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givemequeen · 1 year

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I want everyone to know that you’re mine: George Harrison x reader

request(s): - can you write a smut about George being like possessive and wanting the reader to be loud during sex bc “I want everyone to know that you’re mine” and if possible have it happen bc maybe the reader was getting hit on by the others and George wanted to reiterate who she was with? Thanks so much! - Can you write something smutty for George? - pls i need more george smut 🥺🥺🥺 im in love w him 🥺🥺🥺🥺 (aren’t well all) a/n: do any other authors get horny when writing smut or... pairing: George Harrison x reader summary: teasing George (just realised i put in the wrong summary! it is correct now tho, whoops!) warnings: sexy time! dirty sexy time! orgasm denial (female) oral (male receiving). unprotected sex (remember to wrap it before you tap it, lads). ass smacking. kinda harsh sex but not too harsh. jealous!george word count: 3651

George always got off the stage horny. He said it was a combination of a lot things but you knew the roar of the crowd and the fact you were there watching and waiting for him was what really got him going. He wanted you to see his success, just like you wanted to show how proud you were of him. He had, after all, worked so hard to get where he was. So, you never missed a show.

Tonight was no different, George, despite being engrossed by his performance, couldn’t stop looking backstage to look at you. You had worn a short dress today and no underwear. You had whispered this delicate information to him just as he was getting on stage and when it was too late for him to do anything about it. But the look on his face was priceless, pure shock and desire.

As soon as the last song was over, he bolted off stage, not even waiting for their final bow, and rushed towards you, nearly toppling you over. He picked you up, hands flying to your ass, and spun you around.

“Fuck, I’m so hard, I’ve been waiting all night for this.” He growled in your ear, pushing his boner against you. “Let’s go baby, please.” You laughed and placed your hand on his chest, pushing him back.

“We can’t leave, there’s the after party.” You winked before walking away to congratulate the other boys with a polite kiss on their cheeks.

Once their instruments were safely set to the side the five of you headed outside to your cars. George followed close behind you, his hand low on the small of your back, finger feeling the fabric to remind himself you weren’t wearing any underwear. You got into two cars, You, George, and Paul on one and Ringo and John on the other.

The cars sped away from the crowds of fans and headed to the hotel you were all staying at. The hotel had organised a party for the band in their presidential suite. It was going to be filled with roadies, journalists, music producers, and models, and you couldn’t wait to use this opportunity to tease George.

You were sat between the two boys with one of your hands on George’s thigh, your slim fingers drawing circles in his inner thighs.

“That’s driving me wild, I’m going to fuck you when we get to the room.” George muttered as he pressed his lips to your ear.

“So, did you like the show?” Paul asked, oblivious to what was going on. He had light a cigarette and was offering some to you and George. George accepted, placing it between his lips and lighting it. Something about him lighting a fag drove you wild and you couldn’t wait to fuck him once you go to the hotel but the game you were playing wasn’t going to end soon.

“Of course, you were amazing tonight.” you said, momentarily placing a hand on his knee and removing the one you had on George’s thigh.

George sat up and you smiled, knowing he had taken the bait. Paul smiled happily and thanked you.

“You look great tonight, love.” Paul smirked. “That dress... is it new?” You could hear George practically growl next to you.

“Yes!”

“Looks stunning on you, love.” he met your eyes and smiled that charming smile of his. “You look stunning tonight.”

“Back off McCartney.” George said, placing a protective arm around you.

“C’mon Georgie, don’t be ridiculous.” you said, pushing off of him.

“Yeah, Georgie.” Paul teased as the car came to a stop, having finally reached the hotel.

George reached over to him but Paul jumped out of the car. Cameras immediately starting flashing, fans were yelling the boy’s names all around you. You kissed George’s cheek before getting out, pressing your ass into him as you moved over him. George grabbed your waist and pulled you to him, pressing his boner against you.

“Behave, I see what you are doing.” he said before letting you go.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” you smiled, grabbing his hand and walking into the hotel through the screaming crowds.

Once in the suite you headed off to find your group of friends. They were an assortment of journalists and roadies who followed the band around. Naturally, you spent a lot of time with them which caused a friendship to flourish. In this group of friends was a specific roadie who George hated as George claimed he had flirted with you. Your boyfriend wouldn’t listen to reason since you repeatedly told him he was gay and was more interested in him than in you.

“Thats just an excuse to touch your boobs.” George had said, pouting.

“No because he surprisingly does not touch my boobs.” you had rolled your eyes and left it at that.

But you could now feel George’s eyes on you across the room as you sipped on a drink, lounging on one of the velvet sofas, and talked to said roadie. George had been starting at you the entire time you were there but he had been caught in a conversation with some music producer.

John came over to join you, sitting by your side and placing his arm on the sofa behind you. He started mumbling about the concert and the party but he was so drunk you couldn’t understand him so you simply patted his shoulder and nodded. You could feel George watching you and suddenly an idea came onto mind.

You stood up and sat back down across John’s lap. He smiled up at you and hugged you, clearly ready to sleep. You ran your fingers through his hair and glanced up at where George had last been but he was gone. You glanced around, suddenly worried that you couldn’t find him.

“Love.” George said from behind you. You jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. You looked back and smiled, George was upside down!

“Georgie, you’re upside down!” you laughed.

“Are you drunk?” he asked, cocking his head sideways. His face was tense, clearly unhappy at the situation but you couldn’t care less, he had to live a little. “Get off his lap.”

“No, I’m just happy.” you threw your arms around his hips, dragging him towards you, and ignoring his second question. “And you?”

“Lets get out of here.” he whispered, leaning over and starting to pull you away from John, who just flopped backwards and promptly fell asleep.

“What? No! The night is young.” you whined before standing up and dragging George over to the dance floor.

Dozens of people had congregated in the centre of the room and were dancing widely. Arms were thrown up and hips were swung to the rhythm of the music. You pulled George to the centre and placed your arms on his shoulders. His hand went to your hips, pulling you close.

“You look gorgeous tonight.” George said, his lips chasing yours. “What were you doing on John?”

But you ignored him and allowed yourself to feel the music, the thumping of the bass resonated deep within you. You threw your head back and immediately George’s mouth went to your neck. He kissed and sucked on the skin there, surely leaving marks.

“Georgie, careful.” you frowned, chastising him.

“Lets go, my love, I want you.” he pressed himself against you. “I need you.”

“I can feel that.” you giggled.

“Do you want me to fuck you right here? Huh? In the middle of the room and let everyone see how well you take my cock?” his voice was low, its vibrations travelled all the way down between your legs.

“Fuck, Georgie.” you palmed him through the jeans, looking around to make sure no one could see but everyone was too high or drunk to notice.

