erin 𝜗𝜚

“i fucked up, i know that, but jesus can’t a girl just do the best she can”

[lacedinribbons]

ᰔ hello beatlemania! | masterlist

im erin or lacedinribbons ᰔ i write mainly beatles fanfics / headcannons and all that cute stuff! i might also start writing for the monkees too if anyone is interested! ᰔ

— my inbox is open! feel free to request anything you’ll like and hopefully i will get back with something good! ᰔ

my blog is 18+ so please minors DNI because i write nsfw! thank you so much..

other than that i hope you enjoy my beatles brain rot ⋆˙⟡♡

[lacedinribbons]

hi angel! 🫶🏻 Hope you're doing good! I have another request if you don't mind 🥹

I'd really like to see John with a timid/naturally shy partner? Like before meeting John she was already introverted but she's not super afraid of people like how it usually is. She's just quiet and shows her love more through actions

Anyway, how are you? I always enjoy re-reading your fics 🎀 Take all the time you need.

- 🌸

of course !! this is so cute

im doing okay! im glad you like my writing lovely!! means alot :) so sorry for not being active lately, mental health is poopoo but i hope you enjoy this!! I haven’t written in so long so i hope this is what you were looking for! <3

pairing: john lennon x fem!reader

Quiet Love

It’s one of those nights when the four of them are crammed into a small waiting rooms or whatever flats they’re using between shows, guitars on the floor, ashtrays too full, laughter rolling over itself like it’s got nowhere else to be. Paul is flicking through chords half-heartedly, George throwing glances at him and Ringo telling a story that keeps getting interrupted by his own laughter.

You sit on the ground leaning against the wall, knees up, a calm little island at the edge of all the noise. You’re not withdrawn, not tense, you just don’t feed the chaos the way the others do. You watch, you listen, you absorb. If someone cracks a joke in your direction, you give a small, soft smile, the polite kind that acknowledges without dragging you in.

John’s stretched out on the couch, cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth, head tipping back as he laughed at something Paul said. He doesn’t look at you often, not in the obvious way but you can feel when his attention shifts. It changes the air a little when he remembers you’re in the room.

At one point, the record needle scratches to its end and the room keeps talking, nobody moving. You get up without a word, cross the room, and lift the arm to flip the record. You don’t ask if anyone minds. You don’t announce what you’re doing. You just fix the silence before anyone else notices

As you pass behind John on your way back, you stop for half a second, just enough to pluck the ashtray nearer to him, clearing the space at the edge so he doesn’t ash onto the cushions like he always does. You don’t say careful, you don’t say anything, you simply prevent the mess.

“Ta, love” he mutters, low so it stays between you.

You don’t answer. You go back to your place against the wall, settling in the same quiet way you left. But a minute later John shifts down the couch until he can see you better without turning his whole head, like he needs you in his line of sight the way other people need someone in their ear.

George notices first. “You gonna move in next to him at this rate?” he teases, nodding at how John has turned his whole posture toward you without admitting it.

John flicks ash at him. “Mind your business, Harrison.”

The others laugh it off, but John keeps glancing your way, not checking on you, not worried just claiming you as part of the room without making you speak to earn the space. When you eventually get up again, this time to bring mugs from the floor to the kitchen, John doesn’t ask where you’re going. He just watches, lips pursed like he’s biting back another smile.

When you return, you set a mug beside him, quiet as always. You don’t say you made it for him, you don’t wait for a thank you, you just place it within reach and sink back to the floor again.

He says “You spoil me” under his breath, and then takes a slow sip like he wants you to see him appreciate it.

No one else in the room understands that you’re talking to each other without speaking, but John does, thoroughly, comfortably, like it is a language built only for two.

Eventually the night burns itself out. Paul starts yawning between chords, George declares he’s “had enough of the lot of you,” and Ringo collects his coat with the dramatic sigh of a man twice his age. There are goodnights shouted from the hallway, doors closing, footsteps fading down the stairwell.

Then it’s quiet. Properly quiet.

You’re still on the floor when John flicks off the lamp beside him, leaving only the dim spill of the kitchen light. He doesn’t tell you to come closer. He just pats the cushion beside him once, not a command, not even a request, more like he’s offering a place that was already yours.

You stand, cross the room, and sit down beside him. Not touching, not leaning — just there.

He doesn’t talk at first. He doesn’t fill the air to make it meaningful. He just breathes beside you, one knee drawn up, turning his cooling mug in his hands.

