lingerie shopping with ross.
i lied. you do get one blurb tonight.
a while ago after i posted the cherry snippet, someone asked me if we’re getting reader’s pov. and no, it’s not there in the actual fic but i’ve decided i could do blurbs in that au from reader’s pov so here you go.
minors dni!! age gap, public sex, fingering, the use of "good girl", corruption kink. very nasty behaviour honestly.
you are surrounded by mirrors. big, floor-to-ceiling things that reflect a million images of you everywhere you look. it would be disorienting and a bit dizzying if it weren’t for ross’ hand on the small of your back.
it’s not like it’s your first time at a lingerie shop. by the looks of it, it isn’t his first time either. ross looks calm and composed, not at all bothered by the million mirrors or mannequins with some of the most revealing, yet fancy pieces you’ve ever seen. you’re sure they come with an equally fancy price tag.
this is not your regular ann summers or victoria’s secret after all. this is, apparently, special.
a tendril of jealousy unfurls in you at the thought of ross knowing this place, of being here before, without you. that would just make you one in a long line of girls who did not last.
a store employee greets you warmly and you toss the thoughts away.
“so what are we looking for today?” she asks, voice dripping with saccharine sweetness even when her eyebrows rise a little, an obvious judgment of the age gap. but it’s none of her business and you can’t fault her for a reflex.
“something red,” ross answers then looks down at you, assessing. “cherry red.”
“right this way,” she cheerily gestures for you to follow and you take a hold of ross’ hand.
—
despite the feeling of shyness snaking through you, you have to admit—the set you’re currently trying on is utterly sexy and drop-dead gorgeous. it makes you look like a model out of a catalogue.
a tiny red thing that fits you like a glove and accentuates every curve it should. ross is going to lose his mind. and you are going to encourage it.
you open the curtain, only peeking your head out while keeping the rest of your body hidden. “ross! a little help?” you look at him with a tiny pout, one you know he can’t refuse.
as expected, he quirks up a brow, walking towards you with purpose and once again closing the curtains behind him. the second his eyes land on you, ross comes to a stop. he gawks shamelessly, eyes darkening with lust, roaming every inch of your barely covered body.
“do you like it?” you ask, boldly taking a step towards him. your chests touch, you hand only an inch away from his crotch. but the thought of being in public stops you in your tracks.
“i love it,” he murmurs, already bending down to place a kiss on your neck, trailing it down to your extremely deep cleavage. his hands grip your waist, backing you against the giant mirror, effectively trapping you between it and his body.
“ross…” you try to protest. unsurprisingly, it comes out more like a moan. something to do with the way his fingers trail down your back, gripping your ass, the other hand moving to swipe between your legs.
as always one swipe of his fingers is enough to light a fire within you. a brush of his bulge and you’re ready to risk it all. but…
“we’re in public,” you try to keep your volume down, straining against the heartbeat pounding in your ears to listen for any footsteps. “the room isn’t—fuck… isn’t soundproof.”
it’s like none of it matters to him. his mouth is already latched onto your skin, kissing and leaving bruises and marks all over your cleavage.
“you’ll just have to stay quiet then, won’t you?” he challenges, rubbing your clit over the lace panties.
you nod, trying to hold the moans in, the whimpers and the gasps, as his fingers move expertly, sliding the fabric aside and swiping through your folds. his fingers move over your clit in fast and sure movements—something quick, something that has your legs trembling before he’s even plunged them inside you.
you try to bury your face in his chest, muffling the sounds into his shirt. a loud moan slips out of you anyway. cut out abruptly, when ross shoves two fingers in your mouth, making you gag and choke around them.
he tuts. “baby, what did i just say?”
“i can stay quiet,” you whimper, protesting the way his fingers freeze in place. “d–don’t stop. please.”
tears of frustration gather at your lashline and ross smirks arrogantly.
he clicks his tongue, moving his fingers away entirely to hook them in the waistband of the underwear amd slide it down your thighs. you let him, desperately clenching around nothing, greedily hoping for his fingers.
“can you?” he asks nonchalantly, picking up the red thong. “so eager for me,” he chuckles when you nod vigorously.
“open your mouth for me,” he asks, commands more like it, using the same voice he uses on you in the bedroom when he tells you not to cum without permission. the thought alone has you getting wetter.
“what—” you’re about to ask. instead you get cut off by ross stuffing the balled up red lace in your mouth.
“gonna treat you like a brat if you want to act like one.” he cups your jaw, somehow hard and gentle at the same time.
“now, baby, can you stay quiet for me?” his voice is laced with something dark, the promise of punishment should you disobey, but all you care about is getting your orgasm back. so you nod like a good girl.
your head lolls back in pleasure as soon as his fingers are back inside you, thrusting in and out of your clit with rough, choppy movements, the hilt of his palm slapping against your clit each time. the panties muffle your moans, making you drool simultaneously from the corners of your mouth. ross looks like he’s enjoying the sight thoroughly, fucking you dumb with just his fingers, watching you come closer and closer to the brink of insanity.
you try to plead with your eyes. need to cum. please.
“have you earned it yet, sweetheart?” it’s as if he’s read your mind. or maybe it’s the fact that you have to clutch onto his arm to stay upright, no longer able to trust your trembling legs.
please, you want to yell out, been a good girl. but all that comes out are more muffled sounds, pathetic whines of desperation, the tears finally falling free.
“go on then,” he says, “cum for me.” his voice is a hushed whisper, all around you, echoing inside you, pushing you over the edge. your head spins from the force of the orgasm, gushing onto his hand until you give him everything, panting in his chest long after he’s moved his hands away.
“they’re pretty,” ross pulls the makeshift gag out of your mouth, looking at it as if it’s the most interesting in the world. still holding you up against the mirror with one hand. still half naked and disheveled while he barely has a hair out of place.
“will have to buy them now, won’t we? you look so pretty in them after all.”