“Lets go.” he wrapped his longer slender fingers around your wrist and pulled you towards the exit. A couple people tried to stop him to talk to him but he was a man on a mission and practically shoved them aside. Once outside the suite, George picked you up and pressed you against the wall.

He began kissing you like a starving man, hands slipping under your dress to grab your ass. You moaned as he pressed himself against you and you rocked your hips against him, desperate for some friction. George pressed himself further against you, preventing you from moving.

“No, you don’t get to do that after how you have behaved all night.” he sunk his teeth onto your flesh and you yelped, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“I’ve been good, Geo, what do you mean?” you lied, kissing his face.

“You and I both know thats a lie.” he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him. “You’re gonna do as I say and if you’re good maybe I’ll cum in you.” George set you down and grabbed you, pulling you towards your room.

Once inside, he picked you back up and took you over to the bed, dropping you on it. You watched in anticipation as he slowly took his shirt off. You rubbed your thighs together, desperate for some friction.

“Stop that.” George snapped. “You don’t get to do that.” he shook his head and you.

Finally, his shirt came off. He threw it on the ground and unbuckled his belt. He dropped his trousers and took himself out of his pants. While staring right at you, George stroked himself. You bit your lower lip, eager to have him in you.

“Stand up.” he ordered, you did as he requested, your eyes sliding down to his erection. “Kneel.” you dropped to your knees and looked up at him.

“Now what?” you asked sweetly, trying your best not to look at it.

George stayed silent, he trailed his fingers through your hair and tugged it back so your mouth fell open. He grabbed himself and guided your mouth towards him. You stuck your tongue out, allowing his cock to rest on it, and closed your lips around him.

“Good girl.” he said, his other hand went to your chin, pushing it up so he could see better.

You closed your eyes and moved your head forward until his cock hit the back of your throat. You gagged slightly but remained there until tears formed in your eyes. You pulled back, gasped your air, and did it again. Slowly, you let your tongue explore him. It went over the ridges and veins of his cock, mapping out every inch of it.

One of your hands went to his hips for stability, the other going between your legs. You slipped two fingers inside of you and rocked your hips the same way you bobbed your head backwards and forwards. You moaned, the vibrations of your moan made him buck his hips forward.

He groaned and collected your hair into one hand. He pulled you back so only the tip of his cock was inside your mouth, and slowly pulled himself out. A single line of spit and pre-cum connected you and his dick. He grabbed his cock and placed it back into your mouth.

“Mouth open.” he slowly pushed his hips forward. You held your breath, fingers stopping inside of you, and felt your eyes roll to the back of your head as he made his way down your throat.

Then, at the same excruciatingly slow pace, slid himself back out. George did this a couple times before slamming into you with no warning. You choked on his cock but that didn’t stop him. He grabbed your jaw, hand so big his fingers nearly reaches your ears, and fucked your mouth.

“Fuck...” he groaned. “This is what you get for being a slut.” his eyes were trained on yours. “Stop fucking touching yourself, you think I don’t notice?” reluctantly you removed your fingers from yourself. “Now take my cum.” he pushed his hips into your mouth one last time before finishing inside of you. As his cum shot out, he rolled his hips, and you licked his cock, making sure every last drop came out.

Then, he slid himself out. You stuck your tongue out and blinked up at him. “Good girl.” he slid his finger down your cheek and shoved them into your mouth, reaching the very back and making you gag. “Swallow.” you did as you were told. “Now get up.”

“Yes, daddy.” you stood up and George’s mouth was immediately on yours. He reached behind you and pulled down the zipper to your dress. The short sleeves of the dress fell from your shoulders. George pulled it over your head, leaving you completely bare. He pushed you onto the bed, grabbed your ankles, pushing your legs apart, and dragged you to him.

His fingers slid up your thighs at an excruciatingly slow pace, getting closer and closer to where you needed him the most. He looked up at you through his lashes, there was pure hunger in his eyes.

“Please Geo.” you whined.

“What do you want, my love?” he asked getting closer to you. You bit your lower lip and nodded. His fingers slid into you and you moaned. “Louder.” his fingers curled inside you and you moaned louder. He began working his magic inside of you, moving his fingers with such precision and rhythm that made you thank your lucky stars that he was a musician.

Your mouth hung open as you let moan after moan spill out of you. His thumb went to your clit, gently massaging it. Your thigh were threatening to close but George had placed his hands over them, pressing them down. You moaned his name and told him you were close.

“Good girl.” he said as he pulled his fingers away from you.

“What the fuck?” You groaned, dizzy from the pleasure and alcohol. You watched as he sat on the edge of the bed and patted his lap.

“Sit here.” You did as you were told and straddled his thigh.

“What now?”

“Get yourself off.” he shrugged.

Heat rose up to your cheeks. Get yourself off? On his thigh? You swallowed and nodded. You rocked your hips, a small whine escaping your lips at the sensation. His thigh was hard, the muscle under rubbing against you in the best way possible.

“You don’t think I want to fuck you?” he growled, his hands went to your hips gripping you tightly and urging to move faster. “You don’t think I want to shove my cock in you and make you come?”

“I know you do.” you moaned. “Oh, George...”

“Then why do you behave so naughtily? Flirting with Paul and John right in front of me? It’s like you’re begging to be punished.” he tutted, shaking his head.

One hand went to your breast, squeezing it harshly. You moaned his name as he licked your nipple. You rocked your hips against him faster, determined to orgasm.

“I wasn’t flirting.” you lied as you quickened your pace.

“Don’t fucking lie, slut.” George said grabbing your jaw. You looked at him and reached for his cock.

You jerked him off at the same pace you rocked against him. Each time you moaned his name his hips jerked. You moaned it louder and he kissed you, you moaned it even louder and he played with your breasts.

But George’s patience was wearing thin. He flipped you around, laying you on the bed and crawled over you. His mouth was on you, his kisses sloppy, and with no warning, he slammed into you. You gasped his name, unable to do much else, and squeezed your thighs around him and he relentlessly pounded into you.

“Louder, love. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. I want everyone to hear how well I fuck you.” he grabbed your hands and pinned them above you, exposing your neck.

His mouth attached itself to the soft skin there and began sucking. You went to complain but a sharp slam of his hips shut you up. Instead, you moaned and moaned. Each slam of his hips making you go louder. You yelled his name and his rhythm got sloppy.

George pulled out of you and turned you around with ease. He pulled your hips up, exposing your ass to him, and aligned himself, his dick pressed against you. He rubbed his tip against you slowly, almost as though taunting you. You pushed your hips back and he pulled away.

“Oh George, fuck me please, please.” you moaned.

