#the beatles smuts

[iheartjohnlennon]

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!

[buttahpie]

sigh….. opens up google docs

[bealtesharrisonmacca]

Why does it kinda look like Paul is waiting for one of them to give him a blowjob?

[sunflowersinthedirt]

DATING PAUL MCCARTNEY 1960/1964 🎸

First post here! Gifs aren’t mine. I’m sorry if it has any typo, english is not my first language.

• Paul would be the perfect boyfriend in his own way, a true English gentleman.

• He opens the door, pulls out chairs... You never pay for the bill.

• Paul loves to spoil you with gifts.

• Paul used to write songs about you but he was too shy to show them to you.

• He would loooove teach you how to play the guitar and piano, and if you sing, he would ask you to sing for him to hear.

• Paul is an uninhibited man and knows about the reputation he has as the "cute Beatle," but around you, he would become shy at first.

• Still, Paul can't keep his hands off you.

• He likes to walk holding your hand, steal kisses from you to see you blush, Paul likes to touch you all the time.

• Long conversations late at night in the company of his guitar, tea, cigarettes, and Martha.

• You adopted Martha together, and Paul would proudly say that you were Martha's mother.

• Paul loves rainy days and at every opportunity would drag you to bed to sleep with him to the sound of raindrops falling on the roof.

• You would travel the world with Paul if you wanted to go on tour with him.

• Even when you couldn't go with Paul, he would send you letters every day - no matter what country he was in. Letters and postcards, until you had to have more than one box to keep them.

• Paul would give you gifts related to him so that you wouldn't forget him when he was far away.

• Paul wasn't jealous of you with the boys, and you were the first to break the rule that women couldn't be in the studio.

• The boys adored you and would make jokes about how Paul only talked about you and how many songs he had already written and played for them dedicated to you.

[givemequeen]

taste of honey

request: can you do teddyboy Paul McCartney eating gf readers pussy for the first time (a first for both of them) 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 your work is written so well like it’s actually fun to read instead of just reading out of boredom yk like im obsessed a/n: honestly guys i fucking love it when you tell me how much you love my work, i dont know or care if you're being fr or just saying but i love it either way!!! it rly does motivate me to write. anywho, i hope you enjoy this! please lmk if you do :)))) warnings: obv NSFW (read request). oral, female receiving summary: Teddy Paul McCartney eating his gf out for the first time

You had been dating Paul for about five months now and it had been amazing. Not only was he quite literally the cutest guy ever, but he was kind too. Always super attentive and nice to you, making you feel safe and loved. He just made you happy.

You hadn't had sex just yet but had been doing... other things. Mostly just using your hands and kissing for hours on end. His parents were gone for the weekend and you had told your own that you were going to sleep over at your friend's, so you had the house and the night to yourselves.

Just like any other time you were alone in his room, you were on the bed kissing. It always started the same way. You'd get to his house and shyly hug him, he'd lead you upstairs and the second the door closed behind you, he'd kiss you. You still acted surprised when he'd do this, squealing a bit before you'd sink your hands into his soft hair.

After about ten minutes of kissing, he'd roll you over so you were on your back and under his weight. Then he'd start rolling his hips against yours and soon after, you'd do the same, meeting his movements with desperate moans.

"Paul." you moaned, as he began kissing your neck. His hands wandered down your body, slipping under up your skirt when you nodded at his silent question.

He moved your knickers to the side and played with your clit. You moaned his name again as he slipped a finger into you. His other hand went under your shirt, squeezing your breasts. You bit your lower lip and, though the room was dark, the only light the one on his desk, you could see the hunger in his eyes.

"I want to taste you." he moaned, slipping another finger into you. Your response was swallowed by a moan. "I bet you taste so good, love." he kissed you.

"Taste me?" you asked. "Like... like lick your fingers?" you were glad the room was dark so he couldn't see the way you just went completely red.

"No." he said, his mouth attaching itself to your neck, his tongue licking a line up to your ear.

"Then what?" you asked when he didn't elaborate.

"I want to use my mouth." he mumbled against your neck, you gasped.

"Use your mouth?" you pressed.

"Here. Use my mouth here." he curled his fingers to make a point.

You gasped again.

