some lines and passages from my current wips that i like a lot, not because they're particularly fantastic but because i'm trying to be braver about sharing my writing.
chasing the stars
â'You nourished me with your blood and I cleaved you to my bone.'â
"When [his wings] give beneath the command of the talismans, it is with all the quiet defeat of a flower withering in on itself."
"The trap that had been laid was never set just for him; he is also the bait within the noose set to snare another."
"Pressed this close he is forced to acknowledge the fear that had begun to bubble in his gut: the chest anchored against his back was far too cold. It is already too late for either of them."
"He drags in a long breath, holding it deep in his lungs as the memory of hundreds of warm sunrises spent tangled in loving limbs fills his senses."
"His last breath is not the rattle of death, but the purr of acceptance in the arms of fate."
divinity
"He had dared to want everything at once and thereby he had lost it all at once. A punishment dealt, a lesson learned."
"He doesnât know if he should follow, but heâs always wanted to try. He just canât figure out, when Mu Qingâs words veer to the left while his actions swerve to the right, which path is closest to the truth. Which direction can he bend eternally to meet him move for move, complementing his steps and stripping away the pretense to find the man he has always dared to believe, in spite of all conflict of thought, speech, and action, lives beneath?"
"He blinks twice, shaking his head as his eyes fall closed, brows furrowing while his mind works to make sense of where he is and what exactly is happening. Upon the backs of his eyelids the flash of brilliant, blinding gold from moments before replays, accompanied by that single, cacophonous toll ringing out as clearly as a hammer striking the final nail into a coffin.
Fuck.
Feng Xinâs eyes shoot open and bore straight into Mu Qingâs, rage, hurt, and something he canât quite place flashing beneath that calm, collected obsidian facade. Realization grips his lungs with icy fingers, his heart thundering against his ribs as his brain screeches to a halt, his final thoughts in that moment echoing above the turmoil. Once again everything has fallen from his grasp by his own hand. Now everything must change, for better or worse it cannot stay the same.
He has ascended."
smother:
"He wonders how the grey will come in, which parts of his hair will be affected first, and his chest swells as the reminder that he will be loved even when he is old, even as he changes with the seasons, settles deep within it."
â'Who wants your attention?' Though the retort is quick and sharp, it is devoid of anger or malice. Mu Qingâs hands move to cradle Feng Xinâs face when he pulls back, the embrace full of the soft fondness that can only come from loving someone wholly and unabashedly, across the years and through each experience life has handed them. Like heâs holding the whole world in his hands. The thought sets Yin Yuâs poor, overworked heart to fluttering so fiercely he fears it will ascend up his throat to escape out his mouth."
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summary:Â Youâve never given a blowjob before. Luckily, the boys are more than willing to teach you.
prompt:Â ok đđđđ đđ an orgy idea? she's never given a blow job before so they're all siting around her while they tell her what to do
warnings: blowjobs, fingering, sort of an orgy, masturbation, voyeurism, this is just filth
masterlist
HAHAHAA this picture is so not the sexy mood but also it basically sums up the ficÂ
Kneeling in front of Paul, you finally understand why some people like giving blow jobs.
Itâs the way heâs watching you unbuckle his belt, eyes lidded and cheeks already flushed a delicate pink. Itâs not demeaning at all like you used to think. In fact, you feel a heady rush of power at the sight of Paul, whose breath has already gone ragged despite the fact that you havenât even touched him yet.
âHelp him shuck his pants off,â John says. Heâs sitting next to Paul on the couch, leaning back almost lazily with a smirk. Today, heâs put on his glasses--you realize belatedly that itâs so he can see you better.
Youâre all sitting in the living room. The air is charged with something imperceptibly electric, something that dances across your skin with every movement, amplified by the four men watching you with barely restrained hunger. You donât know how it happened or who raised the question. Maybe it was a dare? But none of that matters now.
Ringo, sitting on Paulâs other side, leans forward and brushes away a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. You smile at him gratefully. His answering grin puts you even more at ease, lending you the momentary confidence to reach up and trace Paulâs cock through his briefs. Heâs hard. Youâve hardly done anything, but heâs already turned on; the realization sends a liquid heat pooling between your legs.
âPoor Paulieâs popped a stiffy already.â John smirks at the half-hearted glare Paul sends him. âI canât blame him, though, not when you look so pretty on your knees for us.â
âGo on,â George murmurs, lips almost touching your ear. Heâs sat behind you, a steady warmth pressed against your back. Â His hands trace gentle circles into your hips and you shiver. âTouch him.â
And so you do, tugging down the waistband of Paul briefs. His cock springs out, flushed and red at the tip, and you go a little wide-eyed at the sight. Youâve never seen one before, not in real life. Itâs not... unattractive, you muse, and itâs with an almost dazed wonder that you wrap your fingers around his length.
Paul groans immediately. His hands tighten on his knees, itching to tangle themselves in your hair. But he doesnât want to scare you away.
âGive him a lick, baby. Donât you want a taste?â
Ringoâs gruff voice pushes you forward. Hesitantly, you move your grip and lick all the way from the base of Paulâs cock to the tip. Sort of like a popsicle, you think to yourself. And if Paulâs answering sigh is any indication, youâre on the right track.
âThatâs it.â John hums a note of encouragement. âThink youâre ready for more?â
âMore?â you ask.
If only you could see what you look like. The picture of innocence, of sweet debauchery. With your cheeks a pretty pink, eyes shining and pupils blown wide. And your hands, so small and soft around Paulâs cock. Youâre so close that every huff of breath is brushing feather-light across Paulâs sensitive skin. Itâs enough to make the boy squirm above you, wanting more.
John laughs, reaches forward. He presses his thumb against your lips which fall open naturally, sucking on his finger.
âDo you want Paulâs thick cock in your mouth, birdie?â You moan at his words and John retracts his hand. His thumb is shiny with your spit. âWanna suck him off til he comes down your throat?â
Johnâs always had a dirty mouth on him. You just never thought it would turn you on so much.
âWatch your teeth, love.â George presses a kiss to the underside of your jaw, lets his canines scrape gently against your skin. âDonât want you biting off the family jewels.â
More than anything, you want to see Paulâs face. You keep your eyes on him as you lean over and start going down on his length, making sure to wrap your lips around your teeth. You want to do this right, want to make Paul feel good.
His reaction is immediate. Paul is caught between screwing his eyes shut in pleasure and wanting to watch his cock disappear into your pretty mouth. His eyelids flutter erratically, lips part automatically around high, breathy moans. The sight of it sends another rush of arousal through you and you clench your thighs. Youâve never seen anything so hot.
âFuck, she likes that, doesnât she?â Ringo groans and from the corner of your eye you can see him reaching into his own slacks. âIs she wet, George?â
George hikes up your skirt, parting your legs to rub you through your panties. âSheâs soaked,â he says. You moan at the friction and Paulâs cock twitches in your mouth.
âAlright, now move your head up and down.â Thatâs Johnâs voice coming from your right. You try to do what he says but youâre flustered now, trying to still your hips against Georgeâs probing fingers. You pull away with a wet pop.