He smacked your ass and slowly slid in to you. He quickly returned to the ruthless pace he had set before. His hand slapping your ass as you gripped the sheets. His fingers went around your hips, meeting your clit, and began drawing circles.

You were coming undone, the brutal slamming of his hips against yours filling the room with the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with the effortlessly skilled movement of his fingers against you was pleasantly overwhelming. He leaned over you, pressing his chest against your back and pulled your hair back.

“Are you going to come?” he groaned. “Come for daddy, you’ve been good. I want to hear you.”

You nodded and let yourself loose. The explosion of pleasure took over you, making your body go limp. George held you up as he continued fucking and fingering you. You unapologetically moaned his name over and over until your throat felt raw.

Just as you were coming down from your high George slammed his hips into you one last time and came inside you. His cum shooting into you felt delightfully familiar. You clenched around him and gripped the sheets so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if they ripped.

George collapsed on top of you, cock still inside you and weight crushing you. He gently kissed your shoulder, hand going around your body to squeeze your breast. His cock was still hard when he slipped it out. You rolled over and smiled at him but he was staring between your legs.

He licked his fingers and pushed his cum that had began leaking out of you and down your thighs back in. You winced at the wave of pleasure that crashed against you like aftershock.

“This pussy is mine.” he said, reaching down to kiss it.

Bonus:

George had returned from the bathroom and scooped your limp body in his arms. He had taken you into the bath and sat behind you, your back against his chest, wet bodies pressed together, as he gently cleaned you up. Then, he had tenderly dried you, taking extra care around your thighs, and taken you back into bed were you were now spooning.

“Was that good?” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Very.” you mumbled.

“It wasn’t... too much?”

You turned your head to look at him and smiled, placing a hand over his cheek.

“I liked it. I love it when you’re possessive. It was very hot.” you gently kissed his cheek. “I love you.” you murmured and spun your whole body around to face his.

“I love you too.” he said, pressing his head into your hair.

You reached your hand down his pants and hesitated. George nodded and reached to pull your own underwear down. You wrapped your hands around him and felt as he got hard.

George laid back, his hands on your hips guiding you over him. He comfortably slid into you, like a key into a lock, and you both happily sighed. You fell against him, bare chest against bare chest, and slowly rocked your hips. George wrapped his arms around you and met your movements half way.

“I’m sorry love, I can’t last any longer.” he groaned.

“Cum in me, Geo. Fill me up.” you whispered, your words driving him wild.

It was the most comfortable filling, his hips crashing against yours - once, twice, three times - as he came undone. Then, you remained like that, his cock buried deep in you and his mouth kissing your skin, until he softened. You pulled yourself away from him and he tucked himself back in.

He pulled you against him, his whole body wrapping around yours, and fell into a deep slumber.

BONUS BONUS:

The next morning you stumbled over to the wardrobe, George watching your naked behind body from the bed, and pulled on plaid trousers and a pink cardigan to match. He helped you as you got ready, kissing your cheek and neck or wherever he could reach.

You walked hand in hand towards the elevator and made your way down to the private room the hotel had given the band for their meals. Inside was John, Ringo, and Paul, all sat around a round table filled with food.

They all looked up as you entered and started laughing. Unsure, you cocked your head to the side and asked them what was so funny.

“Did you have a good night?” John said, wiggling his eyebrows, between fits of laughter.

Realisation dawned on you, they probably heard everything. You shut your eyes in embarrassment but George was having none of it. He pulled you to his side, arm going around your shoulders and led you to the table where breakfast was set.

“Piss off, you lot are just jealous.” he said, rolling his eyes and ignoring their howls of laughter.

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harrisongslimited · 1 month

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George Chapter of the Day. March 13, 2024

Greetings my dear tumblr and Beatles' families! Happy to announce I'm popping a foot into the fanfiction pool and seeing 👀 what happens. Your comments are more than welcome!!

All the important stuff:

Title: I Saw Her Standing There

Story Description: John, Paul, George and Ringo meet Joie Armagh, a strong willed American girl, who influences their lives more than they wanted.

Trigger Warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking, drug references, adult situations and behavior, M/F smut, fluff, falling in love, tense arguments, angst.

**18 only please***

**This is a work of fiction. As such, it should not be read as a factual account of events or as biography. While many characters of the story bear the names of actual people, they and their actions have been imagined by the author and should be considered products of the imagination. This story is fictional and the events did not happen. It is written and re-produced here online for the purposes of entertainment only.**

Author's Note: I've noticed many fanfics have a Starrison or a McLennon flair, but this story will be M/F interactions including smut. It's just how I see them! Now if you're under 18, just move yourself right along. As I'm not there to patrol over you, just be strong and pass this up. I had to wait to read adult material and so do you!

Thank you to gif artists and photo owners.

Phew! That's over....

She was across the room from him; he could barely see her without his thick, black rimmed glasses. He felt her. Felt her as if she were standing within inches of him. His skin was hot. The light brown hair on his arms came alive – his stomach grumbled with a feral intensity.

Chapter 1

There was something about her. Something, he figured, she didn't know about yet, something she didn't know how to use – yet – but it made John Winston Lennon rearrange his slumped body to a nearly half-attentive position.

John watched her as best he could without his glasses. He was nearly blind without them, but acknowledged only to himself that he was far too vain to wear them in public. Besides, if he had to see something that important, Paul, George or Ringo would alert him. But at this moment, they were too interested in their own orbits to notice much.

She was talking to someone. Someone he didn't know – which he didn't care much about. From her body language, he could tell it was tense. She ran a hand through her short, auburn hair, and he continued to watch as she pointedly aggravated the man she was talking to.

This, to John, was great entertainment.

She turned in John's direction, although he couldn't tell if she saw him or not. It was nice she wasn't straining to scope out a look at the four of them , like they were the side-show freaks they felt like – or make a mad dash for the table to try to touch him like he was some bloody good luck charm. He liked that. Maybe she didn't give a shit who they were. THAT, he nodded to himself, would be refreshing for a fucking change.

She was, however, very pissed off at the little runt who was running the audition and had he been asked, John would have agreed with her. The whole scene was outrageously idiotic, as were their whole lives now, but he had danced with the devil and this was payback time.

The little moron in charge, whom John was introduced to but couldn't have cared less about, was a highly paid ass-kisser with a slimy handshake and badly manipulated crew cut. John might have the appearance of someone who didn't give a shit, but he took in everything. Every person, every nuance, every sight and smell and sound. Nothing got past him, unless he wanted it to. And the little California-tanned wild bird was giving it to the little pisser and John couldn't take his eyes away from her. It made him jealous and angry and aroused that she could do what he wasn't allowed to.

