#beatle x reader fluff

[inkpot909]

First Love Headcanons: Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

↳ Gender neutral Reader with they/them pronouns. Implied the reader is shorter than Bucciarati? Canon-divergent. The reader is not made out to be very morally upright and is hinted at having a rough past.

A/n: Doing another one of these has been on my mind for a while now. Thank you to the lovely person below for the request! I hope y’all enjoy. <3

Warning(s): None.

There’s no time in Bruno Bucciarati’s schedule for a relationship.

Growing up in the mob kept him focused on the ‘family’ that took him in. It was his purpose, and the only reason he was able to support his father as well as himself. Before he learned the truth of the organization’s operations, he felt a pride in even the… messier aspects of his work.

Eventually finding a disconnect between it and his own morals leaves an empty spot in his heart. A shame so deeply buried within him that even the members slowly joining his team know little of it how deeply it affects him.

He now goes on with his work as normal, all while feeling like a bit of a hypocrite. His heart feeling so betrayed it needs little to push him towards full betrayal on his part.

Surely, a relationship would only muddy the waters.

All the cute girls that wave to him as he passes by on the street… who of them would be able to take such baggage? How could he expect anyone to? He wouldn’t have it in him to willingly bring anyone into this lifestyle, if his reluctance to let Narancia join is anything to go by.

Barely an adult and already he’s responsible for a small handful of people. Though, that thought never crosses his mind, as he’s unfortunately felt like an adult for an unfair amount of time.

And despite his own inner turmoil over his position in Passione, he’s formed meaningful relationships through the members of his team.

He’s the connection that binds them together, the head of their group, and by proxy the head of their little family. The purpose that the organization originally gave him now lands on the shoulders of his motley crew.

It’s them that keeps him going in spite of it all.

He finds his heart still beating, still moved each time he brings someone underneath his wing. That alone is good enough for a man like him.

No… there’s no time in Bruno Bucciarati’s schedule for a relationship.

And so, with that thought constantly repeated in his mind, he didn’t at all bat an eye when your own need eventually brought you to Passione’s metaphorical doorstep.

In your mind, it must’ve felt like fate.

Reaching for assistance at lowest point, you were subtly pointed toward one Bruno Bucciarati.

You don’t know what you expecting from the mafioso. A degree of harshness or coldness, perhaps. Only to be greeted with a hearty meal and an understanding personality so moving you fell into the trap of the mob right then and there.

How could you hope not to? When all you saw in that moment was a pair of gentle blue eyes looking at you with unspoken empathy, allowing you to speak freely despite his status as a gang leader.

So when he gave you an offer, you could only accept with newfound vigor.

The next couple of days felt like a blur, a change to your very view of your own psyche is made when it is suddenly able to manifest something you soon knew to call a stand. It is life altering to you, yet mundane to Bucciarati.

That kept you grounded.

Exiting a prison, golden broach in your hand, there’s no pit in your stomach that usually occurs when you lie straight to someone’s face. You had looked up at Polpo- an impossibly intimidating capo -and told him a lie. Said you’d kept the lighter on for 24 hours, and he… took your word for it, creepily enough.

You’re observant, able to discern that you were never meant to actually keep the lighter on the whole time, that the goal all along was to acquire a stand.

Distantly, you remember telling yourself as you left the prison that you ought to grow accustomed to lying anyways.

You didn't chose the mafia to be a player in your future, but life hardly goes the way people want.

And lying to a man like Polpo really didn’t feel like it counted anyways.

Still, Bruno’s reaction to your own twisted priorities was a darkly comforting one. It made you feel better about the coming days ahead:

Bruno Bucciarati finds himself checking his watch a third time, standing just a few yards away from a prison’s main entrance. Not many people like to pass by the looming building, leaving him alone and not likely to be recognized by anyone- Passione member or not.

He sighs, This should not be taking this long.

There’s only so much he can check the area around him before he starts looking suspect. Not that there’s much hustle and bustle in the surrounding area to distract himself with. A familiar impatience bubbles within his stomach, one that only occurs when he’s about to introduce his team to a new member.

Well… hopefully.

Before he starts growing gray hairs, he hears the prison gate creak open. Turning his head, he finally notices your figure exiting the large entrance with prison guards escorting you.

A smile finds its way onto his face, a gesture you return as you approach him. Once the gate is closed, and the two of you are left without any watchful eyes, you subtly gesture with your arm. The action causes his attention to move towards your hand that shows off a little golden broach in your hand.

He gives a nod, and you don’t waste time before shoving the little piece of gold into your pocket. Just as you do, you halt your footsteps- now standing close enough to hold a casually quiet conversation.

Every one of your movements are noticed and dissected within his mind, something you clearly understand just by looking at your poised body language. That, or you’re still on alert from talking to Polpo.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to go in there myself,” he jests lightly, though there’s not much actual humor in his voice. “Afraid I’d find you there attempting to choke the capo out.”

“The thought didn’t cross my mind,” you reply, a trying smile playing on your lips. You appear much more collected than the day you first met him, a detail he’s glad to see. “That would be an awful first impression of my own loyalty, wouldn’t it?”

Ah, so either Y/n is simply that nervous, or Polpo’s words actually got to them. Bruno shakes the thought off, as the distinction is not worth dwelling over right at this moment.

“One of your new teammates was damn near close to trying to pull a stunt like that in the past-“ he doesn’t miss how your eyes brighten up at his roundabout way of welcoming you to his team. You joining it went without saying, but the subtle omission being enough to make you look so inspired is something he can already tell he’ll find endearing about your personality. “-But no matter… walk with me, please.”

You do as you’re asked, something Bruno does not care take note of.

It's the one part of your behavior he doesn't quietly run through his brain. It’s your first day after all, he’ll see in a weak how well you actually listen to him. His experience with the others has taught him as much.

“I do have to admit…” you speak up when he doesn’t, “Lying to him didn’t make me feel bad at all.”

He turns to you, something flickering in his gaze before he lets out a soft chuckle. His smile now seems a little less formal, and the amusement on his face looks more natural. “If that’s an omission of guilt, then you’ll be an interesting change of pace.”

“It is,” you admit, figuring there’s no need to put up a front for a man this observant, “Lying to someone is almost worse than killing them.”

“How do you figure?” Bruno raises an eyebrow, not batting an eyelid at your statement. Honestly, the first time the two of you met, your words were much more morbid.

“Well… lying leaves room for feelings to stir within me or the person of interest. It lets emotions fester inside of people. Killing stops all regrets or feelings of betrayal- stopping everything, you understand? That, I can live with. A bad mark on my heart I find more difficult to walk away from."

It’s no surprise he’s silent after that, but his hesitation does take you off guard.

Oh, god, was that too loose-lipped? It’s easy to feel comfortable around Bucciarati. Far too easy. He’s the type of man that makes people inclined to open up. You always talked casually before about macabre things. Isn’t that normal for a mafioso? What if-

“No need to be nervous, L/n; I’m already impressed by you. You’ll do well with us.”

Oh.

Something about his words, spoken so calmly without even looking over at you, have a calming effect to them. Just a week into knowing him, and already you’re slowly growing accustomed to his genuine yet subdued warmth.

As Bruno drones on about Passione and its systems- more specifically his duties that directly trickle down into being your duties -you can’t help but let your mind wander a little to a distinction you made when you first met him.

Bruno Bucciarati’s fundamentally different.

There’s a kindness to him you never would’ve expected from someone in a gang. It kept you nodding along as you spoke, and distantly you felt as though your entire future is in the palm of his hand.

And scarily enough, you were fine with that.

Him being a sort of exception was a thought you assumed yourself to be mad for making, at least, until you found out the others on the team noticed the exact same thing.

All while Bruno himself only looks at you and sees your potential to grow.

A place in his team… something that he’s always well-spotted. An intuition he’s not once been wrong with before, so there’s a degree of confidence there as well that rubs off on you.

You got his attention in a familiar way, and after you join the team, you’re his responsibility and his purpose- just as the others are.

He’s just your leader. Nothing more, nothing less.

That said, he grows to appreciate the genuine gratefulness you offer him in a… special way.

The others are thankful for him too, and he knows that fact, but it’s nice to here the sentiment so openly and often in nature. And in the tones of your voice, it’s especially calming.

He’s really just making excuses for himself, but it was early on enough where it was okay.

That’s what’ll first make Bruno truly see you as not only a member of his team, but a member of his little found-family. The not-so-subtle ways you show that you want to be with them and a part of what they do… how could he hope to not find that charming?

Your softer side, however you chose to express it, is never missed by a man like Bruno. He easily recognizes it, and almost immediately respects you for it.

Hell, after a while, he relies on you for it.

There’s little in his life that’s more grounding than a gentle expression, thick with anticipation, displayed on your face after each mission you’re not a part of.

You always check up on the returning members as soon as possible, making sure everyone is up and moving. “I won’t be able to relax unless I see for myself that you’re all okay,” he recalls you saying on the matter. The fact that it’s how you treat everyone on the team only makes the relaxing feeling sink in deeper.

It’s not long before he sees you as a genuine soul, and he’d consider himself to be a fool if he didn’t recognize that.

Since the very beginning, Bruno’s personality has touched you emotionally. And although he always saw a sort of spark in you, getting to really know you- becoming your friend in tantum with acting as your superior -allows him to see that little spark for what it actually is.

Genuine care for the people you’re close to. An eye for good natured people, and a responding gentleness. Couple that with a darker, more proactive role during missions or anything work-related, and Bruno finds himself falling back on you more than he’d care to admit.

The others, though? They have no hang-ups over mentioning it. It gets to a point where- specifically Fugo, Mista, and Narancia -start to complain about Bruno showing you a degree of ‘special treatment.’

Mista and Narancia’s complaining jabs are easily shot down with only a look, but Fugo proved to be a lot more serious about it.

To the extent to where an argument or two emerges between them. Fugo insistant in his observations, trying to get Bruno to at least admit he treats you differently than the rest. But Bruno remained headstrong, stubborn in his belief that he would always treat his subordinates equally.

He’s just your boss. Nothing more, nothing less.

In the months that pass, when you’ve since naturally found your place on the team, at what point did that start to be the common refrain playing in his mind?

At what point does he go from insisting he has no time for a relationship at all, to continuously having to remind himself he’s your boss?

And that question alone tugs at his heartstrings in a manner he’s not quite used to. It’s a delightful feeling, but it is foreign.

For a man like Bruno Bucciarati, it’s not so much a refusal to believe he could be developing feelings, but a worry if he should even do anything about the attraction.

That said, it does take him some time to realize his own feelings due to his position as a boss to you and out of sheer unfamiliarity with the subject.

He’s not too obvious as to receive knowing looks from the others whenever he’s around you (Which is often). Hell, Mista even admitted to him much later that Narancia didn’t even notice until Fugo told him to start paying attention.

And after a certain point, Bruno has to admit it to himself and does so with surprising ease. It may have taken some time, he may have been stubborn speaking with Fugo, but he won’t continue to lie to himself. He’s old enough to know when he needs to swallow his pride and admit Fugo was onto something, if only a little.

And after that point of realization, his own love language starts to naturally shine through a bit more.

Bruno generally prefers acts of service and quality time when showing his affection. Cheeky and openly flirtatious, you may have assumed he’s been in relationships before given his confidence.

He’s always had a special care for you when it comes to missions... but now he finds himself offering to help you with grocery shopping. Or paying for a maid to clean up your home when you’ve had a particularly busy week, and offhandedly mentioned needing to clean once.

What? You thought he would forget? That only makes him chuckle smugly, prompting him to lean to eye-level and ask you, “What kind of man do you think I am?”

It seems like he remembers everything that pours from your lips. Always listening to you intently, and never brushing you off.

And during down time, Bruno naturally finds himself preferring to spending it in your company. A lot. Preferably alone, thank you very much.

The two of you even began to start watching TV shows with one another. And neither of you would dare to watch ahead without the other. It’s usually true crime shows, comedies, or shitty soap operas.

All this time with you after realizing his feelings... and they only grow- to his personal panic. The more he stays at your side the more he would hate to ever leave it.

So this is what it's like... he remembers thinking while lounging around, and watching a movie with you one evening. This is.... what I’ve been missing my whole life.

As beautiful as the feeling you bring him is, should he... really do anything about it?

He can see that look in your eyes when it’s just the two of you, a gleam that speaks of an internal joy you’re not sharing with him just as he refuses to share with you.

He gets a sneaking suspicion that you like him the exact same way he’s grown to adore you. And Christ almighty- what’s he supposed to do with that?

Yet, even though you’re a part of Passione, meaning he needs not to stress over bringing you into something so dangerous unwillingly... he is still hesitant.

His care for you so often is expressed through worry, something he usually handles with authority and maybe even harsh words if he deems it necessary.

But this is far more personal, and he can only mull it over by himself. He’s not the type to bring it up to others, not even Abbacchio.

If he reached for you... and the two of you began something real; something official... it would be a no-brainer for enemies to target either of you in order to send some sort of message.

He can’t stand the thought of your broken heart, and absolutely refuses to think of something like that happening to you.

Then again, if a bit morbid, he eventually realizes the result would still be the same with the way things are now. Only, it’d be coupled with Bruno's deep regret over not having said anything to you.

He can only wonder if you’d feel the same, and at the end of the day, he really does think that would be the case.

And it’s around the time he’s fully digesting this, that you end up genuinely taking him aback. Acting before he can begin convincing himself to make the first move:

Giorno, Fugo, and Mista walk behind Bucciarati, looking up at him in silent awe.

