EVERYBODY HERE WANTS YOU - the beatles x female!reader.
tl;dr: my kissing headcanons and drabbles on HOW and WHERE the beatles would hold you when they snog you.
word count: 2.1k
a/n: set around 1966. mildly suggestive this one & based on the jeff buckley song. i'm really happy with it. all hail @sugardollcurse 🤍 and @iheartjohnlennon's fics cause without them, there's no this.
JOHN LENNON
john is a face cradler if i've ever seen one.
the first time you kiss, it's you who initiates.
his fear of abandonment won't let him misread your signs and make the first move, in fear you wouldn't reciprocate.
he always thought about it though and it was painfully obvious to the other lads. especially when you'd both be drunk and close to one another.
the second your lips touch for the first time, he's taken aback.
at first, his hands rest on the curves of your shoulders.
but seconds later, his instincts kick in and both hands fly to your face. just clutching everything he can with the slightest air of desperation.
don't be deceived though, he dominates that kiss and all the others you share. you just got the one up on him for a moment.
his thumbs press firm into the corners of your eyes, your cheeks, your jaw, the corner of your lips like he's trying to memorise every single feature.
he doesn't wear his glasses consistently in this era so he's always close as fuck to your face. he needs to see you.
kissing gets intense fast so usually you're pulling back to breathe or because you both get the smiles and have to giggle it out.
it's probably the messiest, sloppiest snog you've ever experienced.
all saliva and forearms and deep breaths and brushing noses and tongues and even clashing teeth.
you wouldn't have it any other way.
whenever he's done, he'll snake his hand into your hair and tug it to pull you away. never in an act of malice. he'd just lowkey relish in your reaction, your small wince and the way your breath catches for a second.
i could write for weeks about how he'd be into that but alas
it's early in the starry morning and you can still hear the ambience of the house party from the roof. you smirked to yourself, absentmindedly grateful to be invited to parties fancy enough to even have a rooftop patio. the musk of sweat, smoke and alcohol cling to your clothes and your skin and it's as you take a drag of your last cigarette of the night that you started to fantasise about your shower.
you heard the faint creak of the glass door behind you open but remained facing out towards the sleeping neighbourhood. you were so deep in thought that when the person behind you spoke, you swore they were speaking a different language.
"sorry, what?" you craned your head round, smiling bashfully to see john approaching you. "oh, john, hi."
"don't speak german, then?" he frowned, pinching the cigarette from your mouth and cramming it into his own.
your head tilted on it's axis, so befuddled... "pardon?"
he sighed, turning his head and blowing a waft of smoke so you couldn't see the smile on his face but you heard it in his voice. he knew you did. "what has you all inquisitive?"
"makes you say that?' you answered and he stared at you long and hard. his answer surprised you, spoken like fact.
"tha's ya damsel face." there was a pause but before you could interject, he continued. "sometimes, when y'think you're alone, y'look so... far away. like a damsel. so, y/n, what's ya distress?"
you moved in closer to him, emboldened by too much champagne. faces inches apart. "you been watching me, lennon?"
you could see the contemplation in his words. the cogs turning in his head. it was different to his usual quick wit and sharp tongue. he opened his mouth for a second before speaking.
"sometimes." he swallowed and you saw his chest fall with a practiced exhale. you took the cig back from his fingers and instead of taking a hit, you threw it to the floor and crushed it without even looking down. he did, auburn hair falling in his face.
"there was still-" you cut him off with an eager kiss.
when he soon returned to the party, lips smeared with remnants of your signature lipstick shade and tie loosened even more than before, paul pulled him to the side to bark a "about bloody time!"
PAUL MCCARTNEY
paul lives for your arms around his neck and loves his arms around your hips.
he can drag his hands anywhere and everywhere in that position.
and trust, he does roam.
up and down your back, your sides. he can rest them on your waist, pin them at either sides of your head.
it's also easy access to pinch your arse.
it's soooo intimate and makes him feel in control.
perfect for the close quarters you might find yourselves in before or after performances, in alleyways or bathrooms.
or in more casual settings like a kitchen or a hotel room.
he's a sucker for eye contact in between kisses.
you CANNOT escape those big downturned hazel eyes.
he definitely makes the first move for your first kiss together.
you guys could be slow dancing and just talking in a position similar to the reference photo. no alcohol involved - just adrenaline alone, during a natural beat in your dialogue, he moves in.
the kiss is slow and tender at first. a test? a taste.
you kiss him back and after a while, both of you melt into it. you just become one.
feel like paul might bite/nibble at your lip a little whenever he wants to deepen it.
whenever you accept the invitation and your arms pull him in closer to touch his hair or neck, he'll let out a tiny hum.
it's also the perfect position for a cuddle, post kiss. eventually you both break away and he'll stay close maybe rocking side to side as you rest your head in his neck or under his chin.
you cooked up a lovely cheese flan for dinner after being at work all afternoon with paul in his greenhouse. you'd volunteered a week back when he mentioned it in passing during rehearsal. the other boys looked at you with nothing but remorse when you did that. in retrospect, you know why. he could be... bossy. if he was a perfectionist in the garden, you could only imagine how precise he was with his true craft. planting cress and overseeing the ripening of tomatoes had you exhausted, so after dinner you slumped down horizontally on his settee.
"y/n."
you closed your eyes and pretended to sleep at the call.
he laughed. "i know you're not sleeping!"
"fancy a dance?" he offered. you peeked an eye open to see him now stood by his vinyl player. there was some shuffling before the introduction of 'and i love her' started to hum through his living room.
he manouvred over to you, sprawled out graceless on his chair. his hand waited over you and who would you be to not take it? he pulled you up with more force than you were anticipating, and you stumbled into his chest where he caught you. you settled into a snug routine with your arms crossed around his neck and his hands crossed behind your back.
his expression pulled up into a warm grin. "thanks for your help today."
you nodded, pleased at the praise. "s'fine macca but turn off this band."
"why?"
"they have a shite bassist."
"oi!" he shoved you playfully, trying to ignore the butterflies that your fit of giggles gave him. the tips of his ears started to blush and his cheeks were following the same lead. you settled down, swaying happily in his arms. he moved his face closer to you, turning it sideways so both of your lips would align nicely. your heart fluttered and you closed your eyes and parted your lips slightly, elated to feel him kiss you.
okay. maybe, the bassist isn't too bad.