Though most of your friends had boyfriends, you barely talked about this sort of us. You only felt comfortable talking about this with your best friend, who had been with her boyfriend for a year now and had done lots of stuff. She had told you something about this, about how her boyfriend had used his mouth on her and how she had loved it.

"Can I?" Paul asked when you went quiet. He pulled away from your neck and stilled his fingers inside of you.

You looked into his eyes, you could feel your breath hammering against your chest. "Yes." you said, the word small and quiet.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

"Yes." you said, this time stronger.

He smiled and kissed you briefly before wiggling down the bed. He placed himself at the correct height and reached below your skirt to take off your underwear. You lifted your hips, helping him slid it off of you and onto the floor.

Paul began kissing your inner thigh. Small, soft kisses, his hands gripping the back of your thighs. You arched your feet, already feeling pleasure, anxious to feel more.

He kisses his way upwards to the spot where you needed him most. He moved your skirt out of the way, bunching it up, and pressed his wet lips onto your wetter cunt.

"Paul." you moaned.

You could feel his smirk against you and you nearly shut your legs when he swiped his tongue and licked you. You were stuck between wanting to hide away and melting into his touch. You chose the latter.

"Shit, you taste so good." Paul whispered against you.

You blushed but that was quickly replaced by a moan when he licked you again. Your hand flew to his hair, tugging slightly. That only seemed to egg him on. One of his hands was flat against your stomach, the other held your legs open.

Paul meant it when he said you tasted good 'cause he kept tasting you over and over again. He alternated between kissing and licking you, blowing your mind away.

His hand on your stomach slid down to your clit, the simultaneous use of mouth and fingers drove to the edge. You were standing on the precipice, you could feel your stomach tightening, you were so close.

"Paul. I'm close, I'm so close. Don't stop." but you didn't even have to tell him because nothing was stopping him from tasting you.

You came quickly and swiftly, rocking your hips against his mouth. Calling out his name and tugging on his hair. Begging for more but knowing it was too much.

Your chest rapidly fell and rose as you tried to catch your breath. Paul finally pulled away, wiping his hand over his mouth but not before you saw how it glistened.

You could still see stars behind your eyes from your orgasm and barely felt it when Paul kissed your cheek and collapsed beside you. He wrapped his arm around you and you felt his erection pressed against your thigh.

"You taste so good." he whispered into your ear.

You smiled, too high on pleasure to feel any shame.

You turned to face him. "Can I try?"

[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.

[i-live-for-lennon]

ah yes, best friends and the greatest songwriting duo of all time

nothing more

nothing more

nothing more

*rocking frantically back in forth in a straight jacket right now*

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Marigolds In The Porch Lights (18+)

Gardener!George Harrison × GN!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’d turn that light on if I were you.

It gets rather dark out here.

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

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

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

Until night fell. You glanced at the back door.

The porch light.

That fucking porch light.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

You turned on the porch light.

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

“...George?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, flower. I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[iheartjohnlennon]

The Beatles NSFW Alphabet - Paul

 

 

@heiterhund <<< co-writer xxx🩷🎀

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

• Your breasts win everything for him.

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

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

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

 

 

C is for Cum (Where he likes to cum)

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

 

 

E is for Experience (How experienced is he?)

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

 

 

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

• This depends on the era, really.

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

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

• After 1968 though…he just stopped caring!

 

 

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

• His intimacy depends on your relationship.

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

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

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

 

 

J is for Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

• Paul loves to jerk off.

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

 

 

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

• Paul loves the faces you make during sex.

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

 

 

 

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

• He prefers getting head than giving head.

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

• It’s not slow, like, at all.

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

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

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

 

 

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

• Oh, he LOVES quickies.

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paul finally had you to himself. 

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” he groaned.

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

W is for Wildcard (Random sexual headcanon.)

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

• Though that’s not the point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

X is for X-ray (His cock.)

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

• Paul is absolutely insatiable. 

 

 

Z is for Zzz (Sleep afterwards?)

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

• You watch him doze off slowly before sleeping yourself.

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

The other two coming soon x

John's here

[buttahpie]

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

I am going to be violently ill.

[bealtesharrisonmacca]

Interesting. Very interesting

[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

[i-live-for-lennon]

…my fic writers, use this wisely…

[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.


[fvckingwolfstar]

mclennon yuri i drew today. did you guys know i used to be a harry potter fan art account

[beatle-george-smut]

Sexy smutty slutty