#george harrison/reader

[mithranqueersmusings]

Here There and Everywhere IV

Chapter: 4/?

Rating: U

Summary:  You’re a regular to The Cavern and you’ve always loved watching The Beatles play, even if you do have to deal with sweaty crowds, screaming girls and pervy guys. One day under rather unfortunate circumstances, you finally get to meet them which eventually, and oddly, leads to them living with you.

Tags: Domestic fluff, slow burn, eventual smut/romance

Pairings: George Harrison/Reader

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

The four boys and yourself were introduced to a bleak, grey morning as you stepped out of the house. Murmurs of activity could be heard and spotted down the street, with men hurrying off to work with briefcases in hand and women chattering with their neighbours with a warm cup of tea clutched in their grasp. You found yourself naturally gravitating towards George as the five of you walked towards the main road, but worries started to form about how obvious your affection might be. Always inclining a little too much towards paranoia, you began to fear that failing to mask your appreciation of him - to put it mildly - would not only push the rest of the group away but could even make George uncomfortable. Whenever you joined your friends at The Cavern, each girl made no secret of who her favourite of the four was; you could recall, rather embarrassingly now, how each of you would fantasise about being with their respective choice. From the very beginning, George had drawn your eye. Maybe it was because he was the youngest and closest to your own age, but it was certainly much more than that. As a quiet person yourself, there seemed to be an immediate connection with the brooding boy at the back of the stage, with dark eyebrows knitted close together as he played along with the rest. So many girls were enamoured by the brightness of Paul's eyes or the strength of John's features, but you were almost always watching George. Considering how much time had been spent daydreaming about even having a conversation with the mysterious guitarist, it was so peculiar now that you were walking right beside him as though you were merely friends. You knew it would take some time to readdress the power imbalance in your mind, essentially shifting from idolising an essential stranger to welcoming him into your home. Evidently, it was obvious that you were lost in your thoughts because John span around from his conversation with Ringo to question you blatantly.

"Not having doubts, are we?" He grinned, his hair still ruffled from the night before. 

You were caught off guard, but this surprise soon melted away into a genuine smile "Unlikely." You retorted, raising your eyebrow, "Unless there's something you're not telling me?"

"Many, many things." John's grin widened "I'd much rather you found out yourself, though." 

Ringo gave John a soft nudge, knocking him slightly into the road "Can you stop ruining our chances of sleeping under a decent roof for a few minutes?"

"You act as though we're uncivilised beasts." Paul chimed in, standing at the head of the group to guide the way.

"Not at all! I just act like an uncivilised beast." John's good humour seemed to be unshakable, causing you to laugh quietly as you watched his charade "Not that you seem to mind, Paulie." 

George let out a soft groan, rolling his eyes "Keep it in your trousers, John, it's not even midday yet."

Watching them bounce off of one another effortlessly filled you with a sense of complete ease. Even though John was clearly the most unhinged of the group, there was no doubt in your mind that he merely wanted to make the others laugh. As if on cue, John slinked closer to George following his comment, walking backwards as though it took no effort at all. 

"That's funny, I don't recall you saying that last night after your little bathroom incident." John teased, from the brightness of his eyes, it was clear he was trying to push George's buttons, you only wished that you weren't caught in the crossfire.

"How did you-" George began, his face scrunching up in frustration.

"Thin walls, my friend." John winked, turning his gaze to you with a playful expression "Awfully convenient that he walked in at that exact moment, don't you think?"

A knot in your stomach threatened to form with these words, building off of your fear that the intentions of these seemingly innocent musicians were far more sinister than you dared to consider. Yet, you fought back against this urge, reminding yourself of how genuinely apologetic George had been alongside how eager he had been to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation by putting himself in the same position. 

"I do think that you might be projecting a little." You winked back at him "Just keep those thin walls in mind when you're shacking up with Paul, yeah?"

John's face dropped for a moment before an even broader smile replaced his fleeting sorrow. He bowed down dramatically as though submitting to your retort. Ringo was laughing heartily while Paul tried to maintain a composed expression so as not to commit entirely to either side of the dispute. Feeling rather proud of yourself, you turned to smile over at George, who was looking right back at you. The intensity of his gaze made your sense of elation falter for a second, but you tried desperately to hide this from your expression. George's thin lips curled upwards, only just exposing the bottom of his sharp canines, and you were instantly at ease. It wasn't too long before you'd arrived at the strange establishment that the boys had been calling home for the time being. Even before you went inside, you almost knew what to expect. The walls were dull and hostile, as though the entire structure was built out of concrete. There seemed to be no indication that anyone was living here, perhaps other than the smell. Tentatively, you followed Paul inside to an even more depressing interior.

"Remind me who blackmailed you into living here." You mumbled, almost to yourself, as a key was produced to unlock the door to a minuscule living space.

"I wouldn't go as far as blackmailed, but it was John's idea." Ringo chuckled as you all crammed into the tiny room.

Thinking back on John's comment that the four of them lived in a cupboard, you realised that even that was an optimistic outlook. Four battered mattresses were crammed into each of the corners, with belongings strewn about as though an earthquake had just occurred. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to any of it, and you genuinely started to question whether this was some sort of practical joke. Like clockwork, each of the boys started to gather their belongings haphazardly into any sort of container they could find. Whilst you never thought of yourself as a particularly clean or orderly person, watching clothes and books getting shoved mercilessly into bags already bursting at the seams caused a noticeable amount of discomfort.

"You've seriously been sleeping in here?" You asked in utter disbelief, cautiously taking a seat on the mattress with the least amount of stains.

"The glamorous life of rock'n'roll." Paul laughed as he took a seat next to you "It's not that bad, honestly. By the time we finish a show, we're so knackered that we all basically pass out."

"The drink helps, of course." Ringo added as he rummaged through a pile of clothes.

"But... I thought you guys grew up around here. Why don't you just live at home?" You were desperate for answers, not being able to logically put together a reason for willingly staying in a place as dreary as this.

"Where's your sense of adventure?" John blurted out, currently using his foot to flatten the contents of his bag so that he could shove even more inside "You're not going to get much life experience cooped up with your rents, are you?"

"Oh sure, lot's of life experience." You feigned agreement "Maybe even as much as the diseases you'll catch, I reckon."

"She's got you there, John." George spoke up, previously being very quiet as he gathered his meagre belongings together, and John responded with a childish sticking out of the tongue.

"Come on, now we've got a chance of getting out of here, you all suddenly despite it?" John scoffed "You know that we wouldn't have been able to get up to half the stupid shit we've been doing if we had to go home every night."

John looked around the room with an inquisitive glare, stumping George, Paul, and Ringo from saying anything in disagreement. You immediately wanted to ask exactly what sort of things they had been getting up to in such a cramped space, but part of you didn't really want to know the answer. If anything, the magazines that had been quickly hidden before you'd gotten a chance to even read the cover gave you a small indication of what John meant. There were also some empty bottles messily dotted about the room, making it clear that heavy drinking was a favoured pastime.

"Should I expect this 'stupid shit' to continue under my roof, then?" You posed the question to all of them, not just John, hoping to get a vague idea of exactly what you were getting yourself into.

Paul answered instantaneously, not even giving John the chance to get a breath out "We'll be nothing but respectful, I think you'll find. That isn't to say we won't get a little boisterous now and again, but we're certainly not going to put you out."

"Unless you want us to, of course." Ringo caught you by surprise as he playfully mussed up your hair as he walked past, trying to gather the last bits and pieces that had been left out.

"I'm in no rush to start acting like a mother or a landlady." You spoke with clarity and confidence "Don't think of me as some uptight matron, alright? If anything, I'm drawn more towards stupid shit than I am the mundane life I've been living as of late."

"Now you're talking." George chuckled, triumphantly throwing a bag over his shoulder.

"Careful now, don't say something you might regret." Paul warned with a smile, following George's lead and gathering all the bags together.

"I think she's perfectly capable of saying exactly what she means, thank you!" John was clearly growing more and more excited "I think this momentous occasion calls for a bit of celebration, don't you?"

John met your gaze with a twinkle in his eye, and there seemed to be nothing you could do to stop the waves of laughter pouring out. Even though you knew deep down that you were getting yourself into something bizarre and somewhat taboo, it was clear that it was likely one of the best decisions you'd ever made. Exactly how you were going to explain to anyone why a band of wayward musicians had started occupying your childhood home, you didn't know, but a large part of you didn't care in the slightest. Being in the orbit of these lively young men made you feel more content and genuinely excited about life than ever before, so there was no way you were going to spoil it by thinking too much or considering all the potential downsides. Instead, you urged yourself to merely go with the flow and see where it took you. If George was going to be along for the ride, you couldn't think of anywhere else you'd rather be. Although no words were exchanged, you got the impression that John knew exactly what you were thinking because the mischievous look spread across his angular face only intensified.

"Considering our accommodation has already been provided, seems only fair that we take care of the rest, right lads?" Ringo posed the question more as a statement.

All three boys nodded in almost eerie unison, reminding you of one of the reasons you were so enraptured with them in the very place whenever watching them on stage. There was a moment of stillness after this, but it didn't last for long. John evidently could not keep his excitement contained for much longer as he rushed towards you without warning. Your eyes widened in confusion as you were lifted off of the floor and into his arms. Even though you had no idea what was going on, you couldn't stop yourself from giggling like a child. Ringo wasn't far behind, spinning his keys around his finger in preparation for piling into his car. Paul and George disgruntledly carried the bags with full arms and bulking shoulders, murmuring about John's exceptional talent of avoiding responsibility. Your captor mirrored your laughter, kicking doors open as you made your way back onto the street. Despite his erratic nature, you felt undisputedly safe in his company, and you almost hoped that he'd carry you all the way home like this. Yet, before long, he had to set you back onto the ground while the heaving bags were thrown into the boot of Ringo's car. Being unable to drive yourself, it was hard not to be excited about everything this vehicle opened to you. While your subconscious tried eagerly to manufacture reasons that you should be feeling incredibly nervous about this whole ordeal, you overwrote them with genuine excitement about the shenanigans you would all be getting up to.

"Nice car." Was all you managed to articulate from this array of thoughts.

"And for that, you can ride up front with me." Ringo opened the door for you chivalrously, to which you responded with an equally exaggerated courtesy.

"Watch out, he uses that line on all the birds." George almost made you jump with his silent approach, but he ducked into the car before you could even respond.

"Steady on, George. It's not like he's asking her to handle his stick shift." Paul teased, nudging George further into the car so that he could sit by the window.

You tried to stop your cheeks from blushing, but there was little you could do. Instead, you busied yourself with the seatbelt while the boys continued to mess about in the back. It reminded you a lot of being back at school, excluding the depressing authoritative regime and the need to remember useless facts, as the lightness of their dynamic was so contagious that you felt as though there was nothing to worry about. The only thing that made your stomach flip, however minimally, was the effect George's eyes seemed to have on you, even if they were caught momentarily in the rearview mirror. John was demonstrably going to be a handful, but nothing you couldn't manage. Ringo and Paul were both more level-headed and considerate, so you knew there'd be no problems there. George, on the other hand, seemed unpredictable in a way completely different from John. You knew how likely it was that things would get messy, but the possible benefits of being able to spend time with these boys far outweighed any issues you could foresee in the not-too-distant future. For the time being, you were going to enjoy yourself. Ringo gave you a reassuring smirk before you drove off, and you pushed yourself to remain in this state of relaxation.

"Not heading straight home, are we?" John queried, slotting his head in between the two seats.

"Where did you have in mind?" Ringo responded, keeping his eyes firmly on the road.

"I do recall someone saying something about a celebration." John giggled "Correct me if I'm wrong, but it's not much of a celebration without a drink or two."

"Really? I recall that certain someone being you, if my memory doesn't fail me." Paul tried to pull John back into his seat to no avail.