GEORGE HARRISON
the definition of a man 'who yearns is a man who earns'.
he crushes on you for years before he makes the first move.
the reason for his hesitation is because he suspects you might like one of the other beatles instead.
nobody can tell he feels this way though because he keeps it hidden SO well. to the point where you start to lose hope about him having interest in you.
one day he can't take it anymore and both of you are alone together. a quiet day away from the all the noise and observations of others.
he's fidgeting with a button on his clothes or his hands.
you are snapping photos of the beautiful views. him and the mountainside.
while you're distracted, he marches up. his fingers find your chin, tips it up towards his face and he plants a soft kiss to your lips.
he doesn't give you time to react before pulling away and turning back to the view, acting like nothing happened.
of course, you dont let him get away that easy and go in for another.
his anxiety just fades.
his slender fingers hold your jaw like you're porcelain. but he kisses you needy.
tongues are quick to get involved and he gets lost in all of your kisses from that point onwards.
it's like an experience from a dream for him seeing you disheveled, lips swollen below him.
always pulls you back in for a peck in the middle of your break for air and sometimes you'll let him, happy to wrap a hand around his on your neck and let the lack of air make you lightheaded.
sometimes you have to lightly hold him back, and he'll trail kisses from your collarbone up to your mouth impatiently.
you both live for the height difference.
when you pull away for good, returning to the heels of your feet. his eyes stay closed for long seconds after and open half-lidded and glossed with lust.
nothing planned for the rest of the day?
you're not getting away pal.
you stood in disbelief. complete shock. your eyes blinked rapidly at the simultaneous gain and loss of contact. george had just kissed you. you swivelled your body around to follow after wherever the hell he thought he was going after that. when you caught up to his long strides, you hooked a hand in his hair and pulled his lips down to yours. the impact was a little rough and after kissing you back, he drawled out sarcastically. mouth still close to yours.
"arright, i'm not goin anywhere."
you let go of him and stared up at him. you felt small after so many nights of feeling like he didn't see you or want you, here he was. your throat tightened as you spoke and your eyes pricked with tears.
"i waited so long for you to do that."
he beamed, fangs peaking out. he engulfed you in a hug and rubbed an hand up and down your arm.
"well no need t'cry about it." there was no hint of mockery in his tone, just endearment. you wrapped your arms around him.
"i mean it, hazza. what took you so long?" you mumbled into his chest. you could feel his ribcage rise and fall and you thought he didn't hear you until he started.
"dunno, thought you liked one of the other lads." he sheepishly responded which made you pull back. your mind raced for words but all you could manage was a breathless "no!"
you chatted for ages on a nearby bench, discussing all of the small mixed signals and setting them straight. it's when you reached back to the comfortable hotel room that the snogging continued. you and george had some years to catch up for..
RINGO STARR
last but never least.
what a glorious reference for him.
ringo's hands live around your waist. casually and when you're snogging his face off.
this time, ringo makes you shy.
you have lots of banter together and a very flirtatious friendship. on top of that, he's a touchy person.
lord help you.
he's just always near, with an arm around your shoulder, moving your hair or hat out of your face, giving you piggyback rides whenever you ask, gifting you one of his rings just to make you smile.
he's also an eye contact WARRIOR.
he's the only beatles member with blue eyes and he makes sure that you know it.
he falls for you and has a suspicion that you feel the same.
so he makes it his mission to fluster you excruciatingly before ending your suffering and kissing you.
why? cause he can and it's funny.
you'd be ranting to him in his flat about something that angered you earlier in the day and he'd come up behind you and hug your torso from behind.
the gesture makes you stop speaking but he insists he was listening and to keep talking.
oh i'll elaborate in the drabble don't you worry.
when he kisses you, i'm sorry but your noses would brush affectionately.
one or both of you end up grinning like a kid before jumping straight back into it.
whispers compliments in-between kisses about how beautiful you are and how lucky he is.
the first thing you noticed whilst trapped in a bear hug by ringo from behind was his warmth. he nestled his head into the crook of your neck and you didn't even realise that your rant faded on your tongue until he asked you to continue.
your mind was blank.
nothing else was more important that how close he was to you. the lulling smell of coconut shampoo that invaded your senses. you'd hugged many times before but this felt different. he shuffled his arms around your waist and you noticed the outline of his bicep muscles.
your mind was utterly blank.
he whined your name. "what did the lady say after that?" his tone was insistent and you stuttered to form a response. your hands hovered above his arms, feeling the brush of body hair there. you laughed.
"what was i even saying?"
"you said-" he helped but you cut him off.
"sorry rich, you know what, let's move on." his chest fit your spine like a jigsaw puzzle. like a glove. you felt his hair tickling your neck and it was overwhelming how quick he dominated your thoughts.
"thought a hug would make y'feel better but it's made you all silent." ringo sulked and you thought he was pulling away before your body was turned around. his hands were now firmly on the small of your back. he inched closer to you, and a smug smile pulled at his lips.
"maybe a kiss'll do?"
you were speechless but nodded your head. his expression lit up.
"can i?"
the only word coming to your mouth was. "please."
a/n: hope you enjoyed! leave a comment and scream at me if you didn't. follow me if you did :) i've never done a multi-oneshot, respect to those who do them often cause this was hard work.
no exaggeration when i say it took me FIVE hours to write. i completely locked in, one sitting and became shakespeare for you all. hope nothing seems rushed because of it. I finished all my school work today so i'm ready to grind out all of these ideas I have over summer break.
stay tuned for a george harrison vampire idea that is churning in my head bro. take care till then <3.
I don't see anything abt requests not being open so I'm gonna shoot my shot! I keep thinking about the boys smoking during sex w afab reader.. I see soooo many gifs and pictures of them smoking and it has been eating at my brainn. I can just imagine them putting it in your hand or mouth so they could focus as you both came close? Lmk what you think! :D
Beatles Headcanons Sex /w Cigarettes
CW: fem!reader, smoking (obvi), degration, praise, rough sex, overstimulation, oral, fingering
18+ Minors DNI
(a/n: Girl, Shakespeare was cheating off your paper when he was in school like-)
John
Sweat drips off his forehead as he mercilessly pounds into your cunt. He uses his free hand to wipe it away while his other hand is tightly gripping onto your waist. He grunts through his teeth, which are holding onto a cigarette he lit before you two started. "Fuck baby.." He's drenched, his shaggy brown hair stuck to his forehead, desperate eyes, and puffy lips that are now parted, releasing smoke from the gaps. You eye the cigarette wishing you two could swap places. As he continues his pace, he notices your sudden fixation on his lips. He stops his thrust,taking one final drag of the cigarette and placing it into your mouth. "I need to focus" He slams himself back into you, exciting a mewl you followed by a cloud of smoke from you. Both of his hands are now gripping your waist as he abuses your cervix once again. Loud desperate pants come from him as he bottoms out inside of you. "'M close love.." he says against your ear. With a few final thrust he finishes inside of you, filling you up. Your orgasm follows, as you let the cig fall from your mouth onto the bed, hed thrown back and mouth slacked fully open. "God, yer so beautiful."