âSorry, I- I donât know how...â
John presses a kiss to your forehead. âItâs alright, birdie. We can go slow. Paul, why donât you put a hand on her head, show her how itâs done?â
Paul nods and threads his fingers through your hair. His touch is so gentle, you find yourself leaning into it as he guides you back to his erect cock.
âBreathe through your nose,â Paul says, and then your lips are parting around his length again and he forgets how to speak entirely.
This time, Paul pushes you up and down slowly so that your head is making a sort of bobbing motion. You canât take all of him in, but you bring a hand up instinctively and start pumping the base of his cock in tandem. Paulâs grip on your hair tightens almost painfully, but you canât bring yourself to care.
âThatâs it, darling.â George rewards you and starts pressing tight circles around your clit. You whine, unable to stop your hips from jerking into his touch. âYouâre doing so well.â
The lewd sound of skin sliding against skin fills the room as you start speeding up and George slips a finger into your cunt. Paulâs moans send trickles of pleasure through you. From the heavy breathing and grunts, you know that John and Ringo have started taking matters into their own hands, so to speak.
âAre you gonna let Paul fuck your pretty mouth?â Unable to reply to John, you hum around Paulâs cock. Your jaw is starting to ache but you want it so bad, youâve never been so turned on. âI know you can take it, baby.â
Paulâs other hand tangles in your hair and he starts thrusting his hips up. His head tips back against the couch, mouth falls open around staccato grunts. With each thrust, you gag a bit as Paulâs cock hits the back of your throat. George murmurs low sounds of encouragement from behind. You can hardly concentrate, can hardly think when heâs curling those long, slender fingers into your cunt in tandem to Paulâs thrusts.
One of your hands comes up to grip Paulâs thigh. As your nails dig into his skin, Paul lets out a loud, keening whine, his hips stuttering, and you donât even know who it is that asks--
âHow deep can you take him?â
--but without thinking you relax your throat and take Paul as deep as you can. Heâs cumming before your gag reflex even kicks in. You manage to swallow some of it before pulling back in a fit of coughs. The rest of it dribbles down your chin but you canât even bring yourself to care.
You fall bonelessly against George, who starts pressing kisses to the column of your neck. The hot coil of tension in your body tightens. You almost want to get away from how overwhelming it is, hips jumping as George pumps his fingers in and out of you. You can feel his hard cock digging into you back as he ruts against you.
Then you open your eyes and see Paulâs gaze devouring you, wetting his lips at the sight of you: your hair a tangled mess, falling around your face in the most perfect halo; your lips, red from biting, forming silent âohâs as your orgasm builds.
âYouâve been so good for us,â Paul says. âLet go.â
And thatâs all it takes, Paulâs low voice and George pressing tight circles into your clit, curling his fingers deep into your cunt. Your vision goes white and you cum. George coaxes you through it, the pleasure wracking through you in waves that fall from your lips in high, pleading moans. When you come spiraling back to earth, your entire body feels fuzzy with the drop in adrenaline.
âHow was it?â Ringo asks, grin lopsided as he lazily fists his erection.
You crawl over and nose at the base of Ringoâs cock, grinning when he exhales sharply.
mĂŠnage Ă trois [ paul mccartney x reader x john lennon ]
summary: Thereâs only one bed and none of you speak French.
prompt:Â k hear me out mclennon sandwich BUT ITS ON THE PARIS TRIP SO IS JUST YOU THREE IN THE TINIEST BEDROOM + a request for readerâs wet dreams waking paul up
warnings: this is a threesome babey đĽŞđĽŞđĽŞ
masterlist
guess whoâs never had a threesome? me. guess who accidentally drank a shit ton of coffee and didnât go to bed till six am writing this?? also me. iâd appreciate any feedback yâall have bc @spaceyantiqueâ betaâd this for me like a darling but my illiteracy knows no bounds
Thereâs only one bed and none of you speak French.
Paul tries, but between his wild hand gestures and the receptionistâs increasingly confused looks, heâs getting nowhere. John more or less just flirts with her. You tolerate about five minutes of it before dragging them away from the front desk.
âSorry,â you offer to the receptionist, and youâre pretty sure itâs the first word sheâs understood in the whole exchange.
The three of you stand at the foot of the bed for a bit and just. Stare at it. The hotel room is long but narrow, with the bed at the very end of it literally touching three walls. Whoever designed it was obviously at the end of his wits. The bed would be roomy for one person, cozy for two, but three? Thatâs pushing it. Still, thereâs not even a couch in the room, so when you all look at each other itâs with a wordless understanding.
âI sleep on the right,â John says. He claims his spot as such and immediately stretches out, not even taking off his shoes. You wrinkle your nose but choose not to say anything. Paul wrinkles his nose and does.
âDonât be disgusting, John.â Paul toes off his boots and clambers onto the left side. âThereâs a lady present.â
John grins and twists around, dangling his feet in Paulâs face. âTalking about yourself in the third person, eh?â
Youâve locked the bathroom door by the time they start fighting but the walls are thin. Thereâs a thump and a shrill screech. Laughter. More shouting. Your reflection frowns back at you, eyes tired and hair a mess, and you take your time showering. In true European fashion, itâs a tiny, miserable affair. Your elbows keep knocking into the walls. The water runs cold before you even finish shampooing. Itâs a mad dash to put on your pajamas before you freeze your tits offâexcept even that goes awry when you realize you forgot to pack them. The only things you can find are a soft tee shirt and shorts, which are a bit shorter than youâd like to be wearing but will have to do.
To top it all off, when you step out of the bathroom, theyâre still lobbing shoes and insults.
âBoys, please! Itâs one in the morning!â Two pairs of eyes flicker to the clock on the wall, then back at you. âCan you at least pretend to be adults?â
Paul has the decency to look a little scolded. John, on the other hand, leers at you.
âI think someone cut a few centimeters off your shorts, love. Not that Iâm complaining.â He winks and you decidedly push down the fluttering in your stomach.
All in all, it takes another hour for the three of you to get to bed. Paul insists on showering first, which leads to another argument that takes five matches of rock-paper-scissors to be resolved.
(Paul gets the first one. John calls a two out of three and wins that. Paul calls a three out of five and wins that. John accuses him of cheating and gets called a sore loser. You end up shoving Paul into the bathroom while John is looking for another shoe to throw.)
If your mother knew you were squeezing into a bed with two boys, sheâd throw a fit. Especially if she knew that you couldnât stop thinking about how rosy Paulâs cheeks looked when he stepped out of the shower, or the fact that John is bloody shirtless. No, itâs best that none of this gets back to your folks at home.
âComfortable?â John asks. Both boys are facing outwards and youâre lying on your back, trying to ignore the warm bodies on either side of you.
Paul shifts his arm and nearly elbows you in the boobs. âI feel like a sardine,â he says.
âTry sleeping in the middle,â you retort. âItâs like being in a sandwich.â
That earns a laugh from John, which turns into a contagious yawn.
âWe should go to bed,â someone says, but youâre already drifting off.
***
Johnâs a pretty heavy sleeper, so when he wakes up and itâs still dark out heâs very confused.
Heâs also a lot warmer. Sometime in the night, John had turned and pulled you flush against his chest. His nose is pressed into your hair, one leg thrown over your hip. John rather likes the feeling of cuddling so close, but he knows itâs not the most appropriate position. He goes to move when he hears a quiet noise.