If you were to look into each of their eyes, you could likely peace together what they’re thinking while looking upon the freshly appointed capo. Opportunity twinkles within their gazes, all coming from a sincere place of respect for their leader.

You, however, are not looking at them.

As Bruno approaches the rest of his team, anticipation turns into cheers and hollers of excitement from the others standing next to you. Abbacchio has the widest smile on his face you’ve seen since Giorno entered the picture, yet your gaze stays glued onto Bruno throughout the nearly youthful display of glee.

He’s noticeably silent and calm. It’s like there’s no off switch to him- likely already going through the duties now landing on his lap due to his promotion within his mind. He’s not going to want to take the night off, no doubt wanting to get down to business.

Your heart swells despite the slight strain on it. It’s so like him to be that way in a time like this, but… I can’t help but wish he’d celebrate… if only a little, you find yourself thinking.

“Mista… guys, please,” Bruno tries to calm the two (In all honesty, Giorno’s ‘celebrating’ amounted to simply smiling) excited boys walking beside him, waving his hand.

Mista goes on about how everyone must celebrate somehow, still lecturing as they finally approach and reunite with the rest of the group. His words go over Bruno’s head, however, a fond smile making its way onto his face when he turns to meet your gaze.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from him finally achieving the well-deserved position. Feeling so proud of him that your body jerks forward without thinking. Maybe it’s the excitement of everyone else rubbing off on you, and simply causes you to act without thinking.

All you do care to think as your feet move you right up to Bruno is, To hell with it. If he won’t start celebrating on his own; I’m making him celebrate.

Bruno opens his mouth to speak as you move well within his personal space, but is cut off by the swift movement of your hand tightly grabbing the collar of his jacket. One good tug of your arm and your pulling him toward you, lips meeting with his eyes widely open in surprise.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

Fugo’s exclamation, along with startled gasps from everyone else melt away the moment you feel Bruno melt into the kiss and reciprocate.

He follows your lead, gently sighing against your lips when you neglect to take your hand off his collar. His arms, which you’ve always found to be so comforting, snake around your waist. He keeps you securely in his hold, and your other hand flies to cup his jaw.

After a moment or two, the kiss breaks. Bruno looks at you as you pull away, eyes still wide and mouth gently agape. It’s enough to make you chuckle, seeing him so cutely taken aback by both your and his own spontaneous actions.

“Congratulations, capo,” you smoothly whisper, finally removing yourself from his hold. “You earned it.”

“I-… thank you, Y/n,” he responds softly, a smile growing on his face.

As much as you’d like to hold onto the gentle intimacy of the moment you just shared with him, movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. Shifting your gaze, you catch a glimpse of Fugo silently sliding some cash over to a smug-looking Abbacchio.

No… they didn’t…

“Did you-“ you breath, embarrassment beginning to boil inside your stomach and fuel the rising volume of your voice, “-Did you assholes bet on us!?”

“It’s Fugo’s fault for assuming Bucciarati would make the first move,” Abbacchio replies dryly, scoffing as if it’s beneath him.

“Excuse me!?” you and Fugo shout in tandem.

The team erupts in accusations and yelling, the celebration over nearly three minutes after it began. Bruno can only smile at his team, not expecting anything less.

And just like you moments ago, he cannot take his eyes off you.

It’s moments like those that serve as a reminder as to why it’s Bucciarati that leads the team.

Still… the smile playing on his lips that day did not falter once after your sudden display of affection. It was a beautiful, unexpected thing… much akin to how you entered his life.

The two of you were much closer after that event. Other members of Passione outside the team noticing another that’s always at the young capo’s side. Whispers and rumors flood Naples of your relationship… but he never pays them any attention.

He knows what the two of have, and he’s confident in saying that it’s love.

After all, all that matters to him is you staying at his side… even behind closed doors. He’s never experienced something like this before in his life, but now that he has you held in his arms, he never wishes to let you go.

[sunflowersinthedirt]

Dating Paul McCartney headcannons (60/64s).

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.

[bealtesharrisonmacca]

“Be quiet”

Paul McCartney x reader

Fem reader

Words: 2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N will take the other room.”

The others teasingly let out kissy noises and giggles.

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

“Well, there’s only one bed love”

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

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

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

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

~

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

“Fuck” you cursed to yourself.

“What’s wrong love?”

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

Paul smiled that smug smile he sometimes did.

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

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

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

“Okey okey, whatever you say love”

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

“You can sleep in this if you want.“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By now his erection was poking hard into you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t move” Paul demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sturn-saturn]

idk this tiktok gave me the same vibes for some reason

[givemequeen]

that one thing: george harrison x reader

request: Hi I really hope you’re still doing Beatles requests. You really, really don’t have to if it’s too weird, but could I request a George x reader fic where the reader is interested in his stomach? I really don’t mind if it’s fluff or smut; it’s up to you! Thank you for your time a/n: yes! i'm still doing Beatles request. i hope this was what you meant/wanted. lmk what you think!!

Everyone has that one thing they're into. Shoulders, legs, hips, lips... Granted, some are stranger than others, but everyone has at least one thing they're into that others might just not get. For you, it was George's stomach.

You couldn't remember when you started liking it so much or even why, but you loved it. He had always been a skinny guy however, in the recent years, he had started growing more into himself and had become more lean. He had also taken up running which had toned his stomach, maybe that had been when you had fallen in love with it. His skin was smooth, slightly tanned after holidays, and he had a line of dark hair leading down to his cock, basically an invitation.

You especially loved it when he'd reach for something and his shirt would ride up, exposing his stomach. Or when he'd take off a jumper and accidentally pull his shirt up too.

It was comfortable too. The perfectly spot to place your hand when you kissed or lay your head when you were tired.

You could stare at him and his stomach for hours. Which is why you loved going to the beach with him, absolutely loved the summer holidays. He didn't even have to be topless, he could be wearing an unbutton shirt that exposed his midriff and you'd still be over the moon.

Any situation that warranted a topless George and you were in.

So, when he told you he had planned a week-long trip to Greece for just the two of you, you quite literally squealed with excitement. He had rented out a boat and you'd be island-hoping. All you had heard was "Greece", "boat", and "island".

"Georgie, did you know Greece had has 6,000 islands and islets? Only 227 islands are inhabited." you said on the deck of the gorgeous boat George had rented, looking down at a travel book George had gotten back home for you.

"Really?" George said as he came out from cabin.

"Yeah, isn't that-" you looked up and your words caught in your throat. Your jaw dropped.

There, before you, stood George in all his glory. He was shirtless, only wearing stripped swimming shorts. He was looking off into the horizon, one hand shading his eyes from the beating sun, the other on his hip. The travel book in your hands slowly slid onto the ground.

You had seen him shirtless hundreds of times, especially in the last three days so you weren't sure why you were having this extreme of a reaction now. Maybe it was the way the sun shone on his chest, or how the sunscreen you forced him to put on (mostly so you could touch him) made him glisten in the sun. You weren't sure but something about him had you like this.

You quickly closed your phone before he could see - and tease - you and jumped up from your seat.

"Geo, love, I think it's time for some sunscreen." you said a little too quickly as you reached down to grab the bottle of sunscreen.

"What?" he said turning back to you. "No, you just put some on me."

But it was too late, you had already began lathering his stomach with sunscreen.

"Ah! That tickles." he laughed, pulling away.

You pulled him back to you, spreading your hand flat on his stomach and leaned up to kiss him. Your hand slid around his stomach and up to his neck. You pressed yourself flat against him.

"What's this all about?" he asked when you pulled away. "Not that I'm complaining." he added when you rose your brow at him.

"Nothing. Just happy to be with my lovely boyfriend." you said, your hands returning to his stomach.

He smiled down at you and planted a quick kiss on your lips.

"If that's all..." he said.

"Yeah, it is." you winked at him and walked away but just as you turned around, George reached out to smack your bum.

"Nice bum." he said, his voice light and cheeky.

I guess everyone had that one thing they liked.

[lick-me-lennon22]

Ringo X Touch Starved!Reader

(calling my touch-starved Ritchie enjoyers !! headcanons + drabble requested by anon 🌟 hope this is just what you needed ✨️)

Ringo is incredibly aware of how touch-starved you are

he makes it a point to offer small, comforting touches whenever and wherever he can

whether it's a soothing hand on your back or a gentle caress of your cheek, he always makes sure you know how much he loves and cares for you

he loves to hold you close when you're together, often resting his head on your shoulder while he presses his chest against your back, the warmth and closeness providing you comfort

Ringo finds these quiet moments of innocent physical intimacy deeply satisfying and sees them as essential to your bond

he loves to surprise you with spontaneous displays of affection, like a quick kiss on the forehead or a lingering hug, especially after a long day

above all, he needs you to know that he's attuned to your feelings and would do anything to see you happy and calm

☆☆☆

It was a lazy Sunday for you and Ringo.

Your shared kitchen was already awake with the scent of fresh coffee and the soft hum of morning activity, gentle rays of sunlight peering through the sheer curtains.

Ringo stood by the counter, preparing breakfast for two with an easy grace. You, still half-asleep, wandered in and leaned against the doorframe. Your eyelids were heavy, but your expression hopeful as you caught a whiff of fresh pancakes.

Ringo glanced over his shoulder, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"Morning, sleepyhead. Come here."

Without hesitation, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. You sighed, burying your face in his chest as he cradled you to him.

"I missed you," you murmured, your voice muffled but sincere.

Ringo's embrace tightened, and he pressed a soft kiss to your hair.

"I'm right here," he said softly. "Always."

He guided you to the kitchen table, gently seating you in a chair and placing a steaming mug of tea in front of you. You thanked him with a grateful smile.

He then returned to his work, effortlessly assembling you both a plate stacked with pancakes, syrup and all. He presented yours to you and sat with his own before reaching across the table, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Let me know if you need anything," he said, his eyes tender and attentive.

You smiled, your heart full. "Just you, Ritchie."

Ringo's eyes twinkled with affection, and he reached out to brush a thumb across your knuckles.

"Then you've got all you need."

[temozarela]

-> isn't it good, norwegian wood?

GETO X READER MDNI, slow burn, fluff, angst, smut, angsty geto, comfort, reader is kinda tired, plot

you and geto meet 6 years after his defection

WORD COUNT: 8.6k

TAGS: @sakuichan, @username23345

part 1

ao3 version

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You sat at your desk, staring blankly at the screen of your computer. You were supposed to be completing a report but the sun had long set and your brain refused to cooperate. Down-heartedly, you buried your head in your hands, stifling a yawn. Everything just seemed so… bad. Your hair was greasy, you were beginning to smell yourself through your deodorant and perfume, your coffee was cold, and you were the only person left in the office. Even Nanami had gone home 2 hours prior, leaving you to struggle over your half-finished report. Unfortunately for yourself and your coworkers, there has been an influx of curse users in Japan, meaning that your compulsory hours had been increased. At first you were delighted by the idea of some extra pocket money, but with all of the work you had been doing, there was no time to enjoy it. You knew it was getting worse too, you hadn't seen Gojo in a week and Shoko’s dark circles were deepening with every wave of injured sorcerers that washed up at her office. Of course, the higher-ups weren’t any help, so it had become the norm for you to wake up at 6am and return home at 10pm as you cracked down on the damages that the elders refused to assist with. This had been happening for a few months now, and you were exhausted. If it were any other situation, you’d request time off, but you knew that your coworkers would take on the burden if you didn’t. So there you were, fingers hovering over the keys as you tried to recount your hectic shift. It seemed so cruel, after stepping over so many dead bodies and dodging death countless times yourself, to be forced to relive it so soon. If they wanted to know what was happening, they could see for themselves. In fact, you’d welcome it. Maybe then, they’d dish out the work a bit more ethically.

You blinked slowly, attempting to force a rise of energy inside of you. You didn’t want to fall asleep at work again. Somewhere in the background, rain pattered against the windows. Shit. You reluctantly glanced at your screen, squinting at the brightness in contrast with the dark room. Realistically, you knew that you weren’t going to get anything else done that night, but you also knew that if you didn’t do it then, you would have to do it later. You groaned, wanting to slam your head against your desk more than anything. Tomorrow. You’d do it tomorrow. If you went home then and had a decent sleep, you’d be more motivated tomorrow. That’s what you told yourself. You were more than happy to turn the computer off and pack up your belongings. More and more, you were glad that you commuted by train, because the naps you took then were sacred, driving would’ve pushed you over the edge.

Arriving home looked like throwing your shit on the floor and staring blankly at the fridge, realising you were supposed to shop for groceries that day. Tomorrow you were headed into the countryside to check out suspicious activity, there was no way you’d be able to get your shopping done then. Usually you did city missions, but you were covering for the students. God knows they were doing too much as well. You sighed. There were enough ingredients for you to cook a meal, but you were so tired right now… you could go without… just for one night. Some nights you didn’t even change out of your clothes and you had given up on makeup a while back. At this point, your home felt like it was only your bed. Your TV, speakers, sofas, and books had gone untouched for so long, you’d be surprised if they weren’t blanketed with dust by now. You showered, of course, but it seemed like a mere blink before your body hit your bed. Sleep didn’t rest you anymore, but it was some sort of break in the chaos of your life. At the very least, you were happy to have that.