After a minute, he shifts, not toward you, but for you, easing the cushion so you have more space, angling his body so you’re cocooned in the corner of the couch with no one on your other side. Protecting your quiet without announcing that he’s doing it.

That is how he answers you.

You don’t thank him. You simply take your legs up onto the couch and fold them beneath you. That’s how you say I noticed.

He glances at you sideways, mouth soft but amused. “You don’t half make a man feel looked after,” he murmurs, low enough it stays in this little pocket of space between you both.

You reach out and— instead of speaking — you straighten the collar of his shirt where it had folded, a tiny precise adjustment, your fingers brushing his jaw for half a second before you withdraw.

He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t turn it into a joke. He just sits very still, like he refuses to interrupt the fact that you touched him on purpose.

Then he returns the gesture in your language instead of his own:

he reaches up and tucks one loose strand of your hair gently behind your ear, slow, careful, as if speaking right back without sound.

No comment. No teasing. Just reply.

In the hush that follows, the whole room feels like a secret only you and he are fluent in.

Neither of you move for a while. John finishes the last sip from his mug and sets it on the floor without getting up, like the effort of standing would break whatever fragile peace the room has settled into.

He leans back, arms folding loosely across his chest. After a moment, he tips his head just slightly toward you, not enough to crowd you, only enough that if you wanted, you could lean.

You don’t, not right away. Your affection never arrives fast. You let the silence breathe first. Then slowly, like testing if the moment will hold, you shift so your shoulder rests lightly against his upper arm.

You don’t look at him when you do it. You just do it, the same way you do everything, plainly, without ceremony.

He exhales, not a laugh, not words, something softer, like relief.

Instead of putting his arm around you (too loud, too obvious), he adjusts the blanket at the back of the couch and drags it forward until half of it falls over your legs as well as his. Not tucking you in, not fussing, just sharing what was already on him. His way of saying come closer without making you move.

Your hand, resting in your lap, ends up barely brushing against the side of his thigh through the blanket. You don’t pull it away. He doesn’t comment.

He does something smaller instead: with the knuckle of one finger, he traces a slow absent-minded line across the back of your hand, not holding it, not gripping, just acknowledging its presence. A quiet, continuous touch that asks nothing from you.

You answer him the same way you always do: by staying. By not flinching, not leaving, not needing noise to justify the nearness.

He keeps his eyes closed as he does it, voice barely above breath when he finally speaks:

“Y’know,” he mutters, like it’s a secret he’s talking himself into saying, “you don’t say much…but it’s loud as hell anyway.”

You don’t reply.

You slide your thumb a single centimeter so that it meets his knuckle where it passes again — the smallest acceptance imaginable.

He hums — pleased, quiet, almost grateful — and lets his hand rest there, warm and still atop yours beneath the blanket.

No kiss.

No confession.

Just two people pressed into the same silence on purpose.

[lacedinribbons]

HIIIII ITS ME AGAIN 🌸 I couldn't resist lol 😭 Can I request '64 or '65 john when he was a plump diva omg idk if you've seen that picture of him sitting down and wearing shorts, HIS THIGHS LOOKED ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL I WANTED TO BITE THEM

I got a little carried away 😭 but basically reader reacting to seeing him in shorts and getting turned on? They're used to seeing him in pants and now want him in shorts more often lol

OMGG of course… he was so fine in this era.. let me cook chat!

pairing: 1965! john x afab!reader ( 18+ !! nsfw !! )

note: sorry for the wait !! :( i have been super busy.. hope you enjoy this

Summer heat.

The heatwave had wrung every ounce of patience out of the house. John finally abandoned his usual black trousers for a pair of shorts. When he walked back into the room, you almost choked on your drink.

You weren’t used to this version of him. No polished stage suit, no slim suit hiding everything. Just bare legs, pale and strong.

Your eyes betrayed you instantly, dragging all over them, lingering for too long.

John caught it, of course he did. “Christ” he said, smirking as he sat down on an armchair, spreading his legs wide.

“Didn’t know my thighs were headline material.”

Your face turned hot, but you couldn’t look away. His shorts rode up as he settled, giving you more to suffer through.

He leaned forward, catching your gaze, a sly smile crept over his face.

“Y’know, if you keep starin’ like that, l’ll start thinkin’ you want something.” His voice dropped, playful but edged with something heavier.

You swallowed hard, unable to form an excuse.