"Come on." John pleaded "If anything, look at it as a test. We'll get so railed that we show what absolute twats we really are. Then, if it’s not to your liking, we'll be off in the morning."

"Don't think you need a drop of alcohol to make that clear, John." George poked, his sharp teeth teasingly showing.

"Har har." John rolled his eyes "It'll be a laugh, alright? I'll cover the costs if I bleeding have to."

"That'll be the day." Ringo didn't even hesitate but quickly softened the blow "It would be fun, though. Get it all out in the open so we're not keeping up appearances for the sake of it."

"And what if I absolutely embarrass myself, what then?" You asked, half joking.

"Then we know we've found a kindred spirit." John's smile widened once again, only now being satisfied enough to sit back in his seat.

Ringo drove past the turning for your house, continuing on to the nearest shop to pick up a few bottles of whatever poison John had in mind. A bubbling of nerves started to form deep in your stomach, but it was hard to decipher whether it was actual panic or just pure excitement. It had been a long time since you'd completely let loose in the comfort of your own home, and part of you worried about what might slip out. At that very moment, you were surrounded by four of the most charismatic and attractive boys who had bothered to give you the time of day; it was simply too good to be true. There was no way something catastrophic wasn't waiting up ahead to rip it all from you. Even so, there was no denying that there was fun to be had before this inevitable disaster. If that was the case, you were determined to make the most of it while it lasted, even if it meant overstepping a boundary or two. Cautiously, you watched George in the rearview mirror, moving your gaze away whenever you thought he might catch you staring. With so much mystery surrounding him, you couldn't help feeling anticipation about what a generous helping of alcohol might do to his demeanour. Considering how things had gone the night before, there was a chance that something spectacular might happen. All you had to do was play your cards right, whatever that meant in a strange situation such as this. It would help if you even knew what cards you were holding in the first place, let alone what to do with them.

[monzaaasharl]

The Beatles, but what if instead of making sick beats they got freaky

The Freakles

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

Do You Want To Know A Secret (Teen!George Harrison x Teen!Lennon!Reader)

A/N: Hello, Happy Easter! I'm posting another oneshot, because why not? I feel like it could have been a little better than what I wrote, but I was in a bit of a rush to get it out. Who doesn't love some George?

Summary: It's 1961. You're John's sister and he refuses to let you talk to anyone in his band (and vice versa) despite your house being their practice location. George scores some alone time with you one day, and sings you a little song he composed for you.

WARNINGS: SUGGESTIVE BEHAVIOUR; the reader is pretty confident in this oneshot. Mentions of sex, but nothing further than a heated make out session/ neck kissing really occurs in this. Swearing, probably, but I could be wrong. George starts out shy but he is not by the end. There are probably some typos as well oops.

This one is T rated, but just read at your own risk because as mentioned, sex is discussed

It was 1961, a relatively warm Friday evening after dinner, where an eighteen year old George Harrison was accompanied by a nineteen year-old Paul McCartney, on the way to the Lennon household.

Band practice was that night, the newly renamed "Beatles" preparing for their next gig at the Cavern Club just that following evening. George had his guitar case in hand, and Paul, his base, as they walked and talked.

John's house could be spotted from where the two were now, and George, who was talking in that moment, lost train of thought when he spotted someone just outside the front door.

That someone was you. John's little sister. Aged eighteen; like George.

George could feel his heart fluttering as he watched you move around the front garden, watering can in hand as you tended to the little flowers in the window planters.

"Don't stare," Paul lightly chided in a sing-song tone, wagging his finger at George when he came back down to earth, cheeks flush at the idea of having been caught looking.

"But look at her," George groaned, hand gesturing towards you haphazardly before dropping it down helplessly at his side. "Just look at how perfect--"

"And off limits," Paul added quickly.

"... she is," George sighed as he finished his sentence, a rather upsetting frown on his face. The boys had since halted walking, making sure to be far enough away that you weren't in earshot of their conversation.

"Look, Harry," Paul rested a hand on the younger boy's shoulder in comfort. "I know how you feel. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think she was a looker, y'know?"

Paul and George glanced over at you for a moment, before he continued.

"... but if I had a sister, and three lads who couldn't keep their eyes off her, I couldn't say I wouldn't be doing what Lenny's doing right now."

George knew that Paul was right. As much as he hated it, John loved you very much, and was cautious of any guy trying to be near you, especially now that you were a young adult, and not some child.

Every time the band gathered at John's house, everyone seemed to be under a microscope-- including you. The boys weren't allowed to talk to you, and you couldn't even look at anyone without your brother hollering at you to get upstairs, or to refocus back to your homework, or whatever task you had at hand.

But in moments like this, where the protective older brother wasn't around, George took every chance he could to greet you with a smile on his face.

And he wasn't going to stop now.

"I get it, mate. I just... there's something about her." That's the simplest George could have explained it to Paul. He wasn't about to disclose that he dreamt of you almost every night, or that he relished in the moments of excitement and anxiety of being able to see you, if only for five seconds out of his entire week.

And he certainly would not have told him about the songs he was composing; his muse being you, of course.

It was all just one giant secret, and as much as George wanted to tell you, all he thought of were downsides in result of revealing such a thing to you.

George thought that you, for starters, were leaps and bounds out of his league, he was scared of being laughed at, and he would have been absolutely horrified if John were to ever find out.

The negatives drastically outweighed the positives, so he was better to keep his mouth shut.

George and Paul continued their trek to the building, and when they finally made it to the walkway leading to the door, you turned your head, smiling gently and waving to them once you realized who it was.

"Good afternoon, lads," you greeted politely, and George nearly melted at the sound of your voice.

"Hello, Miss Lennon," the boys responded in unison. George cringed a little at that, pushing through the door with Paul following close behind. As much as he wanted to stick around, he knew it would have been too risky.

And thank God he made made that choice. John was waiting for them in the main foyer, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't seem too happy, but he wasn't quite pissed off, either; almost as if he were in limbo of the two.

"'Bout time yous showed up. Me n' Pete've been waiting forever. C'mon, now." John waved his hand as he headed for the basement stairs, and the boys wordlessly continued on so they could begin their practice. George only looked over his shoulder once before descending the steps, hoping to have caught just one more glimpse of you, but to no avail.

"We have a show tomorrow, and you boys decided to be a quarter of an hour late!" John complained on as he threw his guitar strap over his shoulder. Pete was in the corner of the room on his drum set just shaking his head as he grabbed his drumsticks and tapped a little on his instrument. he must have been there for a while already.

Paul and George hurriedly grabbed out their instruments, apologizing so the older boy's complaints would cease. "As long as you're ready to play now, I don't care."

John always got sort of tense when the other three boys were over, hyper-focussed on keeping you away from them and vice versa. He was more or less worried about Paul trying to flirt with you, so a lot of John's poor behaviour stemmed from that.

Little did he know that it was actually George who'd fallen head over heels for you.

But that wasn't something to worry about in that moment. What was important was that practice began, and that they had to see improvement before their show just that following night.

Practice was going well. They had been at it for nearly an hour at that point, and the more they worked, the more pleased each boy was with the sound. They took a brief pause for some water, and John was rifling through his pile of lyrics sitting on a table in the corner of the room, trying to decide which one to practice next.

As George finished the last drop of water in his glass, John piped up, "I don't have all my songs here. Must've left them in my room."

"Which ones?" George asked, empty glass still in-hand. "I'm running up for a refill, might as well grab that for you as well."

"I think I left them on my desk at the side. You sure you don't want me running up?"

George swatted his hand as he started for the stairs. "Don't worry 'bout it. Be back in a jiff."

George hopped up the stairs, leaving his glass on the kitchen counter next to the sink before moving down the main foyer. He paused at the front door to peek out the window to see if you were still outside, but he didn't see you from where he was standing. He sighed gently before turning and making his way up to the second floor.

George made his way down to John's room at the end of the hallway. It was the only room with the door open, and before he even made it into the room, he could see the pile of lyrics on the desk, right where John said they'd be.

He picked up the pile, shuffling through them and counting the pages as he did so. He took one more brief glance around the room to make sure he wasn't missing anything else. When he decided this was all he needed, he turned on his heel and headed out to the hallway.

George was just about to make it to the stairs when he felt someone take hold of his arm, and swiftly tug him into one of the other rooms. The moment was a blur for him, and it took him a second to piece together what happened. He was standing in the middle of the room-- your room.

And you were only three feet away from him, back against the door, and cheeks glowing pink.

"Hello," you smiled gently, and George had no clue what to say, pages clutched tightly against his chest as his brain swirled with millions of thoughts.

"Hi," he squeaked, face burning in humiliation at his flustered state, but he was in your room, for Christ's sake. Your room! He had no clue what to say to you, mouth hanging open as he tried to search his brain for some other words.

"Look, I know we're not supposed to be doing this," you expressed, and George could feel his heart doing violent flips in his chest, especially when you pushed yourself off the door to take a step or two closer to him. This was the longest conversation he had with you, to date.

"Johnny would kill me if he knew I had a boy in my room, you know," you took a moment to pause, and all George could do was nod his head in agreement, intoxicated by the way you walked, and the way you talked. There was a hint of something in your voice... but the boy couldn't quite place what it was. Yearning? That couldn't be right... could it?

"But where's the fun in that, huh?" You asked, hands clasped behind your back, eyes staring right back into his, and George couldn't help but break his gaze first, utterly intimidated by your confidence. His eyes fixated to the dress you were wearing, and he could see a playful smile dancing on your lips in his peripheral.

"... You like what you see, Georgie?" You asked lowly after a moment, and his stare shot back up to your face again, certain his legs were numb. The nickname rolled off your tongue so effortlessly, so perfectly. The things it was doing to him...

"I..." he could barely speak, breaths ragged. Not one coherent thought was at the forefront of his brain, other than one simple word.

"Pretty." Your smile was a little more genuine now after he said that, and you reached a hand up to tuck a little strand of hair behind your ear.

"You think I'm pretty?"

George just nodded again. It was only now that he realized how much shorter you were compared to him, as you were only a foot away from him; the closest you'd ever been. He was looking down at you, but you were, in no way, intimidated by him. It was actually quite the opposite.

"You know, Georgie, you're pretty handsome, yourself," you professed, smiling wider as George's face burned even hotter.

He couldn't even thank you, scared of what would have happened if he tried to utter any kind of response to you. You reached out to rest a hand on his arm, and your smile faltered just a little.

"You're really tense... am I making you uncomfortable?" George's eyes widened, swallowing nervously as he shook his head 'no' as quickly as he could. He didn't want-- whatever this was-- to stop. The sincere upturn of your lips returned, and George couldn't help but flit his gaze down to your lips.

If only he had as much confidence as you, he might have just dipped down to have a taste...

"Look, I don't wanna keep you any longer. I know Johnny's gonna be looking for you soon." You thought for a moment before mentioning, "usually after you boys leave, he's down there for another hour or so practicing his own songs. Come back and see me after, yeah? Get to know each other a little more?" You raised an eyebrow expectantly, and George nodded his head again.

"Okay," he managed to whisper, resulting in you rising to your toes, and wordlessly pecking him on the cheek.

He felt like he was dreaming.

"Run along now, before they get suspicious!"

George's feet, though seemingly glued to the floor moments before, took off quickly, opening the door, and disappearing out into the hallway, shutting it closed behind him. As soon as he was on his own, he sighed heavily, the rush of oxygen in his lungs making him feel light-headed.

For someone who seemed so innocent in the open, around others, George could never have guessed how much of a minx you were behind closed doors. One part of him was still in denial that his interaction with you was even real, let alone meant to be flirtatious in any way...

But man, he would have been stupid not to take you up on your offer. It was just another hour he had to spend practicing, and he'd be right back in there, hopefully earning another kiss on the cheek from you.