Paul
"Take it all slut." He spits out, gripping a fist full of your hair and forcing his cock down your throat, ignoring your muffled cries to stop. He uses his other hand to take his cigarette out his mouth, blowing a cloud of smoke to the side. You blink away your tears, face still stuffed full with his cock, looking up at him. His shirt is fully unbuttoned, his chest speckled with hair, trailing down to his abs and pubes. His pants are opened just far enough to allow his cock and balls to be free comfortably. His chest heaves up and down rapidly as you make eye contact. His face is tense, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed. "Fuck are you lookin' at?" He thrust his hips towards your mouth, causing you to gag and cry once again. He releases your hair from his hands, allowing you to catch your breath. He takes another drag of his cigarette, tapping the excess into a tray on the side table. While you're still trying to regulate your breathing he picks you up, swapping your positions. Before he dips down between your thighs he places the cigarette in your mouth, "Hold this." As you try to take a hit, he's already lapping and slurping all of you. You throw your head back in pleasure, a small amount of smoke leaving your parted lips as you whimper. He sucks mercilessly at your puffy clit, griping onto your thighs to prevent you from escaping. You feel your release coming, sucking in a deep breath, letting the hot smoke burn your lungs. Your thighs shutter as you finally release yourself onto him, a loud exhale followed by a thick cloud of smoke. He takes his cigarette back from you, standing and taking one final drag before stomping it out on the floor. "You're so good f'me, Doll."
George
George takes another long drag of his cigarette, trying to keep his composure as you service him under his desk. "God baby.." He groans as his head leans all the way back, attention completely torn away from what he was preoccupied with. You slurp all of his precum up as you attempt to take in more of George, eager to please him after a long day of work. Your pussy aches as he thrust his hips towards you, trying to get any type of friction. He notices this and it only makes him more primal, moving his hands from over the desk to under, where he can push your head all the way down. "Atta girl, just like that." Balancing the cigarette on the edge of his mouth as he takes another hit. With a few more thrust and moans he pushes your head to be flush with his crotch once again, releasing himself inside of your mouth. "Your turn." Before you know it you're on the edge of the bed, legs sprawled as he places the cigarette in your hand. "Hold this f'me." He dives down, spitting on his fingers. He instantly inserts two as he sucks on your clit, giving your pussy the friction it so desperately desired. You struggle to keep grip on the cigarette as he swallows all your juices, humming in response to your inaudible pleas. You use your other hand to grab his hair, rubbing your pussy all over his mouth in an effort to have more of him. His fingers quickened as your hole tightened, threatening a release. Before you reach your climax he stops and pulls away. "You thought it would be that easy?"
Ringo
Your mouths continuously swap spit as the smoke from his cigarette fills your lungs. He pulls away to take another drag, filling the air and your lungs with smoke again. The feeling of his pulsing cock buried deep inside of you and the smoke was overwhelming. Tears run down your face, prompting Ringo to continue ruthlessly abusing your cunt. Every thrust is filled with pent up sexual tension, releasing all his stress from the day onto you. He flips you over into doggy, gripping your hips tightly as he rams inside of you yet again, turning your head to his as he blows a thick cloud of smoke into your face. His deep chuckle echoes in your shared room as the sound of skin colliding with one another follows. You attempt to beg him to stop, pushing him away only to be met with two large hands pinning your small ones to your back. "What do ya think yer doin' huh?" Helpless, you allow him to claim you, the speed of his thrust increasing rapidly. He lets out deep grunts as he feels himself getting closer, dipping down closer to your ears. Before he releases inside of you he flips you over again, climbing on top of you, and finishing right on your face. He takes another hit of his cigarette and locks mouths with you again, ensuring that all the smoke enters your mouth one last time. "Act like a slut, get treated like a slut."
pls can u do headcanons of all the beatles(not poly) with a reader whos also a preformer like them🥹✌️ like think nancy sinatra or lesley gore type
i love ur writing so bad and its only ur first work what da hell
the beatles with a performer partner || beatles x reader
♡ˎˊ˗ notes : hi gorgeous!! tysm for this req, i am the biggest lesley gore and nancy sinatra fangirl of all time so this was literally so fun to write. working on all other requests currently, so if you put something in my inbox it’ll be hopefully done by this time next week !!
. ౿ John ── .✦
He’s very showy about it, always tries to get you to sing or dance for his producer mates at parties when he’s had one too many G&Ts
When you release music, he buys absolutely all of your records. Goes to the local record store in a disguise and buys all 50 copies that the store has in stock. He thinks he’s hilarious for it but he stops it eventually after you complain about nobody else being able to buy the record.
He tries to casually brag about having a famous partner. Bringing it up in conversations, “y’know, sometimes i wish i wasn’t dating a bloody world renowned star, how d’s it feel to be normal, eh?”. He does it out of good fun, he’s never actually unhappy, just finding ways to tell people about you.
One thing he cannot stand is your hairspray, holds his breath every time you get out the bottle. He coughs and clutches his chest like he’s dying, putting on a whole show and falling to the floor.
. ౿ Paul ── .✦
He loves having someone to talk to who just gets it. Someone to ramble to about how difficult being in the spotlight
Helps you with picking outfits, learns how to stick on false eyelashes. He picks it all up pretty quick and soon enough, you’ve got your own stylist in your bedroom.
He sings with you at pretty much any time he can. Slumped in an armchair with his guitar, scribbling lyrics onto a piece of paper and asking you if you can sing the song he’s just written to test if it’s good or not.
Learns how to play your songs, too. He can listen to one of your singles once and repeat the entire song on his piano note for note.
Your entire house starts to revolve around music and performance arts, framed pictures of Elvis and Frank Sinatra all over your walls, entire rooms dedicated to housing pianos and guitars.
. ౿ George ── .✦
Before you even start dating, he’s a big fan of yours. He’s been to a bunch of your gigs and kept the tickets for each one, getting them out and showing you on your fifth or sixth date.
Even when you’re a couple, he still goes to every one of your shows, watching from the wings of the stage like he’s never seen something so perfect be his.
He makes a photobook of all of the pictures he’s taken with his camera on each of your tours. Pictures of you onstage, backstage, with him, on the tour bus. He gives the book to you as an anniversary present.
On the fairly uncommon occasion that he writes a song for the Beatles, he always plays it for you first, making sure it’s gotten your approval. He looks up to you musically, asks you for advice on writing, performing, “which one of these guitars should i buy?”.
. ౿ Ringo ── .✦
His very first question for you when you told him that you made music was “can you play the drums?”. He took it upon himself to teach you straight after your first date, letting you practice on his proper studio drumkit.
He’s very unserious about having a famous partner, insists on walking up the road to go get a pack of cigarettes and doesn't even blink an eye when hordes of fans run at the both of you.
He tapes every one of your televised performances so you can watch them together when you get home, pointing out all of his favourite songs to you when he watches it.
Loves glitter. Absolutely loves it. He complains about the fact that the Beatles never use glitter for any of their performances. He nicks little bags of glitter from you and gets it everywhere, all over his face, in his hair. And he doesn’t even complain.
I had the sweetest idea that I think you’ll like (if you haven’t done it already!!)
But imagine, the boys teaching you how to play an instrument….and it’s all like cute n stuff..
You could like do all of em or just one of em whatever you feel like doing! :3
𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠
𐙚 note ; I LOVE THIS IDEA!! i’ll do all four ‘cause you deserve nothing less xoxo
𓆩🕊️ john 𓆪
“If I knew you’d look that good fumblin’ with strings, I’d have broken that guitar weeks ago.”
John insists on teaching you guitar, and it’s his guitar. Like, his actual one.
He passes it to you like he’s lending you a limb and then stares like he expects miracles.