That was all the encouragement John needed. He dragged his hand slowly along his thigh, his eyes never leaving yours. “Go on then,” he murmured, “have a proper look, don’t be shy about it.”

The room felt stifling, your pulse hammering as he tilted his head back, utterly smug. He liked this, he liked the power in your reaction, the way you shifted in your seat. His grin widened, wicked and smug.

“Didn’t realise I had this effect on you out of my trousers. Might have to wear these more often.”

Your breath hitched, and John laughed, low and throaty, leaning closer. His knee nudged yours, just barely, but enough to make you shiver. “God, you’re tense,” he said, his voice thick, teasing. “Should I… help you relax?”

Before you could answer, his fingers ghosted over your leg, tracing the outline of your trousers, and he caught your gaze again, eyes dark and claiming. “Look at me,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

Your body betrayed you, leaning forward without thought, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. John’s hand slid a little higher along your thigh, his thumb brushing teasingly, and he grinned at your reaction, slow, deliberate, enjoying the way you bit your lip.

“You like that, yeah?” he purred. “You like me like this, don’t you?”

The heat between you grew unbearable. Every look, every brush of his fingers, every casual spread of his legs in those shorts, it was a slow burn, impossible to ignore. You were completely caught in him, and he knew it.

“God, you’re too easy,” he said with a chuckle, leaning in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

And just like that, the room was electric, every inch of him commanding your attention, and he thrived on it, teasing, claiming, and letting the tension build until it felt like it might ignite any second.

John’s grin widened as he caught the way your breathing had quickened, his fingers brushing deliberately over your leg, lingering just long enough to make your body twitch. “God, you’ve been looking at me like this all day,” he murmured, leaning closer, lips near your ear. “Can’t hide it from me, can you?”

You shivered, leaning into the heat of him, and that only seemed to egg him on. His hand slid higher, teasing along your thigh with slow, deliberate pressure, dragging little shivers from you every time he moved. “I think… you like what you see,” he whispered, letting his thumb press a little harder, “don’t you?”

You nodded, barely able to form words, and he chuckled, low and throaty. “Good,” he said, letting his hand roam a little bolder now, closer to the place that had been aching for attention, his shorts leaving little to the imagination. “Because I like knowing exactly what I do to you.”

John shifted, brushing his lips against yours, teasing, tasting, and pressing just enough to make your knees weaken. His hands were firm, claiming, mapping your curves and eliciting soft gasps from you. “You’ve wanted this,” he murmured between kisses, fingers brushing over the sensitive skin, “haven’t you?”

Your hands found his shoulders, tugging him closer, desperate, and he smirked against your lips. “Yeah… I can feel it,” he said, voice low and knowing, pressing against you in all the right ways, letting you burn for him. Every inch of those soft, strong thighs in his shorts was impossible to ignore, and he loved it—the way your eyes followed every move, every teasing touch, every shift closer.

And then he let the teasing stretch further, dragging his hand boldly, deliberately, savoring the gasps and moans that slipped from you, his lips never leaving yours, his grin wicked and claiming. “You’re mine tonight,” he said, voice husky, “every bit of you, and I’m gonna enjoy it.”

John pressed you against him, letting the warmth of his body ground the teasing tension between you. His hands were everywhere—over your thighs, sliding upward, feeling your shiver at every touch. His shorts barely contained him, and you could feel the hardness pressing insistently, testing your restraint.

“You’ve wanted this for ages, haven’t you?” he murmured, his lips brushing yours in slow, heated kisses. Your moans broke against his mouth, tiny sounds that only encouraged him further. One hand moved to your hip, tugging you flush against him, while the other drifted lower, teasing and stroking softly over your clothed clit just enough to make your head spin.

His lips left yours only to trail down your neck, teeth grazing lightly, teasing, and you gasped, arching toward him. “John…” you breathed, desperate, and he chuckled, low and full of satisfaction.

“That’s it,” he murmured, fingers bold now, brushing over the places that made you catch your breath. “So responsive. So fucking good for me.” He pressed himself closer, letting you feel the full heat of him, and his shorts did nothing to hide it. Every movement, every brush of skin, sent electricity between you.

John’s hands explored relentlessly, one hand sliding up your thighs, the other pulling you impossibly closer. He nipped at your collarbone, lips and teeth teasing, while his voice dripped with control and desire. “Can’t get enough, can you?” he asked, smirk audible in his tone. “You look at me like that, and I can’t resist either.”