âJohnâŚâ
⌠oh. So thatâs what woke him up.
Youâre moaning, soft little sighs and whimpers that go straight to Johnâs cock. Youâre having a wet dream⌠about him. He wants to pull away, knows that this is wrong, but then youâre grinding against him and all thoughts fly out the window. Johnâs hips find yours and he has to bite his lip to keep from groaning. God, heâs rutting against you like a teenager but it feels so good he canât even bring himself to be embarrassed.
âJohn?â
Johnâs eyes snap open and he freezes. Your voice is different, clearer. Youâre awake now. Itâs like a cold bucket of water has been dumped over his head and he jolts away from you.
âSorry, I didnâtââ
His apology cuts off because youâre suddenly moving, pushing back into him. The soft curve of your ass presses right against Johnâs cock. All the air in his lungs rushes out and he gasps out your name.
âIsâis this okay?â he asks. He wants to make sure, needs to.
âYes,â you reply. Itâs more of a plea, and itâs all John needs to start moving again.
The hand thatâs on your stomach trails down and slips under the waistband of your panties. John groans when his fingers find your slick folds.
âFuck, youâre soaked.â John rocks his hips into yours. Your hair is still damp from showering and when he breathes in, the scentâlavenderâsends a rush of arousal through him. âWere you dreaming about me?â
You can only whine in response because John is slipping a finger into your cunt. His thumb finds your clit, rubs gentle circles that send flames of pleasure licking up your body. Itâs already so much, too much, not enough.
âDidnât know you were such a filthy girl,â John growls and you arch into his touch. âWhat was it about, hm? Were you dreaming about this? About getting fingered while Paul is sleeping right there?â His words tear a gasp from your lips. âYouâre gonna have to be quiet or youâll wake him up, birdie. Unless thatâs what you wantâŚâ
âItâs a little too late for that.â
John canât see very far, but he doesnât need to in order to make out Paulâs face on the other side of you. His pupils are blown wide, eyes trained on Johnâs hand still moving under your clothes. And John⌠likes it. Being watched. It should be weird, should feel wrong because Paulâs his best mate, but then his eyes find Johnâs and the hungry look in them tears a hot blaze of arousal through him.
Somehow, his voice is steady when he speaks. âYou want a taste?â
Paulâs mouth falls open and he nods. Without a second thought, John pulls his hand from your pussy and lifts it to Paulâs lips.
The sight of Paul licking your juices from Johnâs fingers is quite possibly the hottest thing youâve ever seen.
Second only to the look on Paulâs face when you hesitantly wrap your hand around his cock and start jerking him off.
âFuck,â he groans. His eyes flutter closed, head tips back and bares the curve of his neck. John wants nothing more than to bite into it, to mark Paul, but you beat him to it. And John, whoâs never liked feeling left out, lets his hand drift back down to you. This time, he curls two fingers into your cunt. You clench around him and your grip involuntarily tightens on Paul, whose hips jerk forward at the feeling.
God, how John wishes he could see your face. Youâre sure to be so pretty, cheeks flushed, lips parted around gasps, eyes watching Paulâs cock in your hand. Still, he can hear the noises youâre making, and thatâs almost just as good.
Itâs not the most comfortable position, really. Your wrist feels awkward at this angle, with Paul being so close to you. And John keeps breathing in some of your hair. But the intimacy, the heat, the rush of adrenaline makes all that fade away. The filthy sound of John thrusting his fingers in and out of your cunt, Paulâs high, almost feminine sighs. Johnâs grunts as he rocks against your body, breathe hot on the nape of your neck.
Paul gasps something unintelligible but you know what heâs trying to say. You start pumping him even faster, letting the sound of his cries spur you on. You want to taste them, you think, and it doesnât make sense but you lean forward anyway and capture Paulâs lips in yours.
The movement changes your angle. Johnâs fingers curl against something in you that burns white hot, electric in your veins. His thumb presses into your clit and then youâre cumming, moans falling from your lips to Paulâs as he follows you over the edge.
âFucking hell,â Paul breathes.
You can only nod. Your mind is still floating somewhere in the stratosphere. You canât remember the last time you felt like this, both high and irrevocably grounded, pressed tight between two bodies thrumming with warmth.
âIâm gonna⌠clean up a bit,â you mumble when youâve caught your breath. While you stumble off towards the bathroom, Paul reaches and finds Johnâs face in the dark.
Despite the fact that heâs just had a threesome, John suddenly feels shy. Itâs intimate in a different way, how Paulâs fingers trace the bridge of his nose, outline the curve of his lips. And when you come back, weight dipping the mattress slightly, the warmth of your body settling behind him is so gentle that John is scared heâs only imagining it.
Paul doesnât say anything, just pulls John forward and kisses him. Itâs a chaste brush of the lips, but combined with the feeling of you nipping at his bare shoulder sets Johnâs nerves ablaze.
âIââ
You shush him and run a hand down his spine, thumbing the waistband of his joggers. âJust relax, John. Itâs okay.â
Whether itâs your words or the soothing touch, Johnâs body almost melts, curving into yours. At the same time, his lips seek out Paul, who pulls back with a glint in his eyes.
âYou havenât even come yet, have you?â Paul asks, though he already knows the answer.
âDoes it fucking look like I have?â John grumbles. Your hand trails across his waist and cups his erection and suddenly John canât come up with anything witty anymore. He keens and bucks into the touch.
âSo this is what it takes to get you to shut up.â You giggle when Johnâs attempt at protesting is muffled by Paulâs mouth.
two of us [ paul mccartney x reader x john lennon ]
summary:Â Nothing could have prepared Paul for what he sees when he opens the door. There are papers all over the floor, as though someone had swept them all off in a hurry. But thatâs not what catches his eye. Itâs the sight of you, bent over the desk so prettily on your elbows while John fucks you from behind.
prompt: ok i loved your story BUT what if professor mccartney DID walk in on them ( ͥ° ÍĘ ÍĄÂ°)
warnings: threeway, oral sex, s e x, some spanking, professor kinks galore, little bit of voyeurism
well. hereâs the mclennon sandwich yâall asked for. part two of this
Something is⌠off with John.
Paul has never seen his boyfriend so distracted. When they go out for lunch, Paul has to repeat what says two or three times before John snaps out of it and actually listens. And, not to toot his own horn, but Paul is pretty charismatic. Itâs why so many bright-eyed freshmen flock to his art history classes, hoping to get a hour just listening to his voice, ogling his pretty smile⌠only to shuffle out with failing marks. Paulâs class is hard and heâs not afraid to be upfront about itâitâs not his fault if the students are too busy daydreaming about his eyes to listen.
Anyway, the point is that something has been on Johnâs mind. Paul is determined to figure it out, especially because whenever he tries bringing it up, John gets almost⌠flustered. And John Lennon does not do flustered. Heâs usually the one making others blush. Together, theyâre quite the pair.
Itâs probably one of the other professors, Paul thinks. They have an open relationship, so Paul doesnât mind. He just wishes John would tell him who it is thatâs got his head in the clouds.
So, naturally, he decides to confront John about it. Paul calls his boyfriend after class and they agree to meet in Johnâs office before going out for the night.
