#George Harrison x reader smut

[givemequeen]

mi amor: george x reader

request: I just read the accent kink anon and now I need something like that in my life, because all I can think about is George groaning while you whisper something to him in Spanish and he just can’t control himself 😉 Whenever you have the chance could you whip something like that up? a/n: ive had this in my drafts for the longest time oops. i acc have so many unfinished fics in my drafts oopsies. smut: smut, nothing out of this world word count: 733

It all started out as an honest mistake. Really, truly, just a mistake. You had accidentally closed the cabinet door on your finger and had loudly sworn in Spanish as you held your finger tightly. George had popped into the kitchen with a look of concern.

"What was that, darling?" he had asked.

You had continued grumbling in Spanish about how it hurt, clearly unaware of what language you were speaking in. Or the effect it was having on George, completely unaware of the way his face changed into a devilish grin.

He went to stand behind you, head peering over your shoulder as you placed your finger under a steady stream of cold water, still muttering complaints in your native language. His chin rested on your shoulder and only then did you notice him and - with a quick look behind you - his grin.

Then, maybe - and just maybe - did it morph from an honest mistake to a playful mistake. You changed your voice, getting rid of the annoyance and replacing it with a much lower and slower tone. You remained focused on your finger, which no longer hurt, in order to not give yourself away.

And then, to top it all off, you called him Jorge; his name in Spanish.

He couldn't control himself then. He spun you around, strong hands on your waist, and turned off the tap. Your injured finger was long forgotten. The way he looked down at you made you shiver. That look of pure hunger for you.

"Hmm?" he asked, his fingers drawing gentle circles on your exposed waist.

"¿Qué?" you replied, almost a challenge.

George quirked an eyebrow and stepped even closer to you. You bit your lip to hide your surprise at his boner and raised both eyebrows, feigning confusion.

"¿Qué pasa mi amor?" you raised your hand and brushed his hair away from his face, tucking it safely behind his ear.

"I think you know que pasa." he said, completely butchering the pronouciation.

You giggled, you couldn't help it, and clearly, he couldn't either.

He picked you up, making you squeal, and took you out the kitchen. You fought back a grin, excited at the prospect of a riled up George. He took you to the bedroom and dropped you on the bed, immediately climbing on top of you.

His lips were on yours in an instant. He started bucking his hips against yours, pressing himself where you needed him most. You wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed him back, sneaking in Spanish words between kisses.

Each word made him groan more and more, it didn't matter what you were saying. He was quite literally feral, couldn't control himself. He pulled your pants and underwear down in one motion and freed himself from his pants.

Just as quickly as he had gotten both of you exposed, he slipped himself into you. It hurt a bit at first but his kisses and moans were making you hornier by the second.

"Fuck, darling, I love it when you talk like that." he groaned into his ear, slamming himself into you.

You moaned his name in Spanish again and smiled at the way you felt his body shuddered against you. You never knew why he reacted like this but you didn't care, it was just another weapon in your arsenal. Another means to get whatever you pleased.

You slipped your hand into his shirt, dragging your nails down his back, and called him sweet names in Spanish, one after the other. George couldn't stop moaning.

"I'm gonna cum." he said.

You encouraged him in Spanish, and soon his movements became erratic. You squeezed your legs around him, moaning as you felt your own high coming.

You continued whispering in your native language in his ear as you both came down from your high. George fell onto you, his weight welcoming and comforting.

"Holy fuck, love." he finally huffed, head resting on your chest. He kissed your exposed breasts, you could feel his eyelashes against you as his eyes fluttered closed.

"Did you like that, mi amor?" you asked as you played with his hair.

He lazily rose his head from your chest and raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

"No se, por algo pregunto."

And even though it was just a random sentence, George's eyes mischievously lit up at the sound of your voice.

[iheartjohnlennon]

The Beatles NSFW Alphabet - Paul

 

 

@heiterhund <<< co-writer xxx🩷🎀

 

 

 

 

 

 

A is for Aftercare (How he treats you after sex, what happens after sex, etc...)

• Paul's very chatty with you at the end of it, then after that he just lies with you.

• Sex takes all of his energy and he can barely move himself. While he still has you, he’ll talk your ear off about everything and anything, important or not.

• And he 100% asks you how the sex was and how it felt - he wants a review.

• After you guys talk, he just stares up at the ceiling, daydreaming, dazed. He looks lovely, you just sit up and stroke his face, your breasts in his face as he mumbles how much he loves you.

 

 

B is for Body part (His favourite body part of yours)

• Your breasts win everything for him.

• He just thinks they sit so prettily, he loves the curve of your chest - the underside of them. How soft they feel in his grasp. They get him so distracted.

• He also loves the way your tits bounce when he’s fucking you.

• He can grab them, suck them, squeeze them, fuck them, finish on them. They're just...everything.

 

 

C is for Cum (Where he likes to cum)

• Paul adores cumming on your breasts, no matter the position you do.

• He loves the way it looks - your tits being covered in his white, glistening seed.

 

 

D is for Dirty secret (Something utterly filthy that he did/or does/or wants to do behind your back.)

• Sometimes Paul will either purposely let his friends hear you get fucked or just tell them about what you both get up to. 

• It started off as a joke when George made an off handed comment about the marks on Paul’s skin, usually the dark love bites littering his neck. 

• Due to this, Paul really, really feels the need to tell his bandmates how well you guys fuck. Their reactions just fuel their ego.

 

 

E is for Experience (How experienced is he?)

• Those prostitutes in Hamburg taught him a lot, a lot.

• Not to mention he's a bit of a whore anyways so he picks up knowledge and stuff.

• Paul knows and has experience past mere orgasm. He could be a sex therapist or something at this point.

 

 

F is for Favourite position (How he loves to fuck you)

• Paul really likes anything where he doesn’t have to put in much work. He’s honestly a lazy lover. He doesn’t mind topping though, you just have to ask. 

• He prefers cowgirl, because he gets to have his hands on your pretty hips and watch your tits bounce as you do it.

• But that’s not to say he won’t do any other positions! He just has to admit that watching you, watching your face, is his favourite thing to do. 

 

 

G is for Goofy (How silly is he during sex?)

•Sex with Paul isn’t long enough for a full conversation, let alone smart quips.

•He might laugh if he can’t get it in the first time, or if he hits himself or something. But other than that, he just isn’t silly during sex. He takes it very seriously. 

 

 

G is also for Goal (What's his goal and/or dream in relation to sex)

• His goal is to cum! To cum everywhere and anywhere you will let him.

• He obviously cares about your orgasm, but… he feels like he should finish first, y’know?

 

 

H is for Hair (How well groomed he is, does the carpet match the drapes, etc..)

• This depends on the era, really.

• Early 1960s Paul would be very well groomed, neatly trimmed and not too long. Just a pretty thing that frames his cock, really.

• Going to 1966 and up? Yeah…maybe it would be a little unruly, but not like a jungle.

• After 1968 though…he just stopped caring!

 

 

I is for Intimacy (How romantic he is during sex, etc..)

• His intimacy depends on your relationship.

• If it’s a fling, expect him to hump and dump within a day. If you’re his girlfriend though? Expect him to be as caring as he can be, for the moment, anyways.

• There’s really no big scene in the bedroom, no music, no romantic lighting - just him being slower and taking his time. Your hands intertwined as he mumbles and tells you how much you mean to him.

• It doesn’t happen often, but he does want it to be often. So long as your relationship develops.

 

 

J is for Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

• Paul loves to jerk off.

• He thinks it’s the easiest thing to do. Plus, it focuses solely on his pleasure.

• He thinks about you when he does it, usually with his back pressed against the headboard cock in hand, as he tugs and twists until his hand is covered in his release.

 

 

K is for Kink (One or more of their kinks in relation to you)

• Paul has a huge breeding kink. He gets so hard when he thinks about knocking you up. It makes his cock throb and ache with need. He usually tries to cum inside you, hushing your muffled concerns with his hand over your mouth as he keeps thrusting into you.

“Shh, it’s alright, I think you’ll be a great mother. Don’t you want me to be a father, love?”

• Usually that’s his attempt at soothing you, and it makes him even more excited.

• His other kink is cross dressing… nothing too extreme, but he loves when he’s able to wear something frilly and girly. He loves the way he looks in panties, it makes his dick look bigger, which is more of an ego boost.

• One word: pegging. He loves feeling like the bitch in the relationship. He makes cute little whimpers, hands fisted into the sheets as he tilts his head back. He refuses to take it on all fours, though. That's too much for him. He prefers being on his back, legs wrapped around your waist as you ease the tip of the strap into him. His pouty lips part as he lets out a shaky breath - cheeks flushing pink. 

 

 

L is for Location (Favourite place to do the deed)

• The comfort of his own home just brings him a peace he rarely feels since he's constantly bombarded with fans and press and money.

• Doesn't matter where in your home, just as long as it's there.

 

 

M is for Motivation (What turns them on about you, gets him hard, makes him cum, etc..)

• Paul loves the faces you make during sex.

• He thinks you look so pretty fucked out and flushed. Your cheeks are so flushed, he thinks it looks better than any makeup you’ve ever worn.

• Your lips are so swollen from all the desperate kissing shared between you two, usually glistening with saliva (It’s Paul, he’s a messy kisser and that won’t ever change.)

• Eager humping, harsh gripping, and loud pants are usually Paul's tell tale signs that he’s about to cum.

 

 

N is for No (Turn offs, what pisses him off, etc..)

• Paul isn’t too thrilled at the idea of threesomes.  He doesn’t like the idea of sharing you because what’s his is his. 

• But if John asked or any close friends, he probably wouldn’t mind too much… No one else though, he’s the only one who knows how to fuck you. So why would you want someone else to join in? This is why he's so possessive, he wouldn't be able to even bear the thought of any other cock being inside of you.

 

 

 

O is for Oral sex (Does he prefer giving or receiving? How does he give, how does he receive?)

• He prefers getting head than giving head.

• He likes the way your lips wrap around his dick, tongue lapping the underside of his head - before you graze his shaft with your teeth. It sends a deep chill down his spine…

• When your nose nuzzles what pubic hair he does have, he’s about ready to cum down your throat. His hand usually finds its way to your hair, making a fist into it - pulling you up and down until he’s reached his climax.

• He does like eating you out though! It’s just not his preference. you might have to ask once or twice, unless he’s high or drunk.

• If that's the case, then he’s on you like some animal in heat. Sloppy kisses pressed against your clit, tongue dragging down to your entrance before he wiggles his tongue into it.

 

 

P is for Pace (Fast or slow? Rough or sensual? Etc)

• It’s not slow, like, at all.

• He's on you until he’s cumming inside of you.

• It's very fast, rough, desperate humping, like a rabbit. Sometimes he’ll hold you in place, hips jerking in quick messy directions.

• It can be romantic! Just…usually it isn’t.

 

 

Q is for Quickie (His opinion on quickies, how often they happen, etc..)

• Oh, he LOVES quickies.

• That’s usually what sex is like with him anyways! There may not be long rounds, but there’s usually so much fucking throughout the day.

• The beds too far away? Don’t worry, he’s already lifting up your dress, tugging down your stockings, and sliding his dick into you.

• He’s backstage during a performance? he already has you in the supply closet, hand over your mouth as he has his way with you.

 

 

R is for Risk (What kind of risks will they take.)

• Paul is 100% a pregnancy risk kind of guy.

• He kind of gets off on it as well, getting you pregnant “accidentally”.

• He'll not want to wear a condom and you'll ask him if he's sure, he just shrugs like...how bad can it be!

• He does want you to have his children eventually, he just likes the idea of having them unplanned.

• He just wants to raw dog you in peace, okay?

Paul finally had you to himself. 

The long day of answering the media, signing autographs, shaking hands - it was all so monotonous. 

But he’d do it all again if it meant he’d get to come home to you, naked, on his bed spread beneath him.

His dick was shoved into you, hands shoving your knees up to your chest - as he gave harsh, short thrusts. 

You let out soft whines, eyes rolling back as you took it like the good girl that you are.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

“Y’know, ‘m not wearing a rubber,” he huffed out in your ear, the smirk evident in his tone. 

Your eyes shot open as you tried to turn your head to speak into his ear.

“B-But, Paul,” you tried to speak, words getting caught in your throat as he continued to fuck you. Your nails dug into his back, leaving scratches as you tried to focus and tell him about the obvious risk. 

“Easy now, quiet down, I wouldn’t quite mind getting you pregnant y’know…”

 

 

S is for Stamina (How many rounds he can last, how quickly can they cum, etc..)

• He’s like a rabbit, he can and will fuck everyday if given the chance.

• He can’t do long rounds, each round is about 10-15 minutes. but there’s at least four rounds before he gives out and feels like he's been drained of his cum and will never cum again.

• Paul can cum in five minutes if you let him, but he’s always edging himself so you can enjoy sex as well.

 

 

T is for Toys (Does he own toys, use them, what kind of toys, etc?)

• You both have used your dildo, but not in the way where Paul just uses it by himself. You had to share it for the moment when you first tried pegging him.

• He asked one day if you guys could try something new. He and John were talking over lunch about sex - and John brought up something about the prostate, just a silly thought.

• Paul had to pretend he wasn’t interested, joking with John how stupid it sounded!

• But it’s all he could think of until he was home with you. He was nervous to ask about, thinking you’d see him as some sort of homosexual. You didn't, you have such an active sex life that trying new things in the bedroom never seems like a bad idea.

• Safe to say, Paul loved his prostate being stimulated. Due to that, you now own a strap on.

• Paul also doesn’t mind you having toys. He personally buys you them as well and likes watching you unbox them. 

 

 

U is for Unfair (How much does he like to tease you, how does he tease you, etc..)

• He’s extremely unfair, but not in the teasing sense.

• Paul simply adores you, but he’s extremely selfish when it comes to pleasure. If you don't finish but he's tired and can't go on, he'll make you beg to finish. A lot of begging.

 

 

V is for Volume (How loud is he, what noises does he make, what does he say, etc..)

• He doesn’t make loud sounds, but he is pretty noisy.

• He groans and whines, huffs and pants as he’s inside you.

• He’ll usually lean down next to your ear and rasp and breathe out how good your pussy feels.

• But that’s probably the most coherent sentence he’ll make out. Most of the time it’s just his gasps and sighs.

 

 

W is for Wildcard (Random sexual headcanon.)

• Paul never thought he’d agree to this. His jealousy made him an extremely bitter lover. Which was super ironic considering you always saw him flirting with fans.

• Though that’s not the point.

• John came over to visit one day, the group was taking a break from playing.

• Paul saw the way John was eyeing you, his brows lowering each time John complimented you - or would place his hand on your knee when talking.

• He couldn’t take it anymore and when you went upstairs to grab something, Paul approached his friend.

“Are you serious?” He asked through gritted teeth, ensuring you didn’t hear.

“Well, no, I’m John.” He responded, a shit eating grin plastered across his features. 

His attitude was making Paul more pissed, “Can you please drop the act for one second? You cannot be hitting on my girlfriend in my home!”

John didn’t look amused, his eyes fixated on Paul as he debated about his next step.

“Well, if I can’t be hitting on her in your home - can I be fucking her?”

And so there he was, sat across in the chair that your clothes usually laid on, facing your bed. He was being cucked by Lennon, and honestly? It wasn’t as bad as he thought.

Each time John rammed himself in you, he would ask: "Is this good? Do you like it-" and each time you would whine, teasing him, saying how Paul could do it better.

 

 

X is for X-ray (His cock.)

• Okay…so…5 inches solid, extremely average.

• He's circumcised at least! That's one plus! And his balls are good enough, a nice round pair.

• And dear God, is it a good 5 inches though. In spite of his size (which doesn't bother him too much) he knows exactly how to use it, and use it he fucking does.

• Size matters unless you're called James Paul McCartney. 

 

 

Y is for Yearning (His sex drive, how much do they want you?)

• He's like a dog in heat when you are both alone.

• In fact, even when you aren't alone, he'll still want you. Little touches under the table, spontaneous quickies, grabbing your arse and your tits.

• Paul is absolutely insatiable. 

 

 

Z is for Zzz (Sleep afterwards?)

• He falls asleep after at least 40 minutes of talking to you and daydreaming.

• You watch him doze off slowly before sleeping yourself.

• He sleeps like a baby unless he's stressed or has to write or produce.

The other two coming soon x

John's here

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Marigolds In The Porch Lights (18+)

Gardener!George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: Smut (FINALLY), but also some Fluff and Angst

Warnings: A poor attempt at a shower sex scene, unprotected sex (ALWAYS USE PROTECTION, Y'ALL), and some kinda twisted feelings I guess idk these two are just constantly teasing each other

Words: 6.4k (I had so much fun with this y'all)

Summary: 1971 era; SEQUEL TO STRAWBERRY LEMONADE; George and Reader finally have their time together; also Geo is not famous in this so I guess it counts as AU lol

A/N: MUST READ STRAWBERRY LEMONADE FIRST FOR THIS TO MAKE SENSE! But honestly the amount of requests I got to make a sequel, anyone who's here has probably already read S.L. (also thank you for all the requests! <3)

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One week had gone by since the blossoming of your new relationship with George, and you could not stop thinking about him. Calling him during the week just for your own pleasures seemed rather selfish, so you forced yourself to wait the full week until his next Saturday gardening job. After all, that wouldn’t be fair to his personal schedule, now would it?

Now, here it was, the fateful Saturday afternoon, and the anticipation was swarming you. You knew that you were always his last appointment of the week, and you would have him all to yourself from now until the sunset. You contemplated walking outside naked to greet him, but quickly remembering that neighbors exist, the idea was obligated to fade away. You still wished you could, though.

You left the gate unlocked, allowing him to let himself in. He was so caring of your space, taking time to lock the gate behind him so as not to allow the opportunity of any unwanted guests. You waited by the patio for him, prepared with another plate of fresh strawberries and a cold glass of lemonade. You made enough for two this time, specifically if those two were going to be staying together for a while.

Upon George’s entry, he eyed the fruity treats reminiscent of his previous time here. Instead of helping himself to a snack, he approached you to place a patient kiss upon your lips, wrapping an arm tightly around your waist as he did so. His other hand held his gardening toolkit, keeping it at his side while you deepened the kiss. George was almost ready to drop the bag and take you in his arms, but felt he should at least accomplish what you’re paying him for first.

“How have you been?” You started, having a bit more courage to talk to him this time. He laid out his tools as he knelt in the grass.

“Doing what I normally do, I guess.” He replied absentmindedly, “Though I was excited to get back here and see how the strawberry seeds are doing.” He flashed you a cheeky grin, and your shoulders instantly floated down to a more relaxed stance. George wasn’t big on expressing his true feelings directly, but he had his own ways of getting his point across. You slowly drifted off, listening to his voice as he spoke, until he stopped, and you realized he was waiting for you to answer his question.

“Pardon?” You squeaked, causing George to tilt his head in confusion.