Your hands found his hips, tugging, needing, desperate for more, and he groaned into your ear, letting the intensity build between you. Every soft, solid curve of him pressed against you, driving the heat higher, teasing, claiming, making you ache for him.

Every gasp and moan from you only fueled him, and he pressed harder, letting you feel every inch of him through his shorts. His lips found yours again, claiming, biting, sucking, and your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

“Fuck… you feel incredible,” he groaned against your mouth, one hand sliding daringly, teasing over the sensitive spot that made your body arch into him. You gasped, trembling, helpless under his touch, and he chuckled, low and satisfied. “Damn, you’re so responsive… drives me mad.”

He shifted slightly, pressing his thigh against yours, letting the heat, the hardness, the closeness, consume you both. Your moans grew louder, and he leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “Tell me how much you want me,” he whispered, fingers relentless, teasing, claiming.

You couldn’t form words, only shivers and gasps betraying your desire. John chuckled, leaning back just enough to watch you writhe under him, every curve of his legs pressing into you, shorts doing nothing to hide the proof of his lust. “Yeah… that’s it,” he murmured, hands moving with bold precision. “Let go… let me hear you.”

You did. Every moan, every whimper, every shudder—he drank it in, pushing further, coaxing, teasing until your body shook, a heat unlike anything you’d felt before coursing through you. And when you finally trembled over the edge, he held you, grounding you, murmuring your name, letting you come undone fully under him.

John’s grin was wicked, satisfied, as he leaned down to kiss you once more, slow, claiming, and whispered, “That’s mine… all mine. And I’m not done with you yet.”

The tension, the heat, the sheer closeness—they both knew this was just the beginning. Every inch of him in those shorts, every touch, every teasing glance, had been building to this—and neither of you were ready to let go.

[lacedinribbons]

Hihi!! I was wondering if you could do a fic where the reader and paul are married in 1971 during ram era up in Scotland. He's just finished making wruting some songs and feeling needy and touchy

Love your work 😽

hihi ofc !! i love 1970 paul… needthat

auth note: sorry for such a wait darling!! if it’s too short or not what you were hoping for just dm me and i can do another! no worries :)

pairing: 1970!paul x female!reader

The cottage was quiet except for the occasional noise coming from the sheep in the distance and a gentle crackle from the fire. The smell of tea lingered in the air, though Paul completely forgot about his mug — sitting half-full on the table beside his notebook, pages scattered with unfinished lyrics and sketches. He leaned back in his chair, running his hand through his hair, sighing dramatically like he’s carrying the whole world on his shoulders.

You came in from the kitchen, drying your hands on a towel.

“That’s quite a sigh, songwriting not going well?”

Paul tilted his head back, grinning at you. “Nah, love. It’s going grand actually. Got a tune rattlin’ that’s not too shabby, if i say so myself.” His voice softened. “Just missin’ you, s’all”

You laughed, shaking your head, but before you could answer, he was already out of his chair, crossing the room with his boyish eagerness he never lost. His arms went around your waist, pulling you in close and buried his face into your neck.

“Paul,” you scolded lightly, “you’ve been at it for hours, you should be proud of yourself.”

“Oh, I am,” he mumbled into your skin, pressing lazy kisses under your jaw. “But I get all needy after scribblin’ songs for too long. Like Ive got too many words in me head y’know? The only way to quiet em’ down is with you my love.”

You softened instantly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “You’re insufferable you know that?”

He leaned far back enough to look at you, eyes glistening, a playful pout on his lips. “You love it.”

And you do. You love how he could switch from brilliant and focused to tender and touch-starved in a heartbeat. You kissed him slow and lingering and he melted into it, humming low like another song was just born.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Stay here for a bit, yeah? I don’t care about anything in the world right now, just want my girl.”

Outside the Scottish wind rattled the windows, but the inside it was only warmth — the crackling of the fire, his arms snug around you and the quiet magic of your little world you’ve built together.

[lacedinribbons]

omggg, I was wondering where you've gone 🥹 Get well angel!

- 🌸

thank you sm doll !! hopefully i will be back soon <3

[lacedinribbons]

hey doves !! im so sorry for not posting in so long 💔 my mental health has been so bad and i find writing kinda hard rn :( its like a super bad writers block and i want to write things that you will enjoy !! promise i will get back to your super cute requests soon. thank you for your patience <3

[lacedinribbons]

just discovered your account and im in love, can’t wait to read about paul 🥹

ahh thank you so much! i will be cooking up a few paul fics soon dw !! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[lacedinribbons]

OMGGGG HI!! ITS MEEEE 🌸 ANON AND OMG I LOVE IT SO MUCH 🥹🥹 trust me I will reread it over and over whenever I can 🎀

HII !! im so glad you liked it angel 🫶🏻 don’t be shy about asking for requests!