George looked at the lyric papers in his hands one last time before sighing one more time, and going back downstairs. He passed his forgotten water glass in the kitchen, mind on an entirely different planet.

He returned to the basement, handing John the papers. He thanked the younger boy, pausing for a second to watch him move to grab his guitar.

"Where's your glass, Harry?"

George tensed when John asked that, hand on the neck of the guitar.

"... Left it upstairs,"  he responded.

"Thought you were grabbing a refill?" John's inquiries had George grasping for what to say next, but he was quick enough.

"Refilled the glass up there, drank it, and figured I'd be fine for the rest of practice."

His confession, though a lie, was believable enough for John, who just nodded his head slowly and drew his attention to the papers after a second, discussing which song they were going to practice next.

George just flew under the radar then, and he mentally cursed himself for being so careless. He look a quick glance at Paul, who was giving him a look; almost as if he knew something happened up there.

But he would never know the truth.

The shared glance fell apart when John advised everyone to get into position for playing, and they did just that.

The hour seemed to drag, George felt; but as time moved on, the more anxious he began to feel again. By the time everyone was packing up to leave, he was almost vibrating with anxiety.

He wanted to be close to you again so badly, but he didn't want to make a fool of himself as he had in the last interaction.

Pete, Paul, and George wished John a good night, and climbed the stairs to the main floor in that order, leaving John alone to continue practicing. Pete left Paul and George in the main hallway with a little wave, and a short "see yous tomorrow," before taking off out the front door.

Paul grabbed the door handle next and turned back to George, who stood in one spot a little too far away from the door.

"... Not walking home with me?" He asked in confusion, and when George didn't have a disposable answer, the pieces seemed to be finally clicking for the other boy.

He opened his mouth as if to lecture George on how bad of an idea sticking around would be, but instead, he tightened his jaw, shook his head, and waved to him.

"G'night Harry," he tossed a little wave out before taking off into the dusk.

He was alone now.

That could only mean one thing.

George eyed the stairs, knowing that if he turned on his heel and walked out right then, it'd be one of the biggest mistakes in his life. But he couldn't deny the fact that he was nervous; intimidated by you, and your assertive, rather sexy behaviour from earlier.

He took a deep breath, grabbing the railing, and hiking up the stairs slowly.

He stood outside your bedroom door much longer than he would have liked to admit, taking deep breaths and reciting words over and over again in his brain, as if this whole interaction were scripted-- as if he knew what was going to happen.

When he finally composed himself properly, he rapped on the door gently, hoping you would hear his presence on the other side. When you finally came around to open the door, his heart skipped a beat.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming back," you voiced softly, leaning against the doorframe, handle still in hand. You sounded a little relieved, almost, seeing the boy on the other side of the threshold.

You were in your pyjamas, a set that showed enough skin on your arms and legs that it made George, red-faced, shake his head to reactivate his brain, which pretty much short circuited.

"You goin' to bed?" His words left his mouth faster than he realized he was even saying them. Sure, it was getting late out, but would you have really changed if you were expecting company?

"Well, that depends. Will you be joining me?" You were so quick on your feet in response that it honestly impressed George, the heat returning to his face as he tried to think of what to say next, not daring to drop his line of sight below your chin.

"I'm only teasing you," you laughed after a moment of watching George squirm, pushing off the doorframe and allowing him to enter your bedroom again. As he passed you, he caught sight of you gazing up his body, shrugging and adding a little "... maybe," to the end of your sentence.

You were such a tease, and George set his guitar case off to the side, facing away from you, so he could hide just how giddy and flushed he was just being in there with you again. He rose to his feet and turned to face you. You were only a few feet away from him again, eyes on him intensely, smile still present.

"... I hope you know just how glad I am that you came back," you expressed again, honestly. George raised an eyebrow at that, shoving his hands in his pockets. He wanted to tear his gaze from yours so badly, but your face was just so gorgeous to look at, and he didn't want to be caught looking at your outfit again; he knew some more teasing would surely ensue if he was caught staring.

"Why wouldn't I come back?" George replied bashfully, shrugging his shoulders a little. "Wouldn't miss a chance to be here, with you, for the world."

Your stare softened at his words, beaming as your own cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. George wasn't sure you were really expecting something like that coming from him. "... You really mean that?"

George desperately wanted to elaborate a little further, but he just settled on giving you a little nod, smiling back shyly at your question.

"Maybe I thought I might've scared you off for being so forward earlier," you admitted timidly as you turned on your heel. You took a seat at the edge of your bed, and George surveyed your movements, eyebrows lifting a little when you reached out to pat the empty space next to you on the mattress after a moment.

"Care to take a seat?"

George accepted the invitation, and you felt the bed dip when he sat down. His eyes cast down to the floor, face still red at the idea of being in your presence; having your attention.

"You know, Georgie... my brother can be pretty stupid sometimes. But making this house the place for band practice, I think, was one of the best decisions he's ever made."

His eyes met yours again at your words, and you shrugged one of your shoulders.

"I'd be lying if I said I haven't been dying to talk to you. Or get to know you. You seem so kind, and you're so attractive, and John wants to keep you away from me, and I'm so sick of him deciding what's best for me."

Your eyes cast down between the both of you for a moment, and George could feel his heart trying to leap out of his chest. His fingertips felt numb, mouth hanging slack as you continued your profession.

"I knew the only way to get close and alone with you was to bring you in here. And I saw the way you were looking at me earlier, and I had to get you to come back."

It felt like the wind was knocked out of his lungs. Was he really that obvious when he was in here last?

"It's thrilling... having a boy like you in my room, while John's clueless out there as to what we're doing. What we could be doing..."

George's mind was going places he was never expecting it to that evening, especially with the help of you voicing it aloud. He was in utter disbelief of what you were telling him, convinced he'd fallen asleep throughout the day, and he was caught in some blissful dream he wished would never end.

"I feel a little selfish, springing so much information on you at once... but every time I see you, I desperately want to be with you; and today, I had to jump to take that chance. I couldn't wait another week, another day."

You smiled sheepishly, not really expecting George to say anything after that. You were honestly just trying to get your thoughts off your chest, and now that you had, you felt a lot better. You were also pleased with the little look of shock on George's face. You liked doing that to him.

You decided to break his trance by nodding over to his guitar case sitting on the floor. "So... You have plans to serenade me, Georgie?"

Your question definitely brought him back down to earth, and he took a quick glance at the case before looking back to you. Your confession was still ringing clear in his head like a bell. He felt he didn't have the words to admit his feelings as clearly as you had right on the spot...

He did, however, have the words pre-planned as lyrics, in a multitude of original songs he wrote for you.

"... I do, actually," he agreed, standing up to open his case and retrieve his instrument. George was feeling a little more excited now, knowing any girl these days would swoon at the idea of having music written for them, and he just hoped you would too.

He returned to the bed, deciding against tossing the strap over his shoulder. He faced you so you could hear and see every little thing he did. He was at least glad he didn't get performance anxiety on the guitar.

He gently strummed out a few different notes, deciding in his head which song he wanted to perform for you. One in particular stuck out in his mind, and he couldn't deny that it was the perfect choice.

He was a little worried about how you'd feel about his playing, and the lyrics, but he wanted to show you that he could be confident about this, especially since he was nearly certain now that his feelings were reciprocated. But he had to play it cool.

"It is a work in progress. I've only half of it written, but I really think you'll like it," George explained to you before allowing the notes to fill the air around you both.

"Listen,

Do you want to know a secret?

Do you promise not to tell?

Closer,

Let me whisper in your ear,

Say the words you long to hear,

I'm in love with you."

It was only then that you realized this was the first time you'd ever seen, or heard George play. This beautiful genius was being hidden away from you this whole time, and it was a blessing to see his work up close.

His left hand slid along the fretboard so easily, thumb and fingers on his right tickling the strings as if it were second nature to him. You couldn't decide which hand you wanted to look at. His digits were skillful on the instrument, and George made sure to almost exaggerate his movements to impress you.

He pretty much had you in a trance, now, daydreaming about what else those hands could do...

"I've known a secret for a week, or two,

Nobody knows, just we two,"

George had been worried the whole song about messing up the notes, eyes so focused on where his fingers were going... But he glanced up at you, realizing how hypnotized you were, like putty in his hands, and he decided there was nothing to worry about.

He decided to sing right to you now, soft eyes on your face, and when your field of view locked with his, he knew he wouldn't dare break the stare.

"Listen,"

This wasn't a song anymore.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

This was his confession.

"Do you promise not to tell?"

His way of showing you what you really meant to him.

"Closer,"

He wasn't clouded by any insecurities or doubt anymore.

"Let me whisper in your ear,"

Your gaze flitted down just enough to watch George's canines poke out from behind his lips as he sung, and your eyelashes lowered at the sight of his beautiful mouth.

"Say the words you long to hear,"

Your mind was absorbing the lyrics like a sponge in water, every single word eliciting a feeling so strong in your heart, you could hear it pumping in your ears.

"I'm in love with you."

George hummed away as he played the final notes, a little smile still on his lips when he let the last chord ring out into a room of silence.

When that stillness remained for a moment, George couldn't help but ask with a little bit of hesitation, "Well... what do you thi--"

He couldn't even get the rest of his question out before you darted at him, lips smashing into his as if he were about to disappear forever.

He let out a little surprised hum before he pulled the guitar out from between the both of you, and you took it as an opportunity to push your body closer to him, arms wrapping around his collarbone.

He blindly set the guitar down to lean it against your bed, and when he let go of the neck of the instrument, his hands went for your hips, squeezing your sides gently before pulling you right up into his lap. your actions bloomed a type of self-assurance within him he had no idea he could even possess.

It was your turn to squeal excitedly, but George's lips on yours muffled the sound. One of his hands snaked around to the small of your back before it slipped under your shirt, his palm dragging up your spine. His fingertips took note of each vertebrae it dipped up and down into, like the frets on his guitar.

This, George decided, was better than a dream. This whole situation unfolding around him made him feel as though he died and went to heaven.

He pulled his lips away from yours, free hand reaching up to grip your chin and directing you to tilt your head up. His lips suckled on the side of your neck, and the sound coming from your mouth was absolutely euphoric to him. But he removed his palm from your chin to cover your mouth, his other hand still feeling and memorizing every curve and dip in your back.

"You must be quiet, Love. Wouldn't want your brother knowing about all this fun we're having up here, eh?" Your eyes rolled back at his words, groaning into his hand as you felt George drag his teeth gently along the column of your throat.

Knowing you were enjoying this as much as he was only brought more confidence to his actions, and he let his tongue poke out to leave a large, wet kiss on your collarbone.

You were squirming in his lap, fingers sliding up into his hair and tugging so he knew he was doing everything right.

He groaned at the friction you were creating at the hips, and he pulled away from your neck to kiss your lips again after removing his hand and placing it on the back of your neck.

You swallowed his moans as you continued to grind in his lap, but both of your movements paused when you heard the guitar come crashing down to the carpeted floor. It wasn't as loud as it could have been, but it was loud enough.

You both kept an ear out, knowing that might have caught the attention of someone downstairs, and when you began to hear footsteps shuffling around, you began to panic a little, eyes wide and darting back to George, whose face was flushed from the assault of your kisses, and hair was a tangled mess from your fingers.

"You gotta hide," you rushed out quietly, and though you tried to climb out of George's lap, his hands kept you planted right where you were.

"What are you doing?!"

"... What if I didn't?" He challenged you a little, a daring smirk at his lips.

"Had you not been so naughty, with all that moving and teasing, the guitar wouldn't have fallen, eh? And we wouldn't be in this situation at all." The points of his canines were showing again, and you groaned at his words.

"George, I'd love to continue this, but John will kill you if we're caught, and we can't do this if you're dead!"