Itâs a Friday night, so any reasonable student would be out getting plastered for the weekend, not visiting professors for office hours. The halls are quiet, dark, dimly illuminated by the dying rays of sunlight outside. Paulâs footsteps echo rather loudly off the tiles as he walks towards the English wing. Theyâre the only sound in the building. Even the other professors have left, either to get a head start on grading essays or to do some of their own drinking, but he knows John has his office hours for another half hour. Putting them on a Friday afternoon is a rather stupid idea, though, since no one in their right mind would choose Thoreau or Austen over Danâs Sports Bar. Or, so he thinks⌠until he nears Johnâs office.
He almost doesnât hear it at first, but thereâs definitely some noise coming from behind the door. Did John schedule a student appointment right before their own meeting? Paul canât quite make out what it is, though, so he chances the doorknob. Itâs not locked.
Nothing could have prepared Paul for what he sees when he opens the door.
There are papers all over the floor, as though someone had swept them all off in a hurry. But thatâs not what catches his eye. Itâs the sight of you, bent over the desk so prettily on your elbows while John fucks you from behind.
You donât even notice the intruder at first. Your eyes are screwed shut, mouth falling open in little gasps and moans that go straight to Paulâs groin. John, though, sees Paul almost immediately.
âHello, Paul.â Johnâs voice is a little strained, and the sound of it sends your head snapping up and gaping at the man standing at the doorway. âOr, is it Professor McCartney for you, sweetheart?â
John doesnât even let up his pace so you can barely respond, the feeling of his cock slamming into you almost too much to bear. You should be embarrassed, should be trying to cover up or push Professor Lennon away, but something about the other teacher watching as you get fucked into the desk unravels a hot spool of arousal in your stomach.
âPro-Professor!â It comes out more of a sigh, one that makes Paulâs grip on the door tighten. âI didnât-didnât see- fuck, John.â
Paul shuts the door behind him and steps closer, watching your eyes widen at his motions. Something about the situation settles deep in his stomach and becomes almost⌠normal. âShe calls you John?â
âOnly âcus I asked her to.â John buries himself deep into your cunt and stills for a moment, catching his breath. It makes you whine and push your hips back, begging for some friction. âYou shouldâve heard her the first time, Paul. Loved callinâ me Professor Lennon⌠think it turns her on. Doesnât it?â John slaps your ass and you whine, nodding your head.
âPretty little thing,â Paul murmurs. He walks up to the desk until heâs standing right over you and reaches out to cup your face. You lean into the touch, cheeks flushing a pretty pink, and when Paul presses his thumb to your lips they fall open willingly. He canât help groaning as you suck on his finger, eyes searching his almost like they're looking for approval.
âShe takes cock so well,â John says, smirking at the way his boyfriend is completely mesmerized by your mouth. When he starts making shallow thrusts, just pulling out an inch before rocking back into your warm cunt, Paulâs eyes snap to his with a heat heâs never seen before. âCan you take Professor McCartney too, hm? Let him fuck into your pretty mouth while I fuck your pretty pussy?â
You whine almost embarrassingly loud at the thought of both men filling you up. John slaps your ass again and then soothes the red mark with gentle fingers.
âGot to hear you say it, darling.â
It takes you a second, but you gasp out your response.
âPlease, please- wanna suck you off, Professor McCar-ah, ah, John!â
You donât manage to finish your sentence but Paul takes it and unbuckles his slacks. He doesnât even bother kicking off his pants, just pulls his aching hard cock out of his briefs and rests it against your lips. They part for him easily and Paulâs eyes roll back at the feeling of your warm mouth engulfing his length. When he hits the back of your throat, he stills a moment before pulling out again and then sliding back in. Paul fucks into your mouth at a leisurely pace which is soon matched by John, who takes his cue to start fucking your cunt in earnest now.
The almost rhythmic sound of grunts and skin slapping on skin fills the office and turns you on so much it almost hurts. If it wasnât for Johnâs hips drilling you into the desk, your legs would probably give out. Thereâs just something about the two professors filling you up on both ends, something about how filthy the situation is, that ramps up your orgasm almost alarmingly quickly. Tendrils of ecstasy roll through your body, from Johnâs cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust to the ache of Paul driving his length in and out of your mouth. John starts speeding up, fucking you at a brutal pace with both hands leaving even harder imprints in your hips, and Paul matches him, tightening his grip in your hair. Itâs so much, itâs too much, this tingling thatâs sweeping from your cunt to the tips of your fingers that are grasping so hard at the edge of the desk, just trying to hold on.
You come with a high-pitched moan, muffled around Paulâs cock, and John follows right behind you, hips stilling as he comes into your still pulsing cunt. You fall onto the desk bonelessly, so tired that you donât even notice when John slips out and tosses his condom into the bin.
The feeling of fingers probing at your still dripping folds draws a whine from you. Youâre still sensitive from just orgasming. But these fingers are different from Johnâs, softer.
Paul brings his hand to his lips, humming around the taste of your juices. And then youâre gasping, a shudder wracking your body at the feeling of Paulâs blunt tip nudging your entrance. Your cunt is still aching but you already want more, already want to be filled again.
âWell, come on, darling. I think itâs my turn.â
summary: You come to class in the shortest little skirt and Professor Lennon is so distracted he can barely teach. Afterwards, he tries taking matters into his own hands... only to be interrupted by the very subject of his fantasy.
prompt: my own fucking post, bc I have no self-control
warnings: oral sex, dirty talk, professor kink... this is basically porn and Iâm not sorry. oh also thereâs danteâs inferno discourse, if thatâs upsetting to anyone
i have nothing to say. this is filth. see yâall in the second circle of hell lmao (also, can you spot the 𼪠hint?)Â
i was gonna schedule this for 9 am or something but... apparently some of yâall are still awake if my notifs are any indication. so. enjoy. itâs almost 4 am for me
This is so, so wrong.
Youâre not that much younger than John, with you in your early twenties and him just approaching thirty. Still, heâs your professor. Youâre his student. Thereâs an unspoken taboo about the whole thing, a clear line that should never be towed. Johnâs a rational manâafter all, heâs a Literature professorâand he knows these things in his head. Theyâre as clear as day, as obvious as BrontĂŤâs warnings against forbidden love throughout Wuthering Heights.Â
All that rationality flies out the window when you come into class this morning wearing a short skirt that makes John almost drop his chalk.Â
You greet him with a nod and a smile, as per usual, but John canât bring himself to smile back. He canât bring himself to look you in the eyes. So when a flash of hurt streaks through them, he misses it, having already turned his back to write the dayâs lesson on the chalkboard.
All of class, John is distracted. Not distracted enough for his students to take notice, of course; heâs familiar enough with the topic and his students are too busy scribbling notes to care. Still, John canât stop thinking about running his fingers over your ass, about bending you over his desk and fucking you, your pretty little skirt bunched up in his hands. Maybe heâd wrap his tie around your wrists. Make you beg to be touched. And John would give in, if only to hear you whine when he teases your clit.
Thank god for the podium at the front of the room. Johnâs always been an active teacher, walking up and down the aisles as he lectures, sometimes even sitting on his studentsâ desks just for the hell of it. Professor McCartney calls it dramatic, but John knows that it brings so much more to his teaching. It keeps his audience engaged, which is exactly what he needs when heâs trying to get them interested in some dead 13th century Italian guyâs rhapsody on death.