[lacedinribbons]

Can you do boys x African reader hcs. I'm African with very dark skin and I'm being ruthlessly bullied in school rn 😭🙏🏿🙏🏿

of course dolly! im so sorry you're going through that at school you do not deserve any of that nasty treatment. you're very beautiful no matter your skin colour. hope you enjoy this stunner! <3 (˶˘ ³˘(´͈ ᵕ `͈˶)

The boys with s/o with dark skin.

john♡:

constantly tells you your skin is “like the richest canvas” for clothing, bold colours and metallics pop beautifully on you, and he’s obsessed with it.

loves taking candid photos of you because he swears you look like art without even trying.

tries to write songs comparing your skin to things like midnight, coffee, or rich velvet — sometimes it’s romantic, sometimes it’s hilariously over-the-top.

likes when you wear bold lipstick shades because he loves the contrast.

paul ♡:

always compliments your skin’s glow in every season, swears you look sun-kissed even in the middle of winter.

very respectful about learning any cultural traditions you share with him, especially around food, music, or family.

keeps mentioning how good you look in gold jewellery until you actually start wearing it more often.

loves lying next to you in the sun, claiming you “make the sunlight jealous.”

george ♡:

will ask genuine, thoughtful questions about your background because he’s fascinated and wants to understand your world.

gets very calm and soft-spoken when he compliments you, as if saying it too loudly would break the moment.

constantly tells you your skin “just glows,” and he means it every single time.

ringo ♡:

loves touching your cheeks and saying, “look at this face!” in the most affectionate way possible.

if you share foods from your culture with him, he’ll enthusiastically try everything, even if it’s spicy enough to make him tear up.

will randomly tell people about how beautiful you are mid-conversation, like it’s just a fact he needs to broadcast.

thinks your laughter is more radiant than your appearance.

[lacedinribbons]

hallooo! I recently found your account and oh my god, I love your fics! 🥹 They're so good

Could I request the four of 'em being with someone who's like a fashionista/fashion designer and loves to plan their outfits, sometimes they'd have matching outfits together! It sounds kinda silly but I hope you get what I mean! :)

Last thing, can I be your 🌸 anon? Thank you!

of course you can be my 🌸 anon! sorry for the late response (◞‸◟)💧and it's not silly at all! i hope you enjoy this ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶✌︎︎

the boys with a fashionista partner

john ♡:

john secretly loves when you get to style him because it means he gets to wear something cool without lifting a finger.

loves when you slip subtle details into his outfits that reference his favourite things. maybe a hidden embroidered lyric or a pattern that matches his guitar strap.

if you suggest matching outfits, he’ll tease you about being “a bit soppy” but will still go along with it, and then tell everyone it was his idea.

paul ♡:

he gets super excited about coordinated looks, especially if they’re colour-matched or have little thematic ties. “look, we’re both wearing floral embroidery!”

if you’re doing a fashion show, he’ll happily help with fittings, modelling, or even music for the event.

loves showing you off to others as “my brilliant designer,” and always gets a chance to mention to the interviewers he’s wearing your work.

paul is very into the idea of you styling him, he’s already fashion-conscious, so he treats you like his personal savile row.

george ♡:

secretly loves when you make him match with you, especially in understated ways like shared colour palettes or similar patterns.

you end up introducing him to more daring or experimental looks, and he ends up surprising himself by loving them.

often wears your designs even off-stage, just because they’re comfortable and his.

very chill about letting you plan his outfits, he trusts your taste more than his own, especially in his.

ringo ♡:

ringo is game for anything you put him in. the bolder, the better, because he thinks it’s funny and cool.

will brag to everyone that “my missus made this” and might even get other people in the band to commission you.

loves when you make him fun accessories like quirky hats, scarves, or patterned ties are his favourite.

loves bright colours and patterns, so when you match, it’s usually in the most eye-catching way possible.