"Well then we just won't get caught," he responded simply. He was blinded by desire, his confidence seeping out of him like sap from a tree as he placed his mouth back on your neck.

The footsteps stopped outside your door, and you both heard a knock, George not showing any sign of stopping his actions.

"Don't come in, I'm-- I'm not wearing any clothes!!" It was the first thing you could blurt out to whoever was on the other side.

"Oh, baby, that'd be a sight to see," George mumbled against your skin, pulling your top down just enough so he could suck a dark spot just above your left breast so you could easily hide it away, and you sighed heavily at the contact, face burning red.

"Just heard a loud thud. Just making sure all is okay," it was John on the other side; completely oblivious to the actual scene occurring on the other side of the door.

"Yeah, a book from my shelf was knocked over! N-nothing to worry about!"

George grabbed your chin again when you were finished talking, shoving his tongue right into your mouth as you both heard John respond with, "oh, okay. Just making sure you're alright. Have a good night."

You listened closely as the footsteps quieted, and when there was no sign of anyone else on the second floor, let alone at the door, you pulled away from George's kiss.

"Well... how was that?"

"Risky," you replied, a rather unimpressed look on your face as you unraveled your arms from George's shoulders and crossed them over your chest.

"Well, you don't have to worry about him anymore, Love," he tried to give you another kiss, but you placed your fingers against his lips. It was your turn to smirk mischievously.

"You know what, Georgie... I think you've had enough action for tonight."

You could see the smug grin fall right off George's face as you removed your hand. Surely you had to have been joking. But when you pushed a little to get off him, his arms fell to his side, a little pout on his face.

"You're serious? Love, you got me all hot and bothered..."

"George, you really thought we were going to go all the way tonight with other people in the house?" You laughed out loud at that; and when you said it like that, he would have had to agree that it did sound ridiculous.

"Trust me, Georgie, I want to," you placed a hand on his cheek in comfort, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, and he looked up at you as if he was the shy boy you interacted with just an hour before.

"But we both know doing that in an empty house would be far better than having to keep quiet about it, huh?"

All George could do was imagine that situation, eyes drifting shut, and tilting his head into your caressing hand.

"You're such a damn tease," he mumbled, eyes blinking back open after a moment.

"All good things come to those who wait," was all you said, leaving one, sweet kiss on his lips before pulling away, and nodding to his guitar. "We better pack you up and send you home."

You watched as George situated himself, placing his guitar back in the case, closing it and picking it up. You wrapped your arms around him gently, planting another kiss on his cheek.

"By the way... I think that song was beautiful," you whispered to him, and when you pulled away to see him smiling at you, you couldn't help but match the grin on your own lips.

"See you next week? Same time?"

"You don't even have to tell me twice," George responded with, and you just had to lean in for one more smooch on the lips, to which he eagerly reciprocated.

He then opened your window up, and took a step out. You watched as he climbed down the corner of the house slowly, and before he took off down the road, he blew you a kiss, to which you mimicked catching with your hand.

As George headed home, the sun now fallen over the horizon, those intimate moments he shared with you were at the very forefront of his mind. His hands could still feel your bare skin under his fingertips, and his mouth tingled as he remembered what it was like to have your lips on his.

He was just craving for the next moment he had alone with you.

______________________________________

A/A/N: And there we are! hope you all enjoy this, and I hope your Easter weekend was full of sun, and fun! Please let me know if you want to read more so I know it' worth it to post!

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The Beatles NSFW Alphabet - Ringo

@heiterhund >> #1 writer & Ringo Starr lover/expert.

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

• You can count on him cleaning you up after. 

• A gentle wash cloth rubs up your leg, cleans your stomach, and gently wipes down your sore cunt. After doing all the cleaning, he tends to pepper your face in kisses and praises you for how well you did and how lucky he is to love and have you.

• If the sex was particularly rough, he will hold you to him until you get so sweaty you have to push him off! He can't help it, you're his girl, he wants you to feel loved! 

• He is known for his quick jokes and smartass quips, so expect some of that thrown in during the aftermath of sex. 

 

“Looks like you’ve just seen a ghost, love! I didn’t fuck you that hard, did I?”

     

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

• Ringo is an ass man. 

• He loves your ass, he can’t keep his hands off of it. Grabbing, smacking, spreading - whatever.

• He'll smack it and grab it randomly, you'll giggle and tell him to stop.

• Usually if you both are alone, and you’re laying over his lap as you lounge - he’ll play a silly, little beat on it.

• He also loves the way it looks when you’re wearing one of his shirts and nothing else to lounge in. 

 

“Y’know, I think your arse makes better beats than my drums do.” He mused, slapping your butt with two fingers, before going back to playing the beat to one of the many songs stuck in his head.

     

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

• Ringo loves a good cream pie. 

• He loves to feel the warmth of your cunt flutter around his length as he spills his seed deep into you.

• He sometimes massages your lower stomach with his thumbs as he pumps you full of cum, usually comes off as sweet - but it’s more possessive in his mind, he owns you and your womb. You’re being held in place while he takes what’s his.

• After he cums in you, he loves watching it drip out of you. 

 

“Say, birdie, do you usually take it like some filthy whore?” He was between your legs, watching as the pearly liquid oozed slowly out of your used hole.

His thumb and forefinger spreading open your folds, nose brushing against your flushed labia as his tongue poked out to lap up his seed.

     

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

• He used to sniff your panties. Before you two were together and were only friends.

• He took you home when you got drunk. You insisted you were perfectly capable of getting to your bed.

• Your pubes looked nice, he liked that. But it was highly inappropriate for him to gawk and drool over his drunk friend. 

• And yeah, he still does when you’re gone or asleep. When he’s away, he usually pockets a pair and jerks himself off with them after he sniffs them.

• Filthy, filthy man.

 

“Nuh uh, Richie, I-I can…can do it! Seeee?”

You stumbled up the stairs, knees knocked together as you nearly toppled over each step.

“Love, you’re about to fall. Let’s get inside, yeah?” He sighed, ushering you into your room.

“If I was soooo drunk, could I do this?”

And before he had time to get you to lay down, you were taking your clothes off. And there you were, lounging on your bed naked.

“Oi! Hey! Get your clothes back on!”

He turned around, hands covering his eyes as he tried to lose the boner he was sporting.

He eventually got you tucked in, you only agreed to sleep if he stayed until you slept. and so he did.

You were knocked out cold, and he went to clean up the mess that you made before you rested.

All that was left was your cute panties.

They were frilly and dawned with a cute bow at the top. He didn’t want to grab them, not with his hands. But he had already put all your clothes away in the hamper.

He eyed them for a moment, before his baby blues locked onto a slick spot in the middle of your knickers.

He sniffed them. 

     

E is for Experience (How experienced is he?) 

• Ringo was sick most of his young life, and never properly lost his virginity until he met his first girlfriend when he was in his 20s. 

• The most he did before was kissing and fumbled touching, perhaps a bit of fingering. He’s always been good with his hands.

• Now, with that being said, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to fuck.

     

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

• Ringo is a romantic guy. He adores missionary.

• Sure it’s a bit boring to some, a classic, but he can see your tits bounce each time he rams himself into you. 

• He can also see your lips quiver as you try not to moan, your eyes rolling and your lashes fluttering as you whine and cry.

• It's also his preferred position because he can see the outline of his dick poking in and out of you - filling you up balls deep.

• He thinks you look like a beautiful angel splayed out beneath him. His beautiful angel.

• 10/10 position.

• He also likes doggystyle, but that’s usually reserved for his days when he needs to relieve stress. Or when he simply wants to fuck the shit out of you.

     

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

• Ringo tends to crack jokes at the worst times. His humour is just like that, so he will totally be joking during sex.

• Your cunt made a slick sound that sounded funny…you bet he already has a comment to make about it, something silly. 

• When he eats you out, he does the little head shake his bandmates are known for. And after he’s done, he looks up at you with a dopey grin.

“She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah.” Followed by the head shake.

 • After being a bit goofy, he'll go right back to being serious…and serious means making you orgasm. 

     

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

• His goal is to make you walk with a limp, his goal is to fuck you way past orgasm. 

• With how big his dick is (8 inches!!!), he definitely leaves you sore. But oh no, that’s not good enough, not at all.

• He wants you limping and waddling the next days, hell, if you’re not whining that you’re sore in the morning he’ll pin you down and fuck you until you do.

• He absolutely adores over stimulating you with his cock - until your eyes roll into the back of your head, until you can't breathe, until the sheets are drenched with bodily fluids.

     

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

• He barely has leg hair, let alone chest hair. so his pubes are well kept.

• They’re not curly and unruly, they’re straight and aren’t too long.

• Also, don’t worry if you have pubic hair. Ringo doesn’t mind.

 

“Well, I don’t mind…y’know, I always fancied having a moustache!” 

     

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

• He is a hopeless romantic. He wants it soft and slow, and usually that’s how it goes.

• He never calls it fucking. It's always referred to as ‘making love.’

• His hands are always on your body, whether that be holding your hands above your head while he rocks into you - or his hands being placed on your hips as he thrusts.

• Will play some old vinyls of his during it, too. Usually some old Elvis records. The music really compliments it all. He'll sing the lyrics to you - whisper it in your ear as he does. a bit cheesy, but it makes you both smile.

• He won’t cum unless you guys are kissing, or unless he's looking you dead in your eyes - or both…

     

J is for Jack off (Masturbation headcanon.) 

• He barely masturbates. Will only do it as a last resort of sorts.

• He spent his teenage years jerking off, so it’s just not as stimulating anymore. It's almost boring. 

• But if you guys are away from each other for too long, he’ll call you up on the phone and do it. Not really phone sex, but just hearing your voice will soothe his ache for you.

     

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

• Ringo has a humiliation kink. He loves embarrassing you. Even if it’s something as little as making you beg for more. 

 • But most of the time it’s him making you masturbate in front of him and letting him watch. He loves to see your flushed face look to the side, as you bite your lip and nervously touch yourself.

• He has some weird pet play kink too, but not in the way you think. He’s not into collars or cages, none of that. He just loves calling you his pet. Depending on the partner, they’re either called his puppy or his kitten. He loves treating and spoiling you like some fancy poodle.

     

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

• Prefers the bedroom. He gets embarrassed doing it anywhere else. 

• You once tried doing it in the back of the car during a long ride to the hotel, and he kept getting nervous and mumbling about how the press would go absolutely wild if they saw.

• Of course he’s fine with doing it with you anywhere where there are four walls and a door. So, a broom closet would work as well. But his favourite has to be the bed, any bed.

     

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

• Your hands. Your hands get him going.

• They’re so soft and small compared to his dry and calloused hands. He loves how smooth they feel against his skin, and how they radiate such warmth. 

• If you brush his hands with yours and give him a look full of love, he’s ready to pounce. 

• Your smile also gets him going. You’re just so beautiful that he can’t help but feel lucky - and feeling lucky gets him going.

• Honestly, the easy answer could've been you.

     

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

• If you make a remark about his nose. 

• He knows everyone does, but it hurts coming more from you. If you make a joke involving it - he will not even think about touching you until he does. 

• He’s an insecure guy… 

     

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

• Ringo loves eating your pussy. 

• He loves slotting his tongue against your core and licking up in harsh stripes. Also enjoys biting your clit once or twice, just to keep you on your toes.

• He doesn't favour oral sex on him too much. He got a lot during his prime, and it was boring to him. But that doesn’t mean he won’t enjoy it every now and then.

• He’s big, he knows his dick isn’t fitting in your mouth comfortably. 

 • You wouldn't be able to deep throat him without literally choking. He wants to go balls deep into your mouth, but he knows you wouldn't be able to handle it. You always swallow him a little less than half way.

 • When you suck him off, it's nicely dragged out. You trail your tongue up and down his shaft, you suck his tip, massage his balls.