Brian was about to intervene, as the pisser/wild bird barney was holding up the whole show. He wanted to tell Brian to leave her alone, that she was practically giving him a hand job from across the room, but he also had an immediate urge to get the hell out of this place. He didn't like the United States. Too much fucking sunshine and not a decent cup of tea within 10,000 miles. But, as was his current circumstance, money, the promise of women and fame had too much a hold on all four of them for anyone to say "piss off" and head back home to England. Because as sure as the sun rose in the east, if one went home, they'd ALL go home.

John watched as Brian interrupted the moron and the woman of his dreams. He threw an elbow into Paul's side to wordlessly alert him to the situation. Paul lifted up his brown eyes and tried to force a smile.

"Another one?"

"No man. Totally different. She's cutting that audition manager a new asshole."

"Good. Maybe we can get the fuck out of here. I'm beginning to think I made a wrong move when I chose a band over plumber's apprentice."

John looked at Paul. "You? A plumber? I'd pay to see your ass rooting out some loo in the low rent district."

"Piss off....," he answered. "So what's going on?"

John filled him in. Ringo and George were both still half asleep, cigarettes hanging off their lower lips. No one made any attempt to pay attention when their manager approached them.

"Get those bloody fags out of your mouths," Brian said to them. "You are all clean cut, working class boys from across the pond – and well paid to act your parts. So sit up and pay attention."

John made an obscene gesture. Ringo turned his back to him continuing to smoke and George leaned forward and gazed at Brian with his middle finger slowly working its way up to his temple.

Paul, ever the diplomat, made a valiant attempt to appear slightly more involved. "Look Brian, we aren't trying to make your life hell, but this is getting out of hand. We've spent 2 hours evaluating 200 girls who want to have a role in this movie. Really, it doesn't matter. We don't even know what the movie is about. Just have that little audition manager pick out the best of the bunch and send everyone on their way."

Brian sighed and pulled up a chair. John knew they were about to be lectured from the Brian Epstein Guide to Managing a Famous British Band. John wished he could order about a dozen Scotch and Cokes and call it a day.

"Boys," he started.

Ringo, George and John turned the switches off and began cruising down the avenues of their brains. Paul pretended to listen and caught the gist of the whole thing.

They were famous. Yes, he remembered that. There were politics involved in being famous. Yes, he remembered that. It was sometimes necessary to go through these things for the publicity. Yes, he remembered that.

"Just like a politician. You have to, figuratively speaking, kiss the babies and hug the old ladies. Half these girls are daughters of Hollywood big-wigs. We can't piss them off. We must pretend we are gentlemen."

"Thank God we've had lessons...." John piped in. "Now shut the hell up and tell me who that bird is."

"Who?"

"The one who is still going off on the audition manager."

Brian turned and jumped up. "Oh shit."

John sat totally upright for the first time all day as he saw her coming towards them at a determined gait. The audition manager followed her, mumbling.

Brian was about to intercept her when John looked at him sternly. "Back off, big man. Let her have her say."

If there was one thing Brian knew, it was when to absolutely listen to John. He could manipulate the other three on an individual basis, but John alone or the 4 of them enmasse, well, that was the ballgame. He let out a heavy breath.

John stood to watch her walk towards them. He had seen plenty of pretty girls since becoming famous. He had HAD plenty of pretty girls since becoming famous, but this pissed off bird was in a class by herself. She was nothing like the girls he normally went after – nothing like the birds of his own turf. He was, at this stage of his life, attracted to "bee-bees", Beautiful, Brainless and Sexy chicks who knew better than to open their mouths for anything except a blow-job. After a brief affair consisting of plenty of sex and perhaps a late night supper or two, maybe an autograph or an album, it was less of a problem to diplomatically dump a BB than it was a hometown girl or some mate's sister.

John had his exit line and delivered it with the precision of Olivier playing Hamlet. He could conjure up this little boy lost persona, with a pained "this is going to hurt me more than it is you" look and begin his speech. "I'm SOOO sorry, but I've realized that I really DO love my wife and I don't know how to thank you for helping me see the honest truth. I have to go back to her. Your unselfishness and honesty showed me what I must do. I know you'll understand. I can't tell you what you have done for me. I will never forget you (insert name or not). "

And it worked. 99% of the time. The other 1%, Brian took care of.

All at once, she was in front of them. Directly in between Paul and George. John shifted in his chair to look at her.

"Look, I know this is all fun and games, but it's 95 degrees out there in the hallway and girls are dropping like flies. There's no water, no air. C'mon---hasn't everyone had enough?"

Brian walked over to her and extended a courtly British hand. "I'm sorry Ms. but you will have to get back into line or leave the audition. You are causing a disruption."

The young woman looked at Brian then beseechingly at the four English lads that were sitting before her. John, for once in his life, was speechless.

Paul stood and faced her. "We didn't know..." was all he could muster. She was not amused. Not amused at all with any of them. George turned his eyes toward her and remained quiet.

"Well, now you do," she said without emotion, then sighed. "Look, I know you are the biggest things to come out of England since Earl Grey, but it's really hot out there. Can you put an end to this?"

George finally spoke. "What are you doing here?"

Her brown eyes flashed at him. "Does it matter? I'm just trying to get those other girls out of the heat."

"Why do you care?" John blurted out, his cigarette smoke exiting his mouth.

She sighed and was going to speak when Brian returned with a police officer and the audition manager.

"Hold off...." John eyed him.

The police officer stared at the woman for a minute before saying, "Joie?"

She looked at him and smiled. "Yes. It's me. I'm just trying to get those girls out of the heat, Mr. Watson. Or get them some water or something. I know they are all probably daughters of movie studios, but they are melting just the same."

Officer Watson turned to Brian. "I know this girl. She doesn't mean any harm. And after all, she has a point...."

John and Brian exchanged looks. Brian knew it well.

"We will get the girls out of the heat and move this along...." He answered properly.

"Thank you." Was all she said. And she turned to leave.

She didn't give a shit that they were the Beatles. She didn't give a shit if she got a bit part in their first movie. She just didn't give a shit about them. What she cared about was 90 remaining strangers, struggling in the heat.

John was enamored.

The audition manager was sweating profusely. He was too old for this shit. He had been around the greats---Barrymore, Hepburn, Gable. These punks from somewhere in England might make every girl wet her pants, but all they were was trouble to him.

Brian pulled him aside and a plan was made to move the line of girls along so they could get a look at the Lads from Liverpool and Brian would pick the 15 or so they needed in bit parts. The others would be given a ticket to the final concert in the film. All Brian knew for sure is that there was going to be a concert at the end. And 100 seats were to be occupied by the offspring of Hollywood elites. The other seats were to be auctioned off to fans through the fan club.