The second you mess up, he makes a face. “Oh, bloody hell, that was tragic.”
“I’m learning!”
“So was I when I was fourteen.”
But then he snickers and ruffles your hair and says, “Nah, go on. S’cute when you try.”
He doesn’t teach the traditional way. He doesn’t name chords or use sheet music. He just shows you where to put your fingers and makes you copy him until it sounds right.
“Like that. Yeah, yeah, no, that’s it, well, nearly. You’re stranglin’ it a bit. Be gentle, not like you’re wringin’ its neck.”
Has no patience for slow practice, but infinite patience for you.
He’ll groan and whine and tell you you’re hopeless, but never actually walks away. He likes being needed too much!!
When you strum something that even vaguely resembles a song, he gasps dramatically. “Oh my God, you've done it! Call the press!”
He plays behind you sometimes, arms over your shoulders, hands guiding yours. “Like this,” he murmurs in your ear. You’re not sure if you’re blushing or just overheating from the proximity.
When you get frustrated, he gets very weirdly earnest. “Hey. Don’t get pissy. You’re not s’posed to be good straightaway. S’bout the trying. Y’look good when you’re all concentrated.”
Eventually you manage to play something passable. He pulls out a harmonica and starts jamming along. “Look at us. Fuckin’ Lennon-McCartney and you.”
“Thanks.”
“S’a compliment.”
“Barely.”
“I’m kissin’ you now, shut up.”
𓆩🕊️ paul 𓆪
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll get it. And if not… I’ll just keep makin’ you try.”
Paul chooses bass for you. Not guitar, not piano. Bass. “S’sexier,” he says, not bothering to explain, and then just watches your hands fumble with the neck like he’s witnessing a private performance.
He’s leaning on the wall with one arm folded and one leg bent, looking at you like he’s waiting for your soul to rise out of your body.
Every time you hit a wrong note, he doesn’t correct you, he smiles.
“No, no, not like that,” he says, stepping forward to adjust your grip. His hands are warm. His fingers wrap around yours, fixing the placement.
“There. That’s it. You feel the string hummin’ there? Like it wants to behave now?”
You make eye contact and he just stares, all eyebrows and soft lips.
He says you’ve got good rhythm, “even if your hands are thick as pudding.” He says this while kissing your fingertips, so the insult doesn’t land, and you let him get away with it.
Teaches you by making you play along to his tracks. He pulls out a demo tape and points:
“You hear that part? That’s me. Now you do it.” You’re like “Paul, that’s you,” and he says, “Right. So do it better.”
He’ll play along with you, but only after watching you squirm for a bit. His fingers fly over his own bass, barely watching, showing off. You scowl. He grins. “Jealous?”
After a while he stops coaching and just watches you play. Sometimes closes his eyes.
When you get a riff right, he grabs you like he can’t help it, arms around your waist, face in your neck. “Knew you had it in you,” he murmurs, and you feel the words settle right between your ribs.
𓆩🕊️ george 𓆪
“You don’t have to impress me. But if you keep practicing like that, you might.”
George wants to teach you lead guitar. Because he’s a snob and wants to show off.
“You hold it well,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek like that’s all he has to say.
His lessons are meticulous. He’ll correct your posture, your finger placement, your vibe.
You get all flustered and mess up, and he just sighs and leans over you, his long fingers slowly repositioning yours. “No, here. Not there. You feel the difference?”
He shows you scales first, then little licks. You ask if he’s ever gonna teach you a full song. “Not ‘til your fingers stop squeakin’ like a broken window.”
He won’t admit it, but he loves watching your hands learn!
He watches you all the time, pretending he’s focused on the guitar, but no, he’s looking at you.
Occasionally you’ll hit a note just right, and he’ll nod once. “There. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” You’ll glow.
When you’re discouraged, he turns more serious. “It’s hard. Took me a while. You’re doing good. Don’t stop.”
On rare days, he brings out one of his acoustic guitars and teaches you fingerpicking. “It’s worth it.” He plays something haunting and gorgeous and then hands it to you like, “Here. Your turn.” You try. You fail. He just chuckles and says, “We’ll get there.”
Once, when you’re particularly pouty, he kisses your knuckles and murmurs, “You’re not terrible. Yet.”
𓆩🕊️ ringo 𓆪
“It’s not about being perfect, y’know. It’s about making a mess and still finding the beat.”
Ringo doesn’t even ask. You mention once that you think drums are cool, and the next thing you know, he’s hauling out his practice kit and beaming.
“Sit,” he says. You sit. The throne squeaks under you. “Hold the sticks like this.”
His hands are surprisingly firm when he corrects your grip. “Like snakes. Don’t strangle ‘em. Just let ‘em breathe.”
You think you’re doing great until he taps your shoulder. “You’re off.”
“Off what?”
“Everything.”
But he’s never cruel! He just grins at your frustration and says, “Try again. You’re gettin’ it.”
He claps along to help you find the rhythm. Sometimes hums a bassline. Sometimes drums on his thighs. You realize pretty quick that he feels music in his bones.
If you mess up too bad, he tickles you. “That’s what you get for rushin’ the hi-hat.”
He teaches you little fills and cheers every time you don’t fuck them up. “There they are! Told you you had soul in ya.”
When you finally manage to sync up a full rhythm, he stands and does a ridiculous little dance. Wow. Weird.
“Don’t laugh,” he says. “That was celebratory. We’re makin’ art here.”
He’ll never let you quit. If you get down on yourself, he just shrugs. “So? We’ll try tomorrow. And the day after that. I’ve got time.”
How I feel after crushing on all the Beatles + their wives + shipping all four of them with each other in every possible combination + loving them with their wives.
-Concerts take a lot out of him, even more so than the others. He looks like a kicked puppy when you drag him out of bed, all fuzzy, thick bedhead and endless whinging.
-”Can’t a fella get some shut-eye round ‘ere?” and it goes on and on.
-Unless there’s somewhere important to be - a charity gala, a meeting with the suits, a conference - John is a rock. Unmoving. Flat.
-At least, that's what he wants you to think. You'll be prepping some coffee, turn a corner-
-"'Ight, I'm up."
-He'll spend the rest of the day (playfully) nagging you about your tardiness.
-In endless pommy accents- "Burn the toast, luv, we're in a rush! First stop, the rock island line-!"
-He knows they're corny. Terrible, even. But any smile he procures from you is more precious than whatever hell Beatlemania produces.
-"Do I look like santa clause?" Is a common one as he makes nonsense motions with his razor, always slathering on too much foam. Gets a giggle or two? He'll be beaming the rest of the day.
𝑷𝑨𝑼𝑳
-Is always doing the most, even when the sun's just risen.
-Paul is the biggest fan of the Beatles, and as such he'll be hobbling around with a half-done tie while trying to scarf down his beans - only stopping when you tell him to sit down.
-"Mornin'." He'll say with that chubby-cheeked cherub of a smile, all while the early-morning jitterbugs take to his legs.