     

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

• Ringo is usually a slow lover - at the start at least. His thrusts are gentle and soft starting out, they only get rougher the longer you fuck and the closer he is to cumming.

• The clapping noises fill the room. 

• He likes it to feel romantic and full of love. Like stated before, his rough and fast pace are reserved for his stressed days - which is almost everyday.

     

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

• He doesn’t like quickies. Nuh uh.

• He wants you all to himself with all the time in the world, with all the space in the world.

• Buuut, if you are desperate enough, he’ll cave in and fuck you.

     

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

• The most he’s willing to do is fucking you in a shared hotel room with either John, George, or Paul.

• He still is hesitant to do it, but he’d rather fuck you around people he knows as opposed to any prying eyes and ears he doesn’t.

• You're both probably a bit drunk as well. 

 

His hand was covering your mouth, as your knees dug into the bed below you both.

George was asleep in the other bed, not too far from yours. His face was turned the other way, he seemed to be snoozing - you hoped he was. 

That made Ringo feel a bit better about fucking you in the same room as him.

Your eyes were shut tightly as he slowly slotted himself into you, a finger pulling your panties to the side. 

He began his light thrusts, desperately trying to avoid the creak of bed springs as he did so.

“Mmph!” You softly moaned against his hand.

You were unable to shake off the feeling of his cock stroking your walls. It was an instant pleasure, his tip rubbed against your g spot nicely and consistently. 

“Fuck…” You breathed, feeling it clenching around him.

He tightened his hand against your mouth and leaned into your ear. “Keep it quiet, birdie, Hazza might wake, you don't want that do you?”

Ringo sped up a bit, your wetness started sounding as he did so. His free arm pulled your hips up so you could better meet his thrusts. 

“Do you? Do you want George to hear you getting fucked?” He asked again, wanting an answer.

He slowed down, going from tip to balls at a moderate pace. 

“N- no.” You whispered back, strained. 

You fucked him back, he'd only thrust back harder - the soft, clapping noises ensued. 

Your toes curled, Ringo continued his forward movement. 

It got louder and louder with each thrust, now it sounded like you were both full on fucking. 

“Baby…” You mockingly warned, mindful of the younger man not too far from you. Though it sounded more like you were just moaning.

“Mmhm…shh…shh…I'll make you cum, don't worry.” He groaned, sounding cocky.

Shit. 

Did George just cough?

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

• It feels like an Olympic sport keeping up with him. He lasts way longer than you, by the end of most of your sessions you're breathless, sweaty, dazed, confused. 

• He can do two rounds, at least. 

• He lasts around 20-50 minutes each round.

• But his foreplay can go on for hours if he’s in the mood and has the time for it. 

• He cums around two times. Usually once in the first round (between the 15-25 minute mark. Then the second time he cums is around the 45 minute mark.) As for the second round? That's usually when you’re about to orgasm.

• He’s a generous guy, really.

• He rarely ever cums quickly. That's just impossible for him. This is why he hates quickies, he always leaves rock hard.

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

• Oh, he owns toys. 

• He has a cock ring that he bought personally, it helps keep him harder, like rock hard. He loves the ache of being hard, he loves his stiffness. The ring makes his cock all red and veiny, and makes his balls heavy. And it's all for you (and your holes).

• He also has encouraged you to buy some for yourself. He doesn’t think it makes him less of a man - even a dildo bigger than him. Whatever makes you feel good, makes him feel good.

• He’s once tried your vibrator. He was curious…it didn’t feel too good against his dick so he never spoke of it. 

• He likes using your toys on you. Fucking you with your own dildo, using your vibrator on you as he fucks you.

 

You were out shopping with him, your arm linked tightly around his.

You stumbled upon a small, curious shop on the high street. He seemed to know exactly what it was because he didn't even let you think before he dragged you into it! 

You looked around, realising, the innocent looking shop was a filthy one, a haven for pleasure.

“Buy something.” Ringo said, taking your hand.

“What?” 

You laughed, almost stunned.

“We aren't leaving this shop till you buy something for yourself, sweetheart.”

“Something? Like what...” you teased.

     

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

• He’s super fair. He hates teasing you. 

• If you’re not having fun, he’s not having fun. 

• He teases in some kind of way, but it’s never for long or never torturous… it’s usually a quick touch, or a sly remark. He falters as soon as you give him that look that says stop.

• So he’s a bit whipped in that sense, definitely.

     

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

• He’s not too noisy, but he groans and huffs, like a bear almost.

• He does those long, deep sighs when he finally gets himself settled in your walls. You feel so warm and snug around his length, he can’t help but let out a sound.

• But it’s never loud enough for anyone but you two to hear unless they're in the room or something.

• Grunting and praising you through it all.

• “Such a pretty girl, taking me so well.”

     

W is for Wildcard (Random sexual headcanon.) 

• He's really into humping just as much as he is into being inside of you. He likes the sloppy pace and how desperate it is.

• He once had you sat in his lap, and you both got handsy. It ended up with you grinding yourself against his thigh and his stiff cock like a dog in heat. He'd bounce you up and down, practically fucking you with his clothes still on.

• He was into it. Definitely into it. Definitely creamed his pants.

     

X is for X-ray (His cock.) 

• Let's be straightforward here. 8 inches, thick, uncut. 

• Yeah, he is very hung. 

• It definitely slaps his stomach when he pulls it out.

• It’s awfully obvious when he has an erection too. Even when he's flaccid his bulge is still obvious. 

• Ringo Starr is not a grower, it’s usually 5-6 when soft.

I want it in me so bad 

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

• His sex drive isn’t too high, but if you’re not by his side when he’s asleep he finds himself missing you.

• He tries to have sex with you three days a week, he doesn’t think sex is a need. He’s more into soft intimacy and gifts.

• But this doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you. He just loves you too much to not only crave you sexually. 

• He craves you in a way a man craves water. It’s a necessity to have you, whether that be sexually or not.

     

Z is for Zzz (Sleep afterwards?)

• After sex and cleaning you up, he wants to rest with you. Not in a sleepy way. He just loves basking in the afterglow.

• It usually takes him a while to fall asleep anyway. He doesn’t mind it though.

• He gets to watch you sleep peacefully and that’s the best way to end his night. You, curled into his side, and him, smiling like an idiot.

@legendaryskeletonpicklewolf

@zeppelin-groupie

🩷

Aaaaand that's the end of this alphabet, but of course, more to come.

Check out the masterlist for more works!

[sunflowersinthedirt]

GOLDEN SLUMBERS | PAUL MCCARTNEY 🎸

fluff and angst, very needy reader! mentions of weed, cigarettes and alcohol. also mentions of beatles get back/let it be period.

1969!paul mcbeardy.

again, sorry for any typos. english is not my first language and gifs are not mine.

- X -

I was freezing when I decided to go to bed. I drank wine, but not as much as when I'm in Paul's company. It's night, and even with alcohol, Martha, and a fireplace, nothing seemed to warm me up. Maybe I missed Paul.

It had been a couple of days since he slept with me. Get Back and Twickenham were taking up a lot of his time. He seemed grumpy when he got home, but always took some time to cuddle with me as if the external problems that working with his band for the past 18 months were causing. Martha had become my biggest companion in this house, following me wherever I went.

When I got into that bathtub, I didn't think I was that sleepy. I dozed off lightly, and when I felt the water getting cold, I decided to get up, dry off, and go to bed. Martha had been sleeping in her bed for ages. There were some beds scattered around the house for her to rest, as she was a very calm dog. I put on one of Paul's shirts to feel like he was there with me... I had no idea what time he'd be back and he hadn't confirmed anything with me. I inhaled his scent embedded there and turned to the empty side of the bed.

It didn't take long for me to fall asleep. I didn't know if it was the alcohol, the tiredness, the longing... I just know I fell asleep. But it wasn't light sleep, as I woke up every half hour to turn over. Until I felt a chaste kiss on my lips but no weight on the other side of the bed like I wanted. Paul had arrived but hadn't lain down. I could hear his footsteps on the stairs followed by the jingling of Martha's paws. I was alone in that room and it left me feeling colder and longing for their company.

Wrapped in a blanket, I went downstairs feeling small and fragile. I didn't care that the king-size blanket I was wrapped in was dragging on the cold floor.

I heard the sound of piano notes in the living room, something between C Major and a murmuring voice. Paul rarely came home from work and continued working. It wasn't difficult, but Paul didn't like to bring work home. I thought he might be stressed enough not to lie down or not be sleepy.

I approached the piano, saw his figure with downcast eyes, long lashes brushing his cheeks. Paul hummed quietly, noticed my presence, and stopped playing, focusing his attention on me.

"Did I wake you, love?" he asked in an affectionate tone. His tired eyes opened wider.

"No," I replied sleepily, coming closer to him.

"Sit here." He tapped his left leg and made room for me to sit on his lap.

I sat, wrapped in that blanket. Paul adjusted his arms to give him mobility to play the piano keys in front of him, and I hugged him around the waist, snuggling against his larger body.

"S' Much better this way..." he said, his accent strong and drawling, his voice low and husky. I could feel the vibration of his voice and hear his heartbeats. I rested my chin on his shoulder, and he stole a kiss from me. His now-full beard tickled my cupid's bow.

This was what was missing. I felt so relaxed in his company. Paul continued to play the piano.

"Couldn't sleep?" I asked, my eyes were almost closing again.

"No, love. I came home with a melody pounding in my head." He answered, still playing the piano. He smelled of tobacco and herbs. He had been smoking more than usual, and I knew he was stressed. "I'm sorry for bringing work home. I don't have the lyrics yet, but the melody got stuck in my head because I played it at Twickenham before coming here. I was the last to leave the studio today."

"I'd never be upset with you for that. Y’know." I rubbed my face against his beard. "Can you show me the melody?" I asked, sleepy. Martha was already snoring at our feet.

Paul kissed my forehead and continued playing the piano, murmuring some words. I struggled to keep my eyes open.

"Once there was a way..." he sang softly, playing the piano with his leg rocking me to sleep. He was making up these lyrics, or I didn't have such a sharp taste in lullabies like that. "To get back homeward." He repeated the sung sentence, my eyes closing slowly. I felt like a child again. Paul warming the chilly room, the blanket wrapping us like a cloak. "Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry... And I will sing a lullaby."

It didn't take long for me to fall asleep there in his lap, listening to him humming that song. I felt at home and knew I was home.

"Sleep well, princess," he whispered, and suddenly I couldn't hear the musical notes he had played earlier on that piano.

- X -

i’ll take requests soon!

[lick-me-lennon22]

How they act when they're in love, but haven't confessed yet

(here is the second request fill for the previous anon !! sorry to keep you waiting ✨️ I hope this is what you had in mind!)