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The commute into rural Japan was pleasantly silent. It relaxed you to watch the swaying meadows roll past, the white splodges of sheep like a stroke of oil paint as the train hurtled past. You vaguely registered one or two others on the other side of the carriage, you remembered the monk especially. To your knowledge, it was your first time seeing a monk in public. Initially, the journey had been like any other: salesmen upon salesmen, and then a few. Each figure amongst the shuffling mass clad in a suit and tie, dark hair brushed back, and mouths set in a practised line between grey, hollow cheeks as they scrutinised each other through their furrowed eyebrows like some sort of Kubrick character. As the familiar robotic voice announced the train’s arrival at the city-centre, an encore of clicking shoes and soft whines of swinging briefcases played in a harsh crescendo, the piece hitting its chorus as the doors opened, and the salesmen poured out like river water through a broken dam. After that, it was quiet. On a weekday morning, not many were heading into the middle of nowhere, but it made sense to you that a monk might. The other man looked like a foreigner, so that wasn’t widely suspicious to you either, though you might have considered it further had you slept more the previous night. After an hour or so, your eyelids fluttered shut and you began to drift in and out of sleep, the beginnings of gentle conversation between the few other passengers barely registered by you, their low voices becoming incomprehensible as they were drowned out by the ambience of the train. Perhaps, if you had been more alert, you would have noticed that they were heading to the location of the investigation. Maybe, if you had realised that, you would have listened closer and overheard the utterance of a very familiar name. However, the world around you was in limbo, your drowsiness dosing your nerves in soothing honey as your eyelashes rested against your warm cheeks. Sleep was euphoric. It had become such a relief to you that you had abandoned any hopes of seeking pleasure through strangers or potential romantic interests, the effort of understanding and compromising was exhausting in itself and your mind still hadn’t gotten over your teen fling. You thought about it sometimes, the potential to reunite with him, but every year it seemed more and more impossible. Since he left, your coworkers relied on you more and watched you with the underlying concern that one day you would slip through their fingers. Although, another reason lingered at the back of your head. It had been 6 years, did he even still want you? You told others that you had moved on, but he waited at the back of your mind, tapping his foot impatiently. He appeared in your dreams as a looming shadow, only recognisable through the kind smile it bore. You also saw him sometimes in the faces of others, their dark eyes making you stop in the headlight of their stare- so close, yet so different to the expression you could love. Besides those torturous reminders, what you could remember of him was hazy, in fact you barely remembered what he looked like. That didn’t stop you from missing him, however. You remembered the comfort he once brought you. Perhaps that was what you missed most, more than his body or charm.

You blinked hazily as the train approached your stop. Lethargically, you reached for your bags, pulling them over your shoulder as you stepped off into the station, distantly followed by the other two passengers from your carriage. You winced as you finally made it outside, light rain beginning to fall from the greying sky. However, it was fulfilling to inhale the fresh air- much fresher than the air at Shibuya station- as you rushed to your taxi, and drove towards the investigation site which, today, was an abandoned hospital. Before your arrival, you instantly knew there was something wrong. It wasn’t unusual that the area was void of human life, after all, it wasn’t near any residential areas. Sure, it wasn’t particularly unusual that the plantation was yellow and clearly overgrown either. However, two of the windows on the second floor had been shattered, which wasn’t particularly unusual by itself, but the broken shards were littered below the outside of the building, rather than the inside. See, that was unusual. It had been broken from inside. Someone had needed to escape. Fast. Discreetly. There were fire exits left, right, and centre- as you’d expect from a hospital- it was strange that someone would choose to evacuate from a window on the second story. You knew it must have been an ugly building, even before it was neglected, the dull boxiness of the hospital seeming like the kind of brutalist hellscape you’d find in a post-Soviet city. The upper edges of the building were blackened by the weather, and the only visible colour could be found in the yellowed blinds which clattered and trembled behind the savaged windows. Your wary gaze found a half-filled syringe containing ominous orange liquid, discarded in the mud. It made sense since it was a hospital… but when you really thought about it… how did it end up there? It looked like this place had been practically untouched since its closure which was… probably around 10 years ago…

A shiver ran down your spine.

If the curse had anything to do with needles, you wouldn’t hesitate to turn around, you decided.

You hadn’t really been given clear instructions, in fact, you weren’t given much more than a place and a time. With a glance at your watch, you noted that you were 5 minutes early as planned, so it made some sort of sense to why you couldn’t see the window you were supposed to be meeting. It was only meant to be a quick chat to fill you in on the details before you looked for yourself, but you had assumed they may have arrived a little early anyway. Apparently that wasn’t the case, so you waited in the rain, feet planted in the overgrown grass and shivering as cold droplets trickled down your neck. The next time you checked your watch, it was the time of the meeting, and there wasn’t a single person in sight. Momentarily, you considered venturing inside. Maybe something had happened to them. You glanced around. The guy couldn’t have gotten lost, could he? It’s a pretty obvious landmark.

10 minutes late.

You were getting restless. And drenched.

The window could wait, you were heading inside.

The front door was unlocked, most likely in anticipation of your visit, and you walked into what you assumed had once been the reception. Everything was so… grey. You could tell that at one point, they had made an effort of decorating with bright colours, but years of neglect had sucked out the life like a backstreet dentist, leaving everything the same dull grey; not to discount the slight variations such as grey-with-a-hint-of-mustard-yellow and grey-but-slightly-pink-but-it’s-mostly-grey-who-are-you-fooling. It stank of wet paper and what you prayed wasn’t asbestos, as well as a lingering trace of chemicals. The mould was a delightful pop of colour however, adding a daring element of almost-grey-but-green onto the aged, pale wallpaper. You grimaced, seriously considering whether the window had been organised to hand over a hazmat suit and a Bible before you gave your life to spilled cleaning agents and an undiscovered fungus. Perhaps they’d name it after you when you died. It was the least they could do, really.

After you journeyed up the dark stairs, you approached the operating rooms, and a wash of dread doused you like cold water. Whatever it was, you were close to it. Very close.

Because of your distinct lack of briefing, you barely knew who or what you’d be facing. There was a growing feeling that you recognised something, whether it was the cursed energy signature from the imminent threat or the familiar arms of your creator, it sparked a powerful reaction in your gut. You squinted, trying to make out the outline of the doorway using the little daylight that reached the corridor. You couldn’t help but notice how it was shockingly tidy. Sure, it was fucking disgusting, but everything was in its right place, tucked away by the ghostly hands of a nurse one decade ago. For some reason, it made it all the more terrifying. You stopped in front of the door, attempting to breathe through the suffocating pressure of whatever was beyond the door. It really was familiar, but it was too powerful for you to focus on it. It was like trying to fight a court trial whilst being waterboarded, and you weren’t entirely sure you could do it in normal conditions anyway, but you definitely couldn’t whilst partially submerged in liquid. You knew that for sure. The sheer amount of cursed energy seeping through the cracks of the door was headache-inducing. You gritted your teeth.

It was disastrously clear, then. Whatever or whoever was on the other side of the door was not your intended opponent. This mission should’ve been a field trip for you. This, however. This was a Gojo-level enemy. Not as strong, of course, but it lay somewhere in the gaping gap between the strongest grade 1 sorcerer and Gojo himself. Needless to say, it was too strong for you. You could accept that fact easily. In all honesty, your pride had left you the moment you entered the hospital.

Slowly, you backed away from the door, eyes fixed on the source of the outrageous cursed energy signature. It was consuming, the same way smoke engulfs a room. Your breaths were shallow and your limbs felt numb, you were probably shaking too, but you knew it would be ok if you kept your existence unknown and made a nimble escape. As dull light began to assist your vision, relief filled you. You were almost out. A few more steps and you’d be back in the stairwell. Then you could run.

Except you couldn’t. Because your back had hit a wall. A wall that hadn’t been there before.

You looked left, then right.

No… there definitely… shouldn’t be a wall behind you…

Oh, God.

“Are you the window?” you nervously grinned at nobody in particular. You were staring too, wide-eyed at the dark corridor before you, well-aware of your hands shaking, “You’re awfully late, you know…”

“My apologies.”

“Ha…”

The sound of a smooth, human voice was somewhat of a relief to you.

You could talk your way out of this one.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for this for a very… long… time...”

…Or maybe you couldn’t.

Inwardly you groaned, wanting to cry, “Fancy being a good Samaritan and forgive me for my sins?” you tried. It was always worth preaching kindness to your potential murderer in what could very well be your final moments. They didn’t teach that at school, but it must’ve worked at least once before, right?

“Enlighten me.” The person- a man- behind you sounded stiff.

“I dunno,” you smiled weakly, “It might seem difficult to believe but… there could be a few people who’d have a bone to pick with me right now.”

The man behind you hummed in thought, “I’m shocked.”

“Really?” Since you started working more hours, you’d dealt with countless curse users. It’d be a surprise to you if there wasn’t a request for your bounty for you on some dodgy website. As much as you’d love a copy of your own ‘DEAD OR ALIVE’ poster to frame, the ‘ALIVE’ part terrified you. Unfortunately, being a wanted person wasn’t quite the honour that Luffy made it out to be.

“No.”

You scowled. In response, the man’s voice rang out behind you, “You don’t recognise me?”

“Aww,” you turned your head slightly to grin over your shoulder, “Did you think you were special? I’m sorry if I didn’t make it clear that we weren’t gonna be exclusive.”

Suddenly you were being spun around.

“Are you sure that you don’t recognise me?”

You blinked.

You blinked twice.

That voice…

“Holy shit.”

The man looked at you in the dark.

“You’re that monk from the train.” …No… you knew him...

The man’s grip on you tightened, “Come on...”

You winced, “Is that… not it?” When he didn’t reply, you partially disregarded your fear in lieu of guilt, leaning closer to squint at him, “I can’t really see, sorry...”

“Oh, hang on-”

No, you definitely recognised him… buried deep in your subconscious… somewhere…

“Holy shit.” you exclaimed.

“Geto?”

Exasperated, Geto looked down at you.

“Obviously.”

“Sorry.” you smiled, sheepishly, “You wouldn’t have happened to see a window around here, would you?”

Geto’s frowned, “There never was one, it was a set-up.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to intercept the students… but you’re here instead.” You cringed.

Man, he’s pissed…

“Geeze, sorry.” you drawled.

It was strange seeing him again. Truthfully, you had no idea how to act around him. You still couldn’t see him very well, but the glistening gold silk on his robes made him shine like a heavenly figure, though considering his criminal record… he probably wouldn’t be an angel.

There were better places to run into your teen crush-turned-serial killer.

“There’s a special grade curse in there.” you pointed to the operating room you’d just backed away from.

Geto looked at you strangely, “I know, I put it there.”

Of course.

“Seriously?” you muttered, embarrassed, “Almost gave me a heart attack, you know…”

An awkward silence arose between the two of you. You had planned your reunion with him countless times when you were younger. Out of the hundreds of different scenarios, none of them started like this.

“I… um…” you scratched the back of your neck, “Wanna go outside? It’s just… it’s dark in here… I can’t, you know…” you cleared your throat, “I can’t see you.”

“It’s raining.” Geto replied dubiously, watching you as if he expected something,

You raised an eyebrow, “You scared or somethin’?”

Geto snorted, “Of course not, excuse me for not wanting to get soaked.”

“Right.” you’d forgotten about the rain, it wasn’t difficult to believe that it had gotten heavier than before, “We can sit in the reception if you don’t mind getting mesothelioma.”

“It’s not exactly ideal,” Geto sighed, “but sure that works.”

You wanted to slap yourself for the awkwardness between the two of you, but there was something about it which reminded you of your fondness for Geto. That was it, wasn’t it? The fact you were always able to be a social disaster around him was what initially drew you to him. He was patient, but not pitiful. Truthfully, sometimes he was even worse than you.

He followed you to the bottom floor as you headed towards the front door. Once you were outside, you turned to get a proper look at him. True, he was recognisable, but he had changed so much in these last years. Notably, Geto’s face had slimmed, emphasising the sharp angle of his cheekbones and the hollowness of his cheeks. He was less of a boy now, and if you hadn’t known him beforehand, he would’ve intimidated you. His hair was longer too, the strands framing his face reached the peak of his nose whilst the rest touched his lower back. Geto’s eyes were exactly how you remembered them though; deep and pensive. He had the kind of resting expression which made you second guess yourself when you suggested something. It had always seemed that with every casual, self-deprecating joke, Geto was analysing it, carefully peeling the fragile layers of the satirical overtones to expose your innermost vulnerabilities. To many, it was unnerving. Any casual comment intended to pull a negligent laugh from others received a dark, analytical look from Geto. That’s how it had always been, and it’s why you had taken a liking to him. Often, you couldn’t find the confidence to admit to distress or insecurity, but Geto always knew. He knew from the way you would chastise yourself for the smallest mistakes, and the fact you’d stop talking when you were overwhelmed. You didn’t have to say anything, and that was a relief to you. Geto knew. You wondered if he knew how you were feeling now- you sure didn’t.

“Are you ok?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed. He was always difficult to read but he just looked at you. He wasn’t glaring, he wasn’t staring, he was just… looking. You watched him expectantly. “Geto?” you pressed. Geto didn’t respond, at least verbally. He just looked moderately pained, as he once did when he’d linger in the morgue with Shoko. His eyes flickered from you to the ground, almost… shyly? Was he shy?

“I was waiting for you.” Geto muttered, “You never came.”

Oh. Yeah.

Nevermind.