-"Can you come 'ere for a sec? Does it look better like this?" Will want your opinion on damn-near every little thing on his apperance - if his hair should be coiffed this way or that, if his tie is too crooked, etc etc- while he's used to the endless haggling of reporters and screaming girls, your gentle words are an entirely different ordeal.
-Multitasking. So. Much. Multitasking. You're making yourself a plate of eggs? Let him handle it. You're wondering which jacket to wear? He'll pick it for you. Driving them to the location? Let him read the map.
-With a sock on his hand and another scanning the newspaper- "Rubber Soul's doin' well. On the- y'know. On the charts, I mean." The charismatic awkwardness never fails to charm.
𝑮𝑬𝑶𝑹𝑮𝑬
-'the quiet one', despite George's personal grievances with it, fits quite well.. at least, in the mornings.
-if he isn't quiet, he'll be silent. listening to the radio, reading the newspaper, eating his marmite sandwich.. all leafed through with his usual poker face until you speak up-
-"Oh. 'Ello." Said while gingerly sliding the cheese out of his white bread.
-it's sometimes nigh-impossible - even for his beatle brothers - to figure out what George is thinking about. he'll have this deep, incredibly thoughtful expression plastered on, as if he's solved the mysteries of the universe within tying his shoelaces.
-then you flash him a smile and it's forgotten, lost in his tiny grin.
-"If I do 'nother press tour, me legs are gonna fall off." the lingering exhaustion is masked with his usual sardonic wit, but you slide his cuppa over and there's a small, content sigh and "Ta."
-George likes to do things alone. Somedays, he'll shave by his lonesome. Most days, he'll spend precious minutes adjusting his shirt cufflinks till John is howling down his door.
-Today, he decides to let you do his coat buttons.. all while never taking his eyes off you.
-"So ye don't get lost in the buttons." but his smirk tells you otherwise.
𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑶
-"Sleep well?" is the first question he asks upon seeing you.
-Ringo - to an extent - knows how simple he is. He's the drummer, the backbeat, the odd one out. Thus, he approaches you with that same simpleness.
-Cereal is the meal of kings in his dictionary. He's a slow dresser, but a quick eater, so it "Makes up fer everything else."
-Out of all of them, Ringo's the least preoccupied with how he comes across when in a rush. Life is a current, he just goes with the flow. If it becomes a tsunami, he dives headfirst into it. Rather, he'll be more concerned about your workload-
-"Need me t' carry that? No? ..Y'sure?" Gesturing with his comb while wearing thick sunnies, already having a cigarette choking the room-
-No matter the occasion, Ringo is everyone's best man.
..he'll be yours for free, though.
Pairing: Ringo Starr x F!Reader / Established Relationship
Content: PORN with feelings (trust this is just raunchy)
Summary: Based off of his song "Monkey See Monkey Do". Ringo wants to try out something new with you, will he be more convincing than your insecurities?
Word Count: ca. 5600
Authors Note: That song is genuinely insane. "Eat all the jungle" ???? Uhm yeah if he isnt an eater i dont even know what to think of men as a whole anymore. Also I pictured this with 69' Ringo in mind but it really doesn't matter, his moustache gets mentioned once. ALSO: Ringo is a bush enthusiast™ I just had no idea how to write that
“Could you pass me the sugar please?” you mumbled, eyes full with sleep, stretching your arms impossibly high and yawning once for good measure.
It had been a slow morning for Ringo and you and it was pleasant to feel so sleepy at the breakfast table once in a while.
“Of course, sugar.” He quipped, the cheesiness making you giggle. A sound that made Ringo’s heart flutter.
He sat down across from you after reaching over to place the tray in front of you. His eyes momentarily dropped down to the exposed skin of your waist as you stretched so thoroughly.
“You’re like a cat sometimes you know.” He said, buttering up a slice of bread for himself.
A content sigh left your lips as you let your arms fall loosely to your sides, smiling at the way he was looking at you. Your foot met his under the table with a very gentle push which he returned promptly, equally smiley.
It was just one of those mornings that started out in a good mood.
So why not ask her now?
Ringo chewed absent mindedly. Using the motion as an excuse to mull over something he’d been thinking about for a while now.
It had just been another typical ‘guy’ conversation. Talking about the songs they were writing, the women they were written for and then the raunchy side of things.
Ringo would occasionally open up about his intimate life to the others, mostly when he was feeling particularly good about the last night with you but on most days he would just sit back and listen to John and Paul exchange sex advice as if it was as casual as tuning their guitars.
And then suddenly, John had turned to him.
“Ay Richie, I bet ya could make your bird sing with only that knob o’ yours.” He laughed at his own statement, earning a slap from Paul who was also snickering.
Ringo didn’t react much, but it wasn’t impossible to see the gears turning in his head.
“How do you mean?” George asked, unplugging an amp.
“I mean Rich should try to eat his girl out, might give us some good inspiration.” John had a shit eating grin on his face, Paul still laughing from his audacity.
“You better watch your tone.” Ringo said, forcing a stern look. Internally though, the thought wouldn’t leave him alone.
And it’s not like he hadn’t tried to act on it, he wasn’t shy about what he wanted to do, you were.
When he had gotten home from the studio one night, he was pleasantly surprised to find you more needy than usual and when he carried you over to the bedroom he made sure to pepper your belly and inner thighs with sweet gentle kisses but every time his face neared your center you’d mewl and pull him away by his hair.
“But baby…” He tried to tell you what he wanted to give you, what he knew he could give you but when you shut him up with a slow, messy kiss, he was fine with trying again some other time.
And he felt that ‘some other time’ was now. At 10 in the morning. While you were both still waking up and he hadn’t even lost his morning wood as his mind was already picturing his head squeezed between your thighs.
Ringo studied your face for a moment, he hoped you hadn’t noticed but when your brows furrowed at him in question, he knew this was now or never.
“You know, Peaches…”
He began, warmth spreading through your entire body at the nickname.
“I’ve been wanting to try something out.” He confessed. Letting it linger for a moment, awaiting your reaction.
You just kept looking at him, urging him to keep going while you were chewing on your breakfast.
And now he wrestled with himself. Did he want to turn this lazy gleeful morning into a lustful one? If it were up to him he’d wipe everything off the table and ask you to sit down on it while he kneeled in front of you like he thinks he should.
“Ah..” his breath stuttered in his throat, an adorable nasal laugh leaving him.
“Tell meeee” you whined playfully, poking his leg again with your foot and he couldn’t help but smile, still a bit unsure how he should even word it.
He went through a multitude of different ways he could approach this but he felt like time was running out. You narrowed your eyes at him, tilting your head slightly.
His eyes followed the movement of your throat as you swallowed, almost in trance when he opened his mouth:
“Can I eat you out?”
Ringo was glad that you had the window opened, a birds song filling the silence that was now festering in your bright and cozy kitchen.
He felt your foot retracting from his leg, you were timidly drawing more into yourself, one leg propped up on the chair now, your chin resting atop of it.
The Beatle felt a tinge of guilt eat away at him. You did blush but looked extremely conflicted. Your reaction from the other night seemingly stemming from an underlying issue.
“Rich..” you sounded more pleading than he had expected, eyes averting his like on the first night you two slept together. He already had an idea where this was coming from.
