#Paul McCartney Fanfiction

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Feeling Two-Foot Small (Part 2)

Tiny!Paul McCartney x Tiny!Reader

Genre: Fluff with a sprinkle of intimacy here and there

Warnings: Some kissing and mention of nudity but nothing too crazy

Words: 3.5k

A/N: If you have not read Part 1 yet, please read that first for this to make sense! Also, there's a bit of canon divergence at the end but it's fine

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The remainder of the day was spent with you and Paul skateboarding around your house, hiding under tables and couches, while occasionally sneaking back to your room in an attempt to grab a fruit snack or pretzel stick without getting caught. The game only had to end because it was getting dark, and since neither of you could reach a light switch, the rooms soon became pitch black. You, unfortunately, didn’t have any doll-sized flashlights, and you both realized this could get dangerous when Paul tried to run away from you and only succeeded in running directly into a leg of your kitchen table.

“Do you think the swelling has gone down yet?” Paul groaned as he stumbled back to the socks you two were using as a couch. “My head feels like it’s pounding.”

“I’m not sure,” you replied, “on account of the fact that I can’t even see you!” The sun had fully set now, and there was no hope for either of you finding any light sources, much less being able to see a mere hand in front of your face. It was as if you two were walking around with your eyes shut. The best thing to do was just to stay in your room and wait until morning.

“I wish I could see your face.” Paul chuckled, reaching out his hand that wasn’t massaging his forehead. You had a similar idea, blindly flailing your own arms until your hands brushed each other in the darkness. You both yelped, not expecting it, but quickly searched again until they voluntarily rejoined. You smiled as Paul rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand. You were quite grateful in that moment that he couldn’t see how hard you were blushing, but then again, you couldn’t tell if he was doing it too.

“I would reach for your face right now, but I don’t want to poke you in the eye.” You stated, punctuating your statement with a giggle. Paul took your hand that he was holding and guided it up to his cheek. You stroked the soft skin there, feeling the minute layer of stubble near his jaw. Paul closed his eyes, although it didn’t matter if he did, but it was merely a factor of immersing himself in the feeling. Adopting a more relaxed attitude, you gently cupped his cheek and traveled higher, finding the small bump on his forehead. You attempted to move him closer so you could place a kiss atop the bruise, but the lack of lighting made you miss and instead planted a kiss right on his eyelid.

“Oh, sorry.” You laughed awkwardly.

“If I had bumped my eye into the table, you’d be golden.” Paul teased. He reached for your hand again, sensing that you tried to pull it away after being discouraged by your incorrectly placed kiss. “But this is nice though,” he continued, “just hanging out here.” You gave him a look of confusion, until you realized he couldn’t see it.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for me, the last couple of days have been pretty odd. Like I mentioned earlier, with the whole sacrifice thing. But it’s not only that, you know! Aside from trying to save one of my mates from having his head chopped off, he’s got these scientists after him too! They want his ring so they could sell it and get a fortune for it, but the ring is actually the reason why he’s due to be sacrificed!” Although Paul’s expression wasn’t visible, you could tell this was going to take a while. “He actually wants to get rid of the ring, you know, but the problem is he can’t get it off. And that’s why we needed the shrinking serum! But then the doorbell rang and the woman who was administering it dropped the needle and it ended up in my leg and now here I am!”

You stood quiet, unsure of how to approach this. What ring? Who are these scientists? Is this the same woman he was mentioning earlier? Who knew a dream could feel so real. If this was any indication of the inner workings of your subconscious, you considered getting yourself evaluated.

“That does sound like some crazy stuff.” You tried, hoping to trick your brain into changing the subject. Thankfully, it worked. There was a brief moment of silence between you two, and while that normally wouldn’t have been so bad, the pitch darkness surrounding you sent your brain straight into the realm of horror stories. In your mind, complete silence and complete darkness should never go together.

“It’s far too quiet in here,” Paul huffed, his voice carrying a hint of wariness, “Can we just talk about something else already?” Your eyes widened. It was like he read your mind! Oh, wait. You had to keep reminding yourself that all of this WAS in your mind.

“Sorry,” you apologized again, though you realized it wasn’t necessary, “I’m still just thinking about how I kissed your eyeball.” Your face scrunched as you relived the incident in your mind.

Paul chuckled to himself. “Maybe you should’ve aimed for something else then.”

You froze, pondering his statement. You were almost certain you knew what he was hinting at, but didn’t want to make any assumptions. Paul had no problem assuming you didn’t get the hint, so he clarified himself.

“Have you ever heard the theory that two people can find each other’s lips in complete darkness with nearly one-hundred percent accuracy?”

You felt yourself choke on your spit when you gulped. You weren’t sure if he was just making a flirty joke, or actually suggesting that you two kiss. How could he possibly insinuate something like that when you two only met for the first time this morning?

Oh, right! This is only a dream! It’s all in your mind! That also means you never really kissed someone’s eyeball by mistake. You felt your confidence returning. Well, if none of this is real, surely a little kiss couldn’t hurt.

“Are you suggesting we test it out?” You fired back, your boldness now purely compensatory.

“As a matter of fact, I was.” Paul replied. The smirk he was wearing while delivering his comment was practically audible.

You giggled before grabbing his hand again. “Then let the experiment begin.” 

Guiding Paul’s arm closer to you, you took this opportunity to instead rest his hand on your cheek. You didn’t really know where to go from there, as you obviously still couldn’t see. And Paul’s hand was the only thing that you were certain you could find. What would happen if you blindly tried to reach forward again? Would you make out with his left nostril this time instead?

As you were silently contemplating your approach, you felt Paul’s hot breath against your face, signaling he was coming closer. Within seconds, you felt his lips make contact with not only your face, but your lips, your top lip nestled firmly in between both of his, using this opportunity to suck on your bottom lip as he kissed you. You still closed your eyes, even though it wasn’t necessarily needed, but it still felt right.

Using your adequate proximity skills, you slowly brought your hands up to cup his cheeks, stroking them with your thumbs. Paul sighed, and you could’ve sworn you heard him trail off into a whimper, but weren’t completely sure. Your hands moved from his cheeks to the back of his neck to pull him closer, running your fingers through his hair. Feeling the texture of Paul’s silky hair while you kissed him was enough to stimulate your senses to a more optimal level. Or, at least you thought it was optimal. It didn’t feel like a dream anymore. It all felt so real. Too real.

Your eyes shot open and you hastily pulled away, much to Paul’s surprise. “What’s wrong?” He asked you, immediate tension apparent in his voice. “Did you not like it?”

“I…I don’t know.” You replied quietly. “It wasn’t you, I just…I don’t know.” You crossed your arms, desperately trying to crawl away from this awkward situation. 