John

John is openly affectionate and flirtatious with you and will do anything he can to get your attention

he's also the embodiment of the "if he pulls your hair, that means he likes you" trope

he'll engage in playful teasing and banter with you, trying his best to get under your skin

in conversation, he'll make subtle references to shared interests or inside jokes, showing that he pays close attention to your preferences

John often slips you silly handwritten notes or doodles to make you giggle and blush

he invites you to rehearsals and recording sessions in an attempt to impress you with his songwriting prowess and musical talent

he'll send you handwritten letters or postcards when on he's tour to let you know he's thinking of you, showing a bit of his softer side

Paul

Paul is more traditional in his approach, doing things like writing anonymous love letters and complimenting your style of dress

he initiates subtle gentlemanly displays, like holding the door open for you or offering to share his umbrella on a rainy day

when you're near he'll find reasons to touch you casually, brushing against your arm or offering a reassuring pat on the back

even from across the room, he's always gazing longingly at you or shooting winks in your direction

Paul makes an effort to remember small details about your life like your coffee order or the names of your pets

he'll even dedicate songs to you during live performances, using the stage as a platform to subtly declare his affection

George

George prefers a subtler approach rather than grand gestures and is somewhat shy about showing his affection

however, this doesn't mean he's any less in love with you

he'll share meaningful glances and smiles with you from across the room, conveying his affection and admiration in a subtle yet powerful way

when he's feeling bold he'll find excuses to be near you, positioning himself strategically to create more opportunities for chatting

George always shares new books and music with you when he discovers something he thinks you might like

he'll ask about your interests to find common ground and reasons to spark up a conversation

he plays you demos or rough cuts of new songs he's working on, showing you that he values your opinions and seeking your approval in a display of trust and vulnerability

Ringo

Ringo is a bit more shy than the other lads when it comes to his crush

he'll joke around and be playful with you, willing to do anything to make you smile

he'll try his best to act naturally and be himself, wanting you to feel comfortable around him

he always finds reasons to spend time with you (like inviting you to see shows with him), seeking out opportunities for one-on-one interaction

Ringo often gifts you small tokens of appreciation like snacks or trinkets as a subtle way of expressing his feelings

he favors physical displays of love, afraid he will trip over his words or become tongue-tied if he tries to express his feelings through language

he'll mirror your body language and gestures, subconsciously displaying his affinity for and connection with you

he always notices subtle changes in your mood or behavior, demonstrating his devotion and offering support and comfort when you need it most

[ilovegeorgie]

all their loving

genre: fluff

warning: none !

summary: how the boys confessed their love to you <3

a/n: 1908 wordssss, the longest i've written atm :)) and btw i think that i went a little but overboard with ringo lol

john lennon

it was a cold afternoon, the kind where the air smelled like rain and the world felt a little quieter than usual. she was sitting on the couch, mindlessly flipping through a book, when a familiar voice called her.

"darling," john called from the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. "you look like you could use a little excitement."

she playfully rolled her eyes but couldn't help to smile. "what now john?"

he flopped down beside her like he owned the place. "well look, i've been thinking... i figured it’s time to told you a little something."

"oh yeah?" she raised an eyebrow. "what is it?"

john shifted awkwardly, a rare moment of seriousness slipping through. "alright, don’t be getting all mushy on me, but... i think you might have stolen my heart.."

she stared at him, trying to hold back a laugh, but his wide-eyed expression was too much. he leaned closer, eyes sparkling with that familiar twinkle.

"i mean, i tried to keep it calm, you know," he continued, his voice taking on a playful tone. "but you just somehow kept sneaking in. a little smile here, a wink there, and bam!.. my heart was gone."

she chuckled, shaking her head. "oh john, you’re ridiculous."

he grinned. "i know. but seriously, i think i love you. and i’m not talking about the "i love you" like "i love my guitar". i mean the real thing, the "i can’t stop thinking about you and i’ll probably write a song about it" kind of thing."

she blinked, taken aback by his unexpected honesty, but he was already smiling like he hadn't just poured his heart out.

"now that that’s off my chest," he said, sighing and stretching his arms, "fancy going out for a cuppa?"

paul mccartney

the sun lazily dripped below the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow over the garden. the air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers, and paul sat across from her, bass in hand, his fingers effortlessly playing a familiar tune. she leaned back against the wicker chair, watching him with a smile, content in the peacefulness of the moment.

paul’s eyes twinkled as he finished the song, setting his guitar aside and giving her a playful grin. he leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed, but his gaze steady on her.

“you know, love,” he began, “i’ve been thinkin’ about something for a while now.”

she raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “what about, paulie?”

he grinned, “well, i’ve been thinkin’ that you and i… we’re a bit like a song, don't you think?”

she chuckled, not quite following. “a song? how is that even possible?”

“well” he said, leaning forward slightly, his eyes locked on hers. “you see, a song’s got to have rhythm, harmony, a bit of sweetness and, well… i think we’ve got all of that, don’t you?”

she couldn’t help to chuckle, but there was something so sincere in his eyes that made her pause. he wasn’t just being playful, this was something serious.

he took a step closer, reaching out and gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. “the thing is, love,” he said softly, “you know that i’m very clear on what i want, and… i want to be with you. i’ve known it for a while now.” her heart skiped a beat, and before she could say anything, paul continued.

“you’ve got this way about you that I can’t quite put into words. but, all i can tell you is that i’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. i love you, darling. i’ve loved you for a long time now.”

she was speechless for a moment, the warmth of his words wrapping around her like a soft embrace.

“i love you too, paulie,” she said calmly.

his smile grew wider, his eyes lighting up as though she’d just given him the greatest gift. he leaned in, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to her forehead.

“good,” he murmured, his voice full of comfort. “because i plan on making sure you never forget it.”

george harrison

george sat beside her on the bench, the peaceful hum of nature filling the air around them, but his mind seemed to be somewhere else entirely, lost in thought. she glanced at him, wondering what was running through his mind.

“you alright, george?” she asked, nudging him lightly with her elbow.

he blinked, startled for a moment, before offering her a sheepish smile. “oh, yeah. just thinking… about everything, really.”

his voice was soft, his eyes distant but warm. there was something about him in these quiet moments.. something that made the world feel smaller and more intimate.

“what about?” she pressed gently.

george paused, taking a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts. he shifted on the bench.

“sometimes, it feels like everything is… constantly moving, you know? everything’s always changing,” he said, his voice a little distant. “and we’re just… tiny little things floating along with it all.” he looked at her then, his eyes a little more focused. “but… there are moments, small moments, where it feels like everything stops. like time itself pauses, just for a second.”

she felt her heart racing slightly, his words feeling like they held a deeper meaning, something personal.

he cleared his throat nervously “and those moments, well… they’ve been happening more often when i’m with you, you know?”

she smiled softly, giving him the space to continue.

“it’s funny," he said, his voice quieter now, almost as if the words themselves were fragile. "you spend your whole life looking for answers about the world, about yourself, and then you meet someone, it’s like… all the questions fade away.”

he looked down for a moment, “i’ve been trying to put this into words for a while now… but i think what i’m trying to say is that i love you. i’ve loved you for a long time, but i’ve never quite known how to tell you.”

his voice was soft, almost unsure, but there was an undeniable sincerity in his gaze when he looked at her. she could see the nervousness in his eyes, his usual calm demeanor shaken by his confession, and it made her heart swell.

“oh george…” she whispered, voice filled with emotion.

he looked at her, his face a mixture of hope and vulnerability. “i just… needed you to know. you mean more to me than words can really express, but i hope you understand, even without me saying everything perfectly.” he laughed.

she then reached out, gently cupping his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against her palm. “of course i understand, george.. i love you too.”

“you’re everything i’ve been looking for, love” he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

ringo starr

the beatles were rehearsing for an upcoming performance, the familiar hum of instruments filling the air while she sat off to the side, watching them work their magic, enjoying the rhythm of the music and the warmth of the room.

ringo was behind his drum kit, his usual cheeky grin on his face as he played, though there was something different about him today. he kept glancing over at her, his eyes darting away whenever their gazes met. his usual confidence was missing, replaced by a subtle nervousness.

paul noticed it first. "ringo!," he called, nudging george, who raised an eyebrow. "you look like you've got something on your mind, mate."

ringo's face flushed a deep red, and he quickly focused on his drumsticks, tapping them nervously against the kit. "nothing, nothing at all," he said, trying to brush it off.

"oh, i think there is, starr," john teased, making his way over to ringo's side. "come on, mate, out with it. what's all this about, then?"

ringo cleared his throat awkwardly, his hands fidgeting with his drumsticks. "i... uh... i’ve been meaning to say something." he shot a quick glance at her, and then quickly looked down again, as if the words were stuck.

paul gave him a playful nudge. "go on, rings, don’t leave us hanging!"

ringo’s face turned even redder, if it was even possible, and he let out a nervous chuckle. "it's... just, well... i don't know how to say this properly." he glanced back at her, his eyes soft. "but i—"

john raised an eyebrow, smirking. "you fancy her, don’t you?"

the whole room fell quiet for a moment as ringo froze, clearly caught off guard by john’s bluntness. his face was now a shade of pink no ones ever seen before.

"alright, alright!" he muttered, embarrassed, but there was a hint of affection in his voice. he finally looked directly at her, his gaze warm but still a little shy. "yeah, i do. i like her. a lot."

the other three boys erupted into a chorus of exaggerated whistles and claps, all teasing him in the most dramatic way possible.

"well, it took you long enough!" paul said, still chuckling. "it was about time, mate."

george, with a mischievous grin, leaned against his guitar. "you should’ve said something sooner, ringo. we all knew."

ringo ran a hand through his hair, looking relieved. "i didn’t know how... what if she doesn’t feel the same?" he muttered, his voice growing quieter, more vulnerable. "i can't keep it in anymore."

"oh, come on, rings! just go over there and tell her. it’s now or never, mate." said john

he hesitated, biting his lip, his gaze flickering nervously between the band and her. "what if i mess it up?" he said, almost to himself.

paul grinned and gave him a playful shove. "theres no way you're going to mess it up. just be yourself. you’ve got this."

george chuckled, still strumming his guitar. "yeah, what’s the worst that can happen? she might even fancy you back!"

ringo rolled his eyes, but there was a spark of determination in his expression now. he stood up from behind his drum kit, his legs trembling like they were made of jelly. he took a few steps toward her, but stopped halfway, glancing back at the boys. john grined "good luck, ringo!"

he approached her cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest.

"hey," he said, his voice a little shaky at first. she looked up to him surprised to see him standing so close.

"hi, ringo," she said, smiling. "is everything okay?"

his smile was a little sheepish, but he pushed forward. "actually... no, not really." he cleared his throat. "there’s something i’ve been meaning to say." she tilted her head.

ringo took another deep breath, gathering his courage. "i... i like you," he said, his words coming out all at once. "a lot. i’ve liked you for ages, but i didn’t know how to say it. i’ve been nervous about it, to be honest."

for a second, he feared he’d said too much too fast, but she smiled, her expression softening.

"i like you too, rings," she replied, her voice warm and sincere.

ringo’s eyes widened in surprise, and he let out a relieved laugh. "really?"

she laughed, and he couldn’t help but chuckle along. the nerves that had gripped him earlier were now replaced with a warm, happy feeling.

the boys watched from a distance, paul giving a thumbs-up and george mouthing "told ya" to john.

[cheesenchalk]

im ignoring any and all news of potential casting in favor of lucid fever-dream-hallucinating my own pitch for a beatles biopic that follows ringo as the main perspective character as he meets the other's in hamburg, when he's with rory storm, and older and more experienced and the beatles are all intimidated by him and trying to impress him so he's introduced to them at their Most ThemTM -- paul at his most McCharmly, John at his toughest of teddy boys, george trying harder than ever to play at the grown up who belongs there

So both ringo and the audience start off getting to know these people as the most one-dimensional, performative versions of themselves, almost the caricatures that stories usually end up painting them as anyways because that's what theyre acting like at first, but again both ringo and the audience slowly peel away the layers of persona as they watch things fall apart, and build back up, because this eclectic little band of boys is a complete mess with a rhythm section that should probably be in jail for crimes against music but there's something sparking under the surface, just waiting for that last cog in the machine to click into place to become something

and as time goes on and they all have their ups and downs, the more they spend time around each other as two bands of familiar faces from home while living in a foreign place and get to know each other bit by bit, it uncovers the little glimmers of who these people actually are. the john that's only tough because he's still running from grief, and chasing the relationships in his life he thinks he can hold onto. The paul that isn't as charming when hes lonely and furious because hes ready to fight tooth and nail -- and eventually just fists -- for the promise of this band he dropped everything for and nobody seems to be taking as seriously as he is. The george who wants to be more than the spare part to the duo who have already decided that theyre it and dont have room for anything else

he sits in for a few performances while their drummer is who-knows-where. and not only does everything start to fit into place musically, but he brings both a levity and a steadiness that they'd been missing, the reliable heartbeat in the background that keeps it all going

and theres something compelling and electric about them that drags you along and won't stop that just isnt entirely there in the more polished band he belongs to now, so a few years later when hes offered a little higher salary and a place with them, he takes it

etc etc continue that same process of breaking down barriers and finding your way into already long-established dynamics and getting more complete pictures of who they are as a unit and individuals through the creative process, through public scrutiny, through the chaos and euphoria and horrors of success, through the incomparable connection and intimacy of becoming one head of the monster, and the exhaustion and turmoil of what its like to be one thing just to eventually tear itself apart

in my head the ideal version is a show or even a miniseries so theres more room to spread the story out compared to a movie. but a large part of the purpose of creating a biopic in the first place is outsiders wanting to know what the reality of being in the belly of the beast is like, and learning about the people within, so why no one has ever utilized the framing of the one member of the band whose experience of joining was exactly that....