“You have been watering the strawberries, right?” He repeated, gesturing to the empty space beside him, “The soil looks moist, so I’d say they’re doing well.”

“Oh! Yes,” You giggled, “I purchased a book on how to care for them the morning after you planted it.” A wide smile spread on George’s face, giving you a short nod and happily moving on to the next patch of flowers. You wore a scarlet colored dress today, planning for him to give you a matching rose from your garden. You concluded that you were the one who could determine which type of flower you receive by the color you chose to wear that day. You weren’t sure if George was also aware of this arrangement, or he just enjoyed finding flowers for you too much to notice.

You had treated this time you spent with George almost like your first date. You wanted to know everything there is to know about him, no matter how minor. In the hours that he had been there, you learned that George also knew how to play guitar, and he enjoyed writing songs, but was never really interested in the life of fame and performing to the public, so he preferred not to pursue it. Being a gardener and getting as much time in nature as he could was more than enough to make him happy.

The time went faster than you both wanted it to, partly because this time felt like you had known each other for years. George had even taken the time to show you how to tend to certain flowers, as the rules differed based on the type of plant. He showed you all his tools, demonstrating how to use them and the best places to start to preserve the flowers, as well as any of his personal favorite natural additives to help the flowers grow. You now knew that adding common household items, such as white vinegar or banana peels can give your flowers a speed boost. George even explained how ground coffee could be beneficial to the soil if you decided to start growing vegetables. His wide range of knowledge was better than any purchasable book could provide.

Before you knew it, the sky was growing orange, and the sunset was upon you. More time to spend with George aside from his occupational responsibilities was not completely out of the question, so you hadn’t lost hope yet. That is, until you saw him reach for his bag to start packing up his tools.

“You’re leaving?” You blurted out, not wanting to sound desperate but your body not even giving you a chance to consider your words. “You just got here!”

George glanced down at his watch, eliciting a small chuckle. “I’ve been here for three hours, love.”

“Well it felt like three seconds to me.” You pouted, crossing your arms and slumping back against the tree you were sitting under. “And you said we would do more together next time! That’s what you said the last time you were here!”

“And we did, didn’t we?” George replied, not missing a beat. “Last time, there was much more uncomfortable silence. This time, we had a wonderful conversation.” He paused to remove his gloves and place them in the pocket on the side of his bag, slowly rising from where he was seated in the grass. “That’s a pretty big improvement, don’t you think? It’s something I can cherish, especially since we won’t be seeing each other next week.”

Your eyes widened. Initially, you weren’t sure if you had heard him correctly, but it was true. First you had missed out on quality time with George and now next week he wasn’t going to come by? You felt your heart sink, trying your hardest to keep the tears from escaping your eyes.

“Why not?” You whined, a little louder this time. You didn’t want to sound like you were throwing a tantrum, but it was difficult when that was exactly what you wanted to do.

“I’ll be out of town next weekend.” George replied matter-of-factly, “I’m going to visit my family as one of my relatives is getting married. The wedding is on Saturday, so I’ll be gone the whole weekend.”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to do anything that would make him stay. But why? He didn’t do anything wrong, but your impression of how the day would go when he got here was a lot different than how it actually went down. You felt like you were lied to, except that you weren’t. Last week, George said that you would ‘make more time for each other’ this time, and technically, you did. He never said what that time was going to be spent on. Perhaps you two had different ideas as to what his return would bring. But instead, you tightened your chest, putting away that tantrum for your alone time later.

“But I thought-” You stopped yourself, knowing that telling George what you really wanted could potentially lead to unwanted results, especially if he didn't feel the same way.

“Thought what?” George asked, staring at you as you mentally cursed yourself for popping a corner of the lid on Pandora's Box. “Did you have a plan for today?” He was too clever. There was no going back now.

“Well…” You started, feeling a blush creep up onto your cheeks, “Sort of…”

“Oh?” He teased, the sunset casting a brilliant sparkle on those dark brown eyes, “Well, come on then. Out with it.” You pursed your lips, shifting your gaze to the floor. George leaned in closer, the coarse hairs of his mustache brushing against the shell of your ear. “So long as we're pretending I don't already know.”

He knew what you wanted. He was going to make you say it.

You stood concerningly still, almost frozen. It was a battle of wits, but you weren't exactly sure if you wanted to win or lose. If you gave up now, and spilled your guts, would you get what you wanted? Or would George continue to string you along, making you wait anyway just to see you squirm?

George sighed, looking at his watch again. “Well,” he huffed, feigning annoyance, “if you have nothing else to say, I suppose I should be going now.” He kissed your cheek, wedging his hand into your own to leave his complementary petal before making his way to the gate. You couldn't even look at him as he left, feeling too embarrassed. Instead, you looked down at your hand. A rose petal, no surprise. You were about to head inside until you heard George call your name. You partially turned around, still feeling rather conflicted. He was standing on the other side of the gate, pointing towards the patio.

“I'd turn that light on if I were you. It gets rather dark out here.” He waited for you to respond. You slowly nodded, approaching the back stairs. And with that, he got in his car and drove off.

You flipped the switch, watching as the porch light came on. It was a glimmering golden yellow hue, expanding its beam about halfway through the garden. You weren't sure why George told you to put it on, but it did make the garden look brighter. Even when you were angry with him, you would still do whatever he wanted you to.

But why were you angry? George hadn't done anything wrong. You knew he was teasing you, but you didn't care. In fact, there was a part of you that liked it. You felt like he was playing with you without even touching you. Wrapped so tightly around his finger that you felt like it was your life force. It strangled you in the best way possible. Like an invisible leash secured around your neck, and he could pull you wherever he wanted. You were completely and truly captivated by him.

Slipping quietly into the house, you felt like you wanted to cry. The anger had subsided and was soon replaced by a persistent longing. Your disdain towards having to go two weeks without seeing George wasn’t even due to the fact that you were crazy about him. It had become a routine. At this point, you wished you hadn’t been so shy to start a conversation with him the first three times he showed up. That you hadn’t waited until just this previous week. Maybe things would be different now. Maybe you’d be closer.

You didn’t know where to go from there. Part of you accepted this as what it was, and you would see George eventually, while another part of you felt defeated that you wanted to do something about this when you knew you couldn’t.

When you woke up the next morning, your house felt quieter, despite you having always lived alone. Almost like George had been staying in the guest room this whole time unbeknownst to you. Perhaps he was a frequent visitor to the guest room in your brain.

You spent the rest of your weekend like any other weekend: it was another gorgeous spring day, and you loved to sit out on the patio and catch up on your reading while you enjoyed your lunch or an afternoon snack, hearing the faint melodies coming from your living room of whatever record you put on for the occasion. It was the only time you actually preferred being alone. Perhaps it was the only activity potent enough to fill the void of your longing for George.

When night came again, you headed inside, about to shut the patio door when you swore you heard a voice.

You froze, but briefly shrugged it off as being in your head. You looked outside, barely being able to see your garden, but knowing it was only your subconscious. You shut the door, turning to walk away until you heard it again.

I’d turn that light on if I were you.

It gets rather dark out here.

You sighed. Even when George wasn’t around, you felt like he was right beside you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry, so you released a noise that sounded like a mixture of both as you flicked the porch light on, not paying it another thought as you headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Monday morning. You dreaded it more this week for some unknown yet obviously known reason. The past few weeks, you would just think about your weekend with George to get you through the boring parts of the day. But since this weekend did not pan out like you thought it would, there wasn’t much to occupy your mind. That was the hard part about all this. George didn’t have a typical nine-to-five. He would have gardening sessions scattered throughout his day. Sometimes he would be booked solid, and other days would be quick appointments for treatments, leaving more time for his personal schedule. Even if you wanted to meet up with him during the week, your strict schedule prevented you from having any time with him. Maybe something could’ve been worked out eventually, but the current state of your brain would not settle for that. You wanted him and you wanted him now.

When you got home that night, the feeling had not left. It was more manageable while you were away, but you felt like you were coming home to a house that was once full of life, only to no longer harbor that same feeling. You had never realized how much life George brought to your daily routine even when you didn’t live together. For a moment, you wondered why this was affecting you so much. Perhaps you were overreacting. You would see George again. It would just be longer than usual until you did. You released a heavy sigh, a sliver of hope that you could push this feeling out of your mind, for at least a little while, had begun to show itself.

Until night fell. You glanced at the back door.

The porch light.

That fucking porch light.

The entire time you lived here, you barely even acknowledged its existence. But ever since George made you aware of it, you think of it every night. Subconsciously, you thought maybe if you were consistent in putting it on every night, he would come back. He would find his way to you, sensing your desire to see him, and you would never be apart again. Never be alone again.

You turned it on again, simultaneously hopeful in your delusional scenario and growing impatient at how long your heart wanted to keep up the act.

The next morning, going by the door to shut the light felt like a walk of shame. What were you waiting for? George had his own schedule. His own life. He would see you when he could. You couldn’t help but start thinking if George was missing you as much as you were feeling every day was so bleak without him.

But yet, that night, you turned the porch light on again. Feeling an overwhelming, compelling urge to stay, you opened the back door, stepping out onto the patio. You stared up at the light, admiring the wonderful golden hue of the small bulb inside its painted glass shade. The shade was brushed in bright yellow, matching the bulb and some other accents of the house’s exterior decor. It seemed so much more prominent at night. It was the only thing visible from far away. A sign of life in the home. You smiled at the thought. You would’ve probably never got around to use it if it wasn’t for George. He truly did bring new life into your home.

Thanks to the light, you could see the first few rows of flowers in your garden surrounding the large tree in the center of the yard. This was your gradient row, as you loved to refer to it as. The row where George had taken many creative liberties, creating a smooth-flowing spectrum of colors around the tree like a color wheel. The warm tones faced the house, showing you your lovely spread of roses, tiger lilies, and marigolds.

The marigolds reminded you of the light. Bright, yellow, and outstanding. It was also one of the only few flowers in your garden that George had not given you petals from. You turned back to the light. You decided it could be your marigold petal. At least for now.

You didn’t stay long. You quickly returned inside, shuffling briskly back down the hall, trying to make it to the bathroom before the tears dripped off your face and down onto the floor.

The following morning, as your fingers brushed against the switch to turn off the light, you let out a loud sob. It had rained in the middle of the night, and the sight outside the back door, one of gray overcast and a messy, muddy garden, made it all feel much too real. You couldn’t hide it anymore. You missed George. Oh, how you missed him. One day a week wasn’t enough anymore. You needed more of him. So much more. More than your own mind, body, and soul would ever know.

You considered taking off work today, as your mangled emotions were surely draining your energy. But realizing that staying home would only twist the knife further, you conceded. It was almost as if any choice that life could make would've been wrong in your eyes. Whether you went to work or stayed home, you felt uncomfortable. If the work day went quickly, you were dreading coming home to face your feelings again. Yet, if the day dragged on, you groaned at the thought of having to endure more time until your fateful reunion with George. You were incessantly unsatisfied. Insatiable, even. The only correct answer was George. You needed him to give you what he had promised you, whether he was waiting for you to admit it or not. At this point, you wouldn't have even cared if you sounded desperate. You were desperate. You didn't care if you had to call him right now and divulge everything you felt. How badly you wanted and needed him. Your brain was chasing a fierce addiction, and George was your dealer.

That night had been the hardest so far. You couldn't even bring yourself to walk down that hall. The light wasn't going to be some magical beacon to signal George. You felt like you were holding onto nothing. You didn't care if the light wasn't on tonight. It made no difference anymore.

You went to sleep early that night. Your main thought process was to sleep as much as you could to make the days go by faster. You didn't even want to think about this Saturday. Your soul felt like it was grieving. But grieving what? George didn't break up with you. Technically, the two of you never even established any sort of declaration of a relationship anyway. But you felt like you belonged together. You were his and he was yours. As sweet as the thought was, you quickly shoved it away as you felt your eyes welling with tears.

You turned on your side to try and sleep when you heard a noise outside. It sounded like a low thud, but fairly close to your house. You shrugged it off at first, until you heard it again a few minutes later, sounding closer this time.

You sat up in bed, overtaken by fear. Living alone, you always worried about having to fight off intruders. Luckily, nothing had ever come of it. Until now.

Grabbing a broom from your hall closet to arm you, you headed into the living room. Your first instinct was to check out the front window, being too scared to open the door.

You peered through the curtains, seeing nothing to the left or right of the door, the street only illuminated by the porch lights of your surrounding neighbors. Of course the universe had to think of a way to remind you of what you were desperately trying to put out of your head.

You closed the curtains, ready to go back to bed when you heard what sounded like wet footsteps coming from your back door.

Oh fuck.

If this really was an intruder situation, you were anything but prepared. You glanced at the back door, hiding behind the hall corner. With your breath held and your muscles stiff as the wooden boards beneath your feet, you took slow steps down the hall. You lurched forward to quickly lock the door, which you normally did anyway but forgot that night as you never actually made it to the door without crying.

Knowing that the lock was safely in place brought you some time. Being closer to the door, you heard another sloshing sound, as well as some angry muttering. With your luck, the intruder slipped on the wet and muddy grass and was now disoriented, leaving you time to- well, do what, exactly?

You hadn't thought this far. Do you call the police? Make a loud noise in retaliation in hopes to scare them away? Armor yourself with throw pillows to burst through the door and use your broomstick to beat them senseless? Your mind was racing. The most reasonable thing to do in that moment, although it hurt quite a bit, would be the answer to whether this was really a life or death situation.

You turned on the porch light.

When the illuminating glow hit the grass below, you saw a person laying there, covered in mud, clearly not anticipating the new biome that had been created in your backyard. You screamed, causing the person to immediately look up at you. Upon making eye contact, you felt your heart spring up into your throat before free falling down to your stomach. You threw open the door, feeling like you were being fled with a million emotions at once, all conflicting each other. You stood there in shock, only being able to choke out one single word.

“...George?”

“I thought I told you to keep that bloody light on! I almost broke my neck out here!” George shouted, but couldn't keep a straight face long enough to be convincing, dissolving into a puddle of laughs back onto the ground. You felt your whole body fill with happiness. You dropped the broom, running out into the yard, slippers and all, squealing all the way before landing on top of him, trapping him in a tight hug.

You kissed him faster than your brain could process what you were doing. The familiar feeling of his soft skin, luscious hair and beard, and plush lips made your whole being swell with euphoria. Your golden yellow silk pajamas were now full of mud, but it didn't matter. George was back here with you. And you didn't need anything else.

“You’re getting all muddy, love.” George giggled, pushing damp strands of hair away from your face.

“I don't care!” You shouted while laughing, pressing loud, wet kisses across his face and neck. George wrapped his arms around you, resting his hands on your waist. You pulled away, staring into his eyes. It may have been late at night, but you felt wide awake as ever. Before you even opened your mouth to speak, you knew there were tears dripping down onto your cheeks. “I didn't think I'd see you again for a while.”

“I planned to stop by before I left, but I didn't have much time during the day.” George confessed. “I wanted to surprise you, but I'm realizing it might have been a better idea in my head.” He looked around the yard, then at his muddy clothes, eliciting a light chuckle. “Thinking about it now, I probably should've called first.”

“I'm just so happy to see you.” You replied, not even hearing half of what he said. You heard he planned to come back for you, and that was all you needed to know. “But I'm guessing your plan involved you being able to see once you got back here. Hence the, you know, porch light.” You averted your gaze, adding a nervous laugh.

“First I tried hopping over the fence, and tripped over that.” George explained, staring back at the gate. “Then I tried to walk quietly, and slipped in that big puddle over there. Not to mention I tripped over the center gradient, so I apologize for that. I'll be sure to fix it the next time I'm around.” He added with a swift cup of your chin and a kiss to your lips. You looked at the tree, seeing the warm toned flowers slightly uprooted, tiny specks of dirt adorning their golden petals. Honestly, that didn't even matter to you. The image of George trying to sneak into your backyard and failing miserably made you erupt into laughter again.

“I suggest you have to get cleaned up now, don't you?” You asked, running a finger through the thick layer of mud adorning his jeans.

“Well, yeah, but I refuse to get your floors all dirty.” George declared. You helped him up off the ground, trying your best to smudge the dirt out of his hair, as well as your own.

“You can leave the clothes in the laundry room. I'll deal with them tomorrow.” You replied. George shot you a look, helping you brush some of the grass off your pajamas.

“So it's already been decided that I'm spending the night, then?” You smirked, not saying anything back. George smiled, sneakily pinching the skin on your waist. You squealed, playfully batting his hand away. You turned to walk back to the patio when he spoke again.

“Even after we get out of these filthy clothes, we still have to get ourselves clean, you know.”

You froze, a chill running through your spine, excitement filling your body. You whipped your head around, grabbing George’s hand and leading him to the stairs. You were about to open the door when he put his arm out to stop you.

“I know you're excited, love, but I still don’t want to bring all this mud into your clean house.” He seemed genuinely concerned by this issue, but at this point, nothing was going to stop you.

“Okay, fine. Easy fix.” You stated, slipping the straps of your pajamas off your shoulders, followed by your underwear. George’s eyes widened as he watched the silken fabric pool around your ankles, leaving you completely nude standing on the patio. The cool air of this particular spring night began to wash over your body, and you shivered slightly. You weren't sure if it was from the sudden breeze, or the tantalizing feeling of this whole situation, but either way, your nipples were completely hard.

Seconds later, George followed suit, removing his muddy shoes, followed by his equally sodden shirt and pants. He stopped at his underwear, feeling a flash of uncertainty. He was no stranger to being nude, but being nude while standing on the back porch of his lover’s house in the middle of their classy suburban neighborhood? That was a new one.

He turned back to you, taking in the sight before him. Seeing your fully bare form, taking one slow drag of his eyes over your lower half, he quickly shuffled off the remaining piece of clothing and tossed it on the floor with the rest. You opened the door, scooping your clothes up in one swift motion, walking a mere few feet and tossing them in the laundry room to be dealt with eventually. You couldn’t be bothered right now. George did the same, keeping his clothes in a neat pile right beside yours, placing his boots by the door. He stood there for a few seconds, gauging your readiness to proceed. With a smirk on your face, you grabbed his hand, leading him into the bathroom.

You opened the shower curtain and turned the water on, feeling the warm steam slowly fill the room. You adjusted the water to a comfortably neutral temperature before climbing inside, leaving space for George to join you. You stayed under the stream of water, allowing it to take its time to rinse all the mud off your arms and legs, and most of it out of your hair, leaving you with a fresher start before moving on to shampoo and soap. You looked over your shoulder at George, who now seemed rather chilly, so you switched places, allowing him to rinse off as well. He had been wearing more covering clothes than you, so there wasn’t much dirt he needed to get off his body, but his hair was a different story. He spent extra time using his fingers to comb through his beard, which seemed to be a prime target for all that grass and soil.