“Perhaps I came on too strong then, yeah?” Paul mumbled, silently fidgeting as well. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” You felt bad. It wasn’t Paul’s fault. After all, you were the one who created him in your mind.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I was okay with it at first, but then…I don’t know what happened. It didn’t feel right.” You couldn’t properly explain yourself, and that was always your downfall. You felt uneasy, but couldn’t pinpoint why. In fact, Paul’s kiss was actually quite nice. There was just something about the whole thing that wasn’t sitting right with you.

It was too quiet again. But what was left to talk about? It seemed that anything you both tried, something was bound to thicken the air. It felt like even in your dreams, things couldn’t go well. You gave up.

“Maybe we should just go to sleep.” You stated. Paul didn’t respond, although he wanted to try and work things out. He didn’t want to ruin things with his new friend. Possibly even more than a friend. But definitely not at this rate. He thought it was wrong to keep the statement left open, so he added a meek reply.

“Alright, then.”

You weren’t sure what to do for sleeping arrangements. The floor was too hard to sleep on, and you knew your back would pay the price the following morning. But there was absolutely no way you felt like ascending your pant leg fire pole up to your bed right now. There had to be some kind of compromise.

Seeing no other option, you blindly felt your way down to the sock couch that you and Paul had been sitting on this entire time, pulling the top sock off of the bottom one. Paul heard you doing all this, but had no clue what was going on. He felt a breeze across his body when you tossed one sock towards him. “Here, take this to sleep in.”

“Sleep in?” Paul clarified, wondering if he’d misheard you. “But this is a sock.”

“Well now it’s a sleeping bag.” You said nonchalantly, slipping off your plastic shoes and getting comfy in your sock. “It’s all I have.”

“But you’ve worn these!” Paul exclaimed. “I’m not sleeping INSIDE of it!”

“Good luck freezing all night, then.” You quipped, knowing he'd give in eventually.

Paul put his hands on his hips. “But it’s the middle of May. It’s not cold.” You felt yourself stretching the elastic of the sock to restrain yourself from getting more annoyed.

“Well I don’t have any tiny little blankets lying around, so your only other option is to sleep on the floor. You wanna wake up stiff as a board tomorrow? Fine. Not my problem.”

Paul giggled. “I think that might happen regardless of where I sleep, love.”

“JUST GO TO BED!” You huffed, while Paul was still snickering to himself as he tried to get cozy on top of the sock.

The night went slow. You couldn’t sleep. Perhaps it was because you were technically already dreaming? So falling asleep inside your dream seemed counterintuitive. At one point, a small strip of moonlight had made its way through the small gap in your curtains, which were still shut since you were too short to open them this morning. Now that you could see a bit better, you glanced over at Paul, who was sound asleep. He was laying on his stomach, his arms stretched out in front of him, creased at the elbow to support his head. The lower half of his body was reluctantly nestled inside the sock. You assumed he got cold and conceded to the sleeping bag, seeing as he was trying to keep his body as far away from the toe pocket as possible. Despite your earlier misunderstanding, Paul seemed comfortable around you as if he had known you for years. He looked so peaceful. Perhaps that was your method. This Paul character you had created in your dream was the picture of everything you wanted. Confidence, optimism, and peacefulness. You gave it all to him, while you, the true human, were still stuck with all the worries. Your brain was quite the tricky one.

You zoned in on the tranquil rhythm of Paul’s breathing, pulling your sock tighter towards your body like a cocoon. You smiled to yourself, trying to reabsorb some of Paul’s innate tranquility. You could feel the background noise slowly become more muffled as you drifted off into a deep sleep.

When you awoke the following morning, you were cold. You felt the brisk morning air pass over your whole body with ease. Perhaps you had wriggled out of your sock in the middle of the night and ended up on the floor, as you felt the hard wood below with a much greater intensity than you did the previous night. What surprised you the most was a single area of your back that felt…oddly warm. You opened your eyes, only to immediately shut them again, feeling incredibly disoriented. You curled your body into a fetal position, plastering your hands over your face to stop your head from swimming. You didn’t drink, but yet you felt hungover. If what happened to you last night was actually a dream, is it possible for you to still be reeling from it? You kept your eyes closed, trying to sit up as slowly as possible. You felt the way your skin creased and folded as you sat upright on the floor. Yep, you were definitely naked.

Trying to open your eyes again, you prepared for the immediate influx of stimulation. You stared at the window, hoping the soft light from the sun behind the curtains would give your eyes something more palatable to focus on. You watched as your surroundings slowly became clearer. And judging by the visual perspective of your bedroom, you were back to normal size. 

You laid back on the floor, breathing a sigh of relief that the weirdest dream of your life was now over. Until you felt that odd warmth beside you again, followed by a raspy voice.

“I guess the serum wore off, then.”

Oh, no.

You look over to see Paul, also completely naked, laying on the floor beside you, one arm propping up his head as he wore a huge smirk on his face. Not knowing how else to react, you screamed, causing him to scrunch his face as he had just woken up. You tried your best to cover yourself with your hands, but didn’t have much luck.

“What are you doing here?!” You shrieked, now glaring down at the array of busted open socks and doll clothes wedged underneath the both of you. Last night was, apparently, not a dream.

“I didn’t do anything, I swear!” Paul exclaimed, holding his hands up as if to say he was innocent, only for his head to hit the floor with a thunk, as there was now no hand to hold it up. He winced, rubbing the back of his head dejectedly. “Ow.”

You were trying hard not to stare at Paul’s body, but you had to admit, he had a very attractive figure. If one thing was for sure, Paul was absolutely right about the whole “waking up stiff” thing…

“Wait, so yesterday…that was real..?” You mumbled, wondering if you were still actually dreaming. Maybe you were stuck in a perpetual dream loop. Perhaps you had left your physical body and this is where you’d be for all eternity.

“What do you mean if it was real?” Questioned Paul, “Didn’t you hear my whole story about the serum? And the ring? Did you think I made that up? Which reminds me, I should probably get going, so…do you have any clothes I could wear out of here?”

Your gaze darted around the room, looking for, honestly, anything. Firstly, some clothes for you, much less for Paul. But also for answers. Even if Paul’s story was true, which was highly unlikely, that still doesn’t explain why you shrunk too. Were you given a phantom dose of serum in the middle of the night by a different mysterious woman? None of this made sense. You were just about to get up when Paul spoke again.

“You know, even if you don’t believe anything I said, I hope you’ll know I’m being honest when I say I enjoyed our time yesterday.” You turned to look at him, your expression one of confusion. “Being that small and all, I felt…helpless. I felt like anyone could just step on me if they wanted to. Or…lift me up and take me away. I never expected to find someone that understood what I was going through. And for that I’ll always be grateful.”