“Please, let me make you feel good.” His hand reached up to intertwine his fingers with yours on the table. A gesture you followed willingly, even giving his hand a little squeeze.
You never wanted him to feel like he was the problem. Most of the time it was your own issues that hindered you, especially when it came to intimacy.
On the first night you slept together he had to constantly tell you how well you were doing because you were so afraid of disappointing him. He didn’t mind it at all but you still wished you weren’t as uptight sometimes.
Especially when the idea of what he proposed aroused you just as much as it scared you.
“I just don’t.. I don’t know, it’s maybe disgusting for you, I don’t know.” you muttered, eyes briefly meeting his kind gaze.
“Is that your only worry?” He asked, tone earnest and you hesitantly nodded.
Gently and carefully he removed his hand from yours. “Go ahead and eat your breakfast please, you’re beautiful peaches. You really are. Every inch of you.”
Your lips parted at the softness of his voice, of his eyes looking at you with such immense love. He often told you you were beautiful, he did so every day. But right now, as he was sitting across from you, you really felt it. Even if just for a split second.
Another smile tugged at your lips and you two finished eating in comfortable silence, occasionally the both of you humming along the tune of one of the birds outside.
—
After another while of basking in the morning sun, you decided to finally tidy up. Ringo had been dozing off across from you, chin resting on his hand.
One of his eyes slightly opened at your motion, watching you intently.
You didn’t notice as you piled up all the dishes in the center of the table but Ringo was staring- more like drooling, at the plush of your thighs that was squeezing out slightly from the boxershorts you were wearing- were those his?!
Ringo hummed and when you stepped around to his side of the table to collect his glass, he snaked an arm around you, spreading his legs in a smooth motion and pulling you between them. A giggle elicited from your lips at his antics. His face was on the same level as your chest and he leaned his head into you with a sigh, kissing the curve of your breasts through the fabric of your pajama shirt.
Your hands softly stroked the nape of his neck and up to massage his scalp. He was practically melting into your figure at this point.
Another giggle left you when he kissed his way further down your stomach, his fingers pulling the fabric up slightly. He was looking up at you with lidded eyes as he pressed his warm lips against your belly. The question from earlier today was clearly still on his mind in the way he looked at you.
You slightly squirmed under his gaze, but this time he wouldn’t let you get off so easily. Unless it was on his face of course.
“Richie.. I don't know if you really want to..” you trailed off, too caught up in scenarios of how he would react. Telling you how disgusting you tasted and how differently he’d imagined it.
“Oh, I want to.” He raised his eyebrows in emphasis. God, he looked like a kicked puppy.
“I think you want the idea of it but-” it sounded like a growl but before you could even realize what was going on, Ringo had grabbed you by the waist and turned the both of you around. His big hands hoisted you up onto the window sill, your back pressing against the glass as you watched your boyfriend fall to his knees before you like you were a guardian angel amidst a battlefield.
“Rich-” you tried again but then your thighs were spread open aggressively by two calloused hands. Rings cold against your hot skin.
Ringo couldn't help but groan when he saw the visible dark patch on the thick material of his boxershorts you were wearing. “And you’re so wet for it too…” he said, brows furrowing, his voice desperate. As if he just couldn't understand why you were fighting this in the first place.
He left a trail of open mouthed kisses along the inside of your thigh, feeling his face heating up from the proximity. When his nose bumped against your clit through the fabric of your underwear, your back arched off the window and you moaned, sending jolts of energy through his own veins.
His mouth came to rest above where your entrance would be, tenderly kissing along your clothed center, still making it a point though to rub against your clit deliberately.
You writhed above him, he kept your thighs spread although he could feel you wanting to squeeze them together.
“Gonna make you feel so good, sugar”
When he heard no further protest from you, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulled them down, throwing them somewhere to the side.
“Shame really, they squeezed your thighs so cutely..” He said, drawing a bashful breathless laugh from you. His fingers softly grazed your center, your hitched breath making his cock twitch.
“Fuck, think I could go for seconds.” He winked up at you and the ridiculousness of it all had you full on laughing - at which he playfully pouted. “You’re so cheesy…”
“Should I put my mouth to better use then?” Another smirk that had you weak. If you could you’d melt into a puddle.
Ringo’s fingers stilled, he was being cheeky but still wanted a real answer. But god- the temptation to just lick up into you right now was damn near killing him.
Your eyes were fixed on something behind him. He knew that look. You were wrestling with yourself. And he could tell how much you wanted to say ‘yes’ based on the fact that he could literally pick up the scent of your arousal.
“Maybe.. maybe a little bit.” You mumbled and Ringo firsthand experienced the so-called ‘cuteness aggression’ bubbling up inside of him.
How could you be so endearingly shy while he was between your legs like a servant, literal centimetres from tasting you?
“A little bit then.” The warm smile on his face was worth going to war for. Eyes sparkling like he had just won the lottery.
With the same gentleness as if you were made from glass, he let his fingers travel through your folds, spreading your wetness.
The intensity with which he looked at your pussy was downright filthy. And then the guy had the nerve to lick his lips. You were positively mortified at the way your hips twitched forward.
Deep blue eyes flickered up to you - oh you would never be able to contain his ego after this.
There was no sense of urgency in the way he carefully inserted his ring finger. You moaned shyly when you felt the cold metal of his rings press against your sensitive skin.
“Mmhm, still so tight for me baby, haven’t changed, have you?” His voice was low and his lips hovering so close to your clit - teasing. “God knows I tried.” He breathlessly laughed at his own dirty remark before finally closing his lips around your bundle of nerves, drawing a moan from you that neither of you had been expecting.
Ringo began sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue, occasionally a low growl would leave his throat, sending the vibrations straight to your core. Meanwhile he had begun full on thrusting his finger into you, the sounds that filled the room making you blush.
You released your grip from the window sill and instead tangled it in his hair, slightly tugging and to your surprise he immediately moaned at the sensation. “Do that again please…” He momentarily stopped just to look up at you with pleading eyes. And how could you refuse him?
Another slight pull, tugging him impossibly closer. He moaned again. His fingers kept thrusting up into you with laughable ease now
“You like it when you make me moan?” he mumbled, the grip you had on his head tightened and he squeezed his eyes shut in bliss. “Can feel you clenching around me whenever I do…”
And just like that his mouth was back on your clit, tongue swirling and massaging you like it was the only thing he’d ever known. Your legs began to tremble as you approached your release, one of your thighs that wasn’t spread by him squeezing into his cheek.
It wasn’t lost on you how he intentionally removed his palm from your other thigh, instead using it to spread your folds in a way that was nothing short of vulgar. You couldn’t help yourself when you trapped his head between your thighs as he sucked on your clit, fingers thrusting impossibly deep and curling at the end.
“Rich!” You finally gasped and when you felt the world crashing down around you, you pulled his face even closer. Not even noticing the way you instinctively began grinding yourself on his nose, riding out your orgasm which seemed to extend every time you heard Ringo moan between your legs.