Getting started on washing your body, you had briefly turned away from George to grab your soap. Before you could open the container, you heard a low shudder coming from behind you. You looked at George, who was now staring at you, while sporting quite the erection. You giggled, lightly poking his stomach. “Am I taking too long for you?”

“You know, for someone who wanted me so badly outside, and is now teasing me about having to wait, you’re quite mad, aren’t you?” He stated, glancing down at himself while continuing to rinse his hair. You laughed louder this time.

“I figured we would clean up first.” You said innocently. He chuckled.

“Why do that when we’re just gonna get dirty again, love?”

You bit your lip, holding back a whimper, but the way your legs involuntarily began to clench shut gave it away immediately.

You nodded. “I see. Well let’s get it on then.”

The second you finished your statement, George wasted no time grabbing your waist and pressing his lips against yours. It was a hungry kiss. Passionate. Longing. It had confirmed he missed you just as much as you missed him. You put your hands in his hair, which was now much softer under the water. You were the one to take that passion further, feeling his lips part and allowing your tongue to enter his mouth. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy this, moving his hands from your waist down to your ass, kneading it softly yet with an impatient edge to it. You were tempted to hook one leg over his waist, but the slippery floor beneath you made you fearful of losing your balance, so you refrained. But you wouldn't have even had time to take action, as George quickly pulled away, spinning you around and pushing you up against the shower wall. You put your hands out, both of them splayed out on either side of your head as your cheek made contact with the cold tile. George grabbed your waist again, slowly grinding against you, slightly pressing you between the wall and himself. The contrast in temperature between the cool, flat surface and the steamy air made your head spin before he even did anything else. He leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to your earlobe.

“I think you've waited long enough, my beautiful flower.” You moaned softly at his statement as you felt him enter you. Slowly, savoring it just as much as you. It was a bit of a stretch, but you never found it painful. The combination of the warm water and your mutual arousal provided a decent amount of lubrication.

George continued to leave kisses around the shell of your ear and down to your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder. Once he was all the way in, he steadied himself before going any further. “You doing okay, love?” He cooed, patiently waiting for your response.

You sighed blissfully, softly nodding your head and letting out a low “mhm” while taking in all the sensations around you. The mix of everything made you whine in pure ecstasy, feeling so full in the best way possible, not wanting to say or move much in fear of losing your grip on it. You felt like you were in a different world, where it was only you and George, and nothing else mattered. However, you were not in the mood to be kept waiting either, feeling like you were holding your breath a bit, waiting for his next move. You took another deep inhale and exhale, releasing another moan in the interim. “It's okay,” you mumbled, “you can keep going.”

George nodded, starting with a soft, slow pace. Even with shallow thrusts, you were already in heaven. You quickly got lost in the rhythm, hearing his occasional breathy sighs directly into your ear. Hearing him enjoy it just as much as you were only turned you on more. And the more George fell into a rhythm as well, the faster he went. His thrusts became quicker and harder, pushing you up against the wall with each motion. Your moans had just become one long groan of pleasure, the way your nipples dragged across the cold wall with each thrust stringing you along even further.

When you felt that pressure start to build, you couldn't even form a coherent sentence to signal anything, the only word falling from your lips a meek “George...” before a high-pitched whining overtook you again. George shushed you softly, rubbing his thumbs along your waist as he brought you closer to the edge.

“I know, flower. I know.”

What felt like seconds later, you felt your orgasm crash over you, a noise that sounded like a mix between a moan and a scream flying from your mouth, proclaiming your everlasting love and worship of the man behind you, feeling yourself begin to slump against the wall, trying to catch your breath. George finished shortly afterwards, his grip on your hips tightening as he came inside you. He tilted his head back, a low, steady groan signaling his release. He had no choice but to use the wall for support as well, nearly falling on top of you after he slowly slid out. It was times like these you considered turning off the shower head and just filling up the bath instead, as your legs felt like jelly by this point, leaving you with minimal energy to hold yourself up.

Before you could say anything else, you felt George’s hands on you again, running his fingers through your hair. You smelled the familiar scent of your shampoo, feeling it glide through your hair as you closed your eyes again. He held you tenderly, guiding your head to the water, gently tilting it back to rinse the suds from your hair.

Once finished, he started on your body, massaging the soap all over your back, making sure to be careful around any areas that were currently more sensitive than usual. You sighed happily, feeling pampered like royalty, so grateful to have him here with you.

After a few minutes, your legs didn't feel like that of a newborn giraffe anymore, so you turned around to face George, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before taking the bar of soap. “I got it from here.” You giggled, finishing yourself off before starting to help him out as he eyed your shampoo. It wasn't what he used, but it smelled nice, and there wasn’t much of a choice in this situation. He chuckled before squeezing a small amount onto his palm, looking down as you lathered up his chest and stomach.

Once you both had thoroughly cleaned up, you turned off the water and stepped out, fetching some large fluffy towels and equally soft robes to only increase your level of comfort. By now, both of you were free of mud, partially dry, and ever so tired. Wasting no time to climb into bed, you snuggled up against George, resting your head on his chest.

“I'm so happy you came back.” You whispered, placing a kiss right over where his heart is. George giggled, caressing your arm.

“I would've always come back, flower.” He paused with a pensive sigh. “I enjoy every second I spend with you. You give me new life. A new purpose to an already wonderful experience.” You stared up at him, eyes wide in awe. It was the first time he had openly expressed his feelings to you without hiding them behind his usual cheeky humor. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard.

“You have no idea how special you are to me.” You beamed, craning your neck up to kiss his jawline, surprised when he turned his face and you landed on his lips instead.

“And you to me.” He replied. You enjoyed the streak of added sappy statements from George, but you knew it was a big step for him, judging by the deep breath he took afterwards, followed by a swift “Let's get some sleep, love.”

“Okay,” you agreed, “but let me just make sure I locked the back door first.” George nodded, getting comfortable on his side of your bed as you hopped out from under the covers, shivering again as the cool night air came back with a vengeance on your naked body. You quickly put your robe on and shuffled down the hall. You clicked the lock shut and went to go back to your room when you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. Something yellow.

You looked around until you spotted it again, sticking out of the side of George’s boot. Bending down to get a closer look, you moved the muddy laces and pulled it out. A tear almost fell down your cheek and you held it between your fingers. A petal from one of your precious marigolds, presumably stuck there when George tripped over them on the way in. You smiled warmly, feeling your heart soar at the idea that George can give you a petal every visit, even if he didn't realize it. Without saying anything, you put the petal in the pocket of your robe and made your way down the hall, trying not to disturb George as you quietly slipped back into bed.

==============================

IT'S FINALLY HERE Y'ALL 😄 I'm so happy I can share it and it was definitely a fun plot to continue!

Taglist: @peaceloveandstarrs @queen-of-stars @nosegoes @cocteautwiny @thatgoesinthere-misshapes

(If you want to be added to my taglist, feel free to send an ask and let me know! 🥰)

[bealtesharrisonmacca]

“Be quiet”

Paul McCartney x reader

Fem reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: smut!, not public but not exactly private sex…?

Summary: You and Paul have to share a bed and things get a little tight, the rest of the band is only two doors away.

The boys manager has asked you to make their next trip as cheap as possible. Even though they are plenty rich, none of them want to spend money on where they sleep, considering they will be preforming or doing press conferences most of the time.

You just booked a little secluded house for them and yourself for their next tour.

But upon arrival you all realize it would have been better to spring for something a little more expensive. The place was very cozy and all, but it only had 2 bedrooms.

The band members run into the house to call dibs on a bed. You follow soon after.

Unfortunately there is only one king sized bed in one room and a little bed in the other.

“Alright lads” Paul said while yawning. “You lot take the king size bed, me and

Y/N will take the other room.”

The others teasingly let out kissy noises and giggles.

“Shut it, I’ll be sleepin on the floor or something” Paul exclaimed firmly.

“Well why don’t you sleep on the floor in here then?” John taunted.

“I don’t wanna listen to yer bloody snoring all night” he answered to no one in particular as he led you out of the room.

The other bedroom was only two doors down from where the others were going to be sleeping. Only room separating l you was a tiny bathroom.

~

You began unpacking your things while Paul was laying a blanket down on the floor for him to sleep on.

You felt sorry for him, although it was a bit funny to imagine him sleeping all uncomfortably the whole night. Wiggling around and looking up at you in a comfy bed.

“Paulie, are you really sleeping on the floor?” You asked.

“Well, there’s only one bed love”

“It can probably fit us both, we’ll just have to squeeze a bit. I just don’t want you sleeping on the floor, you have a big day tomorrow.” You felt yourself blush as you knew you were proposing a bit of an unethical situation. But it could also just be seen as an innocent suggestion from a worried assistant.

Paul walked over to you. His fingers putting your hair behind your ear. Making you blush even more at the sudden forwardness.

“If yer alright with it, then yes, I would rather sleep in the bed” he paused. “With you..”

The words went right to your head but all you did was smile as you picked up the blanket he had laid on the floor and placed it on the bed.

~

You started looking for your pajamas only to remember that you hadn’t packed any.

“Fuck” you cursed to yourself.

“What’s wrong love?”

“Well, since I thought we would all be sleeping in separate bedrooms, I didn’t really pack any pajamas.” You said worriedly.

Paul smiled that smug smile he sometimes did.

“So you really didn’t know there was only two bedrooms when you booked this place?” he said as he approached you.

The butterflies in your stomach grew quickly as he came closer. So close you were almost touching.

“No of course not Paulie” you assured him, but it didn’t come out as confidently as you had hoped.

“Okey okey, whatever you say love”

He smirked and walked back to his open bag and he gave you one of his t-shirts.

“You can sleep in this if you want.“

You thanked him, still blushing. You pulled off the t-shirt you were currently wearing and threw on the one he gave you.

Paul watched closely the whole time. His eyes admiring your half clothed body.

You pulled your pants down revealing your legs completely. Thankfully, his T-shirt was big enough to cover your underwear, although you really wouldn’t be complaining if it didn’t.

You laughed silently at the situation. Here you were. About to share a bed with Paul fucking McCartney while almost naked.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I never really sleep with anything except my brief’s.” Paul said as he was getting into the bed.

“No not at all!” You said, maybe a bit too excited at the news.

Paul chuckled while still eyeing you up and down. He didn’t want to admit it, but the look of you wearing nothing but his t-shirt made him really horny. Of course you were still in your underwear, but he couldn’t see those anyways so he imagined they weren’t there.

You got into bed next to him. The bed was smaller than you thought. Immediately you felt your thighs brushing against his. Giving you goosebumps.

You lay with your back towards him while he was still on his back.

“Paulie, I think there would be more room if you were also on your side” you said attempting to seem nonchalant.

Paul did what you said and so now he was spooning you. Paul’s hand was slightly touching your waist. You could sense he didn’t want to cross any boundaries, but he wanted so badly just to touch you. You were laying pretty close and you could feel his growing boner touching your ass.

In the heat of the moment you decide to subtly yet in an obvious way push your lower body into his boner. Just then feeling how big he was.

Paul let out a pleased moan. He was now sure he wasn’t the only one longing for more. His hand tightened around your waist as he began slightly grinding against you.

His motions were pleasing, but it wasn’t enough for either one of you. You needed something more.

You could feel Paul lowering his hand, getting closer and closer to your heat. His fingers lightly brushing against the fabric of your underwear. Making you squeal.

He retracted his fingers, not sure what your reaction meant.

“No, Paul. Don’t stop, I want you Paul” you whispered.

You felt Paul smile behind your neck as he lowered his hand again. This time tracing his fingertips along the top of your underwear before slipping his hand into them.

You gasped as the simple pleasure of just his hand against your heat. He began slowly circling your clit. Making you moan and yearn for more.

“Yer so wet for me already love?” Paul whispered into your ear.

Before you could ask him he slipped two fingers into you. He pulsed his fingers in a slow pace, letting you relax, before going a bit faster.

By now his erection was poking hard into you.

“You sound so pretty, yer makin me really fucking hard y’know”

His voice was low but firm. Sending vibrations down your neck. You turn around to face him. Sadly making him remove his hand from your underwear. The look you give him making his boner grow more than he thought possible.

Your hand went to his crotch to feel his erection. Paul gasped at the slight touch. You could feel how much he wanted to be inside you. And you wanted it as much as him.

Paul climbed on top of you and began kissing you passionately. His lips touched yours in a way no one ever had. Letting out soft moans between each kiss.

His hands traveled from your hair to the bottom of your t-shirt, well, his t-shirt really. He looked at you to make sure you were ok with what he was doing. You nodded and he pulled the t-shirt over your head.

His lips went back to your mouth to kiss you again. His hands nearing your breasts.

Paul trailed kisses along your jawline, down your neck and just barely gracing against one of your breasts. You let out a delighted moan. Urging him to continue.

But he didn’t continue. You looked up at him curiously. He was sitting on his knees over you. Hands by your head.

You could see what he wanted. You had kept him waiting long enough. Looking down at his briefs as you started pulling them off. You tossed them to the side when they were off.

He was huge. Just the thought of him stretching you out caused you to moan.

Paul smirked as he started pulling your underwear off as well. He went to kiss you again but this time his hand was back on your clit. Your hips bucking at every slight touch. You needed him inside you.

Paul lined himself up, his tip barely brushing against you. You try moving down to get closer to his cock but he then pulled further away. Making you groan frustratedly.

“Don’t move” Paul demanded.

He grabs your hands and hold them above your head. Keeping you still. He used his other hand to open your legs wider for him. You gladly oblige.

“Good girl, now don’t move and don’t make a sound. The boys are asleep just down the hall”

You squirm at the thought of one of them walking in on you like this. But before you can continue your train of thought Paul thrusts into you. A loud moan escaping your throat.

One of Paul’s hand fly to your mouth to cover the sounds you’re making. You can’t help it. You want to scream his name for all the world to hear. He thrusts at a slow pace to keep the volume down, but mostly to tease you. You try moving your hips to get more of him in you but he grabs your hips tightly. Holding them in place and keeping you from moving.

“I said don’t move, you gotta take what I give ye or nothing”

You nod reluctantly. Knowing the only way to get what you want is to listen. And if you were being honest, following Paul’s orders really turned you on. After all you were his assistant so it’s only right he’s in charge of what happens.

His hand is still covering your mouth as he suddenly pushes his cock deep inside you. Muffled sounds escaping your mouth. You arch your back at the pleasure.

You feel your climax building up and your moans and shaking legs makes Paul realize that as well. Right before you hit your climax, Paul slows his pace and pulls out of you. An angry grunt escapes you. You look at him, still longing for a release.

Paul looks at you in a way that tells you he really enjoys keeping you on edge. He quickly flips you over on your front, displaying your ass to him. He gives a few kisses to your back as his hands wanders to your hips, holding you tightly before slamming into you again. You immediately scream out his name, but this time his hand isn’t covering your mouth.

Paul stills inside you at the that sound leaves you lips, almost refusing to move.

“Do you want to get caught? Are you such a slut you want someone to hear you?” Paul says rather loudly before harshly thrusting into you.

“Well then that’s what we’ll do, let everyone hear how good you take my cock”

You shiver at his words. You couldn’t hold yourself anymore. You scream his name through moans. Not bothered by the fact you have probably awoken the boys by now.

He picks up his pace, not letting go of your hips. With every thrust reaching a special spot inside you. The pressure of your climax is strikingly close. Pauls breath tells you he is also nearing his climax

With one last thrust you feel yourself unveiling. You and Paul come together in a blissful mix of breathy moans and sweaty body’s. You immediately feel all your stress fading with your orgasm.

Paul kisses your forehead and you go back to your spooning position. Still out of breath. You cuddle for a while before falling asleep

[emlovslennon]

omgg last night I dreamed about supeeer cute soft dom george being very affectionate and giving making love to reader making her forget all her insecurities whispering in her ear a lot of worship, it's my first request and don't speak English very well but I'm here hehe love ya!

GUYS IM ALIVE HOLY FUCK BALLS !!! Anyway HEHEHHEHE evil laughter back to my mischievousness (mental illness). Also I LOVE YOU TOO

-

Era: 1965 cuz i feel like it

Audible moan.

-

You had been feeling extremely insecure ever since you got back from the opening of the the Beatles new movie, “Help!” You saw how in the newspapers they were saying incredibly cruel things about you, especially about how tight your black dress was when you wore it to the premiere. It was, “Name the Beatles wife with the worst taste?” Or “That dress certainly doesn’t look flattering on her!” Like it was some joke. You felt tears brim your eyes just thinking about it. You’d constantly look in the mirror and pinch at your stomach and thighs, you just couldn’t understand why you couldn’t be as beautiful as Jane or Maureen or Cynthia.

“Love, I’m back! Love? What’s wrong?” George said, he had just gotten back from a meeting about an upcoming album, so he unfortunately couldn’t take you along since it was a private meeting, not a public one. You were laying on your shared bed crying, with a newspaper at your side. The one that completely wrecked your self esteem. George caught on and picked up, in complete anger, he ripped the newspaper up and threw it in the trash.

“Absolute bloody rubbish! I hate those damn newspapers, y/n, come ‘ere love.” He said, quite angry, but gentle once he called your name. He couldn’t believe someone could say that about his wife. He thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. How could anyone not agree? They must be blind.

“Love, don’t listen to those bloody bastards, you are the most beautiful and lovely woman I ever laid eyes and have ever met. If they don’t believe that, then they must not have eyes.” He whispers in your ear, playing with your hair. Your tears at this point subsided and you looked up at him, he gave you a grin and kissed your forehead. You know this probably wasn’t the best timing, but you just couldn’t resist when he looks at you with nothing but pure love in his eyes.

“George, could you maybe show me how beautiful I am?” You say quietly, George winks at you in a joking manner and wiggles his eyebrows which make you giggle. George slowly positioned you to get you to lay on your back while he slowly got on top of you.

“I mean it when I say you look stunning in anything.” He whispers, playing with the hem of your black night gown, it was short and only went down to almost the end of your inner thighs. He looked at you for permission and you nodded, as he slowly lifted up your night gown, leaving completely exposed. You usually didn’t bother with under garments when you were going to sleep, you just didn’t feel the need for it.

“You amaze me every time, y’know that?” He praised, as his hands went to your breasts as he pulled you into a passionate kiss, leaving you breathless. George lifted himself up to take off his black long sleeve shirt and the pair of black pants he wore with it, as he went back down to kiss your neck, he hand slowly wandered down to your core, lightly rubbing causing you to whimper. George grinned at the sound, George loved nothing more than when you made noises for him, he doesn’t even really care when it comes to him getting off it’s just as long as you do he’s good.

“Can I?” He asks, his fingers nearing and circling your hole, you nod frantically as he giggles at your reaction, he slowly inserts two fingers into you. You bite your lip and throw your head back into the pillows with the intrusion. But you couldn’t lie, his fingers do wonders. He slowly thrusts them in and out as he watches you whimper and moan, he usually never goes fast unless you tell him to, he’s just never really been that kind of person. Whereas someone like John is the complete opposite.