This is what he knew....as the screenwriter typed away, tucked safely back in London.

"Mal...." John groused at their assistant. "get her number....."

#the beatles #george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #beatlemania #Beatles fanfic #george harrison fanfic #i saw her standing there

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ringstarrr · 1 year

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Hi. If you don't mind, would you mind doing a song fic for Taylor Swift's coney island with either John or George? I just feel like it would work really well, especially these lines: "And do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? Will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?"

I Want to Tell You

pairing: john lennon x gender neutral!reader

warnings: angst, depression, self image

author's note: first of all, sorry for going missing for a few months. kinda had a burnout with college and work, but things are getting better - i think, at least.

and i kind of changed this a little lol i know it's a sad song and i made it accordingly, but the end is sweet. i might not be a swiftie but i'm a softie

1966.

It was like living through hell. Why did he have to say that? you’d think every once in a while since the whole bigger than Jesus broke out. John has always been one to make interesting comments - not to say controversial. You knowing him since you met at art school, it didn’t faze you a bit, yet, it was a different thing in America.

“They’re so fucking upright. It’s so phony.” You sought John during one of the tours you went by his side, still his girlfriend, flesh and nail. Now, long married, it’s been a few good months since you last followed beside him. John was getting more distant everyday and you didn’t know what to do.

He emitted his loud and heartwarming laugh. “I know, right?” John escorted you close to his chest, his nose in your hair. “Americans act like we are a bunch of weirdos. We are… different,” John chuckled, free hand hovering his face. “They’re nice. I’m the freak.”

This happened only a year prior to this fiasco. On that occasion, you made it your job to assure John he was an important person to the band and no matter what happened, you’d still be by his side. So far, you had maintained your words and stuck with John - even though he wouldn’t even look at you.

It made you insecure and going back in your head, trying to piece together why he had become such a loner those last months. Without preparation, you began to revisit your time at college, when you two first started dating. You were younger by a few years, and John was living the high of his teddy boy lifestyle.

He was a heartthrob. There was no other way to describe it.

Every single time you glanced in his direction, John’s eyes were already staring you down. Smiling smugly, he’d shake his head and wiggle his eyebrows. You were left blushing. It was heaven, knowing you caught the attention of someone like him. Your heart could melt just by the sight of him.

At the time, you weren’t looking for a relationship. But John had other plans. He flirted with you every chance he got, always putting some innuendo into everything. Even though you rolled your eyes every single time, you couldn’t deny to yourself how your hands would shake whenever John stormed in your direction. Neither could you say he didn’t make winter feel like a sunny afternoon in spring, considering the speeding beat of your heart and the way he caught your breath.

The memories left you wondering if you had closed your fists around something delicate for this to be happening. The silent tears fell down and you didn’t try to avoid the unstoppable. It was getting overbearing just to breath. When you first met, you thought that maybe 一 you were certain, to be completely honest 一 he’d be the death of you. At the time, the idea brought colour to your cheeks, thinking it’d be because of his antics and how flustered he made you feel. Now, you had the sour taste of knowing why.

Marrying one of the most desired man on the earth, show stopping sensation and global phenomenon was incredibly hard. And the business changed John’s usual upbeat and sarcastic nature. Theses things were still there but he wouldn’t show them as much. It turned him into a depressed and lonely wolf. John was starting to head straight to bed whenever he came home, telling you less and less about his life and what he was going through in his head.

Yet, you had an idea of why that was.

The press were writing a bunch of articles about all the things he and the boys did and, unfortunately, that included his health. Suddenly every news reporter was a nutritionist and they decided John was getting fat, which was far from the truth. You noticed how John was starving himself for awhile because of it, his self image completely deteriorated and his depression coming to a new highlight low-end. But John wouldn't say a word. You’d ask him, almost plead for him to open up you, but John wouldn't say a word.

In front of the television, you watched him and the band make yet another appearance for an interview. It was difficult for you to admit, but most of the time you heard his voice these days was on the TV. John was pushing you away. After talking to George, Ringo and Paul about the situation, they assured you this wasn’t happening just to you. John was pushing everyone away, whether he knew it or not.

Seeing that happy grin in his face on the telly, a sight you missed dearly, was enough to make your walls crumble down. You sobbed violently, crying out loud. What happened to my baby? Where did my baby go? Your whole body shook and your voice got hoarse by the second. But the moment you heard a car pull into the driveway, you pushed it all back inside, cleaning the tears’ path and clearing your throat. Uptight and anxious, you waited.

“You watching that crap?” was the first thing he said. John closed the front door, dropping his keys in the coffee table and sitting beside you on the couch. He slid his arm around you, turning you slightly to kiss you with care. After it ended, you two maintained faces close, noses brushing against one another, eyes closed. It was moments like this that made you feel everything was worth putting through.

“Just watching this group fine young men. They dress pretty well, especially that one” you said, turning a little to the TV, just enough so he could see your index finger pointing in his direction on the screen.

John snickered. “Nah, he looks like a twat.”

You snuggled your face against his neck, eyes closed. “And how was today, pretty boy?” as you whispered the question you immediately regretted it. John’s body grew rigid, moving away from you. I can’t do anything right.

“Ah,” he shrugged his shoulders, face showing how John cringed at the question. “It was… normal, I guess.” He bit down his lip, drawing in a deep breath. Silence emerged between youc and you wanted to scream. With a sigh, John got up. “Well, I’m taking a shower.”

Before you could think the decision over once more, you were speaking already. “John, can I ask you a question?” He was midway walking to your shared bedroom, stopping in his tracks. John turned around, confused.

Eyebrows knitted and hands on his waist, he answered. “Yeah, sure you can.”

“Did I shatter you?” your voice quivered, just a little above a purr. You felt tears threatening to form but you didn’t care. You needed to get it off of your chest, it was killing you. John was startled by the inquiry, eyes wide.

“What makes you think that, love?” He still was by the bedroom, slowly coming back to you.

“You never talk to me anymore, John.” A sorry laugh left your lips as you said it, feeling like a lunatic. “And you used to come to me anytime if you were struggling, to have a laugh... Now you can barely stand to be next to me.” Your eyes flickered to the roof, holding back the emotions in turmoil. “You never ask about me anymore. It’s like you couldn’t give less of a shit sometimes,” you turned your focus back to him and it crashed your feelings. He was crying with a straight face, biting the inside of his cheek. “If this is the long haul, how’d we get here so soon?”

You managed to get a laugh from him, smiling a bit. After a few seconds, he spoke up. “Sorry for not making you my centerfold,” John pushed the tears away with the back of his hand. “I hate that we turned into this… all because of me,” now it was his turn to cackle like a mad man, hands in his hair.