[lacedinribbons]

hi hon!!could you do boys x chubby reader hcs?if you are comfortable with it ofc!!

of course!! i love writing for people who are a softer, i don’t think its written enough:( so i hope you enjoy this dove <3

john ♡:

pretends he’s not sappy, but he absolutely loves your softness.

loves to tease you in a playful way, (come here, cushion!) but it’s secretly his love language for you.

you’ll catch him absentmindedly resting his hand on your stomach while talking to others, he’s not even aware of it.

thinks you look gorgeous in anything oversized and sometimes ‘accidentally’ leaves his shirts where you’ll find them.

absolutely demolishes anyone who makes a rude comment about you. Quick wit, sharper than a knife and all in your defence.

loves candid photos of you, especially when you’re laughing, calls them masterpieces.

paul ♡:

finds you irresistibly cuddly. he’s a very touchy partner and loves to wrap his arms all the way around you.

constantly finds excuses to cook or bake together because he likes watching you enjoy food without guilt.

likes to slow dance in the kitchen with you pressed against him, says it’s “the perfect fit.”

always makes sure you know your worth. he compliments your style, your hair, your laugh.. everyday.

insists every outfit you put on is ‘the one’ and wants to show you off to everyone.

george♡:

runs his fingers all over your hips or thighs when you’re lying together, as if he is memorising your shape.

hates societal beauty standards and talks openly about how meaningless they are.

will take you out shopping with him and hype you up in every outfit you try on — especially the ones you’re unsure about.

he loves lazy mornings where you’re tangled up together and you’re warm against him.

he’s not big on public affection, but if someone flirts with you, he is quick to put his arm around your waist.

ringo ♡:

he is the biggest sweetheart about your body — loves every inch and says so.

loves taking you swimming or to the beach because he thinks you look so beautiful in your swimwear.

he’ll poke and prod at your cheeks just to see you smile.

brings snacks on tour or during long days — says “you’re too important to go hungry.”

calls you his “soft spot” both because you’re his weakness and you’re the comfiest to hug.

hope you liked this! just lmk if it seems a bit ignorant or like not nice? idk i might be overthinking but i do not want it too seem to backhanded? i am overthinking… enjoy! 🥲

[lacedinribbons]

Hiii it's me again🤗

Now, could you write something about George x Reader (fem or GN! as you wish) related to the lyrics of Do You Want to Know a Secret? I love this song and his voice in it, and I've been imagining something of him struggling to confess his little secret, being nervous and cute. Think of him in 1963-1964 maybe💕

beautiful request, i love this sm !! here you go lovely:3 sorry for the wait <3

pairing: fem!reader x george harrison

plot: basically george being a lil cutie hehe

I’ve known for a while

George had never been good at this sort of thing. He is good at singing — yes. Playing guitar, of course! But telling someone how he really felt? That was a different story.

He sat at the end of the sofa, fiddling with his cuff on his shirt as you poured tea for the both of you. The steam curled into the air, warm and sweet, and he thought how easy it would be to just say it. Three little words.

But every time he opened his mouth his throat went dry.

You came back into the living room with two mugs of tea, smiling at him that made his heart skip a beat. You set his mug of tea on the coffee table in front of him. “You’re quiet tonight,” you said softly.

“Yeah, well.. Ive been thinkin’,” he mumbled, eyes fixated on his tea.

“About what?”

He hesitated, twisting his fingers together. “It’s.. a bit of a secret.”

That got your attention. “A secret?”

George looked up at you just for a second, cheeks turning pink. “Mm, but if i tell you, you’ve gotta promise not to laugh or run off.”

You tilted your head, curious about what George is about to tell you. “You have my word.”

He took a deep breath, the words tumbling out alot faster than he thought they would. “I’ve been tryin’ to tell you for a long time now that I like you.. Not just as a mate. You’re the prettiest girl i have ever met and you make me feel all.. daft.”

His ears were a bright red now. “There. That’s it. My big secret.”

You sat there for a moment, warmth blooming in your chest, slowly you reached out for his hand. “That’s a lovely secret, George. Because I have also been keeping the same one.”

For the first time all evening he smiled, the nervous tension melting away.

“Well,” he said softly. “Guess it’s not a secret anymore, then.”

hope you liked it !! mwa mwa

[lacedinribbons]

sorry for the inactivity !! i will get right onto you guys requests soon. i have a terrible cold rn :( hopefully i will heal and get to writing you're cute requests :3

[lacedinribbons]

hiya, i would like to know how you use/get the ribbons on your page, i want to add decals like that on my page so itd be rad if you could tell me haha :)

hello dove, i get my ribbons here on tumblr !! :) i use the ribbons from @cursed-carmine. you can search up dividers on tumblr and you can have a bunch of cute dividers in all different styles :3

[lacedinribbons]

Stuck on you

ringo x afab!reader | nsfw | wc: 1.2k | cw: unprotected sex, power dynamics, mild dirty talk, oral f! receiving, ‘possessive or claiming language, age-gap (who put that in there? not me.. heh) read at your own discretion!