Unfortunately, heâs got the worst hard-on ever right now, and even moving slightly behind the podium is causing the fabric of his slacks to shift agonizingly against his erection. John curses having tied his belt so tight this morning.Â
Heâs halfway through the class, basically talking to a dead room of glazed eyes and drooping pens, when you raise your hand.Â
âSorry, Professor Lennon.â John inhales sharply at the way you say his name and almost misses your next words. âBut just now when you mentioned Beatrice, did you mean that she symbolizes divine love? Because isnât that the whole reason she can take Dante to heaven, whereas Virgil is limited by human reasoning?â
âYes, thatâs right. What did I say?â
You bite your pen and Johnâs gaze is immediately drawn to the shape of your lips around it. He swears that he can see you almost smirk a little when you speak again.
âYou called her âforbidden love.ââ
Okay. Maybe John is more distracted than he thinks.
The rest of the hour, Johns finds himself glancing at you even more often. And though youâre sitting in the back of the room, John thinks that he catches you looking right back.
For the first time in his career, John has to agree with his students: the end of class canât come quickly enough. The moment that last straggler pushes out of the lecture hall, the double doors closing behind them, he pushes off from the podium and rushes into his office, not even bothering to lock the door. John just needs some sweet relief and he finds it when he leans against his desk and unbuttons his slacks.
The moment John takes his cock in hand, he groans and lets his head fall back. Fucking hell, heâs been wanting to touch himself since you walked into class in that stupidly short skirt. He knows that this is improper, especially in his own office, but John couldnât care less right now. He strokes himself with one hand, bracing against the desk with the other. And then his mind veers off and imagines that itâs you touching him. Your hands are so much smaller than Johnâs. The thought of them wrapped around his cock makes him swear, your name tumbling from his lips before he can stop it. Fuck, heâs getting close, and in his head he can hear you edging him on, can hear you calling his nameâ
âProfessor?â
Thereâs no time to hide. John can barely even react, eyes jolting open to see your wide, shocked ones⌠glued to the sight of him masturbating.
âJesus Christ, Iâm so sorry, I- I didnât hear you knocking, I...â His babbling trails off when you donât seem to be freaking out. And when you close the door behind you, turning the lock, something else entirely shoots through his body.
âI heard you saying my name.â You walk to where John is standing, his hand still wrapped around his cock. âWere you thinking about me?â
âI, uh. Look, I didnât-â
The sight of you dropping to your knees in front of him is the hottest thing John has ever seen. Involuntarily, his hand jerks and he lets out a shaky breath.Â
âTell me, please?â And how can he say no when youâre looking up at him like that, biting so innocently at your lip?
Something inside John lurches and he stumbles right across that line separating right from wrong.
âFuck, I was.â Johnâs voice pitches a note lower, tone more confident and now itâs your turn to catch your breath in your throat. âBeen thinkinâ about you all class, birdie. You knew what you were doing, paradinâ around in that little skirt. I bet you wore it for me, hm?â
You nod your head, a little shyly, and place a hand over his, not quite touching his cock. Still, the sight of your much smaller hand on Johnâs makes his grip tighten and he grunts. The sound goes right to your core.
âWanna feel you in my mouth. Can I?â
John barely gets the chance to nod before youâre mouthing at his tip. His hand falls away immediately, joining the other in gripping the desk at the feeling. You pull away a little and lick all the way from up from the base, flattening your tongue against his veins, before taking his cock into your mouth.
You go down on him slowly, so slowly, and the feeling of your warm mouth enveloping his length makes John groan. His eyes want to fall shut but he forces himself to watch your pretty lips stretch around his cock. Itâs worth it, especially when you flick your eyes up to look at him. The sight of you makes his hips jerk involuntarily and you gag, pulling backwards with a wet pop that sends another wave of arousal coursing through John.
âSorry,â he murmurs, reaching out a hand to brush away the tears that have welled up in your eyes, but you shake your head. Wordlessly, you guide both of his hands into your hair and go down on him againâand when you take in as much of his cock as you can, you look up to John as if waiting for something.Â
When he understands, he finally lets himself close his eyes.Â
âGod, youâre so good for me, arenât you?â John pulls out of your mouth a little before sliding back in, gasping at the warmth. âTaking your professor's cock like this. Mm, fuckâyou feel so good.â
John increases his pace, starting to really fuck into your mouth. His grip tightens in your hair and you whine.Â
âWhat if Professor McCartney walked in right now, huh? I bet youâd keep sucking me off. Would you?â
The blush across your cheeks darkens and John takes note of it, something piping up in the back of his mind. But then youâre moaning around his cock and the vibrations are making his knees weak. Heâs gonna come, soon, and his words devolve into grunts and curses as his hips jerk faster and faster into your mouth. Your throat has got to be tired by now but youâre not stopping or pulling away. The thought that you actually enjoy this, that itâs turning you on to be on your knees for John, is what sends him over the edge.
You let him finish in your mouth, swallowing all of itâor at least, as much as you can. Still, a little bit of Johnâs cum makes its way down your bottom lip. Before he can second-guess himself, he pulls you up to your feet and kisses you. Itâs soft, a distinct contrast to the fervor with which John had just been fucking your mouth with, and a little bitter with the taste of his own cum on his tongue. You whine when he swipes a tongue across your lip and the sound turns into a high pitched moan when he bites down where he just licked.Â
âProfessor-â
âCall me John,â he says, pulling away and seeing a shy smile cross your face.
âOkay,â you say. You close the gap between your lips and kiss him again. âJohn.â
Just to make sure, though, John has you scream it for him when itâs his turn to get on his knees.
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Your boyfriend needs a confidence boost and you know just the way to do it.
embraceable you - đŚâ¨
Ringo kisses you, soft and sweet, taking his time exploring your mouth. Your hand comes up to rake through his fluffy hair and itâs innocent, really, until you drag your nails slightly over the nape of his neck and he shuddersâand before you can react, Ringoâs got you underneath him.
twist and shout - đŚ
Ringo tries to make you come before the others get back from their lunch break.
headcanons
teddy boy ringo makes it kinda hard for you to focus on stage
lingerie shopping with ringo ;)
one-shots
love in bloom - â¨
âIâm probably not making a lot of sense at all, am Iâ but do you get it?â
âYeah.â George does. He knows exactly what you mean. He also knows, suddenly, that he has loved you since the day you met. Â
fools on a hill - â¨
From childhood friends to fellow Beatles, George and you seem to have lived your whole lives under this tree. You wouldnât have it any other way.
itâs all right - â¨đż
Itâs been a long, cold, lonely⌠day. George is here to help, even though his hands are too damn cold.