[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

[monzaaasharl]

Can't believe this little guy wrote here comes the sun

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

James (Paul McCartney x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hello! I've decided I have to make a chapter fic for Paulie because I'm in love with him. There are gonna be at LEAST 6 chapters in this fic, so there will be plenty more coming! Stick around, like and comment, and let me know if you want to be tagged when I release more chapters of this!

I want to personally thank my editor @strawb3rri-le for helping me make these ideas come into fruition. Literally cannot do this without you <3

Summary: Paul meets a pretty girl in the library one day, and is elated to find out she is oblivious to who he actually is.

This fic is written in third person from Paul's perspective, which is kind of different to how I normally write my x readers, so it might be a little jarring to read at first, but I just wanted to try something a little different :)

WARNINGS: I'm not certain I wrote any curse words in this one, but I'll say there is just to be on the safer side. Mentions of mushrooms/ fungi; not drug-related, but I figured I'd add that because some people don't like them. I use Y/n like 4 times in here around the end it drives me nuts, but it has to happen. I don't think there's much else.

This one is pretty safe, if I could rate it lower I would, but I'll mark it at T just to be on the safe side.

Paul could have watched the heavy raindrops hit the window pane for hours and hours. the grey clouds drifting in the sky above brought nothing but heavy showers to the streets of London that dark afternoon...

But that's not what he came to the library for.

He came here for some peace and quiet.

He wanted to get some more songwriting done, but the apartment didn't seem to be the place for it that day, and everywhere else just appeared to be crawling with girls. As much as Paul liked girls, he didn't want to be noticed, because then his day would have simply consisted of him trying to escape the hoards that would have started chasing after him.

The library felt like it made the most sense. People were there to read, study, keep to themselves; not to socialize with others and be loud. As long as he found a little private area to sit, he knew he wouldn't be bothered at all. He also figured, if he couldn't come up with any song ideas, he had tens of thousands of books to refer to for inspiration.

And that was the situation Paul was in at that moment. He'd been sitting in his little study nook for a while now, just staring blankly at his notebook, or out the window next to him. Usually the words came flowing from his mind, translated by his hand and onto the paper, yet that particular day, nothing seemed to be inspiring him.

He rose to his feet after a while, notebook shoved under his arm as he wandered off into one of the aisles nearest to him. He wasn't looking for any book in particular. Sometimes he'd just pull one off the shelf, flip to a random page, and read a random sentence in the middle of the text. If it seemed to be interesting enough to inspire even a single line in a song, Paul would use it. If not, off to the next book.

He began to do just that, with older books with worn spines, and newer books with colourful covers. Unfortunately, even after the fourth or fifth book he pulled from the aisle he was in, no inspiration seemed to manifest from what he was reading. He sighed as he pushed the book he was holding back into its place on the shelf before he made his way to the next aisle over.

Paul began repeating what he was doing before, reaching for a book, and flipping through the pages. This particular book, he cut three separate times, and not one sentence seemed to draw any kind of innovation for his songwriting.

Once again, Paul shoved the book back onto the shelf. As he stared ahead at all of the different pieces of literature before him, one book in particular seemed to catch his eye. It was green, with gold accents on the bevelling as well as the raised parts of the spine. Without a second thought, he reached up for it, only for his fingers to come into contact with someone else's.

Paul drew his hand back and glanced to his right, where a young woman about his age stood. He held his breath, fully expecting an overreaction from her at his presence.

Instead, she smiled awkwardly at him, her hand also drawn back close to her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were after that one," she explained gently, and Paul blinked, raising a confused eyebrow before looking back to that specific book. After a moment, he pulled it down off the shelf and examined the cover, the golden text embossed into the front cover reading 'Europe's Most Common Mushrooms, and Fungi: A Field Guide'.

"Do you like learning about Mycology as well?" She asked curiously, and Paul's gaze shot up to her face, eyes squinting a little at her question.

He was half confused on what she was honestly asking him, but he was also kind of surprised she wasn't pointing and shouting at the fact that she found a Beatle in public.

"... Mycology?" He asked back sheepishly, and her awkward smile warmed up a little at his question. She pointed at the book cover before responding with another question. "You know, the study of mushrooms, and fungi?"

Paul's eyes dropped back down to the book before cracking it open and flipping to a random page as he was doing with all the others. A beautifully illustrated picture of a mushroom with a porous underside presented itself to the young man, and his eyebrows furrowed at the image.

"That is a Boletus Edulis," she explained quietly to him. "It's a tasty gourmet mushroom found in Europe, as well as in North America."

Paul looked back up to her briefly before returning to the book and flipping to another page, a red capped mushroom with white spots being the next image to catch his eye.

"Ooh, and that one there is an Amanita Muscaria, also known as the Fly Agaric. It received its name back in the day because grinding it up and putting it in window sills and doorways would repel flies from entering your home."

"... You sure know your mushrooms, huh?" Paul asked carefully, rather impressed with the few bits of information provided to him by this stranger.

"It's definitely a good hobby to get into. Nothing beats going out onto the trail and foraging them for dinner." She paused briefly before adding, "I mean... the boletes are fine, but perhaps not the amanitas." 

Paul closed the book up again before taking a final glance at the front cover.

"I'm uh... sort of grabbing books at random, looking for something inspiring. There needn't be a reason to hang onto this if you need it," Paul explained, presenting it to her so she could take it, and her fingers accidentally brushed against his once again as she took it from him.

The graze was so gentle, yet Paul felt his cheeks warm up at the contact. She was awfully pretty, he decided to himself in silence as he watched the look of joy on her face appear when she flipped the book open herself. She stopped on a page containing a drawing of a white mushroom dripping black ink at its edges.

Paul couldn't help but double take the image. To think there was so much about the world he didn't know a thing about... it made him feel so small, and insignificant.

She must have noticed his gaze on the page, and figured she'd teach him about one more specimen. "These ones," she began, with a rather excited exhale, turning the book Paul's way so he could see, "are Shaggy Mane mushrooms. They are edible and good, as long as you haven't consumed alcohol for a few days prior to, and post consumption. Then they'd be quite toxic."

She smiled at the tidbit and looked up to Paul's face, nose crinkling a little. "Isn't that just the neatest thing?"

Paul couldn't believe what he was hearing. He never really thought about mushrooms before. Sure, he'd seen brown and white ones before in the grass, or growing on trees, but there was something about the way she relayed the information with such passion, that just made it so interesting to him. It was unlike anything he ever experienced before.

"... You have a very natural way of describing this sort of stuff," Paul expressed, nodding his head to her positively. "I honestly never realized there were so many different ones."

"Oh, what I've told you doesn't even scratch the surface of the world of Mycology," she explained, the smile only growing on her face, and Paul couldn't help but smile back at her.

"... I should really leave to let you continue on with what you were doing," she said after a moment. "I do appreciate you listening to my ramblings. I know I can sometimes get carried away with this sort of stuff," her smile fell away a little. "Not many really care about fungi, so it's nice to talk about my interests with someone who's willing to listen."

Paul's own smile began to falter, rather upset that such a pleasant conversation, with such a pleasant person, had to end so soon. He hadn't encountered such a normal discussion in so long. Not that a conversation about mushrooms and fungi was normal, but Paul felt it was just so refreshing talking about anything but him and his fame.

"... well, I rather enjoyed what you had to say," he admitted lightly, an undeniable blush flourishing from the woman's cheeks as she appeared to smile again, a little brighter than before.

"Well... thank you, again. You're very kind," she repeated, waving her hand kindly as she turned on her heel and wandered off to the next aisle.

Paul's eyes watched her round the corner, and he stood there in disbelief. There was so much for him to unpack in his thoughts in that very moment.

She had to have been one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen; minding her own business in a library by herself, and doing something she really enjoyed. Her intelligence on the subject showed through her excited rambling, which Paul could have listened to for much, much longer.

Her voice was so pleasant, happiness apparent in her words as she described every species effortlessly, as if she'd known it all since the day she was born. It left him wanting to hear more from her.

But the cherry on top of all of this, was that she didn't even acknowledge Paul as anything but another human being. Not some big musician with whom she obsessed over just because of his looks. For someone who remained so calm, and pleasant in conversation, Paul was certain she had no clue who he actually was.

And he loved that.

As much as fame brought excitement to his existence, Paul couldn't deny that the concept of a simple, normal life with someone who loved him for him, and not his popularity to the public, was something he seemed to yearn for more often as of late.

He loved the idea of being a nobody, especially to someone he wanted to be somebody to.

He looked over his shoulder to the empty space where that green and gold book once sat, deciding to reach for the one sitting next to it. It happened to be another book on mushrooms and fungi, but it had a lot more words in it than images. He flipped to the middle of the book and read the fist word he saw.

Symbiosis.

He felt dumb staring at the word. He knew there was only one person he could ask to inquire about what it meant. He glanced up through the bookshelves, eyes searching through the gaps of the works to find her.

She only happened to be in the next aisle over, scanning the book titles off the spines above her head carefully, too in her own world to notice Paul's obvious staring through the shelving units. She pulled a book down and read the summary on the back, Paul watching her eyelashes flit lower and lower as she absorbed the words like a sponge in water.

He noticed that as she read, her lips gently mouthed each word, and he soon found himself stuck in a trance. He observed how her tongue poked out between her teeth to mouth words with the letter L, and how her lips would press tightly together as she read words containing B, and M.

Who would have thought, Paul wondered, something so small could be so hypnotizing?

She made a small face of approval to the book before stacking it on top of the green one she was given by him, and she headed over to an empty table in the corner of the room. She faced towards the shelves, back to the wall so she could see the whole library from her spot.

Despite this, as soon as she made herself comfortable, she was solely focussed on the books, and her dominant hand wrote out her notes almost romantically, notebook pages filling effortlessly with information that brought her joy.

Paul was absolutely mesmerized by her movements. Screw the rain, he could have watched her for hours. He couldn't get over the little flick of her wrist when she ended a point, or the wonderful silent motion of her lips reading out the words.

She drove him mad in the best kind of way.

She flipped to the next page in her notebook, and Paul came back down to earth, realizing then just how creepy he must have appeared, standing close to the shelf, and peering through to the other side to watch the woman simply minding her own business from afar.

His shoes felt like they were filled with cement, but he worked up enough courage to slowly move towards her table, opting to stand by a nearby shelf and stare blankly at the spines as to not look so awkward.

What would I even say to her? was the only thought at the forefront of Paul's mind, the black mushroom book still in his hand, one of his fingers wedged between the pages to mark where that silly word was. He knew he was going to ask her about it, but he needed to smoothly segue into it, somehow.

This situation was rather a bother to Paul. He felt conflicted as to why he seemed so nervous about approaching her. He was a flirt, and he loved making girls feel giddy, why would this stranger be any different?