18+ no minors please thank yew xx

You have been with the Beatles for nearly a month now— as a photographer, technically— though you’d only meant to shoot them once.

But Ringo kept inviting you back.

“You’re good luck,” he’d say with a wink. “And you’ve got the best laugh I’ve ever heard.”

You pretended that you weren’t blushing, you pretended alot around him.

Tonight, the studio was dim and humid, heavy with cigarettes, tape and tired men.

John and Paul were bickering about a chord, George was tuning again. And Ringo? Ringo was watching you.

“Come here for a sec, love,” he murmured, once the others buggered off somewhere else, patting the seat of his drum kit.

You hesitated, but your legs didn’t, they moved on their own.

“You always sit up there,” he teased, pointing up to your usual spot. “I think you like watchin’ me sweat.”

You choked a little. “What—no, I was just—“

“Oh come off it, Ive seen you starin’ , and i like it.” He leaned in closer, that playful spark he usually has in his eyes now molten. “Like knowin’ you’re lookin.’”

You swallowed hard. “And if i was?”

His grin curved slowly, “Then I’d tell you all the things Ive been thinking about doing to you if these drums weren’t in the bloody way.”

Heat grew between your legs,

“Like what?” You asked, voice softer than you intended.

Ringo’s hand slid over yours, thumb brushing the inside of your wrist — slow, steady, almost hypnotic.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said, eyes flickering to your lips. “You keep sittin’ all pretty like that and I might just show you.”

You leaned in, “What’s stopping you?”

His mouth was a breath from yours. “Well, John might come stormin’ back in any minute, but if you’re willing to take that risk…”

You didn’t hesitate this time.

Ringo kissed you like he played, rhythmic, smooth, with just enough to leave you wanting more. His hands were warm, steady on your hips as he pulled you between his legs, drums forgotten.

You can feel the vibration of his chest when he murmured against your neck, "I have been thinkin' of this all week."

The sound of footsteps snapped both of you apart, breathless. Ringo's lips were red, eyes blown wide, and you couldn’t tell if he was more amused or aroused.

“Meet me at the hotel,” he said low, “Room 307. I’m not done with you yet.”

The door clicked shut behind you, and before you could even breathe in the faint scent of cologne and hotel sheets, Ringo was on you — his mouth hungry, hands slipping around your waist and pulling you close against him.

“You’ve been on my mind all night,” he murmured, lips brushing your cheek as he pinned you to the wall. “Didn’t think I’d last through the last session.”

His mouth found yours again, rougher this time, his tongue slipped past your lips, exploring, tasting. You felt his hands trail down your back, firm but slow, sliding under your shirt, calloused fingertips brushing over your skin. The cool of his rings against your sides made you shiver.

"Off,” he muttered, tugging your shirt up. “Want to see you.”

You raised your arms and let him pull your shirt over your head, heart thudding. His eyes dropped instantly, mouth parting as he took you in.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he breathed. “You’ve no idea.”

He leaned down, lips catching your jaw, then your throat, each kiss slower than the last. When he got to your collarbone, he lingered, open-mouthed kisses, gentle sucks, enough to leave a trace. You tangled your fingers in his curls, letting your head fall back against the wall.

“Ringo,” you whispered, barely.

“Bed,” he said firmly. “Now.”

You moved backwards as he walked you to the mattress, lips never leaving yours. When your knees hit the edge, he gave you the softest push and you dropped onto the bed with a bounce. He followed, crawling over you, eyes dragging down your body like he was memorizing it. His hips settled between your thighs, and you could feel him — hard, straining against his trousers — pressing right where you needed him.

You gasped softly, hips rolling without thinking.

“Oh, that’s how it is,” he smirked, rocking back just enough to undo the buttons on your jeans, pulling them down slow — like a present he wanted to unwrap one inch at a time. “So eager, love.”

He dropped kisses to your stomach, then lower, lips brushing the waistband of your underwear.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, voice dark and reverent as his fingers slid over the fabric. “You want me this bad?”

You nodded, breath shallow.

“Words,” he said, eyes locking onto yours.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Ringo, I want you. So bad.”