He wasn’t complaining, if anything he thought he should be thankful for being able to lap up at you like a man starved.
With a light headed ‘sorry’ you relaxed your legs, effectively setting him free. Your eyes were closed in exhaustion.
“Peaches…” he mumbled something incoherently between your thighs. You were too dazed to process anything. Your heart began to slow down, muscles twitching in relaxation. A deep and content sigh left you as you felt the morning sun through the window warming your back like the most comfortable hug.
You heard another mutter in your lap. Ringo’s heart stumbled when you looked down at him, hands caressing his neck and lightly scratching his head. His head leaned against your thigh in a droopy manner, a lopsided smile on his face, sleepy pools of ocean blue looking back up at you.
He was embarrassed at the notion but he felt like your puppy. You stroked his hair like he’d done an extraordinary job and if he could he’d purr at your administrations.
“Did you hear what I said?” He asked softly. Your throat went dry at the gravel in his voice.
Of course you hadn’t and you admitted it with a lazy shake of your head, making him chuckle.
Ringo loved seeing you so relaxed, this felt right. He’d bruise his knees until they were bloody if it meant he could be cradled in your lap like this with such a sight before him.
“Sit on my face baby..” Ringo nuzzled his face deeper into the plush of your thighs as he mumbled against you. He could fall asleep right here as well.
There was heat creeping through your veins at his words, the way he said it was so matter of factly. There was no discussion around it. “I don’t know Richie..”
“I do though.” He immediately responded, a weak giggle escaping you at his eagerness.
“What are you so afraid of?” Ringo’s earnest gaze met yours. Steadying and holding you in his hands which were running along the outside of your legs now, obsessed with the softness.
Your hands halted the massage on his scalp (which he pouted at very subtly) as you thought about a concrete issue instead of just the uncomfortable feeling that arose whenever you thought about it.
“I’m afraid I’ll suffocate you or something.” You finally said, huffing at the way it sounded.
“Richie!”
Suddenly you let out a whelp and gripped the edge of the window sill with one hand trying to steady yourself when Ringo locked his arms around both of your thighs, squeezing them together around his head like you had done just now, letting out a guttural albeit played up moan against your center.
“I’d die a happy man.”
Oh god he drove you crazy.
You actually considered just letting him lead you…
“Well.. I mean I just don’t want my knees to hurt.” you said sheepishly, tips of your ears burning. You were still trying to dodge it but your excuses became a lot more vague. Something that your boyfriend picked up on of course, his eyes lighting up in the chance he saw.
He had softened the grip on your thighs, going back to caressing your skin as gently as possible, although he couldn’t help the slight shake in his hands at his arousal.
Ringo was painfully hard in his boxers, precum leaking through the fabric the entire time. The fact that he could tell that you were getting turned on again so shortly after you already came was not helping much.
“‘Course not baby, come on.” He placed a few last kisses to the warm skin of your thighs before raising up from his knees, helping you to your own feet after taking your hand in his. You slightly averted your gaze when you noticed just how hard he was. Fuck, he so unbelievably big, even just in his boxers.
He led you over to the couch of your living room and you bit your lip at the open-ness of it. The living room was flooded with light from the giant glass sliding door to your garden. It looked very homely. A stark contrast to what you were about to do in this cozy space.
You watched your boyfriend intently, absolutely hot and bothered, as he sat down on the couch, the fabric dipping beneath him. He sat there for a second, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. His eyes were heavy-lidded. You couldn’t believe how much he wanted this.
“But.. I mean should we do like..” your voice felt like giving out so instead you formed a six and a nine with your hands, hoping he’d get the idea.
Luckily, you hoped right because he let out a breathy laugh, eyes widened ever so slightly.
“No peaches, I don't think you understand.” Now it was his turn to be nervous, he gulped and didn’t meet your eyes to finish his thought.
“I wan-.” He began but started over shortly after: “I need you to use me. Just use me”
All air escaped your lungs. Usually he was the dominant one. You had never talked about the dynamic beforehand, it just sort of naturally fell into place. Insecurity made you more prone to following his lead anyway and you really enjoyed every bit of it.
It was like he saw the gears turning in your head after his confession. He hurriedly added: “Ya don’t have to change anythin’ about yourself, peaches. Just-”
He sighed, ringing for the right words.
It gave you a strange sense of comfort how nervous he was about expressing this need. Like this was new for both of you, equally thrilling as it was terrifying.
Ringo usually fit very well into the dominant image of ‘a man’. He was naturally manly, proud of it too. Especially when you’d come up to him after practice when he’s all sweaty and you’d linger for longer than expected, as if you were inhaling his scent. It felt very raw, and he liked that.
But John had put something into his brain and he had to figure it out now.
“Just imagine I’m a pillow or somethin'...” he mumbled, uncertainty in each syllable.
Something in your brain clicked and you squeezed your legs together. The image of grinding down onto his face like he wasn’t even there- essentially humping him like a teenager would do to their pillow at night-
You bit your bottom lip when you watched him pull his shirt up over his head. Arms flexing at the motion. The way he looked was the way he felt and it sent a shiver of excitement down his spine. It was like he was getting ready to be sacrificed- to his own personal goddess, he thought.
You nodded absent mindedly, too star struck by the image in front of you. He slowly lay down, arms awkwardly at his sides.
And now you just stood there, unsure what to do, how to do anything, really. It was like your brain short circuited.
“Richard?” You saw his face twitch at the use of his full name. You’d never use it except for when you were absolutely serious. He hummed in response.
“Can you close your eyes?” “Of course baby.” And then the piercing blue gaze disappeared and you felt oddly alone all of a sudden. You looked around your living room for a second before your eyes drifted outside to your garden, birds still singing happily.
Then you felt his hand searching for yours, lightly squeezing as if telling you he was ready. It made you crack a slight smile. Your nervous system made this seem like you were made to walk the plank.
You began by straddling his chest, not confident enough to go in guns ablazing. When he felt you in nothing but your pajama top hovering above his skin, his hips slightly thrust upward- meeting nothing.
A gasp left you. “Rich, I can take care of you too I don’t-”
You flinched on top of him as he let out one loud whiny groan.
“For fuck’s sake woman, do I have to drag you onto my tongue?!”
The cold metal of his rings pressed against the back of your thighs, urging you to finally, finally let him drown in you. His eyes were still closed, although he was struggling now.
“Richard.” you said in a shaky and defeated voice.
“Peaches.” He replied defiantly.
He slung an arm across his closed eyes, further shielding him from your view and preparing himself for what he was about to say. His last resort before he’d just flip you around and shove his hard cock into your leaking cunt while holding your face down into the cushions.
I mean, this was getting painful for him as well!
He’d rarely felt more horny than he did eating you out and has been sporting the same erection for about 2 hours now, his patience was running thin, could you really blame him?
Ringo mulled it over in his head again. He could still feel you hovering above his chest. Not even letting him feel you on his body too! He knew you were insecure and was trying to be as gentle as possible but it was nothing short of torture what you were doing to him!
“Please.” he croaked out, so quiet at first you could have missed it.