He was close enough that he could have called for her attention, but her focus was faithfully undivided, completely oblivious to Paul standing only fifteen feet away from her, trying to muster up the nerve to say something, anything.

After talking to her for only a minute and a half, and having parted ways for not even five more, Paul found himself deprived of her voice, longing to hear anything roll off her tongue, as long as it were to him. He was pining to have her attention so badly, but standing and admiring her from only a couple of steps away was only going to get him so far.

His palms were sweaty, and he wiped them on his pants haphazardly as he took a deep breath. He took one more second to nod his head positively for motivation, and he stepped out into the open, facing her completely. His heart pounded in his chest, but he pushed himself to take one more step forward. And that happened to be enough for her to notice.

The stranger raised her gaze up to Paul, the look of neutral concentration on her face softening into a pleasant smile.

Just that made Paul weak in the knees.

"Find anything inspiring yet?" She asked him in a friendly tone, eyeing the book in his hand as his thoughts flatlined. He didn't expect her to speak first. On the one hand, he was relieved that it indicated she was okay with talking to him, but on the other, it put him off-script, and now he had to actually use his brain to initiate discussion.

"I uh..." he struggled for a moment, glancing down at the book in his hand, as well.

"If I'm going to be quite honest... you talking about mushrooms so passionately was pretty inspiring. It's all I can think about."

The woman's eyebrows arched in surprise, a gentle dusting of pink spreading over her nose as she took in his words. She toyed her bottom lip between her teeth, and Paul couldn't help but drop his gaze for just a second to admire her mouth.

"You know, I'm really flattered that you said that," she expressed gently. "That means a great deal to me. Thank you."

Paul couldn't even feel his legs now, basking in her praise, as a flower would to the rays of sun on a warm spring day.

"... I couldn't help but grab another book like the one you're reading," he explained, lifting it up to show her, and the apples of her cheeks rounded as she smiled even wider. Paul hadn't ever recalled seeing such a beautiful face before.

"I... I saw a word I don't know. I think you're the only person who can help me." The confession made Paul feel a little self-conscious; he didn't want to seem entirely stupid in front of her, but she really didn't seem the type to make fun of him over something like this, and really damage his ego.

Without a word, she pulled the chair out next to her as a silent indication for Paul to take a seat, and he took the offer graciously. He set his notebook down onto the table, and then opened the book to where his finger marked the page cut. She leaned in a little to peer down at the text, and he pointed to the word, realizing only seconds after just how close she was to him. He could smell the faintness of her body wash, and it made his head swirl.

"... This one." He mumbled, watching her in his peripheral as she read the sentence in her head, and physically mouthing the words as her eyes tracked each letter.

"Ah, symbiosis. It basically means two different organisms are benefitting off each other in some way or another. We would be a good example of this, right now," she offered, tilting her head up to look at Paul, who's ears burned hot at the eye contact, but he kept strong and held it for as long as she wanted to look at him.

"You're keeping me pleasant company, and in return, I'm helping you learn about fungi." He thought her point was going to end there, but she quickly added on, "from a natural standpoint, fungi and trees have a symbiotic relationship. If it weren't for the millions of miles of fungal network underground, connecting all the living organisms together, plants wouldn't be able to communicate to each other, or convert their energy from one to the other to achieve optimal growth."

"So... everything would die without fungi?" Paul asked slowly.

"I believe so," she nodded her head. "They play a role in every step of a plant's life. Take a tree, for example."

She slid the green and gold book over to sit between them, and she flipped through the first few pages until she found a diagram of a tree's life cycle, pointing to the images as she rambled on.

"Fungi help them establish strong roots when they're young. Some fungi actually provide nutrients in the soil for the trees to use as energy to grow tall and strong."

She turned her gaze back to Paul. "Even at the end, if a mother tree is dying, she will begin to use the fungal networks below to disperse her energy to her kin, sacrificing herself so they can grow, instead. They use the networks underground to communicate in their own special way."

The young man appeared to be in a dream-like state, head in his palm as he looked on in favour of her words. But when he noticed she stopped speaking after a while, he blinked, finding she was smiling a little awkwardly again, as if she'd asked him a question.

"Hm?" He asked, propped hand dropping to the table. He felt rather guilty his attention diverted.

"... I'm boring you, aren't I?" There was a hint of sadness in her words, a weak smile at her lips, and Paul shook his head quickly.

"No, no! Believe me, I'm listening." He thought for a beat, face going warm again as he confessed, "I just... I really love the sound of your voice. You have a way with words, and I did get a little distracted by that." The young woman's face fell expressionless, and Paul continued.

"I may be rather daft on the subject, but there's just something in the way you talk about it that makes learning about it so much more enjoyable. Please, don't stop talking."

She opened her mouth to say something, but she shut it as she pondered what to respond to Paul with. Her face was flushed, and she was holding back a grin, which ultimately made Paul a little confident considering he was the one that made her flustered.

"... You probably say that to all of the girls you talk to," she finally replied, eyes casting down to the books to hide her blush, and he couldn't help but bite back a smile of his own.

"Well, none of the other girls I know are quite like you," he stated with poise, eyes still locked in on her, hands clasping together as he noticed her blush deepen, and a smile finally breaking through.

Paul then attempted to downplay such a strong interaction. Despite talking to her the way he wanted to, he didn't want her to be uncomfortable with how forward he felt he was being.

"What does your boyfriend think about your hobbies?" He asked. "He must be so proud, and fascinated by how passionate you are about all of this stuff, surely."

She looked back up to Paul, her smile weakening a little. "Boyfriend? Oh I uh..." she cleared her throat. "I don't... I don't have one of those."

Paul's eyebrows lowered a little. "... As in you just got out of a relationship?" He tried to clarify, to which she shook her head.

"As in I've never really... had one." She had a sheepish look on her face, cheeks now red out of embarrassment rather than flattery. Her response sent Paul's eyebrows shooting up in surprise, to say the least.

"... Never?" He repeated in disbelief. She pressed her lips together in a line tightly, shaking her head once again.

"This," she gestured to the books with her hand, "is my life. It has been my life since my early teenage years. Mushrooms and fungi are... strange, and because I like them, I guess that makes me kind of strange, as well."

Her self-dejecting statement made Paul feel bad. In his mind, someone like her not being taken, though washing the feeling of relief throughout him, didn't add up at all. Not even her fascination in mushrooms made her odd, in his eyes.

"... If it means anything to you, I think you're just absolutely lovely," he said, watching as her lip pressed into a little pout as she regarded his words.

"I'm telling you... every guy out there has no idea what they're missing out on."

Paul desperately wished he could read minds; especially hers. She didn't speak, and Paul assumed that the was simply trying to grasp for some words to say. If he were in her position, he wouldn't have known what to say, either.

"For once in my life, someone has actually made me speechless," she confessed, huffing a sigh as she rubbed one of her cheeks, as if that would have made her blush disappear.

"I want to tell you thank you, but that doesn't feel like nearly enough," she explained. "Honestly, your girlfriend is very lucky to have such a charming boyfriend. You have a way with words, yourself." Her comment made Paul laugh, but only once. Inside his chest, his heart was doing somersaults, but he was trying his hardest to keep his composure.

"What girlfriend?"

The woman gasped at his response. "You lie," she accused, yet Paul knew it was all in good nature by the smile on her face. "Even if you were, with a face like that, there's no way you don't have girls chasing after you all the time."

How the tables have turned, Paul thought; a little excited he found himself in the same spot as her only moments after he made the same mistake. Part of him wanted to respond to her with something witty, like "who says I don't?", but the other part of him didn't want that to arouse any questions that would segue into a conversation regarding his job.

He couldn't risk having her know everything, and fall for the idea of him.

"I guess I just... haven't found the right bird yet." He figured that was another truth he could hold by without entirely lying to this poor woman.

"That's fair. Well, whoever has the pleasure of ending up with you is a very lucky woman, indeed." Paul's cheeks darkened again, the compliment making his fingers feel a little numb. He noticed her eyes drifting to the window above his head before she suddenly closed her books shut.

"The rain's stopped. This has been a rather lovely conversation, but I do apologize. I must be leaving now."

Paul felt his stomach drop, and his mouth fell agape, watching worriedly as she gathered her belongings and rose to her feet.

"What-- you're leaving? Right now?"

He felt the same way he did back in the aisle when she cut the conversation short, full of disappointment that it all had to come to an end again.

"I was on my way to my parents' house before the rain started," she explained with a lopsided smile. "I'm helping my mother prepare for dinner tonight, but the rain was so bad, I figured I'd spend some time in here while I waited for it to die down. And I'm very glad I made that decision."

Paul nodded his head, realizing the last part of what she said alluded to making his acquaintance. He also found he couldn't be upset at such a wonderful gesture of kindness, her going to her parents'. "That is very sweet of you to do that for her," he said gently, standing up as well before she disappeared again.

"Before you go," he started, feeling hot beneath the collar as he tried to gather a little bit more courage to speak, her expecting eyes on him making him rather anxious.

"I would like to keep in contact with you," he paused briefly, "only if you want. I just... I've had a really pleasant time talking with you, and learning about your interests, and I would very much like to do all of this again."

Her cheeks rounded out again as her smile widened a little more-- Paul couldn't get over that damned smile of hers.

"You know... I would like that a lot," she finally answered, glancing down at her notebook before flipping to the last page and ripping it out. She folded it in half, and then tore it at the line, handing Paul one of the halves while she began writing on the other one. Paul watched with a pounding heart as she scratched out her phone number, and he began to do the same.

When they exchanged the papers, Paul examined the number she provided him, and then read the name she printed above it, a smiley face drawn next to it. he tried his best to concealing his excitement within.

"Y/n..." he mumbled thoughtfully, eyes casting back up to look at her. She laughed a little as she flipped the paper in her hand to show Paul, which only contained his phone number.

"That's me, but what am I to call you, exactly?"

This is where Paul found himself in another dilemma. He wanted her to call him Paul, but he also didn't want her putting two and two together if she recognized his name. He didn't want to entirely lie to her, either.

That's when a light bulb went off in his head. He realized the greatest loophole, and solution was staring him right in the face.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Paul reached for the paper again, scribbling his name at the top. But he wasn't using 'Paul'; he decided he was going to use his real first name.

"You can call me James," he explained, handing the paper back to her. She surveyed the name at the top of the paper before looking back up to him.

"Finally, a name to a face," she hummed in content. She then offered a hand out to Paul, to which he took so they could shake and say their farewells.

"It was an absolute pleasure meeting you, James."

It was the first time in a very long time Paul had been called that by anyone. He figured he would have hated the sound of it leaving her lips, but instead, it made his heart flutter. His face felt hot again, and it was apparent y/n could see the flush of his skin, because she smirked a little.

"The pleasure is all mine, Y/n. Please be safe." He finally let go of her hand, waving good bye as she did so as well, turning on her heel once again, and heading to the counter with her books to sign them out.

She slid Paul's phone number into her notebook as she walked away, and Paul just stood there for another moment as he watched her leave. He was was still feeling so many emotions now that he was alone, unable to help himself reaching back down to the piece of paper she gave him. He ran his fingers over her name and smiled a little to himself.

"Y/n..." her name was like a breath of fresh air to him. When he looked back up to catch one more glimpse of her, she was already gone. It made him feel a little empty, but when he noticed she left the black mushroom book for him, he felt just a little warmer inside.

Paul reached for the book, sliding her number into the pages, and deciding he was going to sign it out and try to learn a little on the subject. If they ever planned to meet in the future, he could try and impress her with some of the information he learned.

He didn't end up getting what he was looking for at the library, but he felt he was leaving with something he needed.

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A/A/N: Okay, I hope yous enjoyed that! Part 2 will happen as long as I have people requesting it. I have ideas, I'm just missing supporters<3

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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!

[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.


[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.

[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

[h077yy]

wise words from a wise man