And that’s when it hit you. Being small wasn’t a curse or a punishment. It was a teachable moment. An opportunity to remind you that, no matter how big or small you were, you weren’t alone. Even as you always felt that you had to navigate around all the big people who you were afraid would step on you, there was someone out there who knew how you felt. Who you were meant to meet. Having to make yourself small to make space for others wasn’t a problem anymore when you met someone who gladly made enough space for the both of you.

“I…enjoyed it too,” You replied slowly, “And I do believe your story, Paul. As for how I ended up like that, we may never know. But it was fun to have someone to play with all day.” You chuckled, and Paul joined you as you both reminisced of your rather impressive game of hide and seek.

Paul sat up, reaching for your hand that was trying its best to cover your chest. He took it in his own as you let it fall from your body. You saw things differently now that you understood. This entire journey had been a confusing one, but you hoped that this was the beginning of a new chapter in your life. One where you looked at not only the world with a bit more kindness and optimism, but also yourself.

Paul guided your hand to pull you closer as he captured your lips in a sweet kiss. This time, you felt calmer, and more accepting of what was to come. You dropped your other hand from concealing your lower half to softly grasp his shoulder. You sighed into the kiss, feeling your lips melt as his tongue pushed past them. You lightly pressed on his shoulder, leading him to lay back on the floor as you lay on top of him, your hands threading in his dark brown hair while his rested on your lower back. There was no sexual tension to it. No desire to grope at various areas of the body. It was content. Peaceful and romantic. It was the sweetest kiss you ever had.

You both laid there for a while, no rush to go anywhere or do anything. Except for the two minute break you took to get dressed, as you were starting to get chilly again. You took the liberty of loaning Paul one of your oversized hoodies along with some sweatpants, which fit him perfectly. Although, not knowing when you’d see each other again, you think that Paul might just own those clothes now. You were just about to resume your kissing session when you saw Paul do a frantic double take out your bedroom window.

“There they are!” He squealed. “Look!” You tried to see what he was referring to, and sure enough, there were three guys walking down the street. Two taller ones, and one who was a bit shorter, who was wearing a huge and borderline tacky ruby ring on his left hand. They were all dressed in dark suits, all with similar haircuts, all calling out Paul’s name. You couldn’t believe it. Paul was actually telling the truth.

“Sorry to bolt, but if I don’t leave now, I’ll never catch up to them.” He said, stamping a quick kiss on your cheek before running to your front door. “Hope to see you again soon!” He called out before closing the door behind him. You managed to hear a muffled “wait up guys!” as he headed down the street. You stayed by the window to watch his three friends turn around, ecstatic to see him. One of the taller ones grabbed him by the hand as they all continued to run until they reached the end of the block, all piling in one car before taking off again. You smiled to yourself as you headed to the kitchen, thankful for what was probably the strangest yet most comforting moment of your life.

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PART 2 Y'ALL FINALYYY 😁😁😁 And yes obviously this is the final part but this fic was so fun to write! Let me know if y'all wanna see more stuff referencing the Beatle movies, and I have two other fics still in the works so I'll try and have those up as soon as I can! 🥰

[yangleeeh]

John and Paul as rats in Paris…. Inspired by: @flowersintheram

[sabonitoo]

Sit back and let the evening go

Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band!

[buttahpie]

sigh….. opens up google docs

[imagine-mokey]

John Lennon

[beatleshalloween]

McLennon

[sunflowersinthedirt]

AFTER SHOW | PAUL MCCARTNEY 🎸

Where Paul really wants you and can't stand hiding it anymore OR where you have low self-esteem and don't see yourself as feminine and beautiful enough to attract anyone's attention.

female!reader, fluff.

| mentions of alcohol and pot, mature language and reader not feeling feminine enough. Written in first person. |

english is not my first language and gifs are not mine.

—

1965.

Nothing could have prepared me to see Paul being interviewed after the tenth show of that tour in the hotel by this girl. Sure, it was a usual scene, but she… She was beautiful. Red-haired, medium height, and rosy-skinned. She looked like one of those porcelain dolls people order for decoration. Delicate, polite and apparently funny. The hazel eyes of the english singer were solely focused on her, his smile stretching from ear to ear.

It made me sad in a way. But my mind couldn't figure out if it was because Paul was close to such a beautiful woman with a courteous smile for so long without me seeing him next to a woman, or if it was because she was everything I was not: Too beautiful.

The truth is it was always like this. I always had to compare myself with every woman who got close to the boys. I had been working with the Beatles for almost four months and had yet to see any erratic behavior from them towards me or any woman - They´are flirty, but not disrespectfull. Far from me wanting all of them, but sometimes a doubt would light up inside me: Am I pretty enough for a Beatle to notice me? Of course, not just them, but any man.


I walked down the hotel hall to my room, not wanting to notice anyone's presence there and hoping they wouldn't see me either. I went up to the corridor of the rooms so quickly that not even a camera flash would catch me if someone photographed me there. I heard footsteps behind me and felt a tap on my arm.

— Where are you going in such a hurry, luv? — It was Paul. His warm touch sent an electric current and a shiver through my stomach. I felt my face heating up too, but it could have been the wine Brian offered me earlier at the after show. — To my room. — I replied, a bit intoxicated by his scent and how close he was to me. Either I was too tipsy for having had two glasses of weak Chilean wine with Brian Epstein, or Paul's eyes had a different sparkle that night.

— Can I be your company? — He asked boldly and irresistibly. — I want to get out of here too.

I nodded positively. Paul and I walked down the room corridor, and I felt drained by the energy of the place. Paul seemed tired and high... His eyes continued to disturb me. I couldn't judge him because I was this high too.

His eyes shone and disturbed me in an attractive way, of course. After seeing him with the red-haired girl, I started comparing myself to her automatically. I wasn't unkempt, but I didn't feel feminine enough either. It was always a battle to get ready and force myself to see myself as a feminine woman. And being in Paul's company that night had a strange atmosphere.

Why would he prefer to stay with someone like me, so clumsy? He was my best friend... But what could I offer him if we were seen together? In my mind, we simply didn't match. Paul and I were closer because we had similar tastes. I adored him, and he was totally my type. A Liverpool gentleman, contrary to the thoughts of people who had prejudice against Liverpudlians. He liked photographs, good music, and had accompanied me (when he had time) to cinemas and theaters.

When I entered that room, I had almost forgotten he was my company that night. A cold, electrifying air passed through me, and my body shivered. I felt small in the vastness of the night of the tenth show of that tour. I was too lucky and knew it, knew that girls my age would die and kill to be in my place and work with the Beatles.

— What's wrong with you? — He asked, breaking the silence. A tone of concern was perceived. — You seem too quiet today.

