an instant rush of pleasure, moaning into the air as george was kissing your thighs, covering you in marks in places no one would ever see.

he wandered back up to your face, kissing you deep and intensely as he thrusted the toy in and out of you, soaking up your moans. ‘fuck, this is taking too long’ he removes the toy, replacing it with his fingers, burying them deep inside you. his mouth finds his way there too, licking up every part of your wetness.

his fingers felt deeper, touching parts of you a toy couldn’t do, moving inside of you in ways a toy could never achieve. and god did it feel good.

‘fuck, george’ you were close, his fingers thrusting and mouth exploring. your toys had never gotten you so close, so quickly

‘do it baby’

your back arched beneath his touch, climaxing harder than you had with the toys, more intense than ever before.

he removed his fingers, moving back up to kiss you. ‘you taste so fucking good’. you move your hands under his shirt, pulling it off his skin and moving back into him, urging him to pull your barely worn dress, desperate to feel his skin on yours.

‘i need you’ you groan into his ear, hands entwined in his hair.

‘you have me baby’ he teases, kissing a line of fire from your neck to your collarbone, sliding his tongue over your nipples.

‘no’ your hand moves towards his trousers, tugging at his belt. ‘george, i need you’ he grins, pulling off his trousers, revealing his cock, and god, he was right. compared to him your dildo was exactly as he said, average. but george, he was anything but. he was longer, not by a lot but enough to intimidate you, the real difference was his girth. he was thick, very thick. he lined himself up with you, kissing your lips deeply as he thrusted into you. ‘fuck’ he was hard to adjust to, you’d been working off a piece of flimsy silicone for so long, your body could barely handle him.

‘tell me what you want baby’

your groaned at the sound of his voice, melting into him ‘faster, go faster’ he obliged, filling you up eagerly, overwhelming you with pleasure. you had been so desperate for your best friend for so long, picturing that the dildo was him, his cock, but god, you never could’ve imagined the real thing. you could feel him everywhere inside you, pussy stretching out around him.

‘george, i’m close again, george’ he pulls away from you, leaving you so close, so overwhelmed. he moves closer to your face, his breath whispering in your ear.

‘say i’m better’

‘george!’ you were so desperate, so desperate to finish together, you were aching to do so.

‘say i’m better than the toys you use to imagine me fucking you, say i make you feel better’ he was teasing you, almost with jealousy in his eyes at the thought of an artificial cock pleasing you more than him, the thought of a vibrator exploring you better than him.

‘you’re better - fuck, george you’re so much better’. that’s all he needed, kissing you with approval.

he thrusted his cock back inside you, going faster, harder, deeper than before. your moans grew louder, almost pornographic, as he drew you closer and closer to your climax.

you finished at the same time, and god, you wish you kept that drawer unlocked earlier. george falls beside you, pulling your naked body into his bare skin. your heart was racing, so hard it felt as though it would beat out of your chest.

‘so, how much do you really need those toys?’

149 notes · View notes

bethorwhateverr · 2 days ago

Text

nsfw alphabet - george clarke

masterlist | main masterlist

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

softest boy alive. george is all kisses and mumbled reassurances after sex. tucks your hair behind your ear, tells you you did so well, pulls you into his chest and won’t let you go. if you’re sore, he gets the heating pad. if you’re quiet, he checks in gently. he’ll hold your hand under the blanket and press soft kisses to your temple until you fall asleep.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on you: your back. he’s obsessed with trailing his fingers down your spine, kissing every inch, gripping your waist like he’s scared to let go. also loves your smile—especially when it’s for him. on himself: his lips. he knows it drives you mad. he smirks when you stare at them, and he uses them well - kisses, teasing, and a whole lot more.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

george is a little possessive about it. he prefers cumming inside—likes the idea of filling you up, seeing you messy but in a soft, intimate way. not into super flashy messes; more into closeness and the quiet heat of it. the way you cling to him after? it gets him every time.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he’s fantasized about you wearing a vibrator while he controls it in public. he acts sweet and polite on the outside, but he’d ruin you with a flick of his wrist and a smirk, whispering, “stay quiet, sweetheart, you don’t want anyone to notice, do you?”