The honeymoon of your reunion ended with the clanging of a guillotine over cupid’s head. Inside of you, a small, childish hope had foolishly sprouted, praying that he’d be understanding. You cringed as you felt it shrivel up in the deepest depth of your gut, the blossoms blackening and ripping as it rotted within you.

“You act like your defection didn’t permanently scar the jujutsu society.” Geto raised his eyebrows, “Yes, it did.” you pressed before he could protest, “I couldn’t leave, even if I had wanted to. Yaga and Gojo wouldn’t let me out of their sight.”

And just like that, you were arguing.

“Did you even try?” he scoffed.

You groaned, “Believe it or not, Geto, becoming the housewife of a wanted criminal isn’t quite on my agenda. In fact, because of you I have more work to do than ever. We all do.”

“Just because everyone else is willing to suffer a poor job doesn’t mean you have to in order to save them.” Geto narrowed his eyes.

“Sure, but some don’t have a choice.” you challenged, “Remember Gojo?”

Geto scoffed, “Remember Satoru? Of course I do.” It was a low blow, you realised, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to feel guilty. “Who do you think I am?” he asked, voice low and hurt.

You shifted, awkwardly, “You left him to suffer.”

“He’s suffering?” Geto’s tone dulled.

You didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry, “You thought he wouldn’t?” a pause. “Well,” you added, quietly, “I don’t know if he’s realised it yet but… yeah, he is.”

“Oh.” Geto’s lips thinned, offence flashing in his narrowed gaze, “Why would you tell me that?” he muttered, flinching backwards as if your words had punctured him like a misfired bullet.

“You wanted to know why I didn’t join you. That’s why.” You looked away, failing to grasp for words that would just fix things between you, “Well, that amongst other reasons…” You didn’t want to explain your own turmoil and struggles. Love didn’t equate to trust. You loved his touch and who he was, but you couldn’t trust the man in front of you to hear you and react fairly. It was all too predictable, and you feared that if you told him, your instincts would be proven. Sure, he’d always been cunning and sly, but also… manipulative. The word struggled to materialise in your brain, your subconscious trying to sugarcoat it as ‘intelligence’ and ‘caring’ in its reluctance to face his change.

His upset gaze softened, “Other reasons?”

You shook your head, “It’s not important right now.”

“I’d beg to differ.” Geto argued, “I have a right to know.” He was pushing you, testing you, even. You weren’t in the right headspace for this, you were so tired… so, so tired…

“You have no such right,” you scoffed, “but I apologise that you weren’t prepared for the consequences of your own actions.” A tense moment passed and you sighed, “If it helps, I wasn’t either.”

It was a poor attempt at softening the blow of your unfiltered words, but it wasn’t untrue. Betrayal pinched and poked at the supple flesh of your heart. You needed to realise it but… it wasn’t that easy. “No,” Geto stepped towards you, “It doesn’t.”

“Pity.” you rolled your eyes.

The dry remark left your lips before you could stop yourself. Geto froze. The silence that followed weighed on your shoulders, guilt creeping up on you.

“I’m sorry.” you murmured, “I shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up.”

The crawling discomfort at your own insincerity grasped your shoulders with heavy talons, the needle-sharp fingertips grazing your gentle skin, teasing your raw skin as blood threatened to bead in their wake and flow.

“It’s fine.” Geto said, stiffly.

You groaned internally, it all felt so childish. For a fleeting moment, you questioned the boy you once knew. Was Geto the boy who’d read with you on those humid summer nights, or was he the unsettling murderer in front of you?

“I wasn’t expecting you to keep to your promise.” he added, bluntly.

“I mean, I was 17,” you agreed carefully, “I had no idea what the future would hold. Neither did you.”

It was a lifeline, the final one you could spare. You could only beg that Geto would catch it with splayed hands.

Geto looked at you with scrutiny, “That’s true.”

It was enough. You could work with this.

You watched him warily, nodding slowly.

“Was it worth it?” Geto asked, seemingly more neutral.

Was it worth it?

“I don’t know.” You replied, honestly, “Things could be better.”

Geto stepped forward, putting his hand on your shoulder, “Then come with me. If things are worse, go back and I’ll take the blame.”

All too forward, predictable and exactly what you feared.

“…if you want to,” he added a second too late.

With narrowed eyes, you ignored him, instead choosing to glance around the clearing, noting the same emptiness as before. Geto didn’t move, his hair starting the curl as rain drenched the two of you. His hand on your shoulder started to feel heavy as he squeezed you gently, letting the presence of his reluctant affection be known, despite his hard stare. What could you do? You were still as unsure as you were 6 years ago about joining him.

“Where are you staying?” you asked, the action of your head cocking allowing cold droplets to trickle down the side of your neck. You regretted it instantly. Perhaps a change of environment would help things. Perhaps it’d help you understand.

“Not far from here.” Geto responded monotonously.

“I’d like to come over.” you tried, “Not for long.”

He nodded to himself, “Ok.”

Then he spared you a small smile and your heart leaped with the first and only genuine affection he’d shown you since you’d reunited.

That was him. That was Geto, right there. It wasn’t much, but you revelled in what you had.

You inwardly sighed, tiredly.

Maybe, just maybe, the two of you would get there in the end.

As you journeyed to his home, which really was in the middle of nowhere, you sat side by side in what was mostly silence. The two of you talked too, dropping shallow comments about your lives and complaints about the overly-touchy couple on the other side of the carriage as you took the train a few stops further out. More and more, Geto seemed like himself, even if the progress was minuscule. It was something. If anything, hope thumped in your chest- naive hope albeit, but hope nonetheless. After a while, you finally approached his home. It looked small, yet lived-in. Outside, rows of vegetation orbited the building, as well as trees bearing fruit in various stages of ripeness.

“The girls are out, I’m afraid.” Geto called behind his shoulder as he unlocked the door, holding it open for you.

“Girls?” you inquired as you walked in, “Daughters or hostages?”

Geto laughed quietly, “Daughters.”

“You got a chick pregnant?” your response was paired with the twitch of your lip and the stutter in your step. You knew it was hypocritical, the sinking disappointment, you chastised yourself for feeling it… however...

The door clicked behind him and you heard his footsteps stilled behind you, “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” you replied, shortly.

“C’mon.”

You turned to look at him, blankly.

“Of course not.” Geto rolled his eyes.

You blinked, “Oh.”

“They’re adopted.” The way Geto said your name afterwards was in disbelief, “I told you I waited, didn’t I?”

“You may have mentioned it,” you sniffed, “yes.”

Geto raised an eyebrow, “You’re unbelievable,” he walked past you, brushing your shoulder as he did so, “you’re seriously more butthurt by that than the fact I murder people?”

“Ok?” you felt your cheeks burn, “And what if I am? I have priorities, Geto.”

He turned to look at you, his eyes boring into yours, “So, your priorities are… what, exactly?

“Um…” You scratched the back of your neck, “Nothin’” you waved your hand dismissively with a strained grin. “None of your business, really.” you rambled, searching desperately for some sort of a reaction, “You could use it against me, y’know? It’d be very dangerous if I told you.”

Geto looked at you strangely, “…Right.”

He was supposed to smile… or laugh… or do something at the very least, not just… walk past you…

You wanted to press rewind and try this all again.

You wanted to go home.

After a lost moment, you followed him helplessly. It was a simple home. There was more evidence of life there than there was at your home, you knew that for sure. Drawings that were clearly drawn by an adolescent hand were woven throughout the decorations, depicting a family of three. It was clear that they were close. You felt left out. It seemed you had missed out on so much. Maybe Geto was right, maybe this was a better life. It still didn’t remove your responsibility in the shaman world, but Gojo’s students were the strongest they’d seen in years, right? Maybe you were allowed this. Maybe you were allowed to welcome your lover as they walked through the door in the evening, embracing them softly. Maybe you could have this life. It seemed completely out-of-touch, you couldn’t just leave. You knew that. However… something was stopping you.

Geto led you to his kitchen, pouring you a glass of water.

“Oh?” you took the glass from him with a small smile.

Geto pushed it into your hands, “Don’t tell me you’ve miraculously stopped being so dehydrated since we last talked.”

He had a point, to be fair.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You took a sip of the cool water, “I don’t think I’ve had pure water for around 48 hours…” you murmured absentmindedly, the rim of the glass pressed against your lower lip as you spoke, your breath fogging up the glass.

Geto grimaced, “Shouldn’t you be taking care of yourself? You’re not a teenager anymore.” he looked at you, clearly unimpressed, “I just hope your diet is faring better.”

“You’d think, right?” you watched his lips thin.

Geto muttered your name under his breath, “Seriously?”

“Been too busy.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

You hummed pensively, “Good question.”

The way Geto spoke your name this time was dull, his eyebrows furrowed. You took a sip of water.

“Fine, I’ll cook you something now,” he turned his back on you, “do you still like spicy food?”

You watched as he gathered ingredients and boiled a pot of water. It was a shy wash of comfort, being back in his presence like this. Lord knows how long it had been since someone last took care of you. The rising smell of fresh vegetables seemed almost foreign to you at this point. Whilst the noodles were cooking, Geto disappeared momentarily as he changed into a baggy t-shirt and trousers. There he was, he was more like the man you remembered. Less tired, perhaps, though maybe you had taken on that burden in exchange. You didn’t speak as you idly sipped on the water, feeling like a small child as he cooked the first proper meal that you would eat in ages. He hummed softly as he mixed the broth, it was something you hadn’t seen him do before. His voice was low, almost inaudible, as he repeated the melody of a song you knew he loved…

What was it…?

Geto’s humming turned to soft singing as he stirred the broth.

…Isn’t it good?

Norwegian wood…

Oh, now you remembered it.

…She asked me to stay,

And she asked me to sit anywhere…

You hadn’t heard that song for years, not since he left. Geto used to play music as he cooked, ambling around the kitchen as he hummed to himself. You remembered how Gojo used to tease him about his ‘old man’ music. You did too. Affectionately, of course. It seemed so long ago, how you’d all linger in the doorway, despite his questionable music taste, hoping to grab a bite of whatever he was cooking. You forgot how good of a cook he was, you were looking forward to your meal.

As he cooked, the songs changed, ranging from ones you remembered to what you guessed were newer additions. When Geto began dishing up the food, he gestured for you to sit in the living room. And so you did, settling onto a sofa as you eagerly anticipated your meal. After a moment, he sat down opposite you, placing the bowl on the coffee table in front of you with a gentle tap.

You felt the warmth of the steam below your chin as you picked the bowl up.

“None for yourself?” you asked before experimentally sipping the broth.

It was as good as you remembered, you gladly noted.

Geto shook his head, “I already ate.”

“Ah.” you took a mouthful of noodles, “Makes sense.”

You ate in what was mostly stiff silence, interrupted by a few passing comments about the food or your lives. Out of the corner or your eye, you noticed Geto watching you, head resting on his hand. His lips were tugged into a pensive frown, his gaze gentle yet lost, as if a whirlwind of thoughts happened to be storming in his mind. Had you been less tired, maybe you’d be doing the same. Right now, however, you were enjoying some warm, hearty home cooking. Overthinking could wait, you were hungry.

“What will you do when you’re done here?” Geto asked suddenly, voice raised.

You swallowed your mouthful, studying him carefully, “Huh?”

“You would be less overworked if you reported me, so will you?”

What kind of question was that?

“I’m not gonna do that,” you swirled the noodles through the broth absentmindedly, “Though I do have a question…”

Geto raised an eyebrow.

“Assuming I don’t report you, I’ll be neutral,” slowly, you sat back, watching him, “Taking that neutrality assumes the side of the oppressor, then who do I side with?”

He sighed, “Me. Probably. That’s what you think, right?”

“Is it?,” your fingers drummed against the armrest, noting his tone like a pinch of salt mixed into a pot of honey, “Does that make Gojo the oppressed?”

“Going by that logic, yes,” he replied, too easily.

You took another mouthful, suddenly grateful for the distraction of eating, “And I?”

“Shooting yourself in the foot,” Geto said after a pause, “to you.”

“To me?” you echoed quietly, “I guess.”

“Still going to protect me?” Geto’s lip twitched as he watched you, ever-so carefully.

“I guess.” you repeated. The last thing you needed from him was a rivalry, you were initially hoping for a truce of some sort but the void darkness in his eyes drained the last hope you had. “I’m not here for justice or to solve anything, I’m here for money, mostly.”

Geto snorted shortly, “No different to the rest, then.”

“I guess not.” you chose to ignore the sting behind his words.

The two of you settled into waves of rumbling quiet as you finished your food. Geto seemed somewhat more distracted as he began to hum again, almost inaudible to you this time. You missed this- him, even. Despite the obvious, he held some sort of familiarity to you that not many did- now that you savoured. The two of you came together as you tried to fit together again, pushing and pulling at each other like oil and water.

“Y’know,” you placed the bowl down, “you’re acting all strange.”

Geto grinned, thinly, “Am I?”

“You are,” you couldn’t help but match his expression, “you know it too.”

His smile widened like the Cheshire cat, “Do I?”

“You do.”

A second of silence lugged by like a three ton truck.

“I missed you, Geto.”

The rain knocked against the windows gently, beading like crystals in front of the puffs of smoky black clouds consuming the sky. The lack of sunlight meant the room became darker too, the dim light doing little to relieve the gloominess of the bad weather. Outside, a wind chime rattled with the gust of the temperamental wind. Inside, the soft tapping of Geto’s fingers against the wooden table paused, leaving the ticking of the clock to slice through the ambient howling and tapping of the weather against the walls. Inside of you, however, your heart and brain played a tentative game of tug of war. You just did something big.