headcanons/blurbs
george and male reader, time travel au âď¸â¨
female reader time travel au (drive my car au lol)Â
george coming home to you in lingerie đŚ
dad! george being a softie with your baby â¨
trying to pluck georgeâs eyebrows hehe â¨
one-shots
hold me tight - đŚâ¨
Johnâs other hand is sliding, sliding down to cup your warmthâand then heâs stroking your folds and you arch against his chest. âNow, tell me.â John nuzzles at the column of your throat. âIs it the bath, or are you wet for me?â
petrichor -Â
You can feel his hesitation. Usually, John pushes into the apartment, announcing his arrival with a fling of his coat. Today, the door never hits the wall. His footsteps halt the moment he steps across the threshold. Probably because he can hear your ugly sobs all the way down the hallway.Â
headcanons
teddy boy john and square reader in high schoolÂ
being johnâs flower child gf â¨
getting into an argument with touch-starved john đż
you get into a bad car accident and john tears himself up over it âď¸âď¸
comforting john after his mom passes âď¸đż
you get a teddy makeover and surprise john ;)
one-shots
warm - â¨
itâs the middle of the night and your favorite beatle has a weak but irresistable excuse for cuddling
hello, goodbye - âď¸
For a moment, he stands atop the stairs and just watches as you walk away, knowing that your sunny smiles will never be meant for him.
goodbye, hello - â¨
sequel to hello, goodbye;Â âHeâs only got eyes for you.â Johnâs gaze softens as he leans in, voice sincere. âLook, âm not saying you have to like Paul or go out with him or anything. But youâve got to tell him how you feel, all straight like, or else heâll always be on your hook. That boyâs got a pretty face and a thick skull.â
the way you look - đŚ
Your plan to seduce Paul goes awry when all four of the Beatles find you naked on the couch one night. The sight of you gets Paul awfully possessive, and heâs determined to show the others just who you belong to. (spinoff)
lonesome tonight - â¨
Youâre drunk and oh so pretty wearing that little dress. Paul doesnât know what to do with you.Â
headcanons/blurbs
70s paul and younger reader
paul and virgin reader!! đŚ
touch-starved paul â¨
being paulâs little sister (platonic)
paul making you cry :( âď¸đż
eating a popsicle in... a certain way... to tease poor paulie đŚ
being married to paul and being unable to keep your hands off of each other đŚ
riding mcbeardy paul in the bathtub  đŚâ¨
paul canât help feeling protective over you in that mini skirt,,,
you drunkenly mistake paul for george âď¸
paul always writes his love songs about you â¨
series
the professor au
donât be cruel - đŚÂ
You come to class in the shortest little skirt and Professor Lennon is so distracted he can barely teach. Afterwards, he tries taking matters into his own hands... only to be interrupted by the very subject of his fantasy.
two of us - đŚÂ đŚÂ
Nothing could have prepared Paul for what he sees when he opens the door. There are papers all over the floor, as though someone had swept them all off in a hurry. But thatâs not what catches his eye. Itâs the sight of you, bent over the desk so prettily on your elbows while John fucks you from behind.
* ~ * ~ *
thatâs the way the cookie crumbles - đĽÂ one | twoÂ
beatle reader and john start a prank war. they have no idea whatâs in store for them...
fiveâs a crowd ( a collab with @spaceyantiqueâ ! ) - đĽÂ one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | TBC!
Youâre two seconds away from strangling John, three from a total breakdown over midterms. Paul wonât stop using up all the hot water in the mornings and George is determined to beat him there one way or another, godammit. Ringo doesnât deserve this clusterfuck. And you all live together in a shitty, shitty apartment.Â
one-shots
oh! darling -Â
backstage on the England leg of your tour, you meet the four Liverpool boys of your dreams
drive my car - đĽ
Youâre a good driver, you swear. So itâs absolutely, definitely not your fault when four men appear out of nowhere in the road like that.
all our loving - đŚÂ
The boys find you naked on the couch, waiting for Paul to come home. Fortunately, Paulâs more than willing to share...
all things must pass - âď¸
Moving on is easy. The hardest part is finding a reason to stay.
please please me - đŚ
Youâve never given a blowjob before. Luckily, the boys are more than willing to teach you.
headcanons/blurbs
april fools crack fest đĽđĽ (basically a bunch of crack requests i did!)
the boys with chubby reader â¨
what lingerie they would like on you ;)
how each beatle would propose! â¨â¨â¨
getting drunk with the beebles and the shenanigans that follow â¨
they comfort you after a nightmare  đż
you accidentally take an aphrodisiac... đŚÂ
the boys cheer you up when youâre feeling insecure about your body đżâ¨
accidentally flashing john and paul
and they were quARANTINED - đĽ
George takes a shit. Ringo braves a trip to the tescos and loses a bit of his soul. John harrasses the general public and Paulâs just trying to get them home before they kill each other. All while a virus tears the world apart.
summary: Ringo tries to make you come before the others get back from their lunch break.
prompt: i got turned on/inspired by @spaceyantiqueââs smut alphabet for ringo so lol here it is
warnings: sex in public spaces, voyeurism (?)
The thought that the others could be back any minute turns you on a little more than youâd like to admit.
Ringoâs hands are spread wide, gripping your hips tight through the flimsy skirt youâve got on. Theyâre sure to bruise later, but you canât bring yourself to care when youâre bouncing on his lap, his cock sinking deep into your cunt every time you drop down.
âFuck, baby, youâre doing so good.â It comes out as a growl, low and gruff and you whine. You wish more than anything that you could see Ringoâs eyes, those beautiful blues sure to be almost eclipsed by his pupils blown wide, but it had been your fault, hadnât it? Youâd decided to sit on his lap during their lunch break, pretending to try and play the drums while shifting your ass teasingly over Ringoâs growing bulge. And now youâre getting punished for it, in the best way possible.
âGonna come for me soon? Or do you want John and Paul seeing my girl get fucked right in the studio?â He chuckles when you shake your head, unable to even speak while he pounds into you. Your thighs are starting to burn from the motion but Ringo helps a little, lifting you minutely with his hands and then slamming you back down onto his cock.
Ringo shifts, leaning against the wall, and the new angle burns something red-hot through your legs. Your mouth falls open and now your moans are louder, escaping from your lips uninhibited. The feeling is building, building in your core, spreading like wildfire, and youâre chanting Ringoâs name as you feel your orgasm grow closer. Your pretty sounds make his cock twitch in your cunt and then heâs grunting, his warm cum spilling into you.
âDid you guys even go out for lunch?â
You still, eyes snapping open at the sound of Georgeâs voice. Heâs walking into the studio, barely sparing a glance in your directionâall for the better, because when Ringo slips his now-soft cock out of you you almost cry. You havenât come yet and you want to scream in frustration. Your arousal is still throbbing through you, heart still pumping adrenaline through your veinsâand youâre aching for release.
âNah, we werenât hungry.â Ringoâs voice is painfully casual, like he wasnât just fucking you right there, and you whip around to stare at him. He winks at you, tucking himself back into his briefs and zipping up his slacks. âWas showinâ her a bit of my drum set.â
George just grunts in response. Heâs got his headset on now, zeroed in on tuning the guitar in his hands. You canât believe it. Ringo is gently pushing you off his lap and you almost stumble standing up, legs still sore. When you turn around to gape at your boyfriend, stunned speechless at the turn of events, youâre greeted by a crooked little grin that sends your heart racing again.
âThatâs what you get for teasinâ me like that, doll.â
âRitchie, I-â
âCâmon, get a move on.â Ringo runs a hand up your thigh and something dark flashes in those pretty eyes that are gazing up at you. âDonât even think about touching yourself before I get home. Iâll make it up to you later, hm?â And heâs right, John and Paul are loping into the recording studio now, still laughing at some joke one of them told. The last thing you want to do is leave, but his promise sends you on your way across the studio, face burning.