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

george is experienced, but gentle. he’s the type to take his time learning exactly what makes you tick. he doesn’t rely on past knowledge—he customizes everything to your reactions. quick to pick up on subtle cues, and eager to please.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

cowgirl. george loves watching you ride him—loves the view, the control you take, the way he can grip your hips and guide you through it. he’s a groaner, always murmuring, “just like that, baby,” while his eyes stay locked on yours. your pace, your pleasure—it undoes him.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he can be a bit giggly if things get clumsy - he’ll smile into your skin, make a cheeky comment, kiss your shoulder to smooth it over. but once you’re both locked in, he gets serious. quiet. reverent.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

keeps it trimmed, clean. natural but groomed. nothing too fussy. he likes you however you are, but if you ever groom just for him? he’ll be down bad about it for days.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

intimacy is everything to george. he wants to feel emotionally connected the whole time. he’ll kiss you endlessly, keep whispering how much he loves you, hold your hand while he fucks you. even when it’s rougher, there’s this underlying devotion in every touch.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he does, especially when you’re apart. uses pics or videos you’ve sent him, sometimes moans your name under his breath. he always messages you after—sometimes it’s flirty, sometimes it’s just *"i miss you."

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

praise kink, big time. loves telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel, how proud he is of you. he’s also into overstimulation- keeping you coming until you’re breathless and begging, whispering, “you can take one more, right, baby?”

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

bedroom is sacred. but he’s also into the couch, your lap, and especially the shower. something about steam and skin and soapy hands sliding down your body has him weak every time.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you in his clothes. sleepy kisses. you looking at him with that smile that means trouble. also? neck kisses. whisper something filthy in his ear and he’ll be hard in seconds.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he’s not into extreme pain, anything involving bodily fluids, or full dom/sub contracts. he’ll degrade a little if you like it - call you filthy, say you’re being needy- but only if there’s still that soft, teasing affection behind it. if it gets too cold or disconnected? he’s out.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

giving is his thing. he’ll spend ages between your legs, groaning into you, gripping your thighs like a lifeline. he lives for the way you moan his name. receiving? he’s shy about it, but he’ll melt if you take your time with him.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

mostly slow and sensual. wants to feel every inch, every shiver. but if he’s frustrated or jealous? pace picks up fast. deep, deliberate thrusts while his mouth is on your neck, voice in your ear.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he likes them now and then, especially if you initiate. gets flustered easily when you’re bold. a quick handjob behind a locked door? you’ll have him blushing and grinning like mad after.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’s cautious, but open-minded. if you bring up something new, he’ll listen. might be shy at first, but if he sees it turns you on? he’ll commit fully.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

one really good round that leaves you breathless is his standard. but if you want more? he’ll go again. he’s not a machine, but he’s thorough, and he makes every second count.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

a few, mostly for you. vibrators, plugs, things that make you squirm in his lap. he likes watching you fall apart while he whispers soft praise.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’s a known menace. he'll act all soft and innocent, but will tease you under the table, murmur filthy things in public, and edge you in bed just to watch you beg. he’s gentle, but unkind in the best way.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

low groans, breathy moans, soft swearing under his breath. when he gets really into it, he gets vocal—panting your name, muttering how good you feel, cursing when he’s close.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he’s turned on by making you breakfast while you wear nothing but one of his t-shirts. he’ll pull you onto the counter and have you right there, coffee forgotten, eggs burning, all soft giggles and kitchen sex.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

length above average, not massive - but he’s thick. veiny, with a curve that hits just right. when he presses in deep and slow, you see stars. and he knows it.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

higher than he lets on. he plays it cool, but he’s always thinking about it. the smallest touch, the way you say his name—he’s ready.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he likes to wind down with you. quiet cuddles, light kisses, hands tangled in your hair. he’ll fall asleep once he’s sure you’re warm, happy, and smiling against his chest.

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