Like, really fucking big.

Well… not really, but nobody had told that to Geto, evidently, suggested by the way he gasped at you almost comically, eyebrows arched.

“I also like you, so if you wouldn’t mind fishing out the astronomical log up your ass, I’d like to have a conversation with you about it.”

Geto coughed, “Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Ok.”

You looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

“You didn’t even try to reach out to me.” he started, bluntly. “You didn’t try to find me. None of you did.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling very unprepared.

Geto continued, “I’m not even upset that you didn’t come with me, you just didn’t tell me.” you nodded, mind racing.

“I couldn’t.” you replied.

“And that’s the worst bit,” His lip twitched as he looked away, “I can’t even be mad at you for it. You were just protecting yourself-”

“And you.”

Geto blinked.

“I was being tracked.”

Geto’s lips parted slightly.

“Same reason Gojo and Shoko didn’t come to you,” you told him, “Gojo knows where you are, he has done since the day he found out you left.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Geto.”

“I mean,” Geto coughed, “It’s fine I guess, but-”

“Not for that,” you rushed, gaining an unimpressed look from the man opposite you, “I’m sorry that things happened this way. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you when you were spiralling. I’m sorry that there was nobody there for you when you left.” you took a deep breath, “I wasn’t the person you needed me to be, though I’d like to be. If you’ll let me.”

Geto studied you, pensively, “Does that mean you’re staying?”

You winced, “I’m not leaving you again.” you offered. You weren’t quite ready to admit to yourself that you were leaving home. Not yet, anyway. “I’m not doing any of the murdering though, you can do that.” you grimaced.

After a pause, Geto laughed.

“Ok.” His gaze was warmer than it had been, more open, “I’d love that.”

“Murder? Yeah I figured.” you muttered despite yourself.

Geto simply laughed harder. He really was a sight for sore eyes. The way he smiled, the way he looked away when he smiled, the way his hair fell over his face when he shook too much… God, you-

“I missed you too.”

Your mind went black.

Oh, you had told him, hadn’t you? And he felt the same way. Surely there was a logical conclusion to this.

You stood and moved to sit next to him. Then you leaned towards him, noticing the way he flushed at the proximity.

“Can I?” your hands hovered in front of you as you moved to touch him.

He nodded.

Your hands tentatively reached to cradle the sides of his face, thumbs gently rubbing circles into the curve of his jaw. Geto’s hands moved to cover yours as he watched you, wide eyed.

“Can we? I’ve wanted this for so long… Just- trust me, ok?” you whispered, stumbling over your words, your voice low. He nodded faintly before his eyes flashed with indescribable emotion.

“Ok.” Geto sighed, almost inaudibly to you.

You smiled, “Ok.”

As you withdrew your touch, your fingertips lingered on his skin, grazing the surface of his soft, olive cheeks. He tilted his head as you moved, chasing your warm palms.

“Can I kiss you… Suguru?”

You saw him stiffen as his name rolled off your tongue. Geto blinked at you before the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a grin. In place of a verbal response, he mimicked your earlier actions, taking your head into his palms. His touch was gentle, yet firm as he guided your face towards his. The feeling of Geto’s warm breath on your smiling lips made you buzz with anticipation, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering as you itched towards the sweet nectar of his mouth. He met you in the middle, fingers threading through your hair as he ever-so gently scratched your scalp with his blunt nails. You sighed, content, eyelashes fluttered close against your hot cheeks. It was a nostalgic kiss, a loving one, not the same heated one you shared so long ago. As your lips moved against one another’s, you were fixated on the lingering heat of his body, craving it like an addict for the mere seconds the two of you parted for air.

As soon as Geto urged your lips open with the swipe of his tongue, you knew you weren’t going back.

The desperately intimate movements of your tongues became hypnotic: rubbing, prodding, tangling. Your hands had slipped round his neck, your chest pressed against his torso. When you parted, you buried your head in the crook of his neck, lips pressed against the flushed skin as you panted. Above you, Geto gently stroked your hair, playing with the soft strands as you both gave yourselves time. You weren’t teenagers anymore, you couldn’t jump into something so intense without the knowledge that there was definitely an unwavering mutual understanding between the two of you. Slowly, you pulled away, looking up at him with wide eyes. The hand in your hair moved to brush the stray hairs away from your face, tucking them neatly behind your ear.

“Are you ok?” Geto murmured, leaning into you so that his lips hovered millimetres away from your cheek. The proximity, whilst lustful on the surface, carried more depth than you could comprehend. The weight of his hands, his lips, his voice, his words, were like bricks in your pockets, pulling you impossibly deeper into the encompassing aura of - just him. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was in particular that pulled you to him, realistically you knew it was a mixture of the history you shared and the absence you’d endured, but it was overwhelming and not enough all at once. Maybe it’d be a while until the trust you’d once shared would be recovered. Maybe it never would be. The consequences of your assumptions and his isolation could haunt you together. His radicalisation, your indecisiveness… maybe you were a lost cause, but the way hummed so soothingly as you nodded your affirmation doused your doubts immediately. He kissed you again, harsher this time, his grip on you tighter as he held you with desperation. You knew then, if you left now, you were never to be forgiven. But if you stayed... If you stayed, he’d never let you go.

Each touch rolled into another like the crashing of waves. Your shirt had been discarded by the fireplace a while ago, leaving Geto to revise the curves and contours of your torso with his left hand, fingers dipping into the hollows of your ribs and splaying over the small of your back. The whole time, he watched you, eyebrows pinched and mouth frowning in thought as he traced the tempestuous dark circles below your eyes with his right thumb. You were patient, meeting his distracted gaze as you idly played with his hair. This wasn’t the rushed goodbye you’d shared 6 years ago, this was a coronation of his love. Minutes passed and you were laid on the sofa, bare to his dark eyes. You had taken it upon yourself to step out of your underwear and to unclasp your bra. It was endearing, the way Geto obediently watched, eyes flicking between your breasts and cunt as you dropped the garments to the side. Amused, you cocked your head to the side, “Are you ok?”

Geto blinked at you, tugging at the hem of his shirt, “Yes,” he mumbled, looking to the side embarrassedly as he pulled his shirt over his head, “how did you want to do this?”

You hummed in thought. To be honest, you weren’t really that bothered, but it touched you that he asked. Though, you were aching and tired, so.. “As we are,” you replied, stifling a yawn, “please.”

He smiled at your apparent tiredness and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I’ll go slow but tell me if it’s too much, ok?”

You nodded.

“Good girl.”

Good girl?

Good. Girl.

You were fucking reeling.

After Geto wrestled his trousers and boxers off, he slid his hand between your thighs and pushed them apart, carefully. He leaned over you, using his own thighs to keep yours open as he kissed you again, messily, lazily. You sighed into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck as he moved his knee forward until it grazed your most sensitive parts. As Geto slipped his tongue into your mouth, you gasped at the sudden plethora of sensations- all of them far too much, yet far too good. You took your time as you grinded against his knee, moaning and muttering curses against his swollen lips. A few years ago, maybe you would’ve been embarrassed by the amount of time it took for you to feel ready to take him, but you didn’t want to rush this. It was as precious as the climax itself, and the pleasure of basking in his warmth and affection made you giddy and hot. You cracked an eye open as you parted for air to check on Geto, your hips not stopping their lethargic, yet desperate rocking against his knee. What you found wasn’t boredom or impatience, rather intense affection and peace in the stare of your lover. It was oddly sweet compared to the obscene way his knee glistened with your slick. Content, you closed your eyes again, letting Geto’s gentle lips on your chest and neck lull you into an orgasm that had your toes curling and back arching. He coaxed you down with soft encouragement and kisses as he moved his knee from your core.

You grinned as you looked at his awed expression, “Come on.” you teased. Geto rolled his eyes before adjusting your positions.

After a moment he settled, lowering himself to be closer to you. “I love you,” he whispered, peppering kisses over your face, “so, so much.”

A smile spread across your face before you could stop it, “I bet you say that to all of your victims.” you teased.

Geto groaned, “God, shut up.”

You laughed to yourself, breath catching as you felt him press against your entrance. The way he looked at you felt like lying in sunlight, and you forgot how tired and irritable you had been. This was all you had ever needed. Him- that was all.

It had been a while since you last slept with anyone, so the intrusion initially stung. However, a few kisses and gentle whispers later, he had eased himself in completely, and you were burning with anticipation. Geto looked at you carefully, visibly holding himself back.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” you adjusted yourself slightly, “m’fine.”

He grinned, kissing the column of your neck before he started moving, hands bracing you by your hips. Beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead and chest, causing his hair to stick to his face. You knew you were the same too, unable to ignore the way yours was sticking to your neck. Lazily, you pulled him further down onto you, wrapping your legs around his hips like a boa constrictor, causing him to penetrate you even deeper. The silence of the room was disrupted by the rhythmic groans and gasps the two of you released every time he rocked into you. You were so full, it felt like your nerves were on fire as he pushed against that spot inside of you that made you see heaven.

“Shit-” you whimpered as he sped up, biting into his shoulder as you gasped and moaned against the reddened skin.

Geto wasn’t faring much better as he uttered curses against your cheek, mixed within prayers and declarations of your beauty and significance.

“You’re so,” Thrust. “Fucking,” Thrust. “Pretty,” Thrust. “Like this-”

You could feel the hot puffs of air against your ear as he helplessly whined, his pace quickening despite himself.

“I’ve been,” Thrust. “Thinking about,” Thrust. “Doing this,” Thrust. “Since,” Thrust. “Last time-”

You couldn’t help it, the way his words drove you towards your peak like a wildfire.

“Please, Suguru,” you moaned, rocking against him as his cock hammered into you, “I’m so..”

“Close?” Geto grunted, “You’re close?”

“Fuck- yes!”

He swore under his breath.

Your back arched, chest pressing against his as his calloused fingers found your throbbing, ever-so sensitive clit.

You were so close, so, so, so close…

“Cum for me.”

With a scream, your orgasm washed over you, causing you to tremble with the intensity. Geto’s pace didn’t falter as you rode out the after effects. Well, not until he followed you closely after. Hips stuttering, you whined as you felt his cum drip fill you. He moaned loudly, eyebrows furrowed and abs flexed. You decided that it was one of the most beautiful sights in the world.

For a while, you panted against each other, Geto had collapsed on top of you and was now curled into you, head tucked beneath your chin. Absentmindedly, you stroked his air, sighing softly as he kissed your neck tenderly.

“Did I hurt you?” you felt his voice vibrate through where you were touching. Geto’s voice was low and rough- exhausted probably.

“Nah,” you replied easily, “tired though.”

He yawned, “Stay here then.” he muttered, sounding half asleep.

You laughed sardonically, “Is this part of your elite plan to stop me going back?”

Geto sat up, looking at you strangely, “You’re still thinking of going back?” He sounded more judgemental than hurt.

“Well,” you snorted, “probably not now.”

“Fucking hell,” Geto flopped down next to you, cuddling you again, “you scared me.”

You kissed the crown of his head apologetically, “Sorry, Suguru.”

The two of you laid on the sofa together in silence, communicating purely through loving touches and glances. Outside, you heard the rain become heavier on the windows, drowning out the buzz of the kitchen.

“I love you too,” you blurted, suddenly reminded of his abrupt confession, “by the way.”

Geto huffed, “I figured.”

“I’m staying here.” you added. A confirmation.

You felt him press a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“I figured that one too.”

You sighed, “I’ll need to go home and grab my stuff… and quit my job…” Geto snickered on top of you, “what a bore…”

“How long will that take?” he asked, voice rough.

“Like,” you wrinkled your nose, “three days, maybe.”

Geto groaned, “‘S long time.”

“Yeah,” you agreed irritably, “what a drag.”

He snorted, “I miss you already.”

“Tease.”

[drooperz]

A snowy morning

He looks so darn cute in this picture

Summary: you're neighbors with John and you ask to join him on little outing with his friends when it snows! Just having a jolly ol' time!

John Lennon x reader :) fluff and all that

As the warm sun peaked through the curtains, you roused from your comfy sleep. Tussling a little bit in your sheets, you remembered what you hoped for last night.

You were practically itching to see if there was a layer of cold white laying upon the street. But getting out of bed was difficult due to how cold your room felt compared to how cozy the duvet felt wrapped around you. Every time you moved outside the designated warmth that enveloped you, your body practically shivered from head to toe.

It was torture.

But, you had the brilliant idea of bundling yourself up in the covers and getting up to look out the window.

Even when you cringed as your feet touched the chilly ground you crept towards the window excitedly and peaked through the crack of morning light in between the curtains.

You looked outside, the street was covered in white. Every front garden you could see was covered in a thick layer of pure white snow.

You thought about how cold it would be compared to your chilly room now, already mentally preparing an outfit for making snow angels without freezing or able to withstand a snowball fight (if one were to break out).

You were so ecstatic, practically jumping up and down on the spot, barely able to contain yourself! You needed to go outside instead of being indoors. Reluctantly, you shrugged off the warm duvet and felt the heat radiating slightly from it when it circled around you...

You'll pick it up later! Right now you need to get warm!

You tried getting some thick clothes to go outside but they were all cold, ironically.

You cringed as your shirt wrapped around you, like a chilly hug, sucking all the warmth from your torso and arms. Eventually, the material soon warmed up and you felt snug again.

Barely wasting any time, you had a quick glass of water and put your winter gear on.

Hat, check! Gloves, check! Boots, check! Big coat to keep me extra warm, heck yes!

You fumbled getting your keys in the front door with your gloved hands but did it anyways.

The freezing air kissed your warm face and your breath turned to steam against the sun's rays.

You barely took a step outside until you heard, "Hello, y/n!" A distinctive voice shouted.

You scanned the street to see where the voice called you, "Hello John! Good morning!" You exclaimed.

John lived just opposite your house, you'd see him around sometimes and often greet each other fondly. He would often talk to you when he got the chance, he was extremely charismatic and had a particular knack at keeping a conversation interesting.

"You're up early!" He beamed, making his way over to your side of the road, you watched his long coat sway and scarf bounce with every careful step. You smiled.

"Is the road slippery?" You asked, suddenly concerned he might slip.

"Nah, it's not too bad." He leaned over your garden wall as you stepped over the snow, enjoying the sound of the strange squeaks and frozen grass peaking out under your footprints.

"What are you up to then?" He asked with a cheeky grin.

"Hah, I was so excited about the snow last night I could barely sleep!" You laughed and he smiled at you, "I just wanna enjoy it before it melts." You smiled back at him and he lifted his eyebrows up.

"Well, me friends rung me up this morning and asked if I wanted to go to a field before anyone else gets to all the fresh snow." He said calmly, you opened the front wooden gate and stepped through onto the pavement.

You thought for a second, surely just walking around in the cold alone would be pretty boring... Right? You wondered if John would let you tag along.

"Do you mind if I come with you?" You asked cautiously, a bit of socializing and having fun in snow sounds like a good day.

"By all means," he skipped forward with a prep in his step, "the more the merrier, I'm sure the lads wont mind me bringing a plus one." He grinned again and you felt relieved.

"Thanks John." A smile spread across your face again.

The street was so so quiet. The bitter cold made it seem so still and empty, it was almost like it was only you and John in the whole neighborhood...

It was strange...

But also nice.

He lead you along the snowy pavement, both of you plowing a trail through the snow.

"It almost looks like a sandy desert." John stated into the stillness and you observed the road having been entranced by the snow rolling around your boots as you walked through it.

"It really does, doesn't it?" Snow peaked and fell on the road, in gardens, on cars and rooftops almost like little dunes, "Very, very cold desert." You laughed.

"Too right, I feel like I should have worn ten other scarfs." He joked, trying to pull the fabric over his nose.

You laughed, "if I had another one I'd give it to you."

"You'd give me one of ya scarfs?" He stood in front of me, leaning down a little, "Praise be ya y/n! Ye have the generosity of a saint!" He clasped his gloved hands together and shook them violently.

You laughed at him loudly and the sound reverberated around the, otherwise silent, neighborhood, "oh god, didn't mean to be that loud." You giggled at him, holding his shoulder.

"You're having fun, don't fret." He said kindly, "Oh, we gotta go though here," there was a small path that led behind some houses to an open field that most people would frequent, "not far now." He rubbed his gloved hands together and grinned.

The suns rays were warm both in feeling and colour, elongating the trees bare silhouette upon the pale snow. The path was wide enough for the two of you to walk together but you preferred to stay behind John for the meantime.

"you alright?" You asked, just checking on him.

"All good lovey." He looked back and grinned, "get over 'ere next to me." He ushered you with his hand and you caught up with him quickly. Trailing behind him didn't last long...

You smiled up at him and continued walking together.

As you trodded through the cold, you started to hear the sounds of other people at the end of the small trail. You suddenly felt a little nervous meeting John's friends. You didn't want to intrude on their dynamic and be awkward, not knowing what to say or do.

But as you walked closer, you could see the three silhouettes jumping and playing about. You smiled slightly, feeling relief that the people you're meeting are just as childish excited about the snow as you are.

"AYE PAUL!" John hollered, cupping his hands around his mouth for maximum attention.

One of them stood straight up and waved, Lennon chuckled, "I'll introduce you to the lads, c'mon." He looked down at you and took your hand, smiling widely.

As he lead you towards the approaching group you scanned the wide field covered entirely with white, smooth snow. Unlike the streets, there were hardly any ebbs or dips, it looked soft. Almost like a blanket. The sun was so golden here that you could see all of John's friends breath swirl and disappear with every step closer. John was the same, each breath out caught the sun and dissipated before lingering in the still air.

"John! You alright?" You assume Paul stepped forward in a big padded fur coat, he had a stiff posture and kept his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah, you?" He replied plainly.

"I'm bloody freezing!" He tried to hide as much as his face underneath his jacket and laughed, only his pretty eyes and tussled black hair were visible.

"Who's that with ya John?" The one with blue eyes asked.

"Well, you see, this here is y/n!" He said calmly, swinging our joined hands and a dumb grin stretched across your face.

"That's y/n?" The one with the skinny face and dark hair said.

"I'm sure it is y/n, are you y/n?" John looked down at you jokingly.

"I hope I am." You all laughed briefly.

"You're a laugh, no wonder John goes on about you." He moved closer to you, "I'm George, and that's Ringo." He pointed towards the blue eyed man and he waved. They were all so smiley.

"Who wouldn't go on about you!" John practically spun to face you and picked you up with a bone crushing hug. In a second, just before he put you back down, you could feel his warmth radiating from inside his jacket and his breath on your face as he smothered you.

"There'd be nothing to go on about if you hug 'em like that again." Ringo laughed, you heard the other two laugh with him.

"You're so cute," he continued, still very close to you, you don't think the others heard what he was saying, "you're gonna stick with me, aren't 'cha?" He looked down at you, his face rather close to yours. You noticed how long John's lashes were with the proximity, he often teased you like this to get a reaction out of you.

"Yeah," you managed to breathe out, "I- I'll stick."

He grinned that sly, cheeky grin he always did.

The other lads were already chattering amongst themselves about something and you were just watching as they did so, John had put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you next to him.

~

Author's note: Late, late, late Christmas gift also its not snowing where I live right now but I'd love it if it did 😭😭😭

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Please Don't Be Long

George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: Fluffyyy hehe

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol

Words: 2.7k

Summary: 1968-69 era; The universe has a unique way of continuously bringing Geo and Reader together, and it’s time they finally accept the invitation (featuring a brief appearance by Ringo The Wingman lmao)

A/N: The idea for this fic was requested by the wonderful @leia-saveourskins (thank you so much for the request! 🥰)

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The moderately loud music flowing through the stereo speakers was all that could be heard in your ears as you made your way around the room, trying your best to mingle with the other guests. You enjoyed your fair share of house parties, as they were a great way to get to know new people, as well as reconnecting and maintaining previously established friendships.

You and George had met before. Granted, it was only briefly, but you remembered enough to recognize his face in the crowd on the other side of the room. George was the reserved type, preferring to stick around the people he knew best and enjoy the good music and tasty snacks. Parties weren't exactly his scene, but he knew how to make the best of them.

You attended this particular event with a few of your other friends, who, at this moment, were nowhere to be found. You shrugged your shoulders, assuming they would come find you when they wanted, or rather needed, to call it a night and head home, as you elected to be the designated driver for the evening.

Worming your way through the room of dancing people to where George was, you felt a smile growing on your face the closer you got to him. He had this wonderful energy that could be felt from a mile away, not to mention he was certainly quite handsome.

He was sitting on a sofa in the far corner of the room, holding a less than half-full glass of what appeared to be white wine. There were several other people sitting around him, one of which seemed to be telling a rather interesting story, with the other guests listening with rapt attention. You didn't recognize all of these people, only a few in passing, but one of which you knew quite well, immediately recognizing the array of dazzling rings scattered across his fingers.

Ringo had actually been the one to introduce you to George. You met him at a party similar to this one a few weeks prior, and after chatting for several minutes, he seemed to get the impression that you two would hit it off, promptly bringing you over to say hello. It was nice to see him again as well, seeing as the only people you knew here were off on their own adventures. You sighed in relief, your worry that you would be left awkwardly alone for the evening gradually fading away. 

The interesting campfire sofa story seemed to come to an end, and a gap opened up in the small crowd. You strode forward, seizing the opportunity, making your way to a cozy little spot next to him on the sofa. Before you could even sit down and reintroduce yourself, George looked up at you, smiling brightly, playfully pointing a finger in your direction.

“Ah, I remember you.” He said cheerily, and although he did not attempt to raise his voice to be heard over the music, somehow you could hear him just fine. “Always nice to see another familiar face.”

“Hi George.” You giggled, feeling your hands fidget slightly at your sides, but you tried your best to not let it show. Somewhere between your starting location and here, all the confidence of speaking to George had blown away, and all that was left was your increasingly shy tone and a small blush creeping up your cheeks.

Before continuing the conversation with you, George looked to the other side of him and tapped his friend on the shoulder. “What do you know, Rich? I guess you do have a gift. We meet again!” Ringo turned to face you, his bright blue eyes lighting up despite the slightly dim lighting in the room.

“And here you are!” He said happily, standing from the couch to pull you into a warm hug. A surprised laugh left your throat, but you hugged him back, feeling him pull away almost as quickly to let you sit down next to George. “I'll let you two lovebirds get to chatting.” He mused as he disappeared into the next room.

You returned your gaze to George and felt the blush on your face get stronger. He didn't seem to notice, or rather, he didn't point it out, instead twisting his torso to reach behind him for a bottle of wine. “Fancy a drink?” He asked, pausing to top off his own glass.

“I really shouldn't, but thank you anyway.” You replied politely. “I'd rather be more alert when I have to round up my friends and drive them home later tonight.” George nodded understandingly, a small chuckle leaving his lips. He cleared his throat before taking another sip.

“Responsibility is quite uncommon these days. Much like common sense.” He laughed at his own joke, and you laughed too, remembering that his sense of humor was something you immediately liked about him when you first met. He may have been on the quiet side, but he could crack a mean joke. Listen close, or you just might miss it.

George wasn't one for small talk. He found it boring and mundane, which you actually appreciated, as you found it awkward and uncomfortable. You loved that he dove right in when talking to people, asking the deeper, more interesting questions. Questions about life and the wonder of it all, and everything we could be learning about the world and ourselves if we just got out of our brains all the time and back into our bodies, feeling and seeing the world as it was meant to be experienced. You were absolutely enthralled, listening closely and chiming in where you could relate or feel your curiosity piqued. Just as you felt yourself wanting to rest your head on his shoulder, becoming captivated by a campfire sofa story of your own, you felt someone bump into the sofa cushion behind you, mumbling your name.

You turned around to see one of your friends, with the other two standing a bit further behind her. You could barely understand her slurry of unintelligible words, and judging by her smudged makeup, you weren't sure if she had been crying, or just plainly drunk and possibly high out of her mind. Either way, the three had clearly tracked you down because they wanted to go home.

You sighed, turning back to George, grimacing slightly, annoyed that you had to leave just when the conversation was starting to get good. George didn't seem bothered, still offering a warm smile. “They've come for their cab.” He said cheekily. “Go on ahead, I'll see ya ‘round.”

You couldn't help but laugh at his comment, an instant mood booster despite being upset at your untimely departure. Pausing to give George a modest peck on the cheek, you stood from your spot on the sofa, collected your now rather disoriented looking friends, and shuffled out the door.

About two weeks later, you received a phone call from Ringo, inviting you to another party, this time of his own creation. In any other case, you would have declined, not feeling very social as of late, but no sooner did you open your mouth to object, a thought entered your brain. If Ringo was hosting the party, there’s a pretty good chance George was going to be there as well. 

George.

Ever since your last encounter with him at the previous party, he had been a lingering thought in all areas of your mind. The first time you met him, there was no room to have a meaningful chat as the awkward silence had taken up most if not all of the conversation. And last time appeared to be promising until your evening was cut short by your petulant plus-ones. But this time, there would be no distractions, and you were gonna make sure of it. This was the third time the great universe had given you another shot at making a connection with George, and there was no way you were going to pass it up. This time, you would be going solo. Having mentally finalized your decision, you graciously accepted Ringo’s invitation, and hung up the phone.

By the time the party rolled around, you were practically buzzing with excitement. All previous antisocial feelings had gone out the window, since now, you knew there was going to be something at this party that could spark your interest. When you arrived at the party, via cab of course, as now there was no need to play designated driver, you were immediately greeted by Ringo, who promptly offered you a drink and gently encouraged you to go mingle. 

This party was quite different from the last one. It was by no means a fancy gathering, but it felt much more sophisticated. There were less people than last time, greatly lowering the level of potential chaos. Despite the decreased number of guests, it was the most reserved form of the word ‘wild’ and it was still clear that everyone was having a great time. There was a record playing gentle dance music from one of the rooms. You weren’t sure if it was instrumental or you just couldn’t make out the lyrics, but you enjoyed it either way. You searched for the source of the music to hopefully catch the title of the record when you bumped into someone on the way out, nearly spilling your drink on their shirt. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” You shrieked, eyes still facing towards the floor in both confusion and embarrassment. You looked up to deliver another heartfelt apology and instead you froze, your eyes widening.

“Better watch where you’re headed, love.” George teased, punctuating his statement by brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. You already felt yourself blushing, feeling the need to apologize even more fervently now that you knew your encounter had not been with a random stranger. 

“George!” You shrieked again, not sure why you said his name as you didn’t have anything to say after that, but followed it up with the best thing you could think of. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Following me, eh?” He mused, playfully poking you in the arm. You blushed harder, your free hand fidgeting with the bottom of your drink glass, the fingers on your other hand tapping the side awkwardly. 

