#Ross macdonald smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

abiiors · 3 months

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cherry // ross macdonald x reader

valentine's week - day 1: secret admirer

a/n: before you say anything, yes there will be a part 2 that's literally just a nasty fuck fest. i just wanted to get the plot bits out of the way and it got way too long as you can see. cw: age gap (10-12 years), highkey ooc, incredibly self-indulgent btw, ummm kinda dom/sub? hand kink, kinda corruption kink also wc: 7.8k

it’s been twenty minutes that they’re all sat in this room—concrete walls, a little like matty’s house honestly, simple furniture and minimalist decor. it feels anything but sparse though—there’s the mic guy and the cameraman and a few assistants. there’s the host, a cheery, fresh faced woman dressed to the nines. but ross can’t stop staring. which is a problem because he really should stop staring and focus on his actual job. except the girl in front of him is distraction personified.

next to him matty babbles on about the cultural and political significance of their latest album—all interesting, thoughtful stuff. ross, however, stares at the girl transcribing it all. and that’s what she is really, a girl. all softness and innocence, gently rolling the end of a pencil between her perfectly pink lips in a room full of lecherous men. unaware. aloof. or maybe he’s projecting. maybe he’s the lecherous one for staring at a girl who’s most definitely in her early twenties; at the pencil between her lips, at her cherry red dress.

every now and then she pulls the pencil away from her mouth and scribbles a few notes—something in neat, curving handwriting that is a little too far for him to read properly. every once in a while she also types something on her laptop, long, painted nails clacking so softly on the keyboard that the mic probably won’t pick up any of the sounds.

on her notepad, ross can see little doodled flowers—a bit janky and uneven petals, underneath it she’s doodled a box. thin, pencil lines tracing the same shape over and over again until the paper almost rips.

he tries not to be so obvious—tries not to stare at her face so much, at the curve of her cheek and the long lashes almost touching it, at the sharp line of her jaw, and the claw clip holding her hair up and out of her face. a few strands escape though, blowing gently against the air blasting from the aircon.

he tries to keep his attention back on the interview. and he tries to give himself little goals—he can only look at her if matty says a certain word. he can only look at her every time the host laughs—all trivial stuff that goes out the window every time she shifts in her seat and he catches the movement from the corner of his eye.

more than a few times, he catches her staring back—big eyes lingering right on his face with a distinctly interested expression. every time it happenes, he straightens a bit more and runs his hands through his neatly trimmed beard.

the girl follows the movement with her eyes and ross wonders what she makes of him.

“ross?” someone calls out for him. the host stares, expectant, and he stifles the urge to curse. searching his memory for the question that was just asked is useless; it’s not like he was listening to a word that was said in the last two minutes. but now everyone’s eyes are on him and the collar of his shirt feels tighter than it is. his cheeks grow warmer but ross laughs it off.

“yeah, agree with what matty said,” he replies quickly and clears his throