#i don't think i fully achieved the size kink bc i didn't want to be overly specific of reader's body....

[lottiecrabie]

Could u write smth for George pls<3

Could u write a George smut with size kink? I wanna climb that man so bad it’s not even funny

could you do a smutty george piece where he can’t wait till you get home so after the gif he fucks you in the alleyway next to the stage door :)

this was written in a franctic at 2am lol. finally some george smut<3

After a show leaving you hot and needy, George can't wait to fuck you. Literally cannot wait.

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, size kink

1649 words

George has long, insatiable fingers. He flexes them around his drumsticks, extensions of himself he’s stopped thinking of. He dips his head to the beat. Something catches the light; you can’t see from your spot backstage, but you know it’s a series of rings decorating his hands. Your thighs clench. 

God, he’s fucking gorgeous. 

Sculpted, hard and sharp, cut to fit in the palms of your dirty hands. You watch him play, ignoring the twisting heat inside of you. The music is some ambient noise you barely register. You only hear the drilling drum, beating to the throbbing need between your legs. 

George catches your eyes, an indulgent second mid-song. You smile at him, coy, full of siren warning. A smirk breaks his face. Promises, promises. 

The concert goes well. George searches for you afterwards, picking you up in his arms, sweat sticking to your black dress. His limbs swallow you whole; strong things, hard and flexed around your waist, enough to choke you if he desired. You lick your lips as he drops you back to your booted feet. 

He towers over you. You have to tilt your chin just to stare at him, getting on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his lips. 

At least, you would if he didn’t dodge your lips, smacking your cheek instead. 

“Don’t tease,” you try to warn, but it comes out more like a plea. 

“No?” He pouts at you. You fall back on your heels, scowling at his games. Instead of finding pity on you, he laughs, loud and open-throated. “How’d you like the show?” He asks warmly. 

“Hated it,” you answer bitterly. 

George grabs a handful of your ass, tapping it softly in warning. “Don’t brat.” 

“Don’t kiss, don’t brat, what can I do?” 

“Definitely not mouth me off,” George chuckles, but there’s some underlying threat. 

Of course, it doesn’t exactly have the desired effect: some twisting want spreads through your limbs. You clench your thighs, parting your lips in open desire. 

“You’re incorrigible,” he whispers, and he has to bend down near your ear. You shiver at the words; rough, gravelly tone in your hair. Indulgently, he grazes a kiss under your jaw. You can’t hold back a moan. 

You throw an arm over his neck, racking a hand through his short, blond hair, like that would be enough to keep him there. Like you could control him. 

“George, please,” you whimper, feeling yourself grow wetter by the second. He blows on your ear just to watch it reverb inside of you, scrunching your face to stop some embarrassing moan. 

George chuckles, stepping away from you. You groan, dissatisfied, looking up at him. “I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

“No, no. It’s official. I really hate you.” 

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “You’re so dramatic.” 

You gasp. “I am in pain.” Devil may care attitude, trying to prove your point, you take one of his large hands, drawing it under your dress to the pool of sopping need waiting for him. His breath hitches, and you stop yourself from smirking. “I need you,” you whine, just to bring it home. 

George isn’t the only one with games. 

“Fuck, love.” Languidly, he runs two callused fingers over your folds, playing with your growing pool of wetness. You bite your lips, throwing your head back, shaking from the resonating fire it creates inside of you. 

You’ll melt down on his hands. You just hope he can catch the wax of you. 

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes, already sounding affected. Good, you think, perhaps selfishly. See how it feels.

Coming back to the ball of your feet, you draw his head down with your tightening hold on his hair. You lick the sweat of his jaw; salty and sweet, just like him. “George. Fuck me.” 

He groans, shoulders shuddering. “Fuck it.” 

He always acts like you’re so needy and he’s so controlled. Yet, you always get him there with some breathy words. 

Grabbing your wrist, George drags you through the venue, trying to find some unlocked closet to throw you in and have his sinful way with you. You try to follow with his long legs, practically skipping behind him, glowing before the sex even happens. 

Of course, life would be cruel and send only closed doors your way. George sighs in frustration. “Let’s just fucking go home.” 

He takes the exit, frantically looking around for a cab. The street is empty, and there’s an alley tucked behind you. You sneak a hand over his shoulder, sticking against his toned back. “I’ll start without you.” You warn, more to tease on the time it’s taking than any real threat. 

He knows this, still grunting, “No, you won’t.” 