“Please, what more can I say to just make you scoot up here? Please!"
Oh he was begging now.
Was that a tear welling up in his eyes?
There was a brief moment of panic overtaking you at the conflicting scene playing out in front of you. You had never seen him in a state like this. Sure, he was easily moved to tears but not when it came to intimacy. So the second you saw a tear roll down his cheek, eyes still hidden beneath his lids, you dove down and deeply kissed him, pressing yourself as close to him as you could, though still on his chest.
His whimpering turned into a strangled moan as you made out with him.
“Yeah, yeah baby and now jus'..-” Once again you felt his left hand grip the back of your thigh, pushing you higher with much more force now.
You yelped and tried to steady yourself on the armrest, gasping at the way he was manhandling you again.
And then you felt his hot mouth on your center. Eyes rolling back at the vibrations of his relieved groans right into your heat.
“Fuck, that’s right.” you heard him mutter, dragging another moan from you when he gripped your hips with a newfound sense of urgency and forcefully pressed you right down onto him, nose sliding against your clit so absolutely deliciously that it had you arching your back at the contact.
His tongue was all over, sloppy and absolutely messy. His face kept tilting up to keep his nose on that sweet little bundle of nerves, a grin sneaking onto his busy lips.
It was nice to know that the feature he had been so insecure about in his youth would soon have you screaming his name for the entire neighbourhood to hear.
But apart from that he wanted you to take for once. His hands softened in their grip on your hips, slowing his movement so he wasn’t literally dragging you across his face anymore. The change of pace made you mewl on top of him. “Rich please, keep going.”
You whined like a child and he couldn't help but chuckle.
“Use me baby, please.” he said, pressing a featherlight kiss on your entrance and you shivered.
“Just close your eyes and ride my face, sugar.” He panted breathlessly, dragging another moan from you when he shoved his tongue back into your wet pussy, thrusting at a deliberate pace but it just wasn’t enough.
You were so turned on by everything but the embarrassment just wouldn’t go away and the fact that he kept asking you to do these things while perfectly capable of taking care of it himself instead of making you jump over your own shadow- there was a growing frustration festering next to the immense feelings of pleasure.
A frustration that Ringo would be thankful for, as it would turn out.
He had completely lost the grip on your hips now, his arms merely leaning against the curves of your body.
His tongue was still lapping up at your hot core yet you couldn’t help but notice how little attention your clit was given now. Very reluctantly and hesitantly your hips twitched forward in hopes of meeting his nose-
“Rich!” Another frustrated whine left you when you looked down and saw him craning his neck upward, just out of your reach, an amused twinkle in his eyes as he held eye contact while flattening his tongue against your folds. Desperation clawing at your insides.
You tried again, another hesitant twitch of your hips to which he moved further out of your reach.
Now it was your turn to let out an exasperated groan and instinct seemed to take over momentarily.
One of your hands tangled itself into his hair, gripping tightly, keeping him in place.
Oh god, Ringo felt like he could cum right then and there.
And then you finally dragged your wet cunt over his face. A strained, utterly broken and high pitched moan that escaped his throat sent shivers up and down your entire body, spurring you on even more.
Steadily, a pace established itself and you lost yourself in the pleasure, the raunchiness of it all. Your hips especially stuttered whenever you humped your clit against his nose.
“Fuck.. thank you baby, thank you.” You moaned at his words, his tongue occasionally slipping back into your cunt.
“mmhm, f-fuck.. Richie..” you mewled when his hands began to roam all over your legs, travelling up to your ass, kneading and groping the flesh like it was his only anchor to reality.
It felt so unbelievably good, just to chase your own pleasure like he was your own personal toy. Like sitting on a fucking throne.
Your vision went hazy, there were no thoughts shared between either of you except for the instinctive roll of your hips - each grind on his face dragged another whimpery moan from his throat. You’d never heard him like this before and it had your hips stuttering at the tight feeling building at your core.
The pace became sloppy, selfish. Your hand was still gripping at his hair and you dared to look over your shoulder for but a second, the sight drove you wild.
Ringo was so fucking hard, his boxers completely drenched in precum, one leg propped up and bent at the knee. Hips desperately thrusting up into nothingness.
You dragged your clit against his nose one last time before coming undone above him with a pornstar-worthy moan of his name. Back arching, muscles twitching, if you hadn’t already been pressing yourself onto his tongue that was eagerly licking up into you, his death grip keeping you in place would have done the job.
“mmhmpf, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He muttered up into you, a panicked tremble that snapped you out of your post-orgasm haze and you tried to scramble up, scared that you’d hurt him. But he kept you pressed to his tongue and nose like it was his air to breathe, your sensitive and fucked out body twitching in response.
“Rich..” you mewled, there was no way he didn’t notice you cumming, you thought and then you swore you felt your heart skip a beat.
A loud moan echoed through your body and you couldn’t help your body going limp at the overstimulation.
And then his grip softened. You immediately felt how it would bruise you later today.
Both of you panting in silence for a beat before you slowly and cautiously (and a little flustered) removed yourself from your beautiful boyfriend. You slid down onto the soft carpet that lay before your couch, head leaning on your arms that you propped up next to his head. A violent blush crept up from your collarbones at the image in front of you. His entire face was glistening, lips and moustache were shiny and glossy with your essence.
His eyes were closed, chest rising and falling like he was working something out.
Your hand came up to softly stroke his cheek, cradling his face and eliciting a soft sigh from him, a slight smile curling on his lips.
“Give me a minute and I can return the favor.” you murmured, matching his dreamy expression.
And then his face flushed a shade of red you’d never seen before.
“uhm, no I’m- uh I’m fine, thank you baby.”
That stung.
“What, but-” his eyes opened and met yours in a serious expression. Hesitantly, you let your gaze wander from his beautiful baby blues down his toned body and that is when your lips parted- absolutely stunned. The dark patch on his boxers was significantly more obvious than before, his cock not straining against the material anymore. He came from just eating you out.
“That’s fucking embarassing.” He mumbled, still red as a tomato. His hands came up to cover his face.
You grabbed his wrists in a swift motion and pulled them away, kissing him as if you had a fever and tasting yourself on his tongue was the only cure. He responded after a brief second with the same passion, albeit more reserved - you thought it was the cutest thing ever.
“You’re so fucking hot..” you whispered against his lips, if he wanted to you’d go for round three without hesitation.
He let out another bashful whimper into the kiss. God if he didn’t stop making that noise…
“Hot? I creamed my boxers like a teenager..” His voice cracked at that. Oh he was a mess, you never saw him this spent before and that meant something.
You pressed one last sweet kiss to his swollen red lips. “You’re the most angelic man I ever laid my eyes on.”
He lightly shoved your shoulder at that, turning his head to the back of the couch to hide the lovestruck grin that forced itself onto his lips.
Your heart swelled at the sight of him and you rose to your feet with trembling legs (not without kissing his temple though).
“I’ll get you a towel.” you said sweetly, earning a weak and sleepy hum in response.
When you returned you heard the familiar sound of soft snoring. Like so many times this morning, you couldn’t help but smile.