I threw myself onto the double bed in the room. It was soft, comfortable, and had pocket springs. I heard the springs' noise, and my body wobbled a bit with the impact of my lazy throw onto it. I wanted to stay in that position forever if possible.

— It's nothing. — I lied. I didn't want to worry Paul. He and the other guys had an incredible performance at the show today. Brian was proud and trusted me blindly to accompany them in all this madness. — Just tired, and I drank too.

Paul threw himself on the mattress next to me, very close to me. Now we both stared at the white ceiling of the hotel room.

— Darling, stop it. I know when something is wrong with you. I didn't even see you smile today. — Paul commented, now turning to me. He knew, he knew me well... And I kind of hated myself for making it too obvious. It took me a while to turn to him and take my eyes off that ceiling.

Not because the hotel room ceiling was more interesting than Paul but because I could commit a big madness being centimeters away from his face. I could blame the earlier glasses of Chilean wine or realize that I had been in love with Paul for a long time and stop hurting myself so much. I knew this would end our friendship in a bad way.

— I smiled when you guys were on stage. — I didn't look at him. I could feel Paul's gaze burning my cheeks.

— I didn't see... — He said, his voice huskier, whining. Almost a moan. — Look at me, love. Tell me what's going on, hm? — He pleaded. I felt butterflies in my stomach. The wine's effect seemed to be affecting me more than it should.

I started to wonder if there was something more in the wine or if I was drunk intoxicated by Paul.

— Paulie... — I whispered his name, finally looking at him. I wanted to laugh nervously, so I bit my lips. Paul looked at me with the most needy expression in the world at that moment. Either that or I was going completely crazy...

Shit. He's beautiful, and I really liked him.

— Hm? — He murmured softly in response to me calling him. His eyes were low and dark, a look I had never seen in all this time working with the Beatles. — If I ask you something, would you be upset with me? — He asked, his voice low and firm.

— You know that I can't be angry with you. Just.. go ahead...— I blinked quickly, trying not to appear intoxicated by him.

— Can I? — He sounded nervous. — I mean, can I kiss you, darling? — He asked me. His hazel eyes locked on mine.

I took a deep breath, trying to process what I had just heard. It wasn't possible, was it? He wanted to kiss me. He. Wanted. To. Kiss. Me.

— Paul, I-

— I'm sorry. — He interrupted me, and I felt like an idiot. His eyes darkened, and the boy's face now had a sad expression. He sat on the bed with his back to me.

— Paul, I...

— It's just that I'm feeling different. I don't want to mess up our friendship. — He interrupted me again, and honestly, I couldn't be mad at him for interrupting me. I sat on the bed. Paul looked at the lamp, his long and curved eyelashes making a perfect drawing on his eyelid. I confirmed that even his profile was beautiful. — I'm kind of tired of this. And you keep disturbing my thoughts, you know? I can't sleep without thinking about you. — He finally confessed, now looking back at me. His thick lips moist and shining with his saliva.

My heart felt like a philharmonic band. He was driving me crazy.

— Y/N, I don't want to lose your-

I interrupted him and did the craziest thing. I silenced him with my lips on his. Paul gently held my face, his thumbs relaxed on my right cheek. I wanted to go fast, thirsty for him, he wanted to go slow. He tamed me like no one else could that night, tilting his head to deepen the lazy kiss. I felt like I would melt there... His mouth was warm, moist, the taste of wine sweetening my mouth. It was intimate and moved me like no man had ever done. The need for air became apparent, and we pulled apart, Paul still daring to steal a peck. Our lips swollen and red.

Suddenly, I felt shy. I had indeed kissed him, caught him by surprise. He had too, he kissed me back... Unbelievable that he reciprocated me and my repressed feelings.

— Paul... — I whispered, intoxicated, feeling my lips moist with his saliva. Our faces were still close but not close enough to be strange.

— Shh... — He gave me a long peck. — I know. Me too, darling.

And then nothing else mattered in that room but him and me.


[anulight]

The Beatles in front of their less than glorious cartoon likeness!

[javelinbk]

New fic: Heart of Glass

Meet Paul McCartney. Forty years old. Husband, father of two, teacher turned PhD student. So far, so dull.

Until he meets his new next-door neighbour, a successful writer by the name of John Lennon, who turns his life upside down.

Chapter 1 - Welcome to your life

Chapter 2 - Acting on your best behaviour

Chapter 3 - Turn your back on Mother Nature

Chapter 4 - Lonely rivers flow to the sea

Chapter 5 - To the open arms of the sea

Chapter 6 - Clad in black, don't look back

Chapter 7 - That certain feeling carved by another's hand

Chapter 8 - An offer that cannot be ignored

Chapter 9 - Dreaming is free

Chapter 10 - You can never win or lose if you don't run the race

Chapter 11 - Help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure

Chapter 12 - Never was a cloudy day

Chapter 13 - It's just the touch of your hand behind a closed door

Chapter 14 - 'Neath the cover of October skies

Chapter 15 - To dreams that never will come true

Chapter 16 - It's my own design, it's my own remorse

Chapter 17 - Adorable illusion

Chapter 18 - Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down

Chapter 19 - In the game of love, you reap what you sow

Chapter 20 - You say I’m a dreamer, we’re two of a kind

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Feeling Two-Foot Small (Part 1)

Tiny!Paul McCartney × Tiny!Reader

Genre: Fluff with some Angsty bits

Warnings: Convos about insecurities and stuff but that's about it

Words: 3k

Summary: Takes place in the Help! movie universe (but Modern!AU I guess? Idk lol); Reader wonders what it's like to be small, gets their wish, and meets a tiny Paul along the way

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When people are asked if they wonder what it would feel like to be tiny, most of them think about the effects it would have on their life in a personal way. They rejoice at the idea of being the same size as their pet, having a small furry friend to play with. Some feel liberated at the idea of being able to get underneath all their furniture, hunting for all the loose paper clips, rubber bands, and hair ties they thought would never again see the light of day. Others might opt for a brief dive between the couch cushions to find every single stray coin that is now the size of their head.

You, on the other hand? Well, you think differently than that. You view being tiny from an outward perspective, pondering how being two or three inches high would have an effect on the world around you as opposed to you as an individual. When you shrink, do your clothes shrink with you? Or once you're small, do you lay naked inside a pile of now oversized fabric? Are those tiny skateboards you use for your fingers sturdy enough to support your weight? It would make getting around a whole lot easier. Does walking underneath the arch of a high heel shoe have the same implications as walking underneath a ladder? Would you receive some tiny alternate version of bad luck?