Just as youâre about to leave the room, a hand catches your wrist. You turn to see George half leaning out of his seat, fingers still wrapped around you. His lips are quirked up, almost amused.
âThe bathroomâs just down the hall.â
You look at him blankly. âWhat?â
His voice is low enough that the others canât hear, but it still sends something shivery up your spine. âYouâre dripping down those pretty legs of yours, sweetheart.â
summary:Â Ringo kisses you, soft and sweet, taking his time exploring your mouth. Your hand comes up to rake through his fluffy hair and itâs innocent, really, until you drag your nails slightly over the nape of his neck and he shuddersâand before you can react, Ringoâs got you underneath him.
prompt:Â Hi! Can I request a ringo smut where reader and ringo are at Ringoâs childhood home visiting his family and they sleep in Ringoâs old room and they share his tiny bed lol and heâs all like âitâs crazy to have the girl Iâve always dreamed of as a boy in my childhood room, in my bedâ lol and they try to keep it quiet as they have slow passionate sex đđđđ
warnings: 2.5k words of sweet, sweet love makinâ, so much foreplay, S E X, ringo being hung af (donât lie you know itâs true)
masterlist
so... this got out of hand. dear anon, your request made me feel things. to my lovely beta @spaceyantique , thanks for helping with the birds and the bees.Â
hereâs this ficâs song inspo (Embraceable You). Ringoâs stepdad was the one to introduce him to Vaughanâs music and a few decades later, she would cover the Beatlesâ songs! ugggh thatâs just too cute
Ringoâs room is a bit like him. Small, unassuming, and filled with the distinctive warmth of loving and being loved. Grammar and maths books line the bookshelves, remnants of his years of home tutoring. On the lowest shelf, some biscuit tins and sticksâyou smile to yourself at these, which Ringo had told you were his very first drums.
Itâs cozy. It must have been, you muse, since he spent so much of his childhood ill and at home. You feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of Ringo at seven years old, sitting in his room while all the other boys went to school and played about in the streets.
Tucked into the corner is an old turntable atop a shelf stuffed full of vinyls; your fingertips trail across them and choose one at random. Sarah Vaughanâs sweet murmur fills the room and you close your eyes, letting the music fill your chest. It gently pulls at youâwell, who are you to refuse?âand soon you find yourself swaying to the tempo.
Thereâs a large area thatâs been cleared in front of the turntable, no doubt for when Ringoâs mum, Elsie, passed onto him a love of dance. For a brief moment, itâs your space and you lose yourself to the crooning melodies. When you open your eyes again, Ringo is leaned against the doorframe, toothbrush in hand forgotten and something funny twinkling in his gaze. He doesnât speak, just stands there, watching you.
âWhat?â
He shakes his head and smiles. âNothing.â Then, after a pause, âYou look like you belong here.â
You suddenly, desperately want to kiss him. But heâs sure to be minty, so you cross the room instead and, leaning in, wipe away the bit of toothpaste making its way down the corner of his mouth.
âGo finish brushing,â you say, and he turns with a smile and trots off to the bathroom.
Youâre still examining his vinyls when Ringo returns and flicks off the light. Heâs changed into a pair of flannel bottoms with nothing on top. Before you can admire his shirtlessness, though, he flops onto the bed, wiggles, and is completely still.
Smirking, you kneel beside Ringoâs prone form, propping your elbows on the edge of the mattress.
âRingo...â
No reply.
âRingooooo?â
An exaggerated snore. He buries his face even deeper into the pillow.
You sigh loudly, then move to get up. âI suppose Iâll put my shirt back on then...â
Ringoâs eyes shoot open and dart to your very much clothed chest. Quick as a whip, he grabs you by the wrists and pulls you onto the bed. Â
âFalse advertisement!â he yells over your shrieks of laughter. For a moment, itâs elbows and feet and muffled curses before suddenlyâWHUMP! Ringoâs rolled right off the edge of the very small bed with you in tow. When you land smack onto him, he makes a half-strangled noise.
âJesus, my dickââ
Naturally, thatâs when Elsie opens the door.
âEverything alright in here?â
You freeze. Ringo freezes. You realize two things at once: one, that Ringo is still very shirtless, and two, that youâre straddling him on the ground.
Oh, and a third thingâ
âItâs not what it looks like,â you and Ringo blurt out.
Elsie purses her lips, holding in what looks like a giggle. âYouâll be needing a bigger bed, is what it looks like.â Then, ignoring the mortified look on your face, âGoodnight!â
She leaves. You collapse onto Ringo and thump your forehead against his chest (which is very firm, but now is not the time).
âStupid, stupid, stupid.â (These are each accentuated with an additional head thump against said firm chest.)
âWell, donât take it out on me.â
âOf all the things for your mum to walk in on!â
âSheâs seen worseââ
âDo you hear yourself, Ritchie?â You groan and slump forward, pressed completely to Ringoâs front. âThe minute she has to think of worse things... then itâs all over!â
Ringo clears his throat underneath you.
â... is this a bad time to tell you Iâm getting kind of turned on?â
This makes you sit back up in a flash. He does look a little flushed and heâs got some of that messy sex hair already.
âHuh. Thought that was a drumstick digging into my leg.â
The beginnings of a retort (probably that was funny the first time)Â donât make it past Ringoâs lips because you take that exact moment to lean back on your heelsâand right onto his hard-on.
Ringoâs hands fly to your waist with a whispered âfuck.â
âNot on your floor, I wonât.â You wriggle out of his grasp and back onto the bed, and before you can even say come hither Ringoâs scrambled on after you. The bed is narrow and his bounce almost sends you off the other edge again. Ringo grabs you just in time. After a moment, you two burst into giggles, facing each other on your sides and holding on for dear life.
âFun sleepover,â you whisper when the laughing dies down. Thereâs still a grin on your face.
âDunno what kind of sleepovers you were having as a kid,â he replies, moving in to capture your mouth with his, âbut mine were never like this.â
Ringo kisses you, soft and sweet, taking his time exploring your mouth. Your hand comes up to rake through his fluffy hair and itâs innocent, really, until you drag your nails slightly over the nape of his neck and he shuddersâand before you can react, Ringoâs got you underneath him.
âI see how it is,â he mutters, and when Ringo kisses you this time itâs with a fervent heat. Gasping, you arch into the hand thatâs slipped under your shirt.
âNormally Iâd love the pretty sounds you make-â he nips at your collarbone and draws another one from your lipsââbut youâre gonna have to keep quiet this time. Can you do that for me?â
âYeah, I- oh- I donât want Elsie barging in again.â
Ringo draws away for a moment, frowning. âCan you not mention my mum when weâre having sex?â
You giggle and pull him back to your lips. âLetâs get to the sex bit first, then.â
A calloused hand trails down your chest, rings nipping shivers of chill across your skin that are quickly soothed by gentle fingers. By the time Ringo reaches your underwear, youâre already slick with arousal. He finds the damp spot and runs his middle finger over it, feather-light. The friction of the fabric against your folds toes the lines between too rough and not enough and, really, heâs just being
â-such a tease,â you gasp, squirming under his touch.