“Perhaps it’s fate.” You blurted out, the thought sounding more confident in your head. But you felt yourself breathe a sigh of relief when George chuckled at your statement. 

“Divine timing.” he nodded knowingly.

“The universe wants us to keep meeting at these parties.” You giggled, trying to keep your composure while also ecstatic that George shared your theory. “It would be a shame to not accept the invitation. And besides, we never finished our conversation from last time.”

“I s’pose you make a point.” He grinned, flashing that ever-gorgeous fang-toothed smile. 

“So…shall we dance?” You offered, gesturing to the surrounding area between the two of you. George looked around, eyes following your hands at your silent gestures. 

“I don’t have the best moves, love, but I’ll try.” He laughed nervously. As if on cue, you heard the random instrumental record change, and a soft romantic melody began to play. You felt a large beaming smile spread across your face, silently thanking the universe yet again for its ‘divine timing’. “Ah,” George said softly, “now, slow dancing, I might be fair at.” He held his hand out for you to hold, which you happily accepted, assuming the slow dance positions.

George moved your hand that he was holding onto his shoulder, and you moved your other hand to his other shoulder. You felt like electricity was going to start buzzing out of you when George repositioned his hands to softly rest against your waist, but you tried your best to be calm. You let out an excited giggle that sounded more like a shriek, but George’s expression proved he found it rather endearing.

“Well…” he whispered, his voice vibrating as you rested your head on his chest, “you said you wanted to continue our other conversation?” You had gotten so comfortable with the current situation, your body filled with tranquility instead of nervousness, that you forgot you had even said that.

“Oh…” you trailed off, picking your head up from his chest to stare into his eyes, a warm deep brown you found yourself getting lost in, “right, I did say that. But for now I only have one question.” George continued to stare at you, gently nodding in wait for your question, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into a brief yet heartwarming grin. “Does divine timing work for romance as well?”

The second the sentence left your lips, the anxious part of you immediately wanted to take it back, but George didn’t mind. He smiled again, keeping his usual calm demeanor as he had done the whole time. “Well,” he began, same as how he usually started any of his philosophical observations, “if that is true, there would also have to be some sort of sign to confirm or deny it. Something to suggest if it is the right time, or something to interrupt it if the time isn’t right.” You listened intently, feeling yourself unconsciously smiling as he spoke, completely captivated by his perspective. You moved one of your hands higher on his shoulders to rest just above the collar of his shirt, brushing your fingers against the soft skin of his neck.

“Well how do we know if the time is right?” You asked, not even realizing you had already picked up his habit of putting that word at the beginning of sentences. But just as you posed the question, you felt time begin to slow down around you. Suddenly, all the other guests felt a million miles away, the music felt louder, and now, in that moment, it was just you and George, and nothing else mattered. It felt incredible, as your brain was able to block out all the other worldly noise, and just concentrate on the here and now, something you found yourself unable to do so effectively before.

George thought about it for a second, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, the edges of his mustache stretching out as a knowing smirk appeared on his face. “Well, let’s find out then, shall we?”

You thought he was going to do some sudden movement as if to attract the attention of the universe for any objections, or send a cheeky statement sailing out into the ether, but nothing could have prepared you for the moment he leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

Your eyes widened in shock, feeling your fingers involuntarily grip at his shoulder, but that was soon replaced by an overwhelming joy spreading through your body. George placed his hand under your jaw, his fingers cupping your chin to deepen the kiss. You sighed happily, closing your eyes again and wrapping your arms around him, resting your wrists on the back of his neck. 

It was a purely heavenly sensation. You found yourself softly giggling against his lips, pulling away for a mere second to look in his eyes again. George smiled back at you, briefly looking around and boastfully shrugging his shoulders. “I guess the universe had no problem with that.” He quipped.

He opened his mouth to say something else but stopped, his eyes fixated on something in another room through one of the open doors as he let out an adorable little giggle. “In fact, I think we may have actually had a little help.” He turned back to you, pointing in the direction of whatever had caught his eye. You turned around to see Ringo standing over by the record player, proudly swirling his drink glass in one hand, his other hand holding the decorative album sleeve for the romantic record that was currently playing. He raised his glass to toast the happy couple from afar, sealing his stamp of accomplishment with a supportive, bright-blue-eyed wink. You and George laughed in stereo, your smile growing wider as you gave Ringo a grateful two thumbs up before turning back to George.

“I guess the universe did have a plan for us.” You joked, not sure if you felt yourself release a dreamy sigh or it was all in your mind. 

George nodded agreeingly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as he stared into your eyes. “I guess it did.” He laughed before pulling you closer for another loving kiss.

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

AAAAA I'm so happy with how this one turned out! I did go a little rogue off the request by adding Ringo in the mix lol but I think it still works well and I hope y'all think so too 🥰 Taglist: @little-bit-of-mystery @nosegoes @cocteautwiny @queen-of-stars @thatgoesinthere-misshapes @harrisongslimited @hyasynth1

If you would like to be added to this list, comment on this post or send me an ask!

[goldenwilliamson]

What about a Beatle!reader x Paul maybe or John where you guys are really good friends and flirt with each other all the time and then maybe one of you decides to act on it?

okay. so. i decided to make this request somewhat of a part 2 to this request that i wrote a little while ago. i just thought that writing about this already developed relationship with paul would be fun. hope its alright!

pairing: paul x reader

summary: after paul helps you out when you express your unrequited feelings towards george, you realise paul is the one you should be with. PART 1 HERE

warnings: PDA? lollll

George and Pattie's New Year's Eve party had well and truly kicked off. After your little deal with Paul you had floated around socialising with the people you knew. You were stood speaking with Eric Clapton when Paul sidled up to you.

"Oh, hello," you smiled as his arm moved around you and his hand found its resting place upon your hip.

“Hi,” Paul smiled at you with his eyelids slightly drooping. You can see he’s had a good amount to drink and smoke at this stage of the night. 

Something in the way Paul is looking at you makes you feel flustered, almost like butterflies. 

“Are you having a good night, love?” You ask.

“I’m having a wonderful time, how about you Eric, you alright?” Paul turns to Eric.

“Yes sir,” he smirks, looking between you both, “I’ll leave you to it then,” he sends a subtle wink toward Paul, which you don’t miss.

Paul spins you so that you are facing him completely and lets his hands rest around your waist, clasped at the small of your back. You shamelessly let your arms snake around his neck and look at him in a way you’ve never looked at him before. You were looking at Paul as if he was the most attractive man you’ve ever known.

“What are you trying to do?” You say, making Paul smirk.

He leans close enough to you that you think he’s about to kiss you on your neck, but instead he whispers, “Just trying to get him off your mind.”

There’s that feeling again. The butterflies, and the goosebumps all over your arms and legs.

You take in a sharp breath as he pulls away, “I think it’s working.”

Paul smiles proudly and laughs a little bit, "I never expected this would be happening."

"What's that?" You ask, your face lighting up at the sight of Paul's happiness.

"I never thought I'd be with you like this," he holds you a bit tighter and pulls you a bit closer to emphasise his point.

"Neither did I, but I'm liking it," you tell him honestly.

You feel so safe in his arms, and you honestly don't know how this had never happened before. Paul is constantly flirting with you, and you're always giving it straight back to him. You both have always played it off as jokey banter, but tonight it's clear that there was truth behind all that playfulness.

"I am too, love," Paul says.

You decide you don't want to wait around any longer, it just seems silly to deny yourself pleasure at this stage.

"Do I have to wait until midnight for you to kiss me?" You ask.

"I think we can work around that rule," Paul says as you both lean into each other smiling. You find each others lips with ease, fitting into each other like jigsaw pieces, and falling into a rhythm as you continue to kiss each other. Being with Paul was something you never knew would feel so good.

As you pull away, you can't help but smile, and you just about laugh at the situation.

"Why have we never done that before?" You say.

"Well until about an hour ago you were in love with my best mate," Paul explains.

He did his job well because right now George is the last thing on your mind, all you can manage to think about is how much you want to stay with Paul the rest of the night, and how you hope this isn't a one night thing.

"That was silly, I couldn't see that the person I should be with was right it front of me," you say.

"I couldn't see it either, but I can see it now."

"Kiss me again," you say, wanting to keep feeling that feeling over and over again.

"Happily."

[paulmcf4rtney]

teddy boy george x reader please!! fem reader, maybe paul or john’s sister? lots of fluffy cavern goodness would be much appreciated!! 💗

anon asked for Teddy boy!George x fem reader!!!! THANK U SM FOR THE RQ! <33

definitely gonna go with paul hehe

———

-You being the sister of the prettiest boy in school gave you lots of attention, girls asking you for favors, giving you notes to pass n share to your brother, the list goes on.

-Paul always flirted back with the women he talked to, but he had competition with George either way when it came to girls.

-You were so in love with him the more you noticed his presence, which of course made it worse, you couldn’t help it. His smile, his wink.. The way he talked to you like you were the only girl in the world.

-Paul found out about this and gave you a stern talking to, about not to “date boys” and especially NOT GEORGE. It was hypocritical, he could flirt but you couldn’t date a single boy?

-Did you care though? No, no you didn’t. You felt seen for once, and not like a shadow behind your brother. You knew it wasn’t his fault and he was only trying to protect you.

-Either way you were on George’s radar, you both started to get closer (emotionally and physically) to the point you were having dreams about him.

-You talked to him almost every day at this point, before, during and after school. Your brother caught on but you told him nothing would happen.

“Aye, you wanna come by my place? My parents aren’t gonna be home, we can watch a movie.” George whispered to you in class with that thick Liverpool accent that made your body melt.

You nodded, trying not to alert the teacher and get you or him in trouble.

And after-school outside like always you meet up with him, this time you told your brother you had somewhere to be and not to wait up for you, that had raised a little suspicion from Paul but he didn’t want to give you a hard time anymore than he already has.

You were nervous? Sort of? This was the first boy that paid this much attention to you in what felt like forever. You held George’s hand by instinct, you were gonna pull away out of embarrassment but he locked his fingers with yours.

If your face wasn’t red before it was definitely red now. George spoke up again, “My house ain’t too far but I still gotta drive..”

“You have a car???” Surprised, I mean, why wouldn’t you be surprised!? When he walked you out to his vehicle you realized partially why girls liked him so much.. A hot ride and a guitarist at the same time was all he needed to score.

“Yep, a real beauty ain’t she?”

You hummed in response

You got in as he did, strapping in. He started the engine and drove off. You didn’t dare to touch anything or even look at him, you were bad with eye contact when it came to your crushes. (Sucks that Paul decided to always scare them away) But you knew George was different.

He didn’t take shit from anyone, not even your brother. In fact i’m sure he likes the idea that he’s going against Paul. George didn’t say much the whole ride, he put on music though.

You didn’t mind how quiet it was, but you were too deep into your thoughts to realize he had parked the car already, snapping you out by the sound of his voice. “Cmon, i’ll show you inside n’ let you pick out the movie if ye want.” And there was that fucking smile again.

He let you step out of the car, holding your hand again. His hands were very soft just like his voice, he didn’t rush you or try to make a move.. It was nice.

You entered, and his house was actually really pleasing in decorum. His parents definitely raised him well, it showed.

There was blankets folded next to the couch in a basket, pillows perfectly placed on each side.

George kicked his shoes off, so you did the same, he was asking you what you wanted to watch since his parents owned a collection of tapes/movies you looked through them, picking one that happened to be horror.

You both were *almost* cuddled up on the couch under the blankets, until a scary scene came on you jumped and grabbed onto George’s shirt, hiding your face in his chest. You liked scary movies but the scenes still make you jump.

He held you tight and petted your hair, whispering to you that there was nothing to be scared about. “Ya don’t need to be so frightened i’m here, it’s okay.”

You sniffled at his response, opening ur eyes to look at him and that’s when he kisses you. Softly, yet holding back in case you weren’t ready.. But you were ready and knew it.

It felt like a thousand butterflies were in your stomach and chest by how close your faces were.

George didn’t let you go or stopped kissing your head until the movie was over, anytime the movie had a jumpscare he’d hold you tighter. You really have never experienced something like this, it was so comforting.

This was the first step to dating and having George as your own, all to yourself.

“I can drive you home, pretty girl.” He said with that gentle tone again, kissing your lips longer this time, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Oh shoot yeah, you definitely should.. So, does this mean we’re like.. Dating?” You sprouted the question to him, averting your eyes.

“Guess it does, why else would I be kissing ye?”

You knew you would have to explain to Paul and your parents why you were gone so long, but it would be worth it. So so worth it when you get home. <3

[star-dust-stuf]

The Beatles period comfort hcs

warnings: mentions of blood, vomiting

a/n: again, me being a hopeless romantic may it spread through the scrolls of tumblr bcs why not?! Not my gifs, as always, enjoy loves!

Gogi

oh nawww!

it would break his heart to see you in such a situation

he never wants you to feel as though you can’t talk to him about it and never wants you to think any lower of yourself

he always brings you blankets and a heating pad

he’d help you in the bath, make the cramps go away

he understands the pain and knows it’s absolutely horrid

baby tries his best to fill you up, keep you hydrated

mood swings, he goes on with them never gets mad if you tend to start a fight or if you just need a good cry

dear lord this man is over the moon for you, rubbing your belly through your cramps

singing his song to you, soft voice and slow guitar “here comes the sun and I say, it’s alright”

he can’t help but be a bit snappy when you ask if you’re fat “babe, it’s okay to feel that way, you’re bloated!” or “eat whatever the hell you want!”