He growled under his breath, pulling your underwear down and tossing it aside. Without warning, he dipped his head and licked a long, slow stripe up your centre, making you arch off the bed with a cry.

“Fuck—Ringo—”

He moaned against you, lapping at you with slow, practiced precision — tongue circling your clit, teasing it with little flicks until your thighs were trembling. His hands held your hips down firmly, fingers digging into your skin.

“You taste unreal,” he murmured, voice muffled against you. “Could do this all night.”

But just as you were climbing — just as you were right on the edge — he pulled back. You whimpered, reaching for him.

“Don’t worry, love,” he smirked, standing up to strip. “I’m not lettin’ you finish without me.”

He kicked off his boots, pulled off his shirt, then dropped his trousers and briefs in one fluid motion — and fuck, he was gorgeous. Pale, lean, inked and freckled, with that cocky glint in his eyes and something much harder between his legs.

You bit your lip as he climbed back over you, sliding the tip of his cock along your slit, teasing you with shallow rolls of his hips.

“Still want me?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed, spreading your legs wider. “Please—”

That was all it took. He pushed in slowly, thick and hot, filling you inch by inch until your breath hitched. He groaned low in his throat, forehead pressed to yours as he bottomed out.

“Jesus,” he panted. “You feel like fuckin’ heaven.”

He set a slow rhythm at first — hips rolling deep and steady, every thrust dragging perfectly along your walls. You wrapped your legs around his waist, nails digging into his back.

“Faster,” you begged. “Please—don’t stop—”

He grinned through a groan and obliged, pace quickening, the bed creaking beneath you with every thrust. He kissed you through it — messy, breathless, hungry — his hands roaming your body like he couldn’t get enough.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, voice rough with lust. “This body, these sounds—you give it all to me.”

“Yes,” you gasped, back arching. “Only you—Ringo, I’m—”

“Come for me,” he growled, thrusting harder. “Now.”

And with a cry, you did — pleasure ripping through you in waves, your whole body clenching around him. He followed seconds later, moaning your name like a prayer as he spilled inside you, collapsing against your chest.

The room went quiet, save for the sound of your ragged breaths. His weight was comforting, grounding. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then your collarbone, then finally your lips — slow and sweet.

“Still starin’?” he teased after a moment.

You smiled, tracing lazy circles on his back. “Always.”

ovulating and thinking about ringo... ringo horny brainrot.. hope you girls enjoyed this :)

[lacedinribbons]

I just read all your posts and I'm in love with your writing AAAAAA💗 only needed to read one of them to follow you instantly! They're so sweet😭💘💝💖💓 are you taking requests? I have an idea for one about George and I think you would do it perfectly🥹✨

thank you so much doll!! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) you’re so sweet, and of course im talking requests!! :3 give me all of your ideas sweets (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

[lacedinribbons]

could you do headcanons for how the beatles would kiss the reader 🎀,,, im obsessed with your fanfics fr fr girlie

of course lovely! enjoy :)

The way the boys kiss you

john♥︎: intense & unexpected:

john kisses like he lives- bold, confident and passionate. his kisses come out of nowhere- one moment you're talking, and the next, he's cupping your jaw and drawing you in. there's tension in his lips, like he's trying to say everything he doesn't know how to put into words.

he'll press his forehead against yours after, murmuring something cheeky to make you blush.

"You didn't expect that did you, love?"

paul ♥︎: soft & romantic:

paul's kisses are warm and melodic, like a love song he’s just sung for you. he'll brush his nose against yours first, testing the waters, waiting for you to smile before gently pressing his lips against yours.

his hand might find your waist or cheek, pulling you in slightly, keeping it tender and meaningful.

"mm.. i have been thinkin' about this all day"

george ♥︎: shy & lingering:

george is shy at first, eyes flickering down to your lips like he's quietly asking permission to kiss you. but once he kisses you, it's all consuming. he kisses slow, like he's afraid the moment might vanish if he rushes. his hands tremble a little against your skin, nervous but gentle, but when he pulls away, he can't help but look at you like you're a secret he's lucky to know.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?"

ringo ♥︎: playful & sweet:

ringo's kisses are full of joy and warmth, he'll sneak up behind you with a big, goofy grin, plant a kiss on your cheek, then go for your lips before you can recover from your giggles. it's always light hearted, but when he's feeling sentimental, he'll surprise you with a kiss so soft and heartfelt it will leave you speechless.

"that was nice wasn't it? we should do it again, for science."