“F-faster, George!” You moan out, causing George to kiss and suck on your neck harder than he did before as he went faster, your juices starting to seep down to the sheets as the noises coming from your core begin to echo through out the room. You felt the tightness and heat in your belly about to burst and you knew that only meant one thing.

“George-I’m-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence as you felt as if you were sitting stars as your orgasm hit. George never wanted to admit it, but he absolutely adored when you orgasm your a shaking and moaning mess for him, you look absolutely wrecked just from his fingers.

“Are you ready? Do you need a minute?” He asks, one thing to note about George, is that he is huge on consent, he would never, ever, do something that you didn’t like or something that he thought could hurt you. It would break him into a million pieces if that happened.

“Yes, please!” You say shakily, George nods as he kissed your forehead, slowly lining himself up and entering you.

“You’re always so good for me, always. No one could ever compare.” He whispers lovingly, kissing your earlobe as he slowly thrusts in and out of you.

“Your noises are to die for, you are to die for, i can’t get enough of you.” George loved praising you during sex, he always took pride in doing so.

“G-George, please.” You whisper, George looks up at you, with a questioning face.

“Please, faster! Please!” You moaned out, George gave you a smile and kissed your cheek as he went faster, but not too fast, just slightly faster than the pace he was going. You moan out as he brings his fingers down to your clit and rubs circles round it, making your legs shake. You could feel your orgasm getting closer and creeping up on you like it was the grim reaper.

“George! Im gonna cum, please!” You cried out, all the worry, sadness, and insecurities you were experiencing early had completely disappeared. They were nowhere to be found. George always managed to make your worries and fears go away, it’s like he was magic. But to be fair, he pretty much was.

“Aw, come on pretty girl, cum on me, go on.” George groaned, feeling his own orgasm creep up on him, and before you know it, it wasn’t before too long both of you came together. You were shaking and moaning for quite a bit even after he pulled out and kissed your face all over. George laid on his side and brought the covers over both of you.

“Did that make you feel any better?” George asked, his hand holding yours, you look up at him with a smile.

“What was I upset about again?”

-

THIS WAS KINDA CHEESY BUT WOOOOAH I LOVED IT

[pauliesangel333]

groupie love, 60s! paul mccartney x virgin! reader *:･ﾟ✧*

・゜゜・paulie wants to show you a good time after you please him first 🎀

- oral , f! recieving

- fingering

- handjob , m! recieving

this is my first fic so please be nice <33 + also i loveeee writing sub! paul mwahaha ;)

You looked at paul meekly, blinking your long eyelashes at him and fidgeting a little with your skirt , miniskirt, to be specific.

He softly placed a hand on your thigh, cupping the underside of it and pulling you gently onto his lap, letting you straddle him as his head grazed the wall and the back of his neck touched the headboard. His mouth lightly grazed your ear as he mumbled,

“‘ts okay sweetheart, i’ve done this hundreds of times, ill take care of you”

Pauls voice was like honey, he was such a sweet talker. You slightly rutted against his lap, feeling his member press into your leg. You breathed out at the slight friction and put a hand into the back of his hair. His pretty eyes looked up at you through his eyelashes as his hand traced up your back,

“what is it angel, hm?”

He could sense your slight hesitation but didn’t know why,

“its just…”

You breathed , pouting slightly whilst trying not to let anything slip,

“mhm? tell me baby , c’mon”

His encouragement only caused the heat between your thighs to grow,

“paulie , you’ve had so much experience and i just- , i just don’t want you to be bored or not feel good, i wanna make you feel like no one else can..”

The words hung in the air as a gentle blush spread across your cheeks, grazing them a light pink

why did i even say anything? god, i’ve ruined the moment now-

You felt paul’s breath catch in his chest, and you looked down at him, feeling a slight change in the dynamic, his hair was deliciously messy and his cheeks now also had a similar pink hue

“paulie? what is it?”

You trailed a hand down to his belt and began to play with the metal buckle, slightly grazing his v-line, causing his breath to hitch even more, you were suprised at his sensitivity considering his reputation, the liverpool bull, as they called him

“ah, baby, you make me feel like, no one else, god, when i see you in outfits like this, even when your on my arm, it gets me so worked up, ‘can hardly concentrate when your around”

You felt a newfound confidence knowing your boyfriend underneath you isnt really that tough afterall

“oh really?”

You cocked an eyebrow up as you pushed yourself off his lap to lay down by his side, he whined softly at the lack of contact now on his hard member,

‘honey, mm- c’mere”

He placed his hands firmly on your hips and leant his face towards yours, lips touching as he passionately kissed you, you could taste tobacco and mint on his breath and it drew you in even further. You moved your hand down to his cock, tracing your fingers over the raised fabric and you began to massage his member through his tight pants. He whined at the hypnotic movement and bucked his hips into your hand.

“ah, m~ baby, gotta see ‘ye, body, fuck, please?”

He whined into your touch, you pulled your hand off him and began to slide off your skirt, along with your panties and your bra, revealing your whole chest. He looked at you in awe as you lay next to him.

“angel, ‘yer so perfect all for me”

He cooed softly into your ear and placed a few small, loving kisses along each breast. You looked at him and began to tug on his collar, letting your nails lightly scratch his neck, causing him to shiver

“cmon you too paulie”

-⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You tugged on pauls member, sliding up and down as your spit ran down his cock, your hands twisting gently when you reached the tip. His hard breathing pounded against your chest and neck as he peppered you with sloppy, open mouthed kisses.

“baby, mm , ‘want ya to feel good too, ah- you deserve it”

Paul sat up slightly and put his hand up to grab your chin, his silver wrist chain lightly grazing your cheek. He placed two fingers into your mouth and lightly pressed on your tounge as your spit coated his digits. Your hand began to stroke him more lightly as he began to pay attention to you, he slid his fingers over your clit, drawing circles as you moaned slightly in his ear,

“oh- paulie, yes, mm”

He smirker cockily as you began to let out more sounds. He knew what he was doing to you. You continued your sweet nothings into his neck and gradually felt him get more rapid and animalistic with his movements,

His fingers began to slide in and out of you quickly, the room was filled with wet noises, causing your face to heat up slightly

“yer such a dirty girl, all for me ‘eh?”

He curled his fingers inside of you and began to kiss your clit, his body shifted to hover over you and kiss all over your lower half.

“o-oh my g- , paul , ‘m so close”

You cried out, a knot began to build in your stomach and you tugged on his hair as your thighs pressed into his face

“‘ts okay angel, let go for me, ‘yer such a good girl for me”

You released all over Paul’s fingers and mouth, he continued to lick a gentle pace on your clit as you came down, driving you slightly mad with the overstimulation. White coated his fingers and he pulled out of you gently. He reached to kiss you as his body was fully on top of yours.

“yer so pretty, my sweet girl”…

･ﾟﾟ･｡

[ghostbustting]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡ 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 .ᐟ

𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Want to know more about my fics? read these ↓

꩜ Guns N’ Roses

🐚: 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭?

꩜ Metallica

꩜ Megadeth

꩜ The Beatles

꩜ Mötley Crüe

꩜ Etc. (Read the second point below)

🪶: 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬! (𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝)

𖹭 Requests: Always open !! Though, at some points, I will take breaks from answering, especially when I have a very full schedule, which happens a lot. But feel free to leave a req anytime anyday, I will find time to do them asap <3

𖹭 Not On The List: If your desired rockstar isn’t on the list, don’t worry, just send me the request and I’ll see if I can manage! :))

𖹭 What I’ll Be Willing To Write: Fluff, Smuts, Angst, anything in the general fanfic world.

𖹭 What I’ll Reject: Anything that I’m either uncomfortable with or do not understand well, I apologize in advance for this limitation :-(, I do accept some of the kinky stuffs though!

P.S Feel free to message me if you’re interested in becoming moots !! Toodles~ ദ്ദി(*＾3＾)

[lick-me-lennon22]

Poly!Beatles X F!Virgin!Reader - Open Invitation

(HELLO AGAIN!!! my sincerest apologies for the short hiatus, I've been struggling with some heart issues and work troubles but I am back in business and rest assured, all of your requests WILL be filled !! ✨️ please enjoy this lovely request from anon :) 💕)

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️!!! VERY NSFW!!!⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

You'd wondered about the strange look they seem to have shared, but thought nothing of it until reached your hand in your pocket to pull out a lighter, only to find a scrap of paper. The boys had slipped a special invitation into your pocket at your meet and greet, one they had been saving for a very special fan.

But here you were, standing in the hotel hallway and staring up at the door in front of you, glancing down at the slip of paper to make sure you have the right room number. You suddenly began to get cold feet, wondering if this was some kind of sick joke. Would you open the door, only to be met with bewildered expressions on unfamiliar faces? Or, even worse, would you be greeted by the four of them, cackling like a pack of hyenas at your gullible nature?

You push away those unwelcome thoughts, putting on as brave a face as you can muster and raising a trembling hand to the door. You knock thrice as instructed, waiting with bated breath. Until...

"Y/N! We were beginning to worry you'd run our invitation through the wash. Come on in!" Paul welcomes you, holding the hotel door open.

You sigh in relief and chuckle nervously, taking a few tentative steps into the suite, the scent of cigarette smoke and cologne almost overpowering. The other three all greet you, seated in various positions on the sectional sofa.

A voice stands apart from the others, clearer than the rest - it's John.

"We've been looking forward to this all week."

Your heart skips a beat and you look to him with innocent confusion.

"And... what, exactly, is this?"

The four men exchange shocked glances, having assumed you knew what was intended by the invitation.

"Well, we thought... you know, with us," Ringo begins, but John cuts him off.

"We want to shag ya. The four of us," he explains bluntly.

George gives him a swift elbow to the ribs.

"Knock it off, mate! You'll scare the poor thing." John only rolls his eyes in response.

You're taken aback by the proposition. You know no one in their right mind would pass up such an opportunity and, though not opposed, you can't help but feel intimidated. This would be your first time, and with The Beatles? All of them?!

Paul interrupts your train of thought.

"You really don't have to, we can just-"

"No, no! Believe me, I've dreamt about this forever. It's just..." you trail off, somewhat embarrassed.

"What is it? You can tell us, we won't judge," Ringo encourages, but John interjects.

"If we didn't say anything about that outfit you wore to our concert, you know we're good for it," he snickers.

George throws him another jab to the ribs with his elbow.

"Ow!"

You ignore his snide comment, too focused on the matter at hand to be offended.

"I'm... a virgin," you admit, bracing yourself for laughter. Instead, you're met with gentle nods and understanding expressions from the four men. They take a moment to process your admission.

"We wouldn't want to pressure you," assures George as you take a deep breath.

You take a moment to consider the idea. On one hand, this is an important part of someone's life, a milestone - not exactly a decision to be rushed. But on the other... it's The Beatles. I mean, come on. This is the opportunity of a lifetime.

"Well, if there was ever a good time... I suppose this would be it."

"You sure, love?" Ringo chimes in. "The last thing we'd want is for you to feel uncomfortable."

"I'm sure."

"Well, all right then." They share another look amongst themselves before John nods and looks to you.

"We'll start off slow then, yeah? C'mere," he says, patting his thighs. You approach, nervous excitement coursing through your veins.

You sit on his lap, your body tense. He places his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them soothingly.

"Loosen up, I wont bite."

"Yeah, right."

He shoots George a look.

"Unless you ask nicely," he says with a wink.

You chuckle, beginning to relax. The others watch intently as John shifts his hands to your waist, gently massaging your sides. He mumbles lazily in your ear, his thick accent intoxicating.

"Speak up, Johnny!"

"Share with the class, will ya?"

"Oh, piss off," John dismisses Paul and Ringo, returning to your ear for a nibble. You giggle at the unfamiliar feeling, his nose brushing against your cheek. He moves to your neck, starting off with gentle kisses before growing bolder, leaving love bites along the junction of your neck and shoulder.

You shiver as his hands wander lower - down to your hips, giving them a squeeze, then coming to rest on your thighs. The size of his hands and the warmth of his palms stir something within you. You inhale sharply, biting your lip as a familiar heat pools in your abdomen - the same kind you feel when you watch the lads perform. Judging by the growing bulge beneath you, it seems John is enjoying himself just as much.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes!" You reply breathlessly, a little too eager. "Yes. Keep going."

This earns a chorus of chuckles from the group, who have each begun to palm themselves through their trousers at the sight.

John's hands work their way to your inner thighs, caressing and squeezing gently. He mumbles sweet nothings in your ear as he parts them. His warm breath tickles the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"More, I want more."

At that, Paul stands and steps closer to you, twirling a lock of your hair around his finger.

"You want more, do you, pretty girl?"

You nod enthusiastically, whining in arousal.

"Perhaps she could use something in that pretty mouth of hers to muffle those whines," George suggests with a smirk. You get what he's hinting at, biting your lip and giggling nervously as you look up at Paul.

"I'm not sure I know how..."

"Oh, I'm more than happy to show you, love... if you would."

"Please."

"Eager little thing, eh?" George and Ringo tease, but Paul ignores them.

"Sweet girl... I'll give you what you want."

Paul undoes his trousers and drops them to his ankles, followed quickly by his briefs. You can't help but stare, awestruck, and Paul chuckles.

"Like what you see?"

You nod.

"Would you?" he asks, and it takes you a moment to realize he's inviting you to touch. You reach a tentative hand out in front of you.

"No need to be nervous," he soothes, stroking your hair tenderly.

You grasp the base of his length, hand trembling, and Paul groans at the contact. His skin is softer than you's expected, somehow, and you decide you like the feeling. You begin to move your hand up and down, pumping him cautiously as if afraid to hurt him. Your eyes flicker from your own hand to Paul's face, cheeks flushed and mouth agape. The sight of him this way, knowing what you can do to him with just a few simple touches, makes you feel powerful in a way.

Meanwhile, John's hand slips beneath the waistband of your knickers, traveling lower until he reaches your heat. You instinctively tighten your grip on Paul and the two of you moan in tandem. John trails a finger up your slick folds, drawing gentle circles around your clit.

"Mm... are you ready to open up for me, sweetheart?" Paul asks, his voice almost sickeningly sweet. By this point, Ringo and George have both unzipped their flies, tugging their trousers and briefs down past their hips. They're clearly enjoying this little show, pleasuring themselves as they devour you with their eyes.

"Go on, doll," John encourages. "Take 'im into your mouth."

You do as he instructs, eliciting another soft moan from Paul. He tightens his hold on your hair, using all of his willpower to keep himself from tugging you down onto him.

"Oh, good girl... further, if you can. I won't rush ya."

You pull back for a breath before obeying, slowly taking more of him into your mouth. He throws his head back, groaning in satisfaction. A string of curses tumble from his lips at the soft, warm feeling and you hear John snicker behind you. You really start to get the hang of things, falling into a steady rhythm and bobbing your head as if you were made for this.

All of a sudden, your focus is broken as John's fingers cease their movements and you feel them wander lower. He slides a finger inside of you, taking care to go slow - he's far more gentle than you had imagined. You moan around Paul and he growls, faced flushed pink and eyes screwed shut.

"Fuck... don't stop, doll. You're perfect," he praises and you continue as John's hand moves between your legs.

The friction of his fingers along with Paul's words of praise leaves you lightheaded - well, that and the lack of oxygen. As you pull away for air, George clears his throat.

"What about us, Macca?" He quirks an eyebrow, gesturing to himself and Ringo.

Paul hesitates for a moment before sighing, irritated.

"Fine... I'm getting close, anyway," he grumbles, tugging his waistband back up as you pout in disappointment.

Soon enough, Paul takes a seat on the sofa and George and Ringo take his place, pumping themselves idly as they gaze down at you with lust-filled eyes.

"Go on, doll," George begins, a wolfish grin playing on his handsome features. You comply, taking him into your mouth a little too far as you sputter and cough.

"Careful, dear," he chuckles. "Take it slow."

You try again, more gradually this time. John squeezes your hip with his free hand and you squeak, sending pleasant vibrations through George's lower half.

"That's it, love. Nice and easy," he groans, running his fingers through your hair. After a few minutes you gain momentum, growing more confident in your actions. A tight knot forms in George's stomach as he feels the others' eyes on the two of you, heat rising to his cheeks as he lets out another deep growl. You continue your work on him, but Ringo becomes impatient, scoffing and nudging George's shoulder to snap him out of his stupor.

"C'mon, mate. I think it's my turn - that is, if the lass'll have me." He turns to you, a hopeful glint in his blue eyes.

You nod, humming an "mm-hm" around George's cock. He relents, pulling away begrudgingly.

"Fine. Go on, Rich."

"Attaboy, Ritchie," John pipes up, a lazy grin on his face. Paul simply gazes at you through half-lidded eyes, mesmerized by the performance you've been putting on.

Ringo stands before you, trousers undone. He seems a bit nervous, but any reservations he has are quickly overpowered by desire as he sees your glistening lips and messy hair. You reach a curious hand up and Ringo takes it in his calloused one, guiding you to grasp the base of his length. You give him a soft tug, catching him off guard. He draws a breath through clenched teeth, eyes fluttering closed.

You take him slowly into your mouth, your jaw working overtime to accommodate his size. Once you've settled into your pace, you begin to experiment with your tongue, tracing the underside of his cock. He growls almost primally, tightening his grip on your hair and moaning your name as you bring him closer to the edge.

"All right, you've had your fun," George interrupts and buries his own hand in your hair, gently grasping and tugging. You go to work on him once again, in a daze.

"That's not fair, mate. I had her," Ringo retorts, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling you back in his direction. The two men bicker as they stand over you, essentially playing tug-of-war with your mouth.

"All right, all right, that's enough of that." John swats their hands away and they draw back, pouting.

"Yeah, c'mon, lads. We'll each have our turn," Paul chastises.

"In fact, " muses John, "I'd say it's about time Paulie and I take the reigns, eh?" He withdraws his hand from between your thighs, casually licking his fingers clean.

"Wait, wait... and? How's that supposed to work."

"Come with us, love. We'll show you." Paul takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom, the other three following suit.

John places a soothing hand on your upper back, ushering you to the bed.

"On all fours, darling. Just relax."

You do as he instructs, getting into position as the others watch on with hungry eyes. John pushes your skirt up above your hips and tugs gently on the waistband of your knickers.

"Can I take care of these for ya?" he smirks.

You hesitate for only a moment before turning back to look at him over your shoulder.

"Yes. Please."

"Eager, are we?" They all chuckle and John slides them off, his trousers growing even tighter at the sight of you bare before him.

"Christ, you're soaked," he murmurs and you blush, somewhat embarrassed.

"Is that... bad?"

"Oh. Right." You bite your lip. John undoes his trousers and lines himself up at your entrance, stroking your hair to calm you.

