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Heyo !!! I really enjoy writing this story ahskdlflfl the sexual tension is so fun to write >:3

Also spot the hidden innuendos and you get cookies,,,,, I promise,,,,,

Twenty-five comments !!! But that's pretty easy since BeatleButtAl could do that in three minutes lol

Oh man what's your fave look on George/Ringo?

Mine is the stubbley look for Geroge (like holy shit man) and Yellow Submarine for Ringo,,, idek he looks cute with his suit (i mean he always looks cute in everything so)

Mine is the stubbley look for Geroge (like holy shit man) and Yellow Submarine for Ringo,,, idek he looks cute with his suit (i mean he always looks cute in everything so)

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*dies*

LOTS OF THINGS HAPPENING IN THIS CHAPTER !!!!

✿✼:*゚:.。..。.:*・゚゚・*

(This is still last night btw)

There were many things Ringo wasn't really sure of, but he was certain of one thing after that rather heated tension in George's car:

He needed a cold shower.

After a bout of small talk ("Do you wear jeans often?" and other nonsensical questions made to fill up awkward silences like that) George parked on the opposite street, and he offered to open Ringo's door

"Sir– George– you don't really have to." Ringo said sheepishly, pink coloring his cheeks.

"Right." He nodded. "I'm going to smoke out here for a while."

Ringo chewed on his lip nervously. And after a few seconds he asked:

"A-Are we going to do this often? I mean– eating out and all that late night stuff?"

A click, and a hiss, and a small flicker of light glowed George's face. He raised it up to his cigarette, looking impossibly cool and gorgeous as he did so.

"If you want to," He said, giving Ringo a devilish, fanged smirk that quickly fell open. "Shit, Ritchie!"

"I—" A terrified squeak barely escaped his throat as George's hands gripped his arms, pulling him against his chest as a loud blare of a truck horn pierced the night.

"Asshole!" George shouted, dark eyes gleaming– immediately softening when they landed on Ringo's shaking frame. "Ringo are you– are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah," Ringo looks up, blue eyes peeking up from messy, windblown bangs. He feels heat rise up his neck as George checks his face. He feels a calloused hand brush against his cheek, Ringo's breathe hitching in his throat when George's thumb brushed against his lips.

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