“It’s okay, John.” You gave him a half-hearted smile.

“No! Of course it’s not, love.” He took a long breath and began tapping his foot against the floor. “You are my wife, for fuck’s sake. I love you and I pushed away? I’m a dick.” John was obviously mad at himself. “I didn’t think it would upset you this much, love. Fuck.”

“Baby…” you cooed, getting up from the couch. You tried to reach for his hands, but he shook them instead.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. I don’t want your pity.”

“John,” you took hold of his hand, your hold strong and tight. “Shut up. You’ve been through a lot and it’s okay to react like this. But you should be more aware of the fact that there are people that care and worry about you.” You pushed his fringe to the side with your free hand, resting it against his wet cheek. John closed his eyes. “You are not a bad guy, John. Just fucking stupid sometimes,” both of you laughed.

“What’s a lifetime of achievement if I pushed you to the edge but you were too polite to leave me?” You cringed at that, not agreeing with him.

“I would never leave you, sweetheart. I love you too much,” you said, laughing a little. “Just don’t push me away anymore. I’m always here for you.”

“Sorry for being fucking stupid.”

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thasboyy · 2 years

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George Harrison x Reader

Warnings: None

It was one of those days in which inclimate weather knocked out the power. The loud, rumbling thunder that sounded is what allowed you to go over to George without being detected, since it drowned out your footsteps.

He was sitting there so quietly as he read his book, the light of a mere candle illuminating the words. You blew air at the candle, and watched as the flickering flame disappeared before your very eyes.

“I should’ve expected that you’d do that.” George spoke, shutting his book as he got up to go get a match to relight the candle. You sat down, catching one glimpse at him in the second that lightning struck, lighting up the whole room.

You observed as he relit the candle and discarded of the match. Then you grabbed the book he had been previously reading only to look at the cover. You slid it back to where it originally was, “Fortunately, this storm shouldn’t last much longer.” You said.

“That’s good. I pity the other people living near here; their electricity has probably been knocked out too.” He said, looking at the burning flame.

You gave a slight nod just to show that you agreed. You made eye contact with him, and you nearly got lost in those eyes of his. The bright, dancing flame of the candle was reflected in his eyes. You smiled as you suggested, “We should go to the park once it’s done storming.”

“Yes, that’s a marvelous idea, my love.” He replied. You giggled, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers with his.

#classic rock #the beatles #the beatles fanfiction #george harrison #george harrison fanfic #classic rock fanfiction #rock

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pansextastic · 4 months

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

#fanfiction #the beatles #fanfic #ringo starr #george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney #ao3 fanfiction #ao3 link #ao3 beatles #john paul george and ringo #1960s #the beatles fanfiction

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imagine-mokey · 5 months

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#mcharrison #george and paul #george harrison #paul mccartney #the beatles #fanfiction #fanfic #handsome #cute

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glowing-gold · 2 months

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"Dreams" in Lennon/McCartney Music

Paul's Premonition//John Lennon Quote//However Absurd, Paul McCartney//Things We Said Today, Lennon/McCartney//Strawberry Fields Forever, Lennon/McCartney//Child of Nature, John Lennon//John Lennon Quote//I Say It Just To Reach You interview//Get Back//Borrowed Time, John Lennon//God, John Lennon//Best Friend, Paul McCartney//#9 Dream, John Lennon//The Lovers That Never Were, Paul McCartney//On My Way To Work, Paul McCartney

#the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon #george harrison #ringo starr #beatles #love #mclennon ao3 #mclennon fanart #now and then #john and paul #j/p #mclennon fanfic #mclennon fanfiction #mclennon dreams

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beatleshalloween · 2 months

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The Beatles! George is a little hard to see bc of John's hand. But a good view of Brian Epstein!

#the beatles #ao3 fanfic #ao3 beatles #ao3 fanfiction #george harrison #paul mccartney #ringo starr #john lennon #brian epstein

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vivi-in-the-sky-with-diamonds · 1 year

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My Heart Went Boom (or how The Beatles would react to an s/o who loves their heartbeat)

(Image source is I honestly don't know, I found it on Pinterest- if you know the source, lemme know and I'll add it c: )

This is my first attempt at writing something for all four Beatles (I usually just write Paul ;A;) so please bear with me (and let me know if I've messed up someone's personality) c: also this was written by me specifically for me so it's incredibly niche and I'm honestly only posting in case someone else wants it lol (I'm sorry if it's super weird)

John:

John is a little shit

Anyway

He knows about your habit but refuses to tell you he knows, instead opting to aggravate the shit out of you in the most loving way possible

Most days, he'd come home, out of breath from outrunning fans and reporters, but still with a cheeky smile about his face

"Oh, my little birdie, my heart is beating so fast! Come listen?~"

You'd turn bright red bc how the fuck does he know about that

The day would pass with no other mention of it until you're lying in bed together

"You know I love you, Y/N" he says it almost like an apology

"I know, Johnny"

Paul:

Paul noticed you had a habit of lying on top of him, particularly on days when you were sad

It wasn't until he realized you also tapped his arm in a particular rhythm that he realized exactly what you were doing

After that, he'd make a note to always ask if you were okay or needed anything and to take some deep breaths to slow down his heart rate

Sometimes, if he senses that you're upset but you're not lying on top of him, he'll say, "Come listen to my heart?" (You never felt the need to verbally confess to him, as you had an unspoken understanding)

One time, his mouth got ahead of his brain, and out came, "Come listen, my heart?"

And thus, a new nickname was born

At some point, "my heart" becomes "mon coeur"

Sometimes, he'll ask completely in French and it makes your own heart flutter

George:

With George, it began as morbid curiosity

After all, he's such a skinny thing, if you look closely enough at any of his pulse points, you can see the rhythm

At some point, it turned into a comfort thing, knowing his heart beats only for you, even if it does sound like a bird fluttering half the time

One day, you're lying on the couch, watching the telly, head on his chest

"Are ye listenin' to my heart, Y/N?"

You blush at first, caught completely off-guard, but manage to say, "Yes"

He asks why and you explain

He's silent at first, not knowing what to think, but then his mouth turns up in a smile and his chest puffs with pride

It makes him feel strong knowing you feel comfort in him

Ringo:

You'd had the habit of listening to Ringo for a while, even before you started dating

You'd relish in the moments where you'd simply have a "friend cuddle", as the two of you called them, as you'd press your ear gently above his heart, hoping he wouldn't notice the ever-so delicate touch on his chest

After he'd gotten tonsillitis, though, your habit increased

He was oblivious, thinking you just wanted to hug or cuddle, but for you, it was almost like you needed to hear him to make sure he was alive and well

Sometimes, you'd find yourself pressed against him in the middle of the night, the spaces between beats agonizingly slow (even if it was an average 75 bpm)

At some point, he finally catches on. "Y/N, you know I'm alright now, right?"