John chuckles, amused by your inexperience. "No, sweetheart, not at all. It tells me you're excited - y'know, ready for me."

"Now - you're sure you want this, yeah?"

"Yes! Yes. I've thought it through, and..." you draw a breath, "this is what I want."

John groans, satisfied by your response.

"All right. Relax your body as much as you can, and keep your breathing steady. Don't worry, I'll be gentle," he reassures and you nod.

"Ready for me, love?"

You hiss and squeeze your eyes shut. John waits for your body to adjust to the intrusion before gradually sinking all the way in, using your hip as leverage while he buries himself inside you. The others look on with a combination of jealousy and need, wishing they were the ones to fill you.

"Yes! Yes. I want you, John," you beg and he takes your cue, pushing slowly into you.

"Fuck, doll. You're so bloody tight," John growls as you grip the bedsheets beneath you. The other three groan, imagining themselves in John's place. After a few moments, he speaks up.

"I'm going to move now, doll."

John begins to move, sliding in and out of you slowly, careful not to hurt you. You whine in pleasure, the sudden friction causing you to arch your back further. His breathing grows heavy, grunting as he increases his pace.

"Mm-hm," you whimper and brace yourself.

"Ah... fuck. Uh-huh," you manage as John continues to fuck you into the mattress.

"Mm... you're doing so good. Think you can take Paulie too?" he challenges and Paul lifts his head, pausing his movements.

Paul approaches, a sly grin on his boyish features as he stands in front of you.

"Yes, Paulie, yes! I need you all so bad."

"Sure you can handle it, love?"

You moan around him as he slides himself into your mouth, stilling when he hits the back of your throat. He pauses, composing himself before sliding in and out of your mouth, gripping the base of his length as he guides himself.

Your words elicit a collective moan from the men and Paul presses his tip to your mouth, eager to have you again.

"She's damn good, ain't she, Paulie?" he asks through his own pleasured grunts. Paul hums in agreement as the two men thrust in and out of you, the rhythmic push and pull scrambling your thoughts and dulling your senses.

"Bloody hell," he mutters, "Her mouth feels so good Paul groans as John chuckles breathlessly, increasing his pace to match Paul's.

"Feeling generous, love? You've got two hands, after all," Ringo points out. In your lust-filled trance, you raise your arms, offering your hands to the two men. They gratefully accept, thrusting into your fists as the four of them surround you.

Ringo and George, stroking themselves to the sight, begin to feel left out and approach the bed.

You take care of the men's needs surprisingly well considering your lack of experience.

"She's too bloody tight to have done anything before. Trust me, Macca," he groans, gripping your hips as he fucks you into the mattress.

"You sure you haven't done this before, doll?" Paul questions, but John interjects.

"Fuck... Christ, love. Where do you want me?" he asks and you consider your options.

Your whines increase in pitch and frequency, but you certainly aren't alone as all of the men approach their climaxes.

"On my ass," you reply and he pulls out near-immediately, spilling his load on your lower half. You revel in the warmth, moaning around Paul as he approaches his own summit. He pulls out of your mouth, unloading onto your pretty face while you lie as still as possible, drunk on the taste of him.

"Bloody hell, Y/N..." Ringo murmurs.

While John and Paul catch their breaths, George and Ringo increase the speed of their movements, driven by the sight of you drenched in their bandmates' cum.

"I-I'm going to-" he pulls out of your hand, covering your chest and shoulder with his hot cum as George does the same, groaning your name loudly.

The five of you take a moment to breathe, all of you sweaty and spent. You collapse onto the bed, none of them really caring about the mess.

"You should probably clean yourself up, love," Paul suggests. Begrudgingly, you rise from the bed and head for the attached bathroom. You manage to make yourself decent, dressing yourself in a t-shirt one of the boys left behind before stepping back out into the bedroom.

They all stare at you in disbelief, mouths agape.

"So, uh... can one of you drive me home?"

"Plus, you ARE wearing my shirt," John points out.

"You really think we're going to let you go back to your flat after THAT?" George asks, incredulous.

You chuckle in response.

"Guess not," you reply, flopping down on the bed. The men clean themselves up, returning to your side.

"So good for us," George adds, nosing into your hair while the others hum in agreement.

"Such a good girl, you are," Paul praises and kisses your forehead.

By the time they start arguing about John hogging the covers, you're already drifting off to sleep, the familiar chatter comforting you and quieting your mind.

"Aww. Look at that, lads. Guess we lulled her to sleep," Ringo snorts.

"Yeah, but I should-" John pauses, interrupted by your faint snoring.

They each lean over to place kisses on your cheeks, whispering their own "goodnight"s and finally shutting the light off to join you in your slumber.

[thebeatles-world]

Picture Perfect: Part Six

***** A BIT OF SMUT **** ⚠️‼️⚠️ MENTIONS OF S*X ...... BEWARE..... FYI THIS IS A LONG IMAGINE SO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT....

There was an agreement between you and Ringo that you two would spend a couple of nights in a fancy motel. Just a couple of days before you guys chose to go home back to England.

When you and Ringo were making love to each other, Floyd Robinson's "Makin' Love" was playing in the background.

As far as you know, you have never had any experience with someone making love to you except for Ringo.

Due to the fact that Ringo made you feel so fantastic, you moaned.

The only thing Elvis ever wanted was to have sex with you. As far as you are concerned, he never made love to you.

It was the first time Ringo had shown you sex until now.

In view of the fact that you and Elvis had constant sex back then, the only reason you and Ringo postponed having sex was the fact that you weren't ready for it yet.

Ringo was the first person to give you an orgasm.

''It drives me insane when you moan Y/N. you drive me so mad.'' Ringo groans as he responds to your moans.

It was impossible for you and Ringo to keep both of your hands apart from each other.

Ringo and you found each other's pleasure in each other's company. You both performed oral sex on each other during the course of the night.

The two of you liked to pleasure one another as well as hearing each other moan with pleasure.

You left love bites on Ringo's chest while he left love bites on your bare shoulders.

It was the best night you could ever have..

When you and Ringo finished making love to each other, you got dressed, made yourself a cup of honey with tea, and walked out of the room to the balcony where you could admire the view of the beach outside of the fancy hotel.

''You must admit that it is quite beautiful, isn't it? '' You told Ringo as he joined you on the balconey.

"The beach is indeed beautiful.'' Ringo replied, placing a kiss on the top of your head as he smiled back at you.

Taking a sip of your honey tea, you said to Ringo, "You know, I wasn't exactly the prettiest girl in the world.'' You told him, taking a sip of your honey tea.

''What are you talking about? You are beautiful to me, darling, and I adore you. It doesn't matter what you looked like in the past; you will always remain beautiful to me.'' Ringo told you.

I appreciate it very much, Ringo… I really do. You smiled as you said it. The memories of horror that you went through when you were a middle school student, and a high school student came back to you like crashing waves from a ocean.

There was a time that I was bullied because of my looks, the way my body looked, my voice, and so on. You explained this to Ringo.

The girls at school always made fun of me, laughed at me, threw things at me, gossiped about me, and made fun of me all the time. During my time at school, I was harassed and made fun of by the boys in my class as well.'' You said.

''There wasn't really a good school life as well as a good home life for me growing up. The woman who bullied me at home was my mother. In addition to being bullied at home, I was also bullied at school at the same time. It's hard to believe that I managed to survive.'' You replied.

There are a lot of details in your book that go into detail about all of this.

The only time you liked talking about it was when people in interviews asked you about it when they were asking you questions about your book.

As you grew up, you went through a very difficult time in your life. You also knew that Ringo had read your book, but he knew not to ask you any questions about it until you were ready to open up about it. Now you were ready to talk about your past and what you went through in the past.

Your mother abused and bullied you as well as when your parents divorced, and you explained to Ringo the abuse and bullying she put you through, as well as how your father caught your mother cheating on him with a man who ended up becoming her husband, who then ended up doing something horrible to you behind closed doors when your mother was not present.

Ultimately, when you finally told your mother about it, she did not believe you and kicked you out of the house, so you had no choice but to live with your father.

As soon as you had finished talking, you took a sip of your tea and sat down to rest. You felt better in Ringo's arms as he held you and comforted you with sweet words which made you feel better as he wrapped his arms around you.

''You are the strongest woman I have ever met in my life. I will protect you and make sure that you will never be touched or even hurt by anyone again. You mean so much to me darling, and I promise you I won't ever allow you to go through that again…'' Ringo told you.

As you looked at Ringo, you nodded and kissed his lips with a soft smile. ''I love you so much, Ringo.'' you told him quietly and he kissed you back.

"Y/N, I will always love you and I will always take care of you." Ringo replied.

Ringo was a wonderful boyfriend for you: he was so handsome, sweet, caring, and lovely to be around.

While you and Ringo were cozily cuddling outside on the balcony, neither of you had any idea that Elvis had checked himself into the same fancy hotel where you were both staying.

Well, Elvis decided to rent a room at the fancy hotel with Ann-Margret, the same woman who he cheated on you with behind your back when he was filming a movie with her when you both were dating in the past.

When you found out that Elvis cheated on you with Ann-Margret, you angrily grabbed a glass plate and threw it at Elvis. After that, you burst into tears and cried uncontrollably as you watched Elvis scurry away, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

''I can't believe you would do this to me, Elvis! How could you cheat on me with Ann-Margret? I thought you loved me and that we were going to be together forever. I trusted you and now you've broken my heart.'' You would cry as Elvis just stared at you and didn't even try to comfort you or even say to you.

When you and Elvis broke up that's when he noticed how much it hurt you and he brings himself down sometimes because of it.

The main reason why Elvis was hanging out with Ann-Margret at the hotel was to get you out of his mind after what happen back in the club.

"Ann-Margret, I'm going to go smoke a cig real quick." Elvis said, nodding at her.

"All right, sweetie." Ann-Margret responded to him while she was unpacking her suitcase.

Elvis went outside and strolled down the beach. He heard crashing waves. It was incredibly quiet outside. The night sky was illuminated by the twinkling stars.

When Elvis started smoking his cigarette, he noticed that up in the balcony he could hear your voice as he smoked.

His first thought was that he was just imagining things, but it was not. it was real. The night sky was now filled with the sounds of your laughter and the voices of Ringo's chatter.

Elvis felt his heart race and he could feel a chill in the air.

Elvis was jealous of Ringo because he could kiss you, hold you, and call you his girl while Elvis could not do those things anymore. Elvis was reminded of this each time he heard your laughter, and he felt like he was missing out on something special. Elvis's heart ached.

"I'm going to get your bath ready inside." Elvis heard Ringo say and he couldn't help but gaze as you and Ringo exchanged a kiss.

''I'm going to go inside and get your bath ready.'' Elvis mocked Ringo in his best British accent.

''Why does that British kid have something that I don't have?'' Elvis thought to himself in jealous envy.

Why were the Beatles more popular than Elvis when Elvis felt like he wrote and sang better music than them?

Elvis saw you on the balcony by yourself when Ringo went inside. He finished his last bit of cigarette....

You dranked your last bit of tea. "Ah," you sighed, "the perfect way to end my night" You stood up and stretched, feeling refreshed.

Before you went inside, you suddenly spotted Elvis outside. He still hasn't notice you yet.

Your heart felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you by someone.

"What the heck was Elvis doing here?'' You whispered out loud to yourself.

TO BE CONTINUNED.....

[givemequeen]

I want everyone to know that you’re mine: George Harrison x reader

request(s): - can you write a smut about George being like possessive and wanting the reader to be loud during sex bc “I want everyone to know that you’re mine” and if possible have it happen bc maybe the reader was getting hit on by the others and George wanted to reiterate who she was with? Thanks so much! - Can you write something smutty for George? - pls i need more george smut 🥺🥺🥺 im in love w him 🥺🥺🥺🥺 (aren’t well all) a/n: do any other authors get horny when writing smut or... pairing: George Harrison x reader summary: teasing George (just realised i put in the wrong summary! it is correct now tho, whoops!) warnings: sexy time! dirty sexy time! orgasm denial (female) oral (male receiving). unprotected sex (remember to wrap it before you tap it, lads). ass smacking. kinda harsh sex but not too harsh. jealous!george word count: 3651

George always got off the stage horny. He said it was a combination of a lot things but you knew the roar of the crowd and the fact you were there watching and waiting for him was what really got him going. He wanted you to see his success, just like you wanted to show how proud you were of him. He had, after all, worked so hard to get where he was. So, you never missed a show. 

Tonight was no different, George, despite being engrossed by his performance, couldn’t stop looking backstage to look at you. You had worn a short dress today and no underwear. You had whispered this delicate information to him just as he was getting on stage and when it was too late for him to do anything about it. But the look on his face was priceless, pure shock and desire. 

As soon as the last song was over, he bolted off stage, not even waiting for their final bow, and rushed towards you, nearly toppling you over. He picked you up, hands flying to your ass, and spun you around. 

“Fuck, I’m so hard, I’ve been waiting all night for this.” He growled in your ear, pushing his boner against you. “Let’s go baby, please.” You laughed and placed your hand on his chest, pushing him back. 

“We can’t leave, there’s the after party.” You winked before walking away to congratulate the other boys with a polite kiss on their cheeks. 

Once their instruments were safely set to the side the five of you headed outside to your cars. George followed close behind you, his hand low on the small of your back, finger feeling the fabric to remind himself you weren’t wearing any underwear. You got into two cars, You, George, and Paul on one and Ringo and John on the other. 

The cars sped away from the crowds of fans and headed to the hotel you were all staying at. The hotel had organised a party for the band in their presidential suite. It was going to be filled with roadies, journalists, music producers, and models, and you couldn’t wait to use this opportunity to tease George. 

You were sat between the two boys with one of your hands on George’s thigh, your slim fingers drawing circles in his inner thighs. 

“That’s driving me wild, I’m going to fuck you when we get to the room.” George muttered as he pressed his lips to your ear.

“So, did you like the show?” Paul asked, oblivious to what was going on. He had light a cigarette and was offering some to you and George. George accepted, placing it between his lips and lighting it. Something about him lighting a fag drove you wild and you couldn’t wait to fuck him once you go to the hotel but the game you were playing wasn’t going to end soon.

“Of course, you were amazing tonight.” you said, momentarily placing a hand on his knee and removing the one you had on George’s thigh.

George sat up and you smiled, knowing he had taken the bait. Paul smiled happily and thanked you.

“You look great tonight, love.” Paul smirked. “That dress... is it new?” You could hear George practically growl next to you.

“Yes!” 

“Looks stunning on you, love.” he met your eyes and smiled that charming smile of his. “You look stunning tonight.”

“Back off McCartney.” George said, placing a protective arm around you.

“C’mon Georgie, don’t be ridiculous.” you said, pushing off of him.

“Yeah, Georgie.” Paul teased as the car came to a stop, having finally reached the hotel.

George reached over to him but Paul jumped out of the car. Cameras immediately starting flashing, fans were yelling the boy’s names all around you. You kissed George’s cheek before getting out, pressing your ass into him as you moved over him. George grabbed your waist and pulled you to him, pressing his boner against you.

“Behave, I see what you are doing.” he said before letting you go.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” you smiled, grabbing his hand and walking into the hotel through the screaming crowds. 

Once in the suite you headed off to find your group of friends. They were an assortment of journalists and roadies who followed the band around. Naturally, you spent a lot of time with them which caused a friendship to flourish. In this group of friends was a specific roadie who George hated as George claimed he had flirted with you. Your boyfriend wouldn’t listen to reason since you repeatedly told him he was gay and was more interested in him than in you.

“Thats just an excuse to touch your boobs.” George had said, pouting.

“No because he surprisingly does not touch my boobs.” you had rolled your eyes and left it at that. 

But you could now feel George’s eyes on you across the room as you sipped on a drink, lounging on one of the velvet sofas, and talked to said roadie. George had been starting at you the entire time you were there but he had been caught in a conversation with some music producer.

John came over to join you, sitting by your side and placing his arm on the sofa behind you. He started mumbling about the concert and the party but he was so drunk you couldn’t understand him so you simply patted his shoulder and nodded. You could feel George watching you and suddenly an idea came onto mind.

You stood up and sat back down across John’s lap. He smiled up at you and hugged you, clearly ready to sleep. You ran your fingers through his hair and glanced up at where George had last been but he was gone. You glanced around, suddenly worried that you couldn’t find him.

“Love.” George said from behind you. You jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. You looked back and smiled, George was upside down!

“Georgie, you’re upside down!” you laughed.

“Are you drunk?” he asked, cocking his head sideways. His face was tense, clearly unhappy at the situation but you couldn’t care less, he had to live a little. “Get off his lap.”

“No, I’m just happy.” you threw your arms around his hips, dragging him towards you, and ignoring his second question. “And you?”

“Lets get out of here.” he whispered, leaning over and starting to pull you away from John, who just flopped backwards and promptly fell asleep.

“What? No! The night is young.” you whined before standing up and dragging George over to the dance floor. 

Dozens of people had congregated in the centre of the room and were dancing widely. Arms were thrown up and hips were swung to the rhythm of the music. You pulled George to the centre and placed your arms on his shoulders. His hand went to your hips, pulling you close.

“You look gorgeous tonight.” George said, his lips chasing yours. “What were you doing on John?”

But you ignored him and allowed yourself to feel the music, the thumping of the bass resonated deep within you. You threw your head back and immediately George’s mouth went to your neck. He kissed and sucked on the skin there, surely leaving marks.

“Georgie, careful.” you frowned, chastising him.

“Lets go, my love, I want you.” he pressed himself against you. “I need you.”

“I can feel that.” you giggled.

“Do you want me to fuck you right here? Huh? In the middle of the room and let everyone see how well you take my cock?” his voice was low, its vibrations travelled all the way down between your legs.

“Fuck, Georgie.” you palmed him through the jeans, looking around to make sure no one could see but everyone was too high or drunk to notice.

“Lets go.” he wrapped his longer slender fingers around your wrist and pulled you towards the exit. A couple people tried to stop him to talk to him but he was a man on a mission and practically shoved them aside. Once outside the suite, George picked you up and pressed you against the wall.

He began kissing you like a starving man, hands slipping under your dress to grab your ass. You moaned as he pressed himself against you and you rocked your hips against him, desperate for some friction. George pressed himself further against you, preventing you from moving.

“No, you don’t get to do that after how you have behaved all night.” he sunk his teeth onto your flesh and you yelped, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“I’ve been good, Geo, what do you mean?” you lied, kissing his face.

“You and I both know thats a lie.” he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him. “You’re gonna do as I say and if you’re good maybe I’ll cum in you.” George set you down and grabbed you, pulling you towards your room.

Once inside, he picked you back up and took you over to the bed, dropping you on it. You watched in anticipation as he slowly took his shirt off. You rubbed your thighs together, desperate for some friction.

“Stop that.” George snapped. “You don’t get to do that.” he shook his head and you.

