𝐏𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐄𝐒 -beatles imagines, preferences

AND I FIND MYSELF THINKING well WHAT DOES YOUR CUM DO? (Joj)

This goes out to all my rather large chested folks who fucking hate it. I feel y'all 😔🖐
Era- 1959 my teddy boy :)
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~~~~~~Georgie POV~~~

The fire was a hyena, cackling with every crackle. We were all bored out of our very small minds, just trying to find something to do. We were in Y/n's lounge, her cigrarette smoke was preforming a strip tease in the air, all of us watching as it went.

"Why do ye always wear such baggy shirts?

The question was so direct, so of course John had to just voice it. Y/n sat there, that beautiful face dropping to the floor. We all wondered it, yet all of us were to much of pussies to ask it. I assumed she had a beautiful body, I always thought so, but I never got to see it.

"M-me?" She directed her index finger at her neck.

"Yes you," John cackled, with a yawn, stretching his long arms and then flopping them on the brim of the couch, one falling just inches away from Paul's shoulder.

"Because," She shrugged, kicking her foot more in the air.

"Because ain't no answer," Paul grinned, leaning closer towards her.

"Well I like baggy shirts, now shut that flapping mouth of yours," She stuck out her tongue, just before taking a drag of her cigarette.

Soon the loud sound of someone snoring caught all of our attention, and we all whipped our heads in the direction of Pete, who was out cold, mouth wide open, head hanging on the sofa's arm rest.

"Well then, I'm going," Paul smiled, awkwardly patting John's shoulder and only sending a wave to y/n and I.

"Well if he's going, I'm going," John yawned again, placing his hands on his knees in order to stand up.

"Wow, I know how to clear a crowd," Y/n smiled at me.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" I chuckled.

"Yeah, I guess," She nodded her head, leaning back further in the velvet recliner.

With a harsh gulp, "So what's the real reason? Why do ye always wear baggy shirts, because I know you were just lying,"

She lets out a deep, depressed sigh, "George, leave it,"

"Why? Just tell the truth," I egg her on.

Her nose flares out a bit, she narrows her eyes at me, "I said, leave it," She warns through gritted teeth.

"No, just fucking tell me!" I smirk.

"OH GOD BECAUSE I FUCKING HATE MY BODY! HAPPY NOW?" She shouts, jumping out of her seat, setting her cigarette out.

I was stunned, shocked, flabbergasted. Why did she hate her body? There was nothing wrong with it, she was fucking gorgeous, breath taking.

"W-why?" I sat up, rushing over to the leaning girl.

"God George, my tits are too big," She scoffs. Her arms were already folded the best she could in front of her chest.

I couldn't help it, my eyes just flicked right down to her chest. Maybe I never noticed it, but they were pretty large- but there was no too big. She had these perfect curves, yet I knew she caught my staring, as she kicked me in my shin.

"They're not," I smiled, pulling her by the shoulders onto my craving lips. She tasted perfect, of honey and cherries. Her (y/h/c) locks were swiping against my skin as we leisurely turned to taste and touch more of each other.

"George-" She began, brushing her silk tongue against my bottom lip. My hands fell to her waist, gradually slipping her shirt further up her torso. She shivered at my touch, even though I was heated from the blazing warmth just near by.

Her tongue twirled with mine, spinning around like a turn table, doing the cha cha, to the tango, to the fox trot.

"God George, please,"

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I may make the smut, but i just want to make my dennis deyoung one because he's yanno