You sigh. "I know, Ritchie, it's just-"

He'd cut you off by holding you tight and whispering reassurances in your ear

#mine #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #the beatles #the beatles fanfiction #beatles x reader #beatles imagine #beatles imagines #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney x reader #george harrison x reader #ringo starr x reader #this is my official apology to the entirety of beatles tumblr #this has been in my brain for two weeks #vivi in the sky with fanfics #^^official fanfic tag

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saint-mona · 1 year

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There are new members of The Beatles fandom and I wanted to share a valuable resource that was curated from the remains of the old LiveJournal platform:

This library of Fanfiction has been a blessing! Created by @chut-je-dors , there are fics on here that are many years old. Written by fandom elders past.

Perhaps you are aware of this archive, if not, reblog to share with everyone. The holidays are a time of giving. What better way to give than the gift of ‘J&P’ smut 😈

Enjoy, ya’ filthy animals!!!

#the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #j&p #mclennon #iconic j&p fics #the beatles fanfiction #mclennon fic recs #j&p archive #classic mclennon fanfics #early beatles #baby beatles #george harrison #ringo starr #happy holidays #share the love #give the gift of smut

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harrisongslimited · 1 month

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George Chapter of the Day #6

I Saw Her Standing There

Trigger Warnings: swearing, adult situations, bullying

Chapter 6

"Where the hell have you been?" Allison greeted her.

"Staying with friends," Joie answered flatly.

"We are supposed to stick together you know," Allison reprimanded.

Joie just smiled. "Well, I'll be staying with some friends periodically. As a matter of fact, we can speak to the chaperone and maybe get you a new roommate."

"Hell no," she shot back. "I like having my own room. I'm gonna land me a Beatle if it's the last thing I do."

"Is that why you came here? To sleep with one of the Beatles?"

Allison waved a hand at her. "Why do you think any of these girls wanted to come? What are you? Stupid? Why the hell did you come?"

"Frankly, to see London..." Joie admitted, then threw in for good measure "and to see some old friends."

"Well have fun, roomie," she said. "I've got a plan I need to work on."

"So who are you after? John? Paul? George, Ringo?"

Allison threw her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "Doesn't matter, does it?"

Joie followed her a moment. "But Allison, they have lives, girlfriends...wives!"

Allison forced a wicked smile and repeated, "Doesn't matter...does it?"

Joie watched her as she followed the group of girls into a dressing room. She was totally out of her element. Yes, she found Paul attractive but it wouldn't go any farther than that. And then peeking in her mind was George. What she felt for him was....was....well, she didn't know what exactly, but she would never try to sleep with any of them. Truth be told, she wasn't ready to sleep with anyone. The farthest she and Charlie got was her battling him to stop trying to unzip her pants. He finally gave up and started dating Sheila Mattes, who boasted about helping boys unzip her pants.

Joie wanted to be in love. She wanted her first time to be something special...not just a quick grope in the back seat of a car during a drive in movie. She wanted flowers and romance and a loving courtship. Like in the romance novels she read or love stories she watched at the movies. Someone to take her away. Someone who would love Jordan and watch football with her dad.

She knew that boy was somewhere. She just needed to be smart and patient. Apparently, very patient.

..........

Victoria Brown was the woman who would show them the ropes at the studio. From what Joie could tell, it would be a lot of standing around, then some running after the boys, then a little screaming. Simple. Except that girls were disappearing at an alarming rate. "Wandering off" they called it. Victoria Brown knew they were trying to get to the Beatles and Victoria also knew the Beatles' wouldn't mind a quick one in the loo before a scene.

They were all instructed as to what to wear, where makeup was, where they were supposed to report and when. It was like a cattle call to Joie, but she didn't care. It was all new to her. Some of these other girls had actually been in movies that had been produced by their fathers, so it was old hat to them. But Joie was amazed at the organization.

By 3:30 they were done. Tuesday was going to be a free day and then Wednesday, they were going to start shooting "B" shots of the girls running, standing...waiting for the Beatles. The last scene, in about 4 weeks, was the concert. Joie couldn't wait for that.

She was getting ready to board the bus to go to the hotel when Victoria pulled her out of line. She instructed the bus driver to leave. Seems Joie was going to have a special driver of her own.

Part of her hoped it was Paul, but another part of her said it wasn't a good idea. She went back into the cavernous studio with Victoria and was told to wait in a small back studio.

And wait she did.

And waited. And waited.

Nothing.

She heard people milling around and finally a man came in questioning why she was there. Joie told him she asked to wait here. She showed him the note Victoria had given her. It said simply, "Wait for me in Studio B, Paul."

The man laughed. "You've been had little one," he said. "Someone pulled a trick on you."

Joie didn't know if she should tell the man that Paul had actually brought her to the studio in the morning...but decided against it. Why embarrass herself further? The man probably wouldn't believe her anyway. So this, apparently, was the way little rich Hollywood girls have their fun and games. Well, fuck you and the horse you rode in on. Their bullshit bothered her as much as a 70° day.

"Can you tell me how I can get a taxi?"

"Where are you going?"

Joie had to think. To Freda's? To the hotel?

She decided on the hotel. It was the easiest place to get to. "Shepparton Inn," she told him.

"I'll drive you."

"That's ok," Joie told him, not wanting to get into the car with a stranger. "I'll manage with a taxi."

The man shook his head. "Look, my name is Dick Lester. I'm directing this movie and I'm safe to get into a car with. Who the hell are you anyway?"

All Joie told him was that she was from California and hired as one of the extras. She added that she had gotten separated from her group.

"I think the group separated you from the sound of that note," he said gently.

She felt foolish and small. All she could think of is going back home and thoughts of home made her weepy. But she wasn't going to cry in front of a stranger. She fought and fought until tears welled in the corner of her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she told him. "I'm just a long way from home."

"For the first time?"

Joie nodded and blinked furiously to dry her tears. She took a deep breath.

"Look," he said sitting down before her. "go your own way. These other girls just want to bang a Beatle and go home. Probably some of them will. Others will make up stories that they did. Just go your own way and you'll be fine."

Joie took another breath and finally smiled. "Thanks Mr. Lester. That really helped."

"And I'll get my assistant to get you a taxi..."

"Thanks again."

"No problem. My pleasure. And don't let those other girls get to you."

"I won't."