Finally, his shirt came off. He threw it on the ground and unbuckled his belt. He dropped his trousers and took himself out of his pants. While staring right at you, George stroked himself. You bit your lower lip, eager to have him in you.

“Stand up.” he ordered, you did as he requested, your eyes sliding down to his erection. “Kneel.” you dropped to your knees and looked up at him.

“Now what?” you asked sweetly, trying your best not to look at it.

George stayed silent, he trailed his fingers through your hair and tugged it back so your mouth fell open. He grabbed himself and guided your mouth towards him. You stuck your tongue out, allowing his cock to rest on it, and closed your lips around him.

“Good girl.” he said, his other hand went to your chin, pushing it up so he could see better.

You closed your eyes and moved your head forward until his cock hit the back of your throat. You gagged slightly but remained there until tears formed in your eyes. You pulled back, gasped your air, and did it again. Slowly, you let your tongue explore him. It went over the ridges and veins of his cock, mapping out every inch of it.

One of your hands went to his hips for stability, the other going between your legs. You slipped two fingers inside of you and rocked your hips the same way you bobbed your head backwards and forwards. You moaned, the vibrations of your moan made him buck his hips forward.

He groaned and collected your hair into one hand. He pulled you back so only the tip of his cock was inside your mouth, and slowly pulled himself out. A single line of spit and pre-cum connected you and his dick. He grabbed his cock and placed it back into your mouth.

“Mouth open.” he slowly pushed his hips forward. You held your breath, fingers stopping inside of you, and felt your eyes roll to the back of your head as he made his way down your throat.

Then, at the same excruciatingly slow pace, slid himself back out. George did this a couple times before slamming into you with no warning. You choked on his cock but that didn’t stop him. He grabbed your jaw, hand so big his fingers nearly reaches your ears, and fucked your mouth. 

“Fuck...” he groaned. “This is what you get for being a slut.” his eyes were trained on yours. “Stop fucking touching yourself, you think I don’t notice?” reluctantly you removed your fingers from yourself. “Now take my cum.” he pushed his hips into your mouth one last time before finishing inside of you. As his cum shot out, he rolled his hips, and you licked his cock, making sure every last drop came out.

Then, he slid himself out. You stuck your tongue out and blinked up at him. “Good girl.” he slid his finger down your cheek and shoved them into your mouth, reaching the very back and making you gag. “Swallow.” you did as you were told. “Now get up.”

“Yes, daddy.” you stood up and George’s mouth was immediately on yours. He reached behind you and pulled down the zipper to your dress. The short sleeves of the dress fell from your shoulders. George pulled it over your head, leaving you completely bare. He pushed you onto the bed, grabbed your ankles, pushing your legs apart, and dragged you to him.

His fingers slid up your thighs at an excruciatingly slow pace, getting closer and closer to where you needed him the most. He looked up at you through his lashes, there was pure hunger in his eyes.

“Please Geo.” you whined.

“What do you want, my love?” he asked getting closer to you. You bit your lower lip and nodded. His fingers slid into you and you moaned. “Louder.” his fingers curled inside you and you moaned louder. He began working his magic inside of you, moving his fingers with such precision and rhythm that made you thank your lucky stars that he was a musician.

Your mouth hung open as you let moan after moan spill out of you. His thumb went to your clit, gently massaging it. Your thigh were threatening to close but George had placed his hands over them, pressing them down. You moaned his name and told him you were close.

“Good girl.” he said as he pulled his fingers away from you.

“What the fuck?” You groaned, dizzy from the pleasure and alcohol. You watched as he sat on the edge of the bed and patted his lap.

“Sit here.” You did as you were told and straddled his thigh.

“What now?” 

“Get yourself off.” he shrugged.

Heat rose up to your cheeks. Get yourself off? On his thigh? You swallowed and nodded. You rocked your hips, a small whine escaping your lips at the sensation. His thigh was hard, the muscle under rubbing against you in the best way possible.

“You don’t think I want to fuck you?” he growled, his hands went to your hips gripping you tightly and urging to move faster. “You don’t think I want to shove my cock in you and make you come?”

“I know you do.” you moaned. “Oh, George...”

“Then why do you behave so naughtily? Flirting with Paul and John right in front of me? It’s like you’re begging to be punished.” he tutted, shaking his head.

One hand went to your breast, squeezing it harshly. You moaned his name as he licked your nipple. You rocked your hips against him faster, determined to orgasm. 

“I wasn’t flirting.” you lied as you quickened your pace.

“Don’t fucking lie, slut.” George said grabbing your jaw. You looked at him and reached for his cock.

You jerked him off at the same pace you rocked against him. Each time you moaned his name his hips jerked. You moaned it louder and he kissed you, you moaned it even louder and he played with your breasts.

But George’s patience was wearing thin. He flipped you around, laying you on the bed and crawled over you. His mouth was on you, his kisses sloppy, and with no warning, he slammed into you. You gasped his name, unable to do much else, and squeezed your thighs around him and he relentlessly pounded into you.

“Louder, love. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. I want everyone to hear how well I fuck you.” he grabbed your hands and pinned them above you, exposing your neck.

His mouth attached itself to the soft skin there and began sucking. You went to complain but a sharp slam of his hips shut you up. Instead, you moaned and moaned. Each slam of his hips making you go louder. You yelled his name and his rhythm got sloppy.

George pulled out of you and turned you around with ease. He pulled your hips up, exposing your ass to him, and aligned himself, his dick pressed against you. He rubbed his tip against you slowly, almost as though taunting you. You pushed your hips back and he pulled away.

“Oh George, fuck me please, please.” you moaned. 

He smacked your ass and slowly slid in to you. He quickly returned to the ruthless pace he had set before. His hand slapping your ass as you gripped the sheets. His fingers went around your hips, meeting your clit, and began drawing circles. 

You were coming undone, the brutal slamming of his hips against yours filling the room with the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with the effortlessly skilled movement of his fingers against you was pleasantly overwhelming. He leaned over you, pressing his chest against your back and pulled your hair back. 

“Are you going to come?” he groaned. “Come for daddy, you’ve been good. I want to hear you.” 

You nodded and let yourself loose. The explosion of pleasure took over you, making your body go limp. George held you up as he continued fucking and fingering you. You unapologetically moaned his name over and over until your throat felt raw.

Just as you were coming down from your high George slammed his hips into you one last time and came inside you. His cum shooting into you felt delightfully familiar. You clenched around him and gripped the sheets so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if they ripped.

George collapsed on top of you, cock still inside you and weight crushing you. He gently kissed your shoulder, hand going around your body to squeeze your breast. His cock was still hard when he slipped it out. You rolled over and smiled at him but he was staring between your legs.

He licked his fingers and pushed his cum that had began leaking out of you and down your thighs back in. You winced at the wave of pleasure that crashed against you like aftershock. 

“This pussy is mine.” he said, reaching down to kiss it. 

Bonus:

George had returned from the bathroom and scooped your limp body in his arms. He had taken you into the bath and sat behind you, your back against his chest, wet bodies pressed together, as he gently cleaned you up. Then, he had tenderly dried you, taking extra care around your thighs, and taken you back into bed were you were now spooning.

“Was that good?” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Very.” you mumbled.

“It wasn’t... too much?” 

You turned your head to look at him and smiled, placing a hand over his cheek.

“I liked it. I love it when you’re possessive. It was very hot.” you gently kissed his cheek. “I love you.” you murmured and spun your whole body around to face his.

“I love you too.” he said, pressing his head into your hair.

You reached your hand down his pants and hesitated. George nodded and reached to pull your own underwear down. You wrapped your hands around him and felt as he got hard. 

George laid back, his hands on your hips guiding you over him. He comfortably slid into you, like a key into a lock, and you both happily sighed. You fell against him, bare chest against bare chest, and slowly rocked your hips. George wrapped his arms around you and met your movements half way.

“I’m sorry love, I can’t last any longer.” he groaned.

“Cum in me, Geo. Fill me up.” you whispered, your words driving him wild. 

It was the most comfortable filling, his hips crashing against yours - once, twice, three times - as he came undone. Then, you remained like that, his cock buried deep in you and his mouth kissing your skin, until he softened. You pulled yourself away from him and he tucked himself back in.

He pulled you against him, his whole body wrapping around yours, and fell into a deep slumber.

BONUS BONUS:

The next morning you stumbled over to the wardrobe, George watching your naked behind body from the bed, and pulled on plaid trousers and a pink cardigan to match. He helped you as you got ready, kissing your cheek and neck or wherever he could reach.

You walked hand in hand towards the elevator and made your way down to the private room the hotel had given the band for their meals. Inside was John, Ringo, and Paul, all sat around a round table filled with food.

They all looked up as you entered and started laughing. Unsure, you cocked your head to the side and asked them what was so funny.

“Did you have a good night?” John said, wiggling his eyebrows, between fits of laughter.

Realisation dawned on you, they probably heard everything. You shut your eyes in embarrassment but George was having none of it. He pulled you to his side, arm going around your shoulders and led you to the table where breakfast was set.

“Piss off, you lot are just jealous.” he said, rolling his eyes and ignoring their howls of laughter.

[iheartjohnlennon]

The Beatles NSFW Alphabet - George   

@heiterhund >>> #1 co writer

Oopsies for any grammatical errors

A is for Aftercare (How he treats you after sex, what happens after sex, etc...) 

• George didn’t even know it had a name. He just thought it was common practice to be caring and giving after sex.

• He usually runs you both a shower, quick to support your body as he rinses and cleans you off. He’ll offer you a clean blanket after the act, just to be sure you feel comfortable and at ease. The bed will be all done up, fluffed pillows, enough space, all for you and him.

• Super, super sweet guy. If you wanted a drink he’d probably already have it ready at the bedside. 

     

B is for Body part (His favourite body part of yours) 

• George loves your eyes and mouth.

• He loves the way your eyes light up when you see something you like. The pretty gleam when you make eye contact with him has him weak in the knees. He feels like a lovesick dog.

• Your smile is so precious. He loves the way your teeth look, no matter how much you may dislike them. He thinks they’re perfect. 

• Your eyes and mouth are so beautiful to him...especially when you’re taking a mouthful of his cock with your eyes watering.

     

C is for Cum (Everything to do with cum!)

• George likes to cum in your mouth.

• He especially likes when you swallow his cum and don't spit it out. He likes the filthiness of that.

     

D is for Dirty secret (Something utterly filthy that he did and/or does/and or wants to do behind your back.)

• George wants to do anal but he thinks that you would think it's gross.

• He knows it'd feel way tighter than your cunt and he wants that feeling. With your consent and some lube, he'd be fucking you like a rabbit. George definitely teases the hole as well. It looks so cute, so tight, so warm - perfect for his cock. 

• George thinks doing anal things would make him feel more dominant. You'd be his bitch, taking it up the ass.

• He doesn’t know how to ask or tell you about it directly, so he usually gets off to the idea of it. He feels quite odd for liking it…maybe one day he’ll confide in you.

     

E is for Experience (How experienced is he?)

• Georgie has little experience, little knowledge, so he just finds his way. 

• He lost his virginity with his friends cheering him on in the next room, in a cold, dark room to a German prostitute, and he didn't last very long - I'm sure that says a lot!

• His thrusts are sloppy but he tends to hit your g-spot either way. But not due to expertise...it’s just because his cock is sizeable.

• But he’s a quick learner!! Tell him what feels good and he’ll do just that and improve.

     

F is for Favourite position (How he loves to fuck you)

• He's very much into doggy style. He likes having you face down, ass up on the edge of the bed as he pounds and ruts into you senselessly. It always makes him feel alive.

• It also gives him an excuse to dig his sharp teeth into your shoulder. He's so possessive like that. He also likes pulling your hair back as he fucks into you.

• It doesn't have to be all rough though, he can slow down and be all sensual.

• He has a big cock as well, that position is perfect for him and for you. 

     

G is for Goofy (How silly is he during sex?)

• He’s not really goofy or joking during sex. He thinks it’s too special to be joking.

• He thinks sex is a special bond between two people, and if he’s speaking or talking - it’s either him complimenting you, or saying pure filth.

     

G is also for Goal (What's his goal and/or dream in relation to sex.) 

• George just wants to make you cum.

• In fact George wouldn't care if he doesn't end up cumming, just as long you do - in the best, most drawn out, most satisfying, most toe clenching, most sheet drenching, most impregnating, most draining way possible.

     

H is for Hair (How well groomed he is, does the carpet match the drapes, etc..)

• George has a lot of pubic hair, especially around his balls. His hair peeks out below his navel, a cute little happy trail.

• It’s not bad, by any means, there’s just a lot of it.

     

I is for Intimacy (How romantic he is during sex, etc..)

• George is naturally very soft, very romantic and very kind.

• He doesn't always go all out with candles and rose petals and champagne but when he can he does.

• He always does a bit above the bare minimum though, there's no just going at it like bunnies - there'll always be a nice track on in the background, always foreplay.

     

J is for Jack off (Masturbation headcanon.) 

• If it’s his only means of getting off, he’ll do it. It ’s not his preferred choice, but if you’re not available, he has no other option.

• He has some photos of you that he uses. for his birthday, his gift to himself was booking you a photo shoot. The photographer was sworn to secrecy and told to destroy the film he had after it was processed.

• Those photos are kept in his billfold, always in his pocket and used during desperate times.

     

K is for Kink (One or more of their kinks in relation to you.) 

• George has a sub kink for sure, and though it's not often he lets you dominate him, he does love it when you're rough with him.

• He revels in you tugging at his hair, calling him names, riding him - sometimes that stuff just brings him a joy he can't put into words.

• So yeah, sometimes he just wants to be your bitch.

     

L is for Location (Favourite place to do the deed.)

• George definitely likes doing it in hotel rooms and all that jazz. He travels a lot, so of course hotel rooms are his natural favourite.

• He also has taken quite the liking to fucking you in the studio. Whenever anyone is out for lunch, he’s there dragging you to bend you over the amps and have his way with you.

     

M is for Motivation (What turns them on about you, gets him hard, makes him cum, etc..) 

• George is deeply turned on by your confidence and the way you carry yourself. Your self-assured attitude drives him wild.

• He loves it when you take the initiative, whether it's initiating a kiss, a touch, or suggesting new things to try in bed. Your boldness excites him.

• George is especially turned on when you affirm how good he makes you feel. Hearing you moan "it feels so good, Georgeeee" or praising his skills in bed just does it for him in so many ways.

     

N is for No (Turn offs, what pisses him off, etc..) 

• He dislikes very rough or overly aggressive behavior in bed. George prefers a more sensual and intimate approach to sex.

• George is also turned off by any kind of dishonesty or insincerity. He values genuine connections and can't stand it when things feel fake or forced.

     

O is for Oral sex (Does he prefer giving or receiving? How does he give, how does he receive?) 

• George will never admit this, but at his core he’s a slight bottom. He loves the attention he gets when you’re on your knees and gagging around his length.

• His hand usually cups your cheek, thumb brushing the soft skin there as you stare up at him through your lashes.

• He loves the feeling of your mouth around him, the warmth and the wetness driving him crazy. The sensation of your tongue swirling around his tip makes him groan in pleasure. There's no feeling like it.

     

P is for Pace (Fast or slow? Rough or sensual? Ect.)

• George's pace tends to be slow and sensual, reflecting his desire to make each moment last and savour the connection with you.

• He prefers to take his time, exploring your body with deliberate and tender movements. He believes that building up the anticipation makes the climax even more satisfying.

• He’s not opposed to picking up the pace if you ask for it, but his natural inclination is to be gentle and loving.

• During more passionate encounters, his pace can quicken, becoming more intense and urgent, especially if he's particularly aroused or if you've been teasing him all day.

     

Q is for Quickie (His opinion on quickies, how often they happen, etc..)

• Obviously he doesn't hate them but would much prefer you to have sex that's comfortably timed.

• When they do occur, it's in desperate times, like he hasn't seen you in weeks or he can't get rid of a boner.

• He can finish quickly and fuck you hard so you don't possibly get caught.

     

R is for Risk (What kind of risks will they take.)

• George is cautious by nature and generally avoids situations that might lead to getting caught, preferring to keep your intimate moments private and sacred.

• However, he does have a bit of a spontaneous side. He enjoys the thrill of doing something unexpected, like pulling you into a quiet room during a gathering or surprising you with a passionate kiss in an empty hallway.

• George’s idea of risk is more about breaking routine than being public. He loves to surprise you with spontaneous intimacy at unexpected times, like when you’re in the middle of a conversation or doing something mundane.

     

S is for Stamina (How many rounds he can last, how quickly can they cum, etc..)

• George has a steady stamina; he might not go for marathon sessions, but he’s certainly capable of giving you a few solid rounds.

• He typically lasts a good amount of time, enough to make sure you’re fully satisfied before he lets himself go.

• He’s more about quality than quantity, focusing on making each round deeply satisfying rather than trying to stretch it out unnecessarily.

     

T is for Toys (Does he own toys, use them, what kind of toys, etc?) 

• George isn’t someone who naturally gravitates toward sex toys, but he’s not opposed to them either if you personally want to use them. He just won't engage because he trusts himself to give you pleasure.

• He’s more into the connection between the two of you rather than relying on...accessories.

     

U is for Unfair (How much does he like to tease you, how does he tease you, etc..) 

• George has a teasing streak, but it’s always playful rather than mean. He loves to draw out your pleasure, taking his time to get you worked up before giving you what you want.

• He enjoys the build-up, like whispering sweet, naughty things in your ear, lightly brushing his fingers over sensitive areas, or pulling away just when you think he’s going to give you more.

     

V is for Volume (How loud is he, what noises does he make, what does he say, etc..)

• George is relatively quiet during sex, preferring to express himself through soft moans, deep breaths, and quiet gasps.

• He’s not one for loud, vocal expressions, but the intensity of his breathing and the occasional groan lets you know just how much he’s enjoying himself.

• He loves hearing you, though, and your moans often encourage him to be a little louder, especially when you’re both close to climax.

• In those moments when he’s overwhelmed by pleasure, you might hear a slightly louder moan or grunt, but it’s always controlled and subdued.

     

W is for Wildcard (Random sexual headcanon.)

• George has a surprising playful side that comes out in the bedroom. He loves experimenting with sensory play, like using feathers or ice cubes to tease and stimulate your body, enjoying the mix of sensations and how they heighten your pleasure.

 

You shiver slightly - George is trailing an ice cube along the curve of your neck, watching intently as goosebumps rise on your skin. He smiles, leaning in to kiss away the cold trail he’s left, the contrast of his warm lips against your chilled skin sending a thrill through your body.

     

X is for X-ray (His cock.) 

• 7 inches, slim but not skinny, aaaannd not circumcised. (I want him so bad.)

       

Y is for Yearning (His sex drive, how much do they want you?)

• George's sex drive is somewhat understated but powerful. He might not be as overtly aggressive, but when he wants you, it’s an intense and all-consuming desire.