See, you don't think about what it is like to be small, because you already know that feeling quite well at your average height. You know what it's like to have the world tell you there isn't enough space for you, and that you must keep shrinking who you are until you fit. And sometimes, you are told to shrink so small that the only place you can fit is inside your own head. So why would you want to experience that sensation physically as well? However, it would be interesting to have your body match the way your mind has felt for a long while. In some sick, twisted way, you might feel right at home. 

But alas, it is only mere speculation. Something you didn’t want to think about anyway. You preferred not to fill your brain with any more possible outcomes of unachievable situations. You already did that enough with the things actually happening in your life. You already knew how it would all play out. You would spend hours sending your mind into such a frenzy that you tired yourself out, only to forcefully push the thought away the following morning. And if you weren’t careful, the topic would somehow barge its way back into your thoughts some weeks or months later, and the cycle would start anew. So, better to cut things off at the start, despite the part of you that couldn’t help but be the least bit curious.

When you awoke the following morning, something felt off. You opened your eyes to find the blanket completely over your head, which also felt much heavier than usual. You went to move the piece of fabric off your face until you realized that what was currently placed on top of you was two separate layers. You swiftly moved the first one off, poking your head out of the end only to realize it was the shirt you had put on before bed the previous night.

Mixed in with your confusion, your brain managed to form the idea that this was a dream. Your shirt and blanket becoming a hundred times bigger overnight is not physically possible. You felt like you were swiping the large blanket off your head for minutes until the bright beams of sunlight in your room hit your face. You sat up, only to notice that you had actually stood up, not that it made much of a difference. Whether you were standing or sitting, you still could barely see over the edge of the footboard. Glancing around, you noticed your pillow behind you, which was now the size of a giant’s, and the rest of your pyjamas crumpled beneath the blanket. A sudden breeze across the room alerted you that you were currently naked. And unless you were experiencing a rather severe case of Alice-in-Wonderland Syndrome, this was most definitely a dream.

You had always heard about lucid dreaming before, but the concept always frightened you. A dream that felt like reality? That doesn’t sound very safe. The only rule of lucid dreaming you remembered was never to use any of the bathrooms you see, as it will not end well. But other than that, exploring the world like this actually seemed kind of fun.

As you went to hop out of bed, You peered down the side of the cliff that was now your mattress, thankful you didn’t lose your impulse control and critically injured yourself from the start. You figured that if you somehow did end up shrinking in your sleep, you were going to need some serious level of strategy to get around.

Dragging one of the legs of your sweatpants over to the edge of the bed, you hoisted it over, hearing the elastic at the ankle thud as it hit the wooden floor. You looked down again before grabbing onto the side of the pant leg and using it to shimmy down to the floor like a fireman’s pole. If there was going to be any time in your life that you were grateful for not having a fear of heights, that time was now. But so far, your theory of your clothing not shrinking with you had been swiftly proven.

Once on the floor, your next task was to find new clothes. Or, at the very least, some type of fabric to keep you covered. Judging by how close you were to the floor, you gathered that your new height was about three inches, just like you had imagined. By those parameters, even your socks would be too big to clothe you. 

You felt like you were in a video game. Every single place you wanted to go felt like it took forever to get there. And that was when you spotted the perfect wardrobe. All these years, you knew something good would come out of your vintage Barbie doll collection. On the lower shelf of your desk, you had kept all the extra clothing your dolls weren’t wearing in a small bin. Luckily you were able to flip the lid open and start searching.

You may not have been able to see yourself in the mirror, but you felt like you looked good. One of Barbie’s rompers was big enough to look like a pantsuit on you, and one of Ken’s jackets was more than enough to keep you warm. Barbie’s winter boots weren’t exactly comfortable, considering they were nothing more than malleable plastic, but you didn’t exactly have much of a choice. In an equally small bin beside the clothes was a collection of small toys, including your finger-sized skateboard from when you were a little kid. Placing it beside you, you softly hopped on, pushing your foot and briskly gliding across your bedroom floor. As for your average-sized predictions, you had been spot on about the practicality of living a tiny life.

But now that you were properly dressed, you were most excited to try and explore the outside world. What you didn’t plan for, however, was how you were actually going to get out the door. After making your way to the exit, you groaned as the doorknob appeared to be a million miles away. You didn’t have any pets, so there was no convenient doggy door to use. Beside the door, you spied the small latch on top of the window. It was unlocked. Getting up there was going to be a pain, but it was your only logical way out.

Slinging your skateboard over your shoulder - with the convenient strap you made for it out of a pair of Barbie’s stockings - you began to climb up the curtain. The height from the window to the floor was about the same as getting up and down your bed, but getting up was definitely trickier. Once you settled on the window sill, you stuck the edge of your skateboard under the lip of the window, jumping on the other end of the board to pop it open. Granted, your decreased strength only opened it about an inch, but that was enough. You squeezed your way through the exit, and, seeing no other option, jumping down into the patch of dirt below. You didn’t injure yourself, but jumping that far didn’t feel good, especially after climbing up the curtain. This must have been what Tinkerbell felt like. Well, at least she had wings. And on top of just waking up and not eating anything, you already felt beat. 

That’s right. Food. You were so preoccupied with adapting to this new way of life you had forgotten to eat. In hindsight, the fridge had been too large to get anything out of anyway. But your prayers were soon answered as you noticed that the fruits in your neighbor’s garden were ripe and ready to be picked. You were sure they wouldn’t miss just one.

Dusting yourself off and skating a few feet ahead, you gently plucked a raspberry from the bottom of one of the bushes, making sure it hadn’t been tainted by any insects that might’ve gotten there before you. You would’ve only needed one anyway, seeing as a raspberry was now a watermelon in your world and one tiny berry would feed you for quite a few hours as you skated around. It also stained your lips a lovely shade of pink. Nature’s makeup, you thought.

Your neighborhood was pretty quiet in the morning, and being able to move about completely unseen actually brought you a level of comfort. No one to have to explain your circumstances to. No stray animals to drag you like a chew toy. You kind of liked it. To your surprise, the world wasn’t so bad from this height.

Reaching the end of your street, you decided to stop and take a rest. The sky looked like rain, and that was something you needed to watch out for. At this size, a raindrop could quite possibly waterboard you if you weren’t expecting it.

Taking shelter under a small plant in another person’s garden, you looked around at the other bushes and blades of grass around you. The garden felt like a rainforest. Tiny twigs and saplings took on the roles of redwoods and sequoias, towering above you, protecting you from the elements. You truly felt like a fairy. Like the ones who wore mushroom hats and made flower crowns from dandelion stems. The only thing that seemed a tad out of place was a gum wrapper that lay not too far from you. It was the perfect size for you to use as a blanket if you wanted it, but just as you got up to have a closer look, it moved. Clearly it was already occupied.

A boy with short brown hair popped out from underneath it, securing it around his waist like a bath towel. He turned around before you could hide, both of you screaming at the sight of each other. 