You hum, letting go of him just to hint a hand under your dress. George flips to you, grabbing your second wrist. His fingers surround them, rings pressing in your skin. You smile innocently.

“You can’t fucking stop yourself,” he says, low. 

Taunting, you quip, “I was just gonna scratch an itch.” 

Moving your two wrists into one hand, he slams you against the bricked wall of the alley. He uses his free hand to pick you up by the thigh, throwing you over hips up. You circle his waist with your legs, trapping him inside of them. 

Just the feel of his cock under his jeans, long and hard and practically begging for you, is enough to have you moaning. 

“Is this what you wanted?” 

It’s probably some taunt, but you answer truthfully, “Yes.” 

You want to touch him. His cutting jaw, his short hair, his muscled shoulders. You want the feel of him under your greedy palms, but he still holds your hands firmly against the bricks.

Bending down, he licks a filthy trail of spit on your breasts, biting on the skin. You can’t stop a cry, throwing your head against the wall. “George.” 

“I’ll destroy you.” And he would. Long and tall and strong, capable of breaking your ribs. You’d welcome it, head spinning at the memory of his long fingers spreading across the bones. 

“Lot of talking and not a lot of doing.” 

He huffs at your cheekiness, pressing your wrists tighter. It’ll leave some red marks you’ll have to hide behind long sleeves in fucking May. You’ll tug at them all day tomorrow, pulling them back when you’re by yourself just to stare at the blotches in the form of his rings. 

Finally, George has to let you go, using all his effort to work at his belt buckle. You shimmy the dress up your hips, moaning when you’re finally free to rock against his hardness. 

Hands out of jail, you grab his neck. “Kiss me.” Not a plea, a demand. 

He scoffs, pulling his black jeans down. “Like you’ve earned it.” You’re about to pout, but he finally frees his wonderful cock, and you’re more busy gazing than anything else. 

God, he’s magnificent. Long and thick, with a vein running on the underside, curving just enough to hit a wonderful spot inside of you. You practically salivate at the sight of him. 

Of course, he knows this, smirking softly as he pets your hair. “I won’t be gentle.” 

“I wouldn’t want you to be.” 

George enters you with one powerful thrust. He doesn’t bother building up to anything, just fucks into you with some brutal, feverish pace. You can’t do anything but hold onto his shoulder and mewl, purring in his ear as he lights burning pleasure in the deepest parts of you. 

“Shit, George.” 

He sloppily kisses your cheek, moving down to bite on your earlobe. Bliss pours of you. You scrunch your eyes, throbbing around him. 

“I love you like this.” 

You snort. “You’re such a man.” 

“You fit perfectly around me,” George continues, undeterred by your mocking. “Don’t you? I’m splitting you up. Like you open up just for my cock.” 

“Your fingers too,” you moan, rocking your hips to rub your clit against him. He takes the hint, dropping one hand to circle your needy bundle of nerves. There, too, he doesn’t bother with niceties, swiping furiously until you’re drooling. 

His hips snap against yours faster, carelessly chasing some high. Thank God the street is quiet, echoing the sound of your spineless whimpers. 

“Kiss me,” you say, because you hate coming without his mouth on yours. George smirks, knowing this, knowing you’d ask eventually. “Come on. Kiss me, please.” 

“Why should I?” 

“Because—“ You sigh in frustration. Uncontrollable pleasure builds inside of you, pressing on your belly. He thrusts with abandon, some hard pace hitting the most wonderful places. You’re close. You’re definitely close. 

Most importantly, you’re desperate. “Because I need you to. Because I can’t come without you kissing me. I was made for this. I was made for you. Please, please, George. Kiss me. Let me come.” 

He laughs, bending down to press a heated kiss on your lips. You part them instinctively, moaning in his mouth as he licks your tongue. 

You love him. You love him. 

With a final stroke, you fall apart on his cock, screaming as waves of pure euphoria hit you in a dizzying tsunami. Relief washes over you, uncoiling the tense muscles. Your head drops on his shoulder, smiling happily as he continues to snap into you. 

“My pretty girl.” You nod faintly. 

George is quick to follow behind you, thrusts growing erratic as he finally finds this stupid high he has been missioned on. He groans in your hair, spilling inside of you, shuddering. You kiss his jaw softly, smiling. 

When you finally trust your legs again, he puts you back down on the ground, tucking the underwear over your cunt to trap his leaking cum, carefully lowering the skirt of your dress again. 

He smiles cheekily, kissing you. “How’s your itch?” 

You hum, playful. “It’ll be better after another one.”