• He often finds himself thinking about you at the most unexpected times - while strumming his guitar, during a quiet moment in the studio, or even while out in nature.

     

Z is for Zzz (Sleep afterwards?)

• You and George go to sleep at roughly the same time because you both talk until you fall asleep. 

• You talk about anything really. Your day, the weather, your jobs, how good his cock just was - everything! 

• And sex doesn't always come before sleep. Sometimes you'll both decide to watch a movie before you drift off, or maybe you'll have a really late dinner.

Ringo, last but not least...

Check out the masterlist!

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Within You, Without You (18+)

George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, all the things

Warnings: A very short sex scene, power play if you squint, slight nipple play, convos about insecurities and low self confidence and stuff like that

Words: 3.2k

Summary: 1967 era; You need to find a way to relax, and George offers to be your guide through tantral meditation

T/N: Domine- Latin for master; used from a place of utmost respect

===================================

==============================

You had tried everything. Anything that would help to decrease your stress levels. These past few weeks had been tough on you, and all you wanted was for your brain to quiet down for a bit. But nothing seemed to work, no matter how hard you tried. So, you thought of the only thing that even had a shot at clearing your head: meditation. And lucky for you, you had just the person to teach you.

For someone with his level of experience, George was very well versed in the art of meditation. He had been given the tools to get to a place where he was comfortable practicing on his own, and that was really all there was to it. And he was more than happy to pass on any amount of his knowledge to you.

"Most people start out in the position you see most often, which is sitting on the floor with your legs crossed." George instructed as he sat down next to you, demonstrating the position. You couldn't help but stare at the wide variety of decor placed throughout the room. George had a specific room that he would go only to meditate. Apparently, having a designated space is supposed to enhance your chances of successful meditation.

You had half expected the room to be devoid of color, but it was quite the opposite. It looked as though all the wonderful colors of the rainbow had performed an interpretive dance across the walls, twirling and swinging about in perfect harmony. This was not the environment you had in mind.

"I always thought meditation was supposed to be about clearing your mind." You stated. "That's why most yoga studios are painted white." George gave you a confused stare.

"Meditation is about clearing your mind of negative energy. Not blanking it out completely." He replied, smoothing out the carpet fibers beneath his feet. "Meditating in a completely white room is not going to help you at all. You should be surrounded by things that are going to positively stimulate your brain." He looked around for a moment, admiring his own decor before turning back to you. "Although positive stimulation looks different for everyone, an assortment of colors is the most natural form of it."

“So is meditation always done this way?” You questioned, honestly having no clue where to start. George always had so much knowledge to share, and it wasn’t that you had no interest in meditation. You often felt that it wouldn’t work for you, but realized that you would never know if you never tried.

“This practice is the best entry to meditation. But once it comes more naturally to you, you can do it from anywhere at any time,” George explained, “To reach an optimal mental state for meditation, it does take much more than to sit cross-legged and close your eyes. It’s about reaching an internal piece, which would then translate to the physical body. However, the key is to start small.” He motioned towards several fluffy pillows on the floor beside him. “If the floor is too hard, you can use one of these.”

“And by doing this, I'll just…feel better?” You asked, getting comfy on one of the pillows. There were several colors, the one you chose being a soft orange.

“Well, not exactly.” George chuckled, He was always so patient. “You have to incorporate your mind as well. Like I said, clearing your mind means clearing negative energy. The best way to do that is to think of a place that brings you comfort and imagine that you’re there. To get in touch with both your mind and your body.”

You sighed. That was always your problem. You felt like you were too much in your own head and needed an escape. How were you supposed to be one with your mind if you didn’t even want to be in there in the first place?

“I just know what’s going to happen,” You whined, “I’m gonna get frustrated and it’ll have the opposite effect on me.”

George blinked at you, pursing his lips. “Can you at least try, love?” He offered, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here if you need me.”

You couldn’t help but smile. George’s genuine desire to help you truly did make things easier, but it was your stubborn brain that wouldn’t put in the effort. It technically wasn’t entirely your fault, but it was hell to live with. But George was right. Not trying meant shutting out the possibility of finding a solution. He didn’t want you to do it just to please him. He wanted you to want to do it. To do it for yourself.

“Alright.’ You said, exhaling sharply. “I’ll try.”

George smiled warmly, adorable fangs on full display. He didn’t have to do much to help you get ready as you were already in position. He stood off to the side, waiting to begin his part of the process as you settled into a comfortable zone. You did everything he said. Crossing your legs, closing your eyes, and relaxing into a decompressing posture. You drew in a deep breath, exhaling and trying your hardest to release any tension along with it.

After you closed your eyes, you felt George continue to stand around you, assessing your method of choice. You decided to go with the traditional method, despite your earlier qualms about its lack of stimulation. You figured that maybe less was more, and that by trying to calm your body down to an optimal level, you would achieve your desired outcome. But of course, without fail, once you tried to focus on finding a sense of tranquility, your thoughts took over and you were back where you started.

“I can’t…” You said shakily. “I can’t do it.’ You still hadn’t opened your eyes, because you knew if you did, there would be no stopping the flow of tears.

“Perhaps you need something else to focus on.” George replied, standing behind you now. He placed his hands on your shoulders and waited there for a moment. You didn’t tense up or try to move away, so he proceeded. He slid his fingers up and down your neck, gently squeezing your muscles as he went. You still kept your eyes closed, but furrowed your brows in confusion. To you, this seemed like the most inopportune time for a shoulder massage, but refused to object. You trusted that George knew what he was doing to some degree.

“Think of yourself as if you were facing them directly.” He announced, implementing a new kind of tactic, “Give them advice on how to achieve your goal right now.”

“George, what are you doing?” You interrupted, “How is this supposed to make me relax for meditation? The last thing I want to be thinking about is how I view myself.” George removed his right hand from your shoulder and placed his index finger at the base of your head, slowly tracing down your spine. You shivered, feeling like electricity was flowing through your body. “How did you do that?” You whispered, a slightly shudder moving through your voice as you spoke. “Why did I feel that?”

“We often find it hard to look within ourselves for answers, especially if we feel we aren’t qualified to give them. The vision of speaking to someone else helps to translate that motivation into an exterior perspective.” Classic George. You ask him a simple question and he gives you the secrets of life.

“Okay…” You breathed, “But when I look at myself, all I do is criticize them, whether it’s a mirror or a clone.” You were close to giving up, and it was clear George was running out of options. He remained stationary, his hands never leaving your shoulders. He sighed, thinking for a moment before making any sudden movements.

Mere seconds later, George resumed his shoulder massage, but instead of maintaining his posture, he bent down, mouth level with your ear. His voice was not above a whisper, his tone dripping with a new and improved delightful idea.

“Tell me how to help you, my Domine…”

You froze. This was the only thing that actually got you to sit up straight. You opened your eyes and turned to look at George only for him to shush you and turn your head back to stare at the wall in front of you. He kept his left hand cupped around your jaw, making sure you didn’t move it again, but there was no discipline. His grip was quite loose. You ideally could’ve gotten up and walked out if you truly wanted to. He wasn’t keeping you there.

“You know latin?” You mumbled, still perplexed at his new name for you.

George chuckled. “I know many things. All are useful at some time or another.” He pressed into your shoulders, his smile growing as you released some tension in the form of a strained whimper. He leaned to your ear again.

“If you can’t tell yourself what to do…tell me instead.”

You froze, but your following response was done with no hesitation. It was methodic. Robotic, almost. You adjusted your posture, locking into your newfound confidence.

“Make me feel good.” You whispered, knowing no additional details were needed. George went straight to work, placing his fingers at the back of your neck, towards the base of your skull. “Make me feel that sensation again.” You added, not knowing how to describe it but already feeling addicted. You wished it could flow through your body on command, giving you a boost at any time of day. You pretended as if you were alone, eyes closed and rhythmic breathing as his hands explored your body. A small sigh left George’s lips, exhaling a small puff of air onto your lower back while his fingers wisped across your spine. Every touch felt like a feather, as if he was there but he wasn’t. He truly gave you the illusion of peaceful solitude, merely being an assisting spirit to guide you in your journey of inward and outward reflection.

“Move to the front.” You announced, and George stopped in his tracks. Your initial reaction was to withdraw, fearing you sounded too demanding. Too commanding. Too strong. But you remained stationary, awaiting your lover’s next move. You heard him shuffle, and the new shadow in front of you, changing the amount of natural light billowing onto your body gave you the confirmation that your orders had been followed. George inhaled another long breath, ostensibly entering his own corresponding headspace.

“All I wish is to please you, my dear.”

Your body gave into the scene, falling back onto your palms while still keeping your legs crossed. You arched your back, pushing your chest towards him, giving him a compensatory level of control in this otherwise hierarchical situation. After a while, George began to drift off as well, taking in the sensation across your torso as he massaged your chest and pressed small kisses across your shoulders. You didn’t expect him to take to this so easily, but it seemed like second nature to the two of you. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way.

What mostly came to your surprise was when George’s fingers brushed over your nipples through your shirt, causing your hips to jolt involuntarily. You still weren’t sure if that was intentional or not, but there was certainly an additional advantage. He was testing you, waiting to see if it was what you wanted. Technically, you had complete control over what he would do next, yet he knew that if he took matters into his own hands, you wouldn’t stop him. You wanted it more than ever. You wanted to tell him to just have his way with you. And you knew you absolutely could. He knew you could. He would do whatever you wanted him to. But it wasn’t about what he wanted. It was all about how long you could fight the urge to tip the balance. To realize that the one who submits all power is truly the one in control. He was giving you the chance to be demanding. To be commanding. To be strong. The power play was absolutely diabolical.

“Do that again.” You choked out, trying your best not to sound desperate. George knew exactly what you wanted. So he did it again, but softer. More enjoyable. More deliberate. And by telling him what you wanted, he knew you had acquired a new goal. And you wanted to see how far he would go to please you.

“Make me feel confident.” You sighed. “Make me feel powerful.”

“I can’t do that, dear.” George replied without missing a beat, thumbs still slowly dragging back and forth across your nipples. “That has to come from within.”

You whined. The closer you got to what you wanted, the harder it was to keep up the confidence. You thought choosing the route of pleasure would be easier for you, but it was the same old story. Entering with a confident facade was simple. But the deeper you went, the more you wanted to back out.

“It doesn’t feel like me.” You breathed. George moved his hands to your waist, opting for a soft massage to ease the level of stimulation.

“Don’t lose it,” He whispered, “You were doing great.” You didn’t respond, slowly being dragged back inside your own head. If this had any shot of working, George knew he had to keep you grounded. “We both know this is something the real you wants.”

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts into a neatly folded pile. Based on your personal skills, it looked more like a lumpy pile of laundry, but at least it was all together. You tried to imagine that you were alone again. That your only company was yourself. And for the first time, the person staring back at you was a true reflection. Still in your own world, you whispered so that only you could hear.

“Give me what I need. Give me what I want.” But George heard you loud and clear, assuming his role and getting you to the end. He resumed his deliberate touching across your chest, and you immersed yourself in it as if it were your own. You don’t know how long it went on for, but all you knew was that you never wanted it to end. George moved as if he was giving a deep tissue massage to your soul. Everything you said, he did. Everywhere you wanted to be touched, he did. He didn’t need to understand your rhyme or reason. Whatever your body was calling out for needed to be answered. The real you needed to be heard.

Eventually you felt a bout of pressure begin to build inside you. The longer it went on, the stronger it felt. Lately, the concept of pleasure had been one form of stress relief you couldn’t rely on. Try as you must, you couldn’t bring yourself to the edge. But this time was different. In his newfound role, George had bestowed upon you the virtual reality of physical pleasure. It wasn’t sex. You didn’t want sex. Throughout this entire session, you had never once asked him to touch you in your most intimate place. This was about stimulation. But if it ended in an orgasm, you were more than satisfied with that.

And you felt it. It slowly rose, like a high tide during a full moon. The soft light bouncing off the rippling water like your body started to shake, the glorious light of your soul trying to break out of your skin. Though he sensed you nearing the edge, George didn’t speed up. He didn’t slow down. He didn’t change anything. He stared at you as your head tipped back, small moans leaving your lips. You couldn’t say anything else to direct him, but there was nothing left to say anyway. The pleasure had peaked, the wave reaching a new height. It came crashing down onto the shore, your orgasm flowing through you. You released with a gasping shout, your exclamation nothing short of the highest praise for George and his intricate touches. Your arms could no longer hold you up, and your elbows buckled, sending you falling backwards onto the floor. George caught your head before you made contact, lowering you down the rest of the way. He rubbed small circles on the soft skin of your stomach just above your waistband. You sighed, your breathing slowly returning to normal as your lover began to leave small kisses on your right shoulder. You giggled, celebrating the fact that your new goal had been accomplished: it was the first time you had ever come untouched.

George laid on the floor next to you, head tucked in your neck and one hand flat over your stomach, patting it in a slow, rhythmic fashion. “You need anything?” He whispered, poking your ear with his nose. You shook your head no, not wanting to move from this position, which included having him next to you. You rolled on your side to face him, brushing a few strands of hair away from his face. “I do have one question, though,” you mumbled, still in your post-coital haze, “does meditation usually lead to sex?”

George chuckled, slinging his arm over your hip to brush his hand over your back. “That is called tantra, love. It uses multiple forms of stimulation simultaneously, and yes, sometimes it does result in pleasurable situations like these.”

You smiled, pondering the topic. “So it’s meditation in the form of pleasure? But how does that relate to me feeling more confident?”

“It’s all about unlocking your true potential.” George replied, pausing briefly to perfect his explanation. “You felt confident. That’s mental stimulation. And paired with the physical stimulation, it provided enough emotional stimulation for you to have a powerful release.” He stared into your eyes with a mixture of love and gratitude. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to own up to it yet, but having you tell him what to do was also an example of mental and emotional stimulation. One that he had not been able to find on his own. The concept of joint meditation was something mutually beneficial.

“So when can we do it again?” You mused, earning a light chuckle from the man beside you.

“Whenever you want, my Domine.” George teased, seeing how you shivered at the recurring mention of your new title. He took the pillow that you had been using as a cushion and urged you to lift your head, placing it on the floor underneath you, watching as you sunk into the plush fabric. You smiled warmly, watching him take another pillow from the pile beside you, both of you get comfortable on the floor. The carpet was soft enough, but the addition of the pillows made for a fine place to have a nap. Eyes softly closing as the warm sun cascaded through the window and blanketed your nearly sleeping forms, your voice came as a barely audible whisper.

“Did you enjoy having me be in charge for once?” George smiled, not bothering to open his eyes to respond, but hearing your statement loud and clear. He thought for a moment before answering, but there was technically no need. He was no stranger to an apparently not so new experience.

“You’ve always been in charge to me, my dear.”

==============================

Happy new year y'all! 🥰🥰🥰 To kick off 2024, I figured I would finally finish up the last fic that was featured in that poll I made however many months ago that was lol also I will say that this is my first smut fic so pls go easy on me 😅 I'm sure I'll get there eventually BUT other than that I hope you enjoy! 😁

[bealtesharrisonmacca]

John x reader

“Tied down”

(Idk if it should say tied down or tied up but wtv)

18+

Summary: Reader is tied to bed (willingly) and John takes full control.

You feel kisses running down your body. All the way from your mouth to your thighs. Johns lips feel like firework each time they touch you. You want to grab his hair or just hold onto him. To guide him to where you need him most. But you can’t. Your hands are tied to the bed, and so are your feet.

It has always been a fantasy of yours to be tied down, but you never dared to mention it to John. But it was actually he who brought it up during sex a while back. Well, he initially said it as a joke or as dirty talk, but your reaction to his words made him eager to try it.

And so here you were. Tied down to the bed with John hovering over you.

John’s hands getting closer and closer to your clit, but each time he got near he retracted his hands and continue kissing your body.

“Yer so wet for me, practically dripping and I’ve barely touched you yet” John says in a teasing manner.

You want so badly for him to just pound into you, but the suspense he’s building is making your back arch. He finally gives a soft kiss to your clit, causing your hips to buck against the feeling. He chuckles a bit.

John smirks at you as he lowers his face down, just above your heat. You try to push your hips to his face but you’re stuck where you are. John loves watching you beg for him. He loves to see you all worked up when he takes control.

“J-John I” you stutter, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. But you need him inside you so badly.

“What do you want love? Use yer words” John grins as his face is still just inches from you, his hands pushing your hips harder into the bed, leaving him in complete control of your body.

You reluctantly muster out the words he so badly wants to hear. “I need you John, please, I want you” The words come out loud in moans.

“Good girl” John says before pushing to fingers into you as his mouth starts working your clit. You let out a relived and satisfied moan. Your hands grab a hold of the rope that’s keeping you to the bed. Tightening your grip each time John flicks his tongue. His fingers working wonders inside you.

You feel your climax building up quicker than you thought, and John notices. He pulls his fingers out and leaves you yearning for more. A frustrated moan escapes your lips. You open your eyes to see him begin to unbuckle his belt. The bare look of his stiff cock sending shivers down your neck.

John leans over you and harshly kisses your lips as his hands goes to your breast’s. Your moans sending vibrations right to his crotch. He groans in your ear while kissing your jaw and neck. Your hands are aching to touch and feel him, but you love being at his mercy.

Without warning John slams into you, not letting you adjust before picking up a fast pace. Moans escape your mouth like a faucet. The pleasure is almost overwhelming. Your body shakes and fidgets as he thrusts forcefully inside you.

“You feel so fucking good y’know, you take my cock so well” John pants out as he stills inside you to catch his breath. You attempt pushing your hips against him but he slams you down against the bed and he thrusts inside you again. His cock filling you up so good. Your walls tighten around him as you feel yourself reaching your orgasm.

“Are ye going to cum for me love” John says as a question even though he knows you are. And with those words you let yourself go, cumming all over his cock as he continues thrusting inside you searching for his own release. You feel slightly overstimulated but after a few thrusts he cums inside you. Filling you to the brim. He pulls out as heavy breaths escapes your mouth’s. His eyes locked on your glistening pussy which is leaking with juices. He traces two fingers into your, still overstimulated, pussy, and brings his fingers to your mouth.

“Taste yourself”

You obediently start licking his fingers clean and you moan at the sensation. John loves seeing you like this. His cock nearly stiffens again at the sight.

John unties you and you immediately bring your hands to give him a tight embrace.

“I missed touching you” you say in a slight giggle and you cuddle for a while before falling into a deep sleep.

~

(Okey so this is my first John x reader story, hope it isn’t the worst thing in the world)

(Just a reminder, I do take requests and I’m kind of in need of some new inspiration heheh)

[emlovslennon]

anotha one because holy fuck this man makes me feral.

era: 1968-early ‘69

-

John has been inside our bedroom for at least 2 hours, practicing the same song over and over again. The only song he actually cares about, that is. John has about completely given up on the band, but he at least there’s some energy. One thing to know about John, however, is that he HATES being interrupted. Even by his wife. But, you’ve been craving his touch for weeks, he’s hardly paid any mind, so why not take a risk?