“How are you this small?” He blurted out, purely out of shock.

“Me? How are you this size?” You fired back, hoping he could give you some answers.

“I asked you first.” He retorted. You accepted that talking to him was certainly going to be an adventure.

“I woke up like this.” You explained. The boy seemed surprised, as if your reason was more simple than he expected. “Why, what happened to you?”

“It’s a long story.” He said sheepishly. “But one I hope is temporary. Nice clothes.” Sensing he wanted to change the subject, you lent him your jacket, which fit him perfectly. 

“They’re doll clothes. I had no other choice.” You chuckled. “I can give you some if you’d like.” The boy seemed unsure, but you persisted. “I know it’s not ideal, but it beats a gum wrapper.” The boy smiled this time, agreeing to go with you. You held out your hand to lead him back to the sidewalk and helped him on your skateboard. It was very clear he had never ridden one before, as he tightly gripped your waist the second you started moving. On the way back, you let him take a berry from your neighbor’s bush as well, to which he was very grateful.

“What’s your name, by the way?” You questioned. You told him your name as you watched his shoulders relax a bit, accepting you as his companion in this bizarre adventure.

“I’m Paul.” He said, trying to hold the giant raspberry and keep his gum wrapper towel from falling off at the same time.

The endeavor of getting back into your house was something Paul was not prepared for. Honestly, you weren’t too thrilled either, but you were prepared for anything by this point. You never thought that climbing the curtain would’ve been the easiest thing you’ve done so far. You both had to get back up to the window by climbing up the twigs of the nearest bush, which strangely enough, felt like one of those wobbly rope ladders at a playground. You got the hang of it pretty quickly, but Paul, however, did not. He eventually made it up, but with several rips and tears in his gum wrapper towel, which you were just grateful didn’t fall off entirely.

The rest of the trip was pretty simple. Paul enjoyed sliding down the curtain, but he was upset that he had to leave the raspberry behind as he couldn’t hold it and climb the bush at the same time. You promised you would get him another one.

Your selection of doll clothes was plenty for Paul to choose from. He ended up keeping the jacket you were wearing. It looked better on him anyway. He also chose one of Ken’s polo shirts to match it. The only pants that fit him were a pair of Barbie’s denim shorts. What the gum wrapper towel couldn’t tell you is he had quite the shapely figure. 

Once you both were settled, you tried to get whatever food you could from your kitchen. With Paul’s help, you were able to reach the bottom pantry shelf, succeeding in acquiring a package of fruit snacks and a small bag of pretzel sticks. A subpar diet as they may be, it was more than enough to get you both through the day.

“Okay,” You began, making a comfortable sitting area on your bedroom floor out of some old socks, “How did all of this happen?”

Paul began to explain his predicament, but in all honesty, he kind of lost you somewhere in the middle. He was talking about how he accidentally received a dose of shrinking serum that was actually supposed to go to his friend in order to stop him from becoming some sort of human sacrifice. Something like that. Well, at least you confirmed your suspicions that this was indeed a dream. Whoever this Paul was and how he got in your subconscious, he wasn’t making any sense whatsoever.

“But it’s temporary, right?” You asked. Paul shrugged his shoulders.

“I hope so. At least that’s what I was told from the woman who gave it to me. But then again, she says she is not always what she seems.” He stated nonchalantly. You furrowed your eyebrows. Yep. Definitely a dream.

“Well, what do you want to do in the meantime?” You suggested. Paul’s eyes widened. 

“There’s not much we can do outside without us getting stepped on or drowned by rain.” He crossed his arms, a small pout appearing on his lips. “Being this small is no fun.”

“Who said we had to go outside? There’s plenty to do in here!” You debated, much to Paul’s confusion. “I’m sure I have another one of these skateboards somewhere. We can race them around the house! Plus, now that we’re tiny, we can play a mean game of hide and seek.”

Originally, your disposition had been similar to Paul’s on this whole situation. Being this size was no fun. But only if you accepted that as a fact. If you make it fun, then anything can be enjoyable. 

“I suppose so.” Paul admitted. “It’s just that I’m not used to this, you know? Being so tiny and all.”

In the small amount of time you had spent with Paul, you gathered he was the type of person whose presence was regarded everywhere he went. His personality was considerably assertive, commanding attention. Though a bit boisterous at that, he was quite charming. Being the size of a toy was no doubt a blow to his ego.

“To be honest, being this small isn’t really much of a difference for me.” You confessed, eliciting a puzzled look from the boy beside you. “People don’t really notice me anyway, so I think it’s actually kind of better that I’m small enough to be out of everyone’s way.”

Paul scoffed at your statement, as if it was unfathomable for him that anyone would think such a thing about themselves. But insecurity was often just as voluminous as it was compensatory.

“So then you run the risk of being stepped on.”

“Then I move out of the way before it happens.”

“No, you tell people to stop stepping on you.” Paul’s gaze softened as he delivered his reply, a bit surprised by his own comment. Judging by the look on his face, you discerned this was his first time giving such a profound piece of advice. No matter what size you were, the key to not being overshadowed by others was not to avoid the situation entirely. It was to stop it from happening before it even began.

Without answering, you leaned forward to give Paul a hug. He tensed up at first, but quickly reciprocated your embrace, softly rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“So…” He whispered in your ear, “I’ll hide while you count?”

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

I'm so glad I can post fics again! 🥰 This scene from the Help! movie is one of my favorites so I had to do something with it 🤭 This is a 2 part story so the second half will be up soon 😊

[yangleeeh]

These two 🥹💚🩵

[sabonitoo]

mmmmmmmmmmmmm

[buttahpie]

(originally created and posted by @/maccaultra on tiktok!! all credit goes to them!)

I am going to be violently ill.

[imagine-mokey]

[beatleshalloween]

An early McLennon

[iheartjohnlennon]

George Harrison overstimulation 🎀 I need that boy CRYING, WINING, GAGGED, TIED. Like, I need him on the brink of consciousness, barely able to form full groans anymore. Pretty pretty please.

'Behind that locked door'

Your home in London, '74-'75

Word count: 3K+

Tags: Vaginal Sex, Overstimulation, Light Dom/sub, Teasing

George was sat on the edge of your bed. He was fidgeting with his feet. Behind him, you lounged against the pillows, half-naked and smiling at him unnoticed. You had been relaxed like this for the past half an hour since you had both showered together.

He was slightly out of your foots reach. All you were staring at was his clothed back. You saw George was quite thin, but he still had tone where it counted. His soft, brown waves flowed down way past his ears. You liked the way he got his hair cut now - it made him look majestic, matured....and it was very, very nice to stroke. But it wasn't just his physical appearance that drew you in; it was his demeanour. There was a depth to him, a spirituality.