Joie waited by the studio gate for a taxi, still not sure of where she was going. She had no way of getting a hold of Freda, who was probably at Brian's office, but Joie didn't know the phone number. The safest bet was to go to the hotel and call Freda later to let her know where she was.

She only waited a few moments when a green mini cooper pulled up beside her inside the gate.

"Need a ride?"

It was George, his dark eyes shining bright as he looked into hers.

Joie smiled in recognition. "You have no idea...."

Joie climbed into the passenger's side and George noticed she seemed to be a bit weepy. "I didn't know where to go."

"Just go to Freda's if anything ever happens or call Brian's office. I'll give you the number to ring."

Joie proceeded to tell him how the girls had tricked her with a note from Paul. And how she thought the note was really from Paul since he had picked her up.

George knew that the note was probably meant to do exactly what it did -- embarrass Joie, with a hug and kiss from the jealous extras in the peanut gallery, but he remained mute.

"How about dinner?" George suddenly asked. "there's a restaurant by our place where we won't be bothered."

"Our place?"

"Ringo's and mine. We live together for now until we find our own places. I'm looking out towards Esher. Ringo likes living in town."

"Is Esher far?"

"An hour outside London," he explained. "Not too far from John and Cyn's."

"We'll stop by my house to see if Ringo wants to come with us. Maybe Mo too."

#the beatles #beatles #george harrison #beatles fanfiction #i saw her standing there #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #ahdn 1964 #george harrison fanfic #george chapter of the day #fan fic writing #writing on tumblr #writing

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iheartjohnlennon · 5 months

Note

Omg, hi! I just wanted to drop in and say hey and that I love love love your writing so much! You are one of my favorite class rock writers in Tumblr ❤️ Please keep it up!

Also, I was wondering if you could maybe write something smutty with John on the set of A Hard Day's Night or something? You don't have to though! I just love your John writing so much, it's my favorite :)

'You know I feel alright'

London, '64

Word count: 1030

Tags: Jealousy, Semi-Public Sex, Fluff, Angst

The filming had ended.

Her role was small, of course it was. This didn't mean it wasn't exciting though - dancing in the background with the boys, it was good fun.

"Well, if it isn't our leading lady," Paul remarked, a smirk on his face.

John rolled his eyes at the comment, she couldn't tell if the action was sarcastic or not.

She looked away from Paul coyly, "Oh, Paul, not quite. I'm just in the background, you know."

"Background or wherever, you steal the scene."

Paul was a bit too sweet with her sometimes, though it was all in jest, she hoped.

John observed Paul's flirts from a distance, it made him feel awfully bitter.

"Spare her the theatrics, Macca." John murmured.

Paul was undeterred, he shot John a smirk before being whisked away by a random assistant.

She turned toward John. He stood there still, a clear annoyance etched on his face.

"Finally got rid of that distraction, didn't we?" John said.

She sighed, recognising the tension.

"John, it's not like that. Paul's just having a bit of fun."

John crossed his arms, skepticism evident in his expression.

"Fun, eh? Fun? Fun flirting? With my girl?"

She reassured him, "It's just banter, John. Nothing serious."

He scoffed, a cynical look in his eyes.

She decided to change track, as she didn't want him being mad at her.

"Did you watch me dancing, John?" She teased, hugging his waist, looking up at him.

"Yeah, you looked like a right whore." John muttered.

He hugged her back just as tightly. The proximity heightened, their closeness bordered on the edge of him almost kissing her.

John's eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint as he suggested, "How about we sneak off somewhere? Somewhere quiet, just you and me."

She quirked an eyebrow, pretending to act like she didn't get his innuendo.

"Where are you thinking?"

"A secret place, love."

Without further explanation, he yanked her hand and led her away, leaving behind the noise and commotion and Paul, heading towards a moment of privacy.

"A broom closet?" She exclaimed.

John shoved her into it, quickly switching on the dim light. He silenced any protest with a rough, wet kiss - he had no room for objections. John pinned her into a cluttered corner, his hands promptly moved up underneath her skirt, groping her bottom.

He groaned against her mouth, he knew he had her.

She pushed him back slightly, giving herself a chance to breathe after his sudden moves.

After a few breaths John pressed forward again, his hands fiddled with the zipper of her skirt. But then he gave up on the zipper and just decided he'd pull her tights down.

John tugged his belt off, he let his pants and his boxers fall down to his ankles. He rubbed himself off a bit.

There was nothing to lie her on, apart from the floor and John didn't fancy fucking her on the floor so he prompted her to jump, jump so he could fuck her standing up.

With a gasp, she leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. With one hand on the small of her back and the other gripping her hip, he lifted her against the wall. His finger traced the lace edge of her panties before pulling it to the side, teasing her entrance with the tip of his hard cock.

She put her arms around his neck for stability, her fingers tangling in his hair. His lips moved against her neck, leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses that made her shiver with desire.

He gripped her hips and lifted her up and down, his thrusts started hitting just the right spot inside her. She arched her back in response, matching his movements with perfect timing. The light sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the room as he moved harder.

"Yes, yes, yes..." she gasped out between breaths.

As the waves of pleasure coursed through her body, her legs began to shake and her grip on him weakened. She could feel her climax building and subsiding in quick succession, just as he thrusted. Her fingers barely clung to him.

John moved his hands to grip her waist firmly, guiding her body back and forth in rhythm with him. The force of his movements was intense. His manhood pulsed inside of her, the throbbing sensation was going to finish him. He let out a groan as he lost himself in her, he could barely say her name.

John pressed her against the wall so she hugged her own body closer to his.

He whimpered and his breath quickened as they moved together, their bodies desperate to be intimately intertwined.

John's last few thrusts were fervent, each one driving them both to cumming. She shivered, her cunt clenched tightly around him as they reached their peak together.

John released himself inside of her.

She could feel his entire body tense before they became a tangled mess on the floor.

John seemed disillusioned. She was giggling at the thought of what they just did, it was purely filthy.

John reached down to his ankles and tugged up his pants, he struggled to get the belt buckled. She gracefully pulled on her tights and when she finally stood up, smoothed out her skirt.

They caught each other's eye and burst into laughter, their cheeks flushed and hair messy. They tried to regain composure, though they knew it had been lost the moment they stepped foot in the closet.

"Oh, Y/N, there's something different about you." John said.

"Oh." She replied, nervously.

"Is that a compliment, John?"

He smirked.

"Take it however you want, love. Just know that I want you all to myself."

He placed her head on his chest. She rested against him, a short pause settled in.

She felt a mix of emotions, though the dominant one was longing, it was sickly.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

He leaned in for a soft kiss and she accepted it.

"You are here," he mumbled against your lips, "and I wanna keep you close."

"How close?"

"As close as us shagging in a bloody broom closet."