He huffs and the action tickles your ear. âHow am I supposed to give you what you want if you donât tell me, baby?â
âRitchie...â you whine. God, how he loves the way his name sounds from your lips. Itâs enough to bring Ringo to his kneesâbut for now, he acquiesces to your plea and slips two thick fingers into your cunt.
On their own, your hips raise to meet his thrust and the angle sinks his digits in just a little deeper, setting alight a dull buzz in your core. Then he curls them upwards and finds the familiar sweet spot and the buzz becomes arcs of electricity that pulse slow, steady waves of heat through your body. The feeling laps from your navel to your fingers, hardening your nipples to peaks before retreating to your core and then sweeping through again with each thrust.
âYou ready, love?â
Nodding, you reach down and stroke the hard length thatâs been jutting against your thigh. Ringo groans into your shoulder, hips jerking forward in your grip.
âAre you?â you tease.
âDidnât know this was a competition.â
âItâs not.â You thumb over his tip and he hisses. âBut whoever finishes first loses!â
âVery funny,â he deadpans and leans in to kiss you again, biting down gently on your lower lip. That shuts you up. Without pulling away, Ringo manages to shuck his trousers offâwhich is pretty impressive considering that heâs still knuckle-deep in your cunt with the other hand. He helps you wriggle out of your panties and you whine as he pulls out to do so. Finally, the two of you are naked. A year ago, you would have blushed at how Ringo gazes at your form under his. By now, youâre both as comfortable with each other like this as youâd be fully clothed and fighting over what to see at the movies. The thought makes you smileâand then groan, thumping your head against the pillow.
âUgh, god damn it!â
Ringo furrows his eyebrows, concerned. âWhat- what? Did you come already?â
âNo, you idiot.â You let go of his dick, much to his chagrin, and drag your hand down your face exasperatedly. âWe forgot to bring condoms!â
Ringo looks at you for a moment and then turns, almost falling off the bed again as he reaches for something. Thereâs the sound of a zipper, some fumbling, and when Ringo scrambles back between your legs heâs triumphantly brandishing a familiar square of foil.
Despite the steady ache of arousal between your legs, you let out a disbelieving chuckle.
â... did you think you were gonna get laid at your parents' house?â
âIs that not whatâs about to happen?â
You roll your eyes and snatch it from his fingers. âYouâre a dirty, dirty boy, Mr. Starkey.â
âJesus, donât call me that.â His breath catches for a moment as you roll the condom onto his cock and then continues, âThatâs my dad. You gonna bring my whole family into this?â
âAnd the father, the son, and the holy spirit, amen.â
âYouâre lucky I love you,â he grumbles, but a sappy grin makes its way onto Ringoâs face nonetheless. Giggling, you wrap your fingers around his length and guide it forward. Just the feeling of his blunt tip pressing against your entrance is enough to make your walls clench in anticipation.
Heâs about to enter you when he just⌠stops. Looks at you. Swoops in, unexpectedly, and this kiss is nothing more than a brush of the lips, a lingering touch, but when he pulls away youâre unspeakably dizzy.
âWhat⌠what was that for?â
âI just canât believe youâre my girl. In my bed. I never thought Iâd see it.â
âOh, Ritchieââ
His name trails off into a gasp as he sinks into you, stretching you inch by inch until heâs buried to the hilt. Thereâs no other way to describe it except that you feel full. The two of you stay like that for a while, just soaking in the closeness. Ringo brings a hand to your cheek and smooths away some flyaway hair.
Then he pulls out so, so slowly you almost cry, the drag of his cock inside you setting fire to your nerves. That familiar ache starts building in your core. When heâs almost all the way out, he sinks back in again and sets an almost painfully slow pace.
The otherwise quiet room fills with your whimpers as Ringo fucks you into the bed. You have half a mind to comment on his rhythmic skills, something heâs rolled his eyes at a thousand times beforeâbut then he wraps one of your legs around his waist and his next thrust hits you there and the only thing that spills from your lips is his name.
âFuck,â Ringo groans through his teeth. Your cunt is so tight and warm around him. He can feel himself spiraling towards release, every breathy moan of yours edging him closer. âYouâre so- so beautiful.â
And you are, with your hair wreathed around your face, eyelashes fluttering against your cheek, lips pink and parted around the pretty noises youâre making. You canât help thinking the same thing. Even in the dim lighting of the bedroom, Ringoâs eyes are a liquid blue that send different kinds of shivers down your spine. The pressure below your stomach coils tighter and tighter with every thrust of his cock against your sensitive spot.
âLook whoâs talking,â you gasp out. âRitchie, âm close-â
Your breasts are bouncing from the force of him moving in and out of you. Ringo palms one, rolls your hardened peak between his fingers, and drags his hand down to your clit. Two rough fingers circle around the sensitive nub and he snaps his hips forward, cock burying deeper than before, and then youâre coming. Itâs long and drawn out and you feel it move through your body in waves. Ringo follows you over the edge soon after, hips stuttering at the feeling of your walls clenching around him.
When Ringo pulls out you sigh at the empty feeling.
âYouâre gonna have to carry me home tomorrow.â
âThink I can manage that.â Ringo smiles adoringly at you beneath him. He presses a kiss to your nose and swings his legs off the side of the bed. âBe back in a moâ,â he says, slipping off the condom. He stands and stretches and you let your eyes wander over his naked form. When you whistle appreciativelyâthe only thing small about this boy is his statureâRingo winks at you before turning and trotting off to the bathroom.
You donât even get the chance to half doze off when he runs back into the room, eyes wide and panicky as he shuts the door behind him.
âWhat the hell happened?â you ask as Ringo practically dives under the covers with you. Heâs breathing hard and it takes him a second to respond.
â... Elsie was still up.â Before you know it youâre falling into a fit of giggles that shakes your entire body against his. Ringo looks at you, unimpressed. ââS not funny, you know!â
âIâm s- Iâm sorry, Ringo, really.â Your attempt at sobering up is ruined with a particularly hard snicker. âBut Iâm sure sheâs seen worse.â
He snorts and wraps an arm around you, pulling you so that your head is nestled into the curve of his shoulder. You place a hand on his chest and, for a while, you just feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand. Itâs not long before your breath matches Ringoâs, deep and slow. Your favorite rhythm. When he speaks, his voice is already mellowed with the onset of sleep, vowels slipping clumsily into slurred consonants, chest rumbling like a purring cat.
ââm glad youâre here.â
His heart beats under your hand. Ringoâs own little drum solo, you think with a smile. âMe too.â
âNo, but like-â Ringo shifts on the pillow and you crane your neck to look at him. âI still canât believe it. That youâre here with me. But at the same time, I donât have to be here to feel at home when Iâm with you. Youâre⌠a different kind of home.â
Something inside you swells like a balloon and you feel as though you could float to the ceiling, maybe even out the window and up, up, up to the stars. You want to say so muchâthatâs cheesy, and you make me feel like flying, and I want to stay like this forever, can we just lay here until we die? But what comes out is
âI love you.â
And he knows exactly what you mean.
âLove you more,â he says. Youâd argue about it, because I love you more, but youâre already floating, floating, floating into sleep in his embrace.