What a beauty he was, even when you couldn't see his face at all.

 

The silence between you was comfortable, it allowed you to appreciate him and what not, but eventually, the need for interaction; the need for him; the need for his cock, became too strong to simply ignore. So, you poked his back with your foot a few times.

"George..." You spoke.

Your voice had strained slightly, sounding needy for him.

His expression was calm when he turned to you, but it wasn't without his toothy grin. You could see his cute anticipation. He always sounded so excited on the phone when you invited him over.

"Y/N..." He mimicked back, his voice smooth. 

Taking a breath, you sat up fully and smiled at him. "Come here." 

Without any hesitation, George complied, crawling onto the bed fully, taking away all the space that was between you both before.

He laid on his back and looked to the ceiling. When he settled beside you, you stayed sitting up so you could look down him - lovingly, of course. The sight of him, relaxed and vulnerable beneath you, sent an erotic thrill coursing through you.

You reached out to lightly trace the exposed skin peeking through the undone buttons of his shirt. Your fingers traced there slowly, drawing lazy circles that made him feel nice. 

His head tiredly tilted to the side, trying to decipher what you wanted him to do tonight.

But any thoughts that lingered in his mind were quickly forgotten when he felt your hand grasping his chin.

He looked into your eyes; your usual loving gaze was now clouded with a blunt lust. 

George felt himself falling into relaxation with your touch, brows relaxing as his eyes fell to a half-lidded stare.

Your smile never left your face and George was sure you could tell him to bark and he’d ask, like which dog? 

"Is there anythin' I can do for you?" He asked teasingly, breaking the second silence. 

"Well, it depends." You answered vaguely, holding back a giggle. 

Taking your laughter as an invitation for foreplay, George's hand trailed up your thigh. Before he could even try undressing you, your hand sharply slapped his away. 

"Ow." He felt like a scolded child, he frowned at you. "What? 'm not allowed to touch you now or somethin'?"

You didn't answer him and bit your lip, feeling a bit bad for teasing him, but not bad enough to not proceed with your little plan. 

George was looking to you, waiting for you to either give him permission to feel you, or to tell him what game you were playing today. 

The hand that had slapped him away now drew him in closer by his jaw. You cooed to soothe his frustration - George always fell victim to your words.

"Since someone doesn't know how to keep their hands to themselves, I don't think they should be allowed to use them at all!"

Your voice dripped with sultriness, and your smile was still just as sweet as before - you hoped your dominance was working.

George stared at you, dumbfounded by this new attitude. He didn't dislike it though, and not one to question you, he simply nodded. 

"Yeah, 'course...'m sorry, I'll keep them to meself."

He assured you, wanting to play along with what he thought was just an insignificant role play. 

But then you shook your head, hair bouncing with every direction you turned. "No, no, that won't do. How can I perfectly make sure you won't touch me?"

"I..uh, I dunno, really." He replied.

George’s teeth bit at the inside of his cheek. Shit. You were being serious; you weren't just being silly. 

He tried to think of any reason he could. He wanted to blabber to you that he was a good boy, that he could behave and listen to you - but with the look you gave him, he knew it was better to just...obey?

Then your sharp nail landed under his chin, forcing him to look at you again. And he did, he looked at you from his lashes, strands of his hair covered his face.

He looked weak now, small even. Usually, it was the other way around. You delicately brushed his hair away from his face and gave his nose a small peck.

"I have a really good idea on how. Do you want to know my idea, George?"

George nodded, a bit too eagerly you noticed.

"Go on, use your words. Can't quite hear you if you’re nodding." You snapped. 

His mouth opened and closed thrice, he was desperate to blurt out a yes, but all the emotions he was feeling blocked it.

George blinked and helplessly stared at you, hoping that was enough of an answer. But he knew it wasn’t when you gave him a harsh glare.

"Yes, please. I do want to know, love." He replied eventually, sounding subtly nervous.

 

You veered off the bed and took a short walk to your dresser. George’s eyes followed your every movement lustfully. 

He heard a compartment opening suddenly, then the shifting through it started.

There was something you were looking for, something that George couldn’t figure out yet.

What could you be up to? You had both played with...props before, but your sly demeanour tonight added a weird feeling twist. 

 

When you came back, dangling upon your hand, in a mocking manner, were two ties George had left in your bedroom. Both different colours, different patterns. He watched the fabrics sway, they almost hypnotising him with their swinging. 

His cheeks started to grow red, embarrassment settled in the pit of his stomach.

It had finally registered in his mind what you were going to do to him.

You wanted to tie him up? Tie him up with his own ties? That was sexy, he thought. He could work with this, yeah, he could - and would. 

It’s not like he’d ever tell you no, even though he'd never been tied up before.

 

He adjusted himself, edging closer to where you were standing as he seemingly surrendered himself to you.

"Please, do whatever it is you want with me." His voice was low, a tantalising plea. 

You couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. Maybe he still felt you were just doing a silly roleplay. Either way it didn't matter, you were going to show him.

"I planned on this by the way, you didn’t have to agree, George."

And though these words sounded cruel, George knew you’d never hurt him. At least, not in a way he wouldn’t like, that is.

 

You slowly dropped the ties on the bed, inching closer to him before you completely mounted him in the perfect cowgirl position.

His body settled snug against the mattress, you adjusted the pillows for him so he could feel comfortable.

Your hands rested on his shoulders until you decided it would be best to unbutton his shirt now. 

George’s back arched ever so slightly to encourage you to further your exploration. You slipped his shirt off of him, now he was half naked. He groaned quietly, wanting you to move against him so bad.

You rested your hand on his thighs. He could feel your nails through the thin material of his trousers. His jaw clenched, trying to obey.

"Touch me." He groaned, feeling his cock warm against your thigh. 

Your head tilted, a look of mock sympathy filled his view. Did he say the wrong words again? Yeah, he probably did.

"I didn’t mean t' boss you around, 'm sorry, love."

Instead of a nasty glare, you gave him a smile and light pat against his thigh. "Good, boy."

Good boy, you had said.

Those two words quickly settled into George's mind. 

He was your good boy? 

With your pleased attitude, George smiled. He did something right and that did make him feel good, rewarded. 

You stopped sitting on him so you could fully undress him. You saw the imprint of his cock stiff against his trousers when you got off of him. 

You settled on your knees. Both of your hands found the waistband of his trousers and his boxers. He took a shallow breath in because your wrist stroked against it, it was growing against his own thigh, pulsing, eager to be left free. 

You tugged down at a pace that was killing him. It was barely going past his pubic hair. He groaned in frustration, luckily you didn't take it as that. But he was growing uncomfortable, moving his head as he let out low noises. He wouldn’t whine, that was his only rule to himself. 