“here, squeeze my hand, love” he’s never been around real pain before, seeing you in it breaks his heart and he tries anything to help you relieve it

queue the clap for baby gogi because girls, admit it he is the painkiller

Ringooo

he’s so proud when you make it through each day

he’s never really seen anyone in any physical pain so if he’s a bit shaken up to see you crying in a ball, tell him it’s alright

little bean has it bad for you, so bad he wishes he could take all your pain and put it in a jar

he may not look it, but man’s would beat up anyone who’d make fun of you for your period or say that it can’t even hurt that bad

he hums to you through the nausea and if you do end up puking, god this man

he rubs your back, tummy, puts your hair up, *crying*

he makes you comfy, sings you tunes and hums louder through each aching cramp

“keep a hold of my hand and just breathe.” *screams*

he makes sure you’re hydrated and fed well. he understands if eating is the las thing you want but he got you chocolate ice cream… so

“I’d like to be- under the sea” he sings as he rocks you in his arms, your in his lap and just being there makes you feel ten times better

cramps are not fun and he knows, he knows because of that face you make

he laughs when you make jokes “do you need anything, love?” he’d ask “a gun” you’d reply

he lets you play with his fingers and his rings as his hand rests on your belly

high expectations and that’s ok, pain isn’t worth the shame keep on, keep on

Jon

he is your sunshine, your only sunshine

he knows it’s that time when you walk out of the bathroom with a giant ‘diaper’ on

“come here sunshine, get warm!” He snuggles you, makes you feel loved

this man- this man is the reason you don’t mind having a period anymore, he makes it less sucky

he makes you a warm bath to sooth your aching body, he sits outside the tub, hand in yours

hes the type of guy to put your pad in your underwear before you get out, few it’s just too much work!

If you are having bad pms let me tell you, he’s head over heels

pms, he knows it’s all mixed up inside and he comforts you even if it all comes out in clumps

he sings to you of course “i love you, yeah yeah yeah, I love you”

sleeping with pain sucks so he lends himself for your body pillow

throwing up is the fear, but he’s there, coaching your breathing, holding your hair back, putting a wet cloth on your neck

you play with his hair as he puts his head on your stomach hoping the pressure will help the cramps

top it with a cherry, kiss him

Paulie

bby is so good with that time of the month

he gets you anything, anything! pads, tampons, hot water bottle, blankets, snacks

he knows what you’re thinking, “am I fat?” he’d go absolutely crazy

“eat whatever, and how much you want!” he’d make sure you’re hydrated too

he also sings to you, of course, nice and soft, he knows you have a headache, “oh darling, please believe me- ill never do you no harm”

he makes you a warm shower, or bath if you prefer, he helps you in and out

he’s the kind of guy to light some candles, perhaps do some yoga if your feeling it teaches you some tricks to help the pain

he’s not squeamish, if he sees some blood where it shouldn’t be he won’t get mad at you “darling, it’s out of your control, don’t cry!”

in a snap of a finger he has you spilling your feelings, he doesn’t want you to bottle it up, it will only make your mood swings worse

feeling nauseous is the worse, he understands but he keeps you busy, focusing on something else, like playing with his hair

if out of the sudden you just grab his hand, leg, arm he lets you do whatever to cope

baby loves you and is always there

[sunflowersinthedirt]

GOLDEN SLUMBERS | PAUL MCCARTNEY

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

1969!paul mcbeardy.

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

- X -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- X -

i’ll take requests soon!

[bealtesharrisonmacca]

John x reader

“Tied down”

(Idk if it should say tied down or tied up but wtv)

18+

Summary: Reader is tied to bed (willingly) and John takes full control.

You feel kisses running down your body. All the way from your mouth to your thighs. Johns lips feel like firework each time they touch you. You want to grab his hair or just hold onto him. To guide him to where you need him most. But you can’t. Your hands are tied to the bed, and so are your feet.

It has always been a fantasy of yours to be tied down, but you never dared to mention it to John. But it was actually he who brought it up during sex a while back. Well, he initially said it as a joke or as dirty talk, but your reaction to his words made him eager to try it.

And so here you were. Tied down to the bed with John hovering over you.

John’s hands getting closer and closer to your clit, but each time he got near he retracted his hands and continue kissing your body.

“Yer so wet for me, practically dripping and I’ve barely touched you yet” John says in a teasing manner.

You want so badly for him to just pound into you, but the suspense he’s building is making your back arch. He finally gives a soft kiss to your clit, causing your hips to buck against the feeling. He chuckles a bit.

John smirks at you as he lowers his face down, just above your heat. You try to push your hips to his face but you’re stuck where you are. John loves watching you beg for him. He loves to see you all worked up when he takes control.

“J-John I” you stutter, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. But you need him inside you so badly.

“What do you want love? Use yer words” John grins as his face is still just inches from you, his hands pushing your hips harder into the bed, leaving him in complete control of your body.

You reluctantly muster out the words he so badly wants to hear. “I need you John, please, I want you” The words come out loud in moans.

“Good girl” John says before pushing to fingers into you as his mouth starts working your clit. You let out a relived and satisfied moan. Your hands grab a hold of the rope that’s keeping you to the bed. Tightening your grip each time John flicks his tongue. His fingers working wonders inside you.

You feel your climax building up quicker than you thought, and John notices. He pulls his fingers out and leaves you yearning for more. A frustrated moan escapes your lips. You open your eyes to see him begin to unbuckle his belt. The bare look of his stiff cock sending shivers down your neck.

John leans over you and harshly kisses your lips as his hands goes to your breast’s. Your moans sending vibrations right to his crotch. He groans in your ear while kissing your jaw and neck. Your hands are aching to touch and feel him, but you love being at his mercy.

Without warning John slams into you, not letting you adjust before picking up a fast pace. Moans escape your mouth like a faucet. The pleasure is almost overwhelming. Your body shakes and fidgets as he thrusts forcefully inside you.

“You feel so fucking good y’know, you take my cock so well” John pants out as he stills inside you to catch his breath. You attempt pushing your hips against him but he slams you down against the bed and he thrusts inside you again. His cock filling you up so good. Your walls tighten around him as you feel yourself reaching your orgasm.

“Are ye going to cum for me love” John says as a question even though he knows you are. And with those words you let yourself go, cumming all over his cock as he continues thrusting inside you searching for his own release. You feel slightly overstimulated but after a few thrusts he cums inside you. Filling you to the brim. He pulls out as heavy breaths escapes your mouth’s. His eyes locked on your glistening pussy which is leaking with juices. He traces two fingers into your, still overstimulated, pussy, and brings his fingers to your mouth.

“Taste yourself”

You obediently start licking his fingers clean and you moan at the sensation. John loves seeing you like this. His cock nearly stiffens again at the sight.

John unties you and you immediately bring your hands to give him a tight embrace.

“I missed touching you” you say in a slight giggle and you cuddle for a while before falling into a deep sleep.

~

(Okey so this is my first John x reader story, hope it isn’t the worst thing in the world)

(Just a reminder, I do take requests and I’m kind of in need of some new inspiration heheh)

[guitars-and-kaleidoscope-eyes]

Anonymous:

hi! i love love love your content and i want to know if you write reader inserts? if you do could you please write a Ler!Paul Lee!reader?

Lee: X Reader

Ler: Paul McCartney

Ticklish, Darling?

1965

You had just returned home to the London flat you and your boyfriend, Paul, shared. You hung up your damp rain coat and slipped your shoes off. It had been a long week and you thanked any higher power that today was Friday. You sat down at the kitchen table and put your head in your hands. Your boss had yelled at you over something that wasn't even your fault, you slipped in a puddle of water in the hallway of your office and fell on your butt, and the height of Beatlemania was really getting to you.

Oh sure, you knew that by dating a Beatle (especially the cute one) you would draw a bit of attention to yourself, but you never imagined that you would receive death threats from some angry fans! You were always careful when leaving and coming home.

You thought you heard a noise from outside and you jumped out of your chair and ran to the sitting room and looked out the window, but all you saw was the darkness of the London streets as rain hit the sidewalks.

You breathed a sigh of relief, but your mind couldn't stop racing. You kept thinking someone was outside of the window watching you, but nothing was there.

Tears filled your eyes and your lip quivered. You flooped down on the sofa and you curled on your side as you let a small sob escape you. You hugged a pillow against your chest and buried your face into the soft cushion.

"(Y/n)! I'm home!" You heard Paul's voice enter from the foyer.

"(Y/n)?" Paul's voice became more concerned. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping you could maybe just make the world go away.

"Oh (Y/n)..." Paul's smooth voice trickled through your ears.

The only response he received was a shaky breath coming from his girlfriend, who was laying on the sofa crying.

"P-Paul." You whispered, opening your teary eyes to see your concerned boyfriend kneeling next to you.

"What's the matter love?" Paul asked tenderly, stroking some hair from your face. You tried to give him a response, but all that came out was a shaky. breath.

"Alright love. Alright." Paul soothed. He sat down next to you on the sofa and scooped your shaking body into his lap. You raped your arms around his neck and buried your face into his chest. He rocked you back and forth, stroking your hair and rubbing your back.

"Shhhh, it's alright love. I'm here." He cooed into your ear.

After a few minutes, you had your breathing under control. You sniffled and pulled your face away from Paul's warmth. Your eyes met with his doe eyes.

"Do you think you can tell me what's wrong now?" Paul asked, wiping away a few tears from your cheek.

"I'm sorry Paul. God, this is so stupid." You said.

"Hey, hey. It's not stupid." He said in a soft, but serious tone. "Nothing that upsets you this much is stupid. Now what happened?"

"It's just too much." You said, finally letting the wall come down. "It's been awful at work all week. There's been fans swarming outside the office. My boss yelled at me today for that. A-and I've been getting threats from a few of them, saying they were going to break in and try t-to..."

"Shhhh, it's alright." Paul whispered as you started to cry again.

"N-no, it's not!" You sobbed, "I can't go anywhere without worrying that they'll get to me! I can't even sleep without having nightmares of-"

Paul cut you off by hugging you close to him, holding you against his chest, as if he were trying to block out everything that hurt you. He rested his head on top of yours. You curled up against him, as if he was a cave you could hide in.

"What I was saying is that nothing like that will ever happen to you. Brian is already trying to find a way to keep fans away and get better security. I promise, by next Monday, things won't be nearly as bad. It's been hard on all of us. But trust me, I will NEVER let anything ever happen to you, my dear" Paul whispered into your ear.

"I love you so much Paul." You whispered.

"I love you too (Y/n)." Paul said, kissing your forehead. You smiled and wiped your eyes.

"I'm glad you're feeling better love. You gave me quite a scare when I walked in." Paul said.

"I'm sorry Paul. I didn't mean to." You said.

"I know." He returned, "But I think a little punishment is in order."

"What?" You asked, cocking your head to the side.

He grinned with mischief and wiggled his fingers infront of your face. Your eyes grew wide as it hit you by what he meant by "punishment".

You leaped off the couch to get away, but he ponced on you and the two of you fell onto the carpet. He straddled your hips and rested his hands on your ribs, poking them just enough to tease you. You began giggling

"What is it doll?" He asked, with a mischievous look. "What's got you all giddy today?"

"Pahahahaul!" You giggled, "Stohohop!"

"Sorry deary. No can do. Not until you apologize." He said.

You kept laughing as the tickling increased. Paul's hands moved towards your stomach.

"What have we here?" Paul teased, lifting up your shirt to reveal your belly. "Aww! A cute little tummy! And all for me!"

"Gohahahahd Pahahahaul!" You laughed, trying to get his hands away from you as you blushed. "Stohohop ihihit!"

"What, you mean I can't have this little tummy?" He pouted, kneading the flesh. "But it's so cute and ticklish!"

"Nohohoho!" You laughed even harder.

"How about this little bellybutton then, hmm?" Paul asked, scratching inside your bellybutton. "Just let me play with your bellybutton for a little bit. Then I'll leave you alone."

You couldn't muster to say anything because you were laughing too hard, so you shook your head, trying to hide your grin with your hands.

"Aww! Why not?" Paul pouted, teasing you again. "It's so round and ticklish and cute. I just wanna play with all day."

"Plehehehease!" You laughed trying to escape.

"Please what?" Paul asked, now tickling your belly again. "I think you're laughing too hard. I can't understand you."

"STAHOHOP!" You laughed.

"Ohhhhh." Paul said, still teasing you, "I don't know. Maybe I will. Or maybe I'll just keep this sensitive little tum tum and bellybutton all for myself.

"NOHOHOHO!" You laughed.

"What do you say then?" Paul asked.

"I'M SHOHOHORY PAHAHAHAUL!" You yelled through your laughter. Paul's tickling stopped.

"There. Was that so hard?" Paul asked, rubbing your belly to get any lingering tickly feelings out.

All he got in response was a giggling (Y/n) laying on the floor. Paul smirked at his beautiful girlfriend.

"Thanks for cheering me up Paul." You said, once you stopped giggling.

"Anytime love. Never be afraid to ask if you need help. Or if you ever need a good tickling." Paul winked cheekily. You chuckled and hugged your wonderful boyfriend.

[givemequeen]

mi amor: george x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm gonna cum." he said.

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

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

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

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

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

"No se, por algo pregunto."

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