Once you mustered up the courage, and by mustering up you put on a short, skimpy, night gown John had bought you for your second wedding anniversary and some black, see through tights. You slowly, but surely walked up to the door. It took you a good thirty seconds to actually open the door. John didn’t even look at you when you opened the door, to see you standing by the doorway barely covered.

“Johnny, please, it’s been forever. I want you.” You whimpered, too scared to be too loud.

“Y/n… What have I told you at least a thousand times? I’m working, not the time.” John warns, looking back at me. You could see on his face that a blush appeared, he bit his lip, staring you down his down like a predator finding it’s prey.

“But please, John. I promise just one time and you can go back to-“ you was quickly cut off by John nearly slamming his guitar to the ground and getting off of your shared bed to come up and grab you by the chin.

“You just don’t like listening, do you? Been a lot more bitchy lately cuz I haven’t been bedding you. Now you’re just gonna have to take whatever I fucking give you. Do you hear me, girl?” John reprimanded. You felt the heat between your legs beginning to drool and throb. This was gonna be rough, but it’s something.

John grabbed you and threw you onto the bed, you could hear the ruffling of clothes as John unbuckled his belt and undid his purple button up.

“Hands and knees. Now.” John growled, his voice was low and domineering. You actually felt, afraid in way. But it just turned you on. You never saw John like this, and you couldn’t help but like it. You instantly got up on your hands and knees, your head resting against the plush pillow underneath you. He ripped your tights down to your thighs, exposing your bottom half to him.

“You do not understand the amount of stress I’m under right now. The last thing I need is my ever so loving wife to act like a fucking dog in heat.” Johns voice got louder. Without warning, John smacked his belt against your lower half, causing you to cry out.

“John, please. ‘M wanna help you.” You murmured. John looked at you, amazed. You would really do anything for him if it means you got stuffed full of his cock, or if it made him feel better. He really won the jackpot by finding you.

“You wanna help me, baby? Well, I suppose you can. But I’m warning you now, I’m not going easy on ye. So if you need to smack me or tell to me to stop, please do.” He said, quite softly. The softness didn’t last long however, he brought he belt back to your ass again. Your cunt was glistening, wetness pooling down your thighs, aching for him.

“Holy fuck, you like this, y/n? You like how I’m marking your little ass? Huh? Your cunts crying for me.” John chuckled. You put this man in pure disbelief. You make it so hard for him to stay mad at you.

After about six more lashes from his belt, your ass was completely red and bruised. There was definitely gonna be a mark or two (or three) in the morning. Your thighs were shaking, you could feel tears wanting to escape your eyes, but you loved it. Honestly, this was so much better than just regular love making. John took his cock out of his boxers and teased you with it. You were so drenched that your wetness was pooling onto the bedsheets below. Johns mouth literally felt like watering. You were fighting the urge to grind back on him, trying to get him to go inside.

“Almost forgot, baby. Need to stretch ya out.” John mumbled under his breath. He put two fingers into your drooling cunt without warning. Your sighs turned into cries as he scissored you fast and quick. Your heart was pounding, you felt like you were on cloud nine. The pleasure was unbearable.

“Fuck, such a good little girl, you are. Taking everything I give you. My obedient little whore. I fucking love it.” John praised. The praises made you moan louder, the squelching noises from your cunt more than audible.

“John, fuck, please, please.” You begged. Your voice pathetically hoarse from your cries.

“Gonna need more convincing than that. That’s pathetic.” John said. You cried out again when his fingers continually hit your sweet spot.

“John please fuck me. I need you so badly, I’ll be so good please. ‘M so wet for you.” You begged. God, it was dirty, so pathetic. But oh my god. You loved it so much. John almost burst when he heard you beg. He swore it was the hottest thing he had ever heard in his life. John spent no time thrusting his whole length inside you. Giving you no time to adjust.

You screamed at the intrusion. John pounded you like it was last fuck on earth. All the stress from the rehearsals and the rocky friendship with Paul gone away. All he could think about was making his good girl cum. (And himself, duh). You were so, so good to him.

“Yeah, that feel good, sweet girl? Fuck, you’re so fucking tight. Lemme hear how good I fuck you.” John demanded. If you weren’t already screaming the house down, you sure as hell were now. Johns cock hit all the right places inside you. But, fuck. He was relentless.

“J-john, s-slow down!” You yelled out. John slapped your ass in response, causing you to cry out.

“You can take it, baby. I know you can. Come on, fucking take it.” John grunted. You turned to look at him. He looked fucking mesmerizing. Sweat was all down his chest and all over his face, his long hair stuck to his forehead and messy. He was biting his lip and he gotten rid of his glasses. He looked like a god.

You felt yourself getting closer and closer to your sweet release. John caught you staring and gave you a smirk and playful slap to your ass, causing you to gasp. You attempted to look away but John grabbed you once again and flipped you over, so you were underneath him. He pulled you down and pinned your arms above your head, and continued to pound into you. Your thighs and poor cunt started to get sore from the rough treatment, but you can’t say you were complaining in the slightest.

“J-john, I-I-“ you panted. You couldn’t even properly form words anymore. John was fucking you way too good, to the point of being brainless.

“Aw, can’t speak, baby? Is Johnny fucking you too good? Huh? Wanna cum? My angel wants to cum?” John cooed. His hand caressing your cheek as he kissed your forehead. Even if this started because he undeniably pissed, he still couldn’t help but fawn over his beautiful girl. All his.

All you could do was nod. John was thinking about teasing you a bit more and edging you, but you’ve done way too good for him. It just wouldn’t be fair.

“Come on, y/n. Cum for me. Fuck.” John moaned. The squelching sound from your cunt intensified, and you felt an even more overpowering feeling than just a “regular” orgasm. Your weak cries turned into screams as you squirted all onto Johns cock and bedsheets. John stopped his thrusting and watched. Not only was he shocked, he was internally proud of himself.

“What a good fucking girl. Look at that.” John whispered in awe. You were trembling and had tears running down your face, your mascara was staining your cheeks. It pulled at Johns heartstrings. He felt awful now.

“Y/n…Are you okay? Honey, I’m sorry. I’ll clean you up.” Before he could get up and grab a towel, you quickly grabbed his arm.

“No, need you to cum in me. Please. ‘M wanna make you feel good.” You begged weakly. John was taken aback, but smirked as he pinned back to the bed, his hand lightly grasping your neck as he began to pound himself inside you again. You ached as you felt so overstimulated, but you wanted him to get his release. He deserved one too.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum. Just wait a little longer baby.” He grunted. His grunts becoming louder and his pants increasing. He was fucking hot. John let out a strangled moan as he filled you up to the brim. He slowly let his weight fall on top of you. His hair fell to each side of your face.

“T-thank you.” You whisper to him. John looks up, smiling sweetly. He slowly pulls out of you and looks at his cum dripping from your abused cunt.

“Honey, really. If I hurt you, I’m sorry. You’re so precious to me. I hope you know that.” John said with genuine sympathy. You grasped his hand and nuzzled into his chest.

“No, please. Let’s do that more often.”

Needless to say, John took note of that.

-

Needless to say, i let out some steam and some sexual frustration in this so uhm enjoy HAHSHS.

[laurfilijames]

Ryder Harrison (Vegas)

Love and Hate (Ryder x female reader)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

George Lowe (Hillary)

Home (George x female reader)

[warnersister]

Gonna give you a baby (smut)

The Beatles x Reader, Paul McCartney x Wife! Reader

Summary: you and Paul have fertility issues, the three men with a thing for you see this as a great opportunity to lend a helping hand. -> hate this one didn’t write it well🤧

Warnings: mentions of infertility, pregnancy, filthy smut, five-some, degrading (slut, whore, etc), hand-jobs, oral (f+m receiving), just a lot.

Requested by: @jill-smith-123

You and Paul had met in the early 50’s. Your family had moved in just down the street from him and the 10 year old McCartney was awestruck from the moment he laid eyes on you. The next day, he’d showed up at your house, to which your less-than-pleased father had answered the door, with a bow-tie and bouquets of flowers he’d taken from your mother’s new garden, to ask you to accompany him to the local youth centre for disco night.

He’d bought you a sherbet straw while he puffed on candy cigarettes before pecking your lips with tight-shut eyes mid way through you dining along to The Andrews Sisters’ song your mother had on vinyl.

When you were each a bit older, you’d accompanied Paul to the cavern club sitting in the front row as you’d hummed along with him, his eyes never drawing away from your own. Then he’d take you for dinner, a real fancy restaurant that his uncle owned, and he said that he’d pay - but it was always on the house.

Eventually, another three boys had somehow weaselled their way into your life and the product was an up and coming band: The Beatles. John Lennon, George Harrison, Pete- (scratch that) Richard Starkey and your boy Paul McCartney. And it was no secret that the three also had a thing for you - between the constant bickering and playful flirtations, Paul brushed it off because he always knew in the end that you were always his, and he was always yours.

Especially when he proposed on your twentieth birthday in 1962. Beatlemania crazed the nation and it wasn’t long before scandalous magazines began to accuse the boys of unruly acts and Paul was no different. And realistically, Paul saw the only way fit to prove his innocence to you was to ask for your hand in marriage. With your father’s approval of course… (?)

The fame never concerned you, nor did it necessarily appeal to you either - so you’d had a small ceremony in the local church, doors locked for a healthy gathering of your closest family and friends and an after party conjoined with a reception in the Cavern Club into the early hours of the morning.

“Y’know love, I never read a rule that said your first night had to be with your actual husband.” George had whispered into your ear, smirking at you after seeing the look on your face. “Not her first night.” Paul responded, hints of jealously in his tone as he threw you over his shoulder and off to his car.

That was also the night you’d discovered Paul’s intense breeding kink. His hips pushing into you at a bruising rate, lips failing him as he stuttered out his desire to see you full with his children.

But that was the problem.

“Am I the problem?” You’d asked Paul as you buried your face in his neck, crying after umpteen times, you still weren’t pregnant. “No, no, not at all dove.” He caressed your back gently. “We’re just going to have to be moved patient and keep trying. You’re perfect.” He said softy, cupping your puffy face between his hands, looking you over with a concerned gaze.

“Hey, woah woah woah what’s up lovey?” John asked as the other band members entered the room. They all ran to your side, helplessly watching the tears roll down your cheeks. “I can’t get pregnant.” You sniffed, hiccuping as the tears continued to flow. Ringo’s hands cupped yours as his sad eyes looked into yours. “Maybe there’s just not enough.” He said and your brows creased.

“Y’know our offer is always on the table.” George’s continued. “What offer?” You asked, confused. “Y’ mean you never told her, paulie boy?” John cocked his head. “No, cause I know what you lot are like.” “What y’ on about?” You ask again. “All of us.” George said. “Y’ mean-” “all of us at once.” John took your chin between his fingers and squatted down to where you were sat. “Wrecking y’ can handle us, dovey?” Shocked, you look from John to Paul who had a knowing smirk frowning on his lips. Without thinking, you nod at them. Suddenly, you were swept off of your feet and into the arms of John. “Let’s make you a baby.”

A king size bed was certainly not big enough to support the five of you, but in the boys’ desperation, you certainly managed. You were placed down gently on the bed, soft covers enveloping you as the four starved men looked down at you with lustful eyes. Your clothes were practically torn from your body, apparently them being to impatient to allow you to get undressed properly.

Paul caressed your hair gently before leaning into kiss you, as you begin to feel light kisses and licks on your breasts. You look down to see John staring back at you, a cheeky grin on his lips. He bit your nipple harshly and you hissed, screwing your eyes tight and throwing your head back. “Better get used to that if y’ want a baby.” George said, tracing his hand up and down the sensitive skin on your inner thigh.

Then all the delicious contact went again and you groaned, searching for the friction they were giving you. “Y’ want a baby? Y’ gonna have to let us get undressed first.” George chuckled. When they were undressed, John situated himself between your legs. “Oi, shift she’s my missus I’m having the first go.” Paul grumbled. “And the reason she can’t get pregnant.” John replied smugly, but was shoved out of the way by your husband. “Y’ gonna show em what a good slut y’ are for me, hmm?” He asked, fingers wandering down your thigh and towards your heat, beginning to pump them at an agonisingly slow pace.

George yanked your hair back and forced you to look at him, your mouth falling agape in the process. “Y’ gonna be good for us? Gonna give old Paulie a baby?” He taunted, rubbing himself a few times before forcing his length into your mouth. Gagging slightly, you tried your best to open your throat in the position you were in.

A heat built up inside of you, warmth rushing as you chased your high but it was soon stripped from you. Unable to complain, the disheartenment was soon replaced by something much larger - you and Paul groaned simultaneously, George doing the same as you sent vibrations flying through his cock.

After a while of Paul’s bruising pace, you rest his unwavering hips stutter as he released into you, you doing the same and realising all over him. George pulled out of your mouth and thrust himself into his hand a few times before also cumming. “Such a filthy whore.” Paul taunted, enamoured by the drool leaking from your lips.

“My turn now, birdie?” Ringo asked and you hummed, still dazed and coming off of your high. “He asked you a question. You being a disobedient slut for him?” John asked and you shook your head no. “Y-yes, your turn Richie.” You managed to stutter out.

His dick hardened at his routine nickname, needing no time to prepare you so without warning, sliding himself straight in. He let out a big breath of air at the feeling of your soft wall enveloping him. He began thrusting at an agonisingly slow pace, you in turn, crying out in desperation. “Patience now, doll.” Ringo told you. “Good things come to those who wait.” He took his time with you, not knowing when an opportunity like this one would come again.

Your head fell to the side and your eyes connected with John’s, who looked down at you with a small shit-eating grin. He leant down and licked your ear love, whispering gently “gonna give me a hand job while you let your husband’s friend take you?” You moaned at his question but nodded at him, raising your hand to rub up and down his hardening cock, swiping the tip a few times to use his pre-cum as some sort of lubricant. You pulled away and spat saliva into your palm, beginning to jerk him off at a faster rare. “Isn’t your first rodeo, is it dove?” John asked with a chuckle. “Got you well trained, haven’t I chick?” Paul said, leaning down to latch his lips onto yours.

Your high came excruciatingly slow, Richard building up the pace to the point he could no longer take it and took you animalistically, only stopping to release his seed deep into your womb and felt you cum over him. Waiting long enough for some of it to sink in, he slowly pulled out and kissed at the cold air attaching his sensitive member.

John released into your hand and felt his cock re-stiffen at the sight of you licking your hand clean. “Fuck. Me next.” He said, walking around the bed to your feet and positioning himself between your legs, feeling yourself being manoeuvred like some inhuman marionette. He moved you until your face was in the sheets and back arched for him, arse and sweet warmth on display for him. “Can’t let any of their cum get out, can we love?” He’d asked tauntingly, nails digging painfully rough into your hips.

He slipped in quickly, cock twitching at the sound you made, sensitive from the numerous rounds you had been put through. “Can’t believe Paul gets to keep you all to himself. A little slut all for him.” He said, staring to pepper kissed down your back while his hands found your breasts. Your arse was unquestionably bruised, as was your neck from the way Ringo and George were sucking at either side of it. John let out his load deep inside of you, full ovaries feeling themself being stuffed by the liquid trickling down into them.

George had waited so patiently for his turn, so patient with a so painful hard-on that he was going to make you regret giving him. Seeing himself torture you would be enough of a reason to make himself wait a few more moments. He spun you around and returned you into your back, kneeling down to kiss and worship the skin of your inner thighs, yet never close enough to provide the friction you so-desperately needed.

He kissed and sucked at your clit, thumb coming up to rub it as his tongue delved deep into your walls, making you cry out at the sight of their cum on his tongue. He thrust it into you a half a dozen more times before standing up and forcing his elongated cock into you. You hissed, pained by the repetitive beatings your intestines were receiving.

“Such a good little brat for us aren’t you?’ Paul asked, staring down at you as if a predator staring at its helpless pray. “Yes, ‘m good.” You repeated, doing as you were told as he tapped your chin to tell you to open it. You parted your lips and allowed your husband to force his dick into your already sore and throbbing throat.

George’s hips snapped at a consistent and quick pace, eyes not deferring from yours as he watched you take his bandmate’s cock so well. “Take him so well, don’t you dove?” He asked, praising you as you hummed and Macca moaned. George put his thumb onto your overstimulated clit and pressed down harshly. You cried out but tried your best to keep your throat open. “That’s if, keep it open.” Your husband taunted. And with a few more final thrusts, George cummed inside of you as you did the same, Paul releasing deep down your throat and you refrained from coughing - instead harshly swallowing and wiping the remaining resales from your mouth with your tongue and the back of your head.

“You were such a good girl.” John said, petting your hair gently and pecking your forehead. “Y’ alright, princess?” Ringo asked and you looked up at him and smiled with a nod. “Definitely gonna give Paulie boy a baby for being so good.” George added as he strolled your leg comfortingly. You enjoyed the praise you were receiving, letting the men manoeuvre you so you were in Paul’s lap. With your eyes shut, you felt yourself being lowered onto his cock and you hissed in both oversensitivity and surprise. You looked at your husband with tired eyes. “Don’t want any of it to go to waste.” He said with a wink and cheeky little smile. “Thank you.” You mumbled, drifting to sleep on his chest their quiet conversation turning into distant white noise.

A week or two later, your head was in the toilet bowl as Paul pulled your hair back into a make-shift pony tail and caressed your back at seven in the morning to let you be sick. “It’s alright love, think you’re coming down with something.” He said, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead to check for a fever. It was winter after all and your unreliable immune system was no match for England winters. “I’ll take you to the pharmacy, yeah?” And you’d nodded, wiping your mouth and letting him lead you out to the car.

You weren’t sick, unless your count baby fever. You were pregnant. Pregnant with a child. Pregnant with Paul’s(?) baby. The two of you were overjoyed and as were the rest of the boys when they found out, although offering if you wanted to have two in there just to ask, not minding the sight of you naked and belly swelling with a child.

And eight and a half months later, two weeks premature, your water broke at midnight. Paul sped to the hospital, mentally timing the distance between your contractions to tell the midwife when you got there. After a while of pushing, swearing, breaking Paul’s fingers, and him nearly dainton at the sight of the head coming out of such a small area, at seven minutes past 8, your son was born.

The boys all crowed around, in awe at the new baby in your arms. “He has his mother’s chin.” Paul notes, grinning from ear to ear. “And his fathers face.” The lads then piped up. “And Ringo’s droopy eyes-” George stated but was Vito off by the man himself “oi, oh yeah actually he does. And John’s nose.” John hummed. “And George’s eye colour and ears.” You all began laughing.

Whoever’s paternal child this may be, he was certainly a gift you yourself, your husband, and the three men who tagged along with you.