"Tut tut, Someone's impatient." You chided, stopping the undressing altogether.

He was caught off guard by your sudden halt. 

"Sorry...please continue, love..." He urged earnestly, wanting nothing more than to please you. 

George wasn't even tied up yet but it bloody felt like he was - he was tied up by your words, your actions. 

You smiled at his submissiveness. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice soft and tender as you resumed your task, still slowly tugging his bottom half down. 

You resumed your task, your fingers pulling m down with just the right amount of resistance.

George's waistband finally slipped past his hips. His cock was fully erect and aching, it slapped against his stomach. You both let out a small sigh of relief, the moment of impatient finally gave way. 

He wanted you to do something about his erection, but he knew it wasn't going to come easy. 

You smell his fear, sense his impatience and feel his need for release. You take your time and relish in the power you hold over him. You put your hands on his thighs and leaned your mouth close to his cock. Your breath ghosted over the tip and your tongue almost licked it. George's heart raced. He wanted to hold the back of your head, like he normally did when you suck him off. But he knows that he has to wait for you to make a move.

George felt a surge of pleasure shoot through him as you leaned in closer, your tongue darted out to tease him with playful licks, only on his tip. Each flick of your tongue sent sparks of electricity coursing through his veins, his breath caught in his throat as he struggled to contain the overwhelming wave of desire that threatened to consume him. He felt himself leaking precum, you take him into your mouth, sucking gently on the tip.

As George felt the exquisite torture of your touch come to an abrupt halt, he found himself painfully hard, his desire reached a fever pitch as he longed to be inside of you. 

 

You moved to restrain him, surprising him with your swift and decisive action. You straddled his stomach, your eyes locked on his, he couldn't help but smile up at you, his excitement now palpable. 

 

With deft fingers, you bind his wrists to the bed frame, securing him in place. And as you looked down at him, a playful glint in your eye, he knew what he was in for.

"Are you ready?" you whispered. 

George nodded eagerly. 

 

As you moved down from straddling his stomach, George watched with bated breath, as you position yourself above his hard cock. 

And yet, despite the overwhelming intensity of the moment, you still wore your underwear, the fabric adding an extra layer of friction that pushed George to the edge of sanity. He felt his wrists straining against the confines of his ties. 

You unclasped your bra, revealing your bare chest to him. Finally, he thought, when he took in the sight before him. Though a pang of disappointment washed over him when he realised he couldn't squeeze them as he normally would. You could sense his frustration, and it made you laugh inside. 

 

You slipped your panties to the side, allowing him access. He watched you with hungry eyes when you did so, revealing the glistening warmth between your thighs.

Before you put him inside, you grabbed his stiffness, stroking him quickly and gripping him firmly. 

With one hand rested lightly on his chest to steady yourself, you reached down with the other, your fingers wrapped around his hardness as you guided him to your cunt. George's breath caught in his throat as his tip first felt the slick heat of you enveloping him. 

George felt just the tip of himself entering you, he was overcome with a rush of sensation unlike anything he's ever experienced before. It's a slow, torturous tease as you guide him inside, inch by agonising inch. 

With each slow descent, George could feel the exquisite tightness of you enveloping him, drawing him in deeper with each tantalising stroke. It's a sweet torture, the sensation of being half-buried inside you driving him to the brink of madness as he longed for more, for deeper penetration.

But you continue to move with a slowness, your pace unhurried as you take him in halfway, then back out again. George felt himself losing control, his breath came in short, ragged gasps as he strained against his restraints, desperate for release.

And yet, despite the frustration and longing that coursed through him, George knew that he wouldn't have it any other way.

 

As George laid there taking it, he could barely find the words to express what he needed. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps, his body trembled as he watched you move above him, your movements slow and deliberate, driving him to the brink of madness.

"Please," he managed to gasp out, his voice barely a whisper as he struggles to form the words.

He can feel the desperation clawing at him, the need for more, for deeper penetration, threatening to consume him whole.

But you continued your slow, teasing movements, your pace unhurried as you drew out the anticipation, revelling in the power you hele over him. With each downward stroke, you felt yourself growing wetter around him. 

 

"What do you want?" you said, holding back a moan. "Get it out, George."

"Deeper," he gasped, as he arched his hips, seeking more. 

"What do you say, George?" 

You wanted a please. You needed a please. 

"What?" He questioned, too consumed by near climax to understand what you wanted from him just then.

You tutted and shook your head subtly, still continuing your pace. "Say, please, George."

"Please, Y/N." George felt your wetness coating him, he revelled in the sensation of being used by you, unable to control anything without his hands.

 

You placed both of your hands on George's chest, to steady yourself riding. With your newfound control, you began to take him in deeper, your movements deliberate and precise as you took him in from his tip to his balls.

George's senses became overwhelmed by the feel of being fully engulfed by your hole, the tightness of your warmth surrounded him in a cocoon of pleasure. It's a heady rush- the feeling of completely filling you after being teased, paired with the fact that his hands are tied to the bed. 

 

You noticed a change in his usual reactions. Instead of the groans and moans you're accustomed to, he's whimpering, the sound so unlike him that it catches you off guard. It's a raw, primal sound, one that sends a shiver down your spine as you realise just how deeply he's being affected. 

Determined to push him even further, you started moving up and down rougher, more aggressive, your pace quickening as you take him in with force. The room filled with the sound of flesh meeting flesh, the rhythmic clapping noises echoed off the walls. 

With each rough movement, George's whimpering grew louder, his cries of pleasure mingled with your own. You both surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensation. 

 

As you both approach your climaxes, George felt the tension building within him. He knew that his wrists would be marked red after, but in the heat of the moment, he wasn't bothered. All he could think about was cumming.

He found himself calling out your name, his voice a hoarse whisper as he lost himself in the pleasure of the moment. He was in a trance, barely able to keep his eyes open. 

 

"Are you close?" You breathed out.

George could only nod hastily, his breath came in short, as he felt himself teetering on the edge of release.

And before he knew it, he spilled himself inside of you, his body trembled with the force of his climax.

He felt you tightening around him, your own climax washed over you.

In that moment, as you both reached the peak of pleasure together, you're lost in a dizzying whirlwind. 

 

You slowed down and eventually stopped riding him. You collapsed beside him in a heap of spent pleasure.

George couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself. Normally, he would reach out to wrap his arms around you, to pull you close and revel in the afterglow of your sex. But with his hands tied, he was unable to do so, and the realisation brought a wry smile to his lips.

 

With a chuckle, George turned his head to look at you. "Are you going to untie me so we can hug?" he asked. 

You met his gaze with a smirk, shaking your head in mock seriousness. "No, you're stuck like this forever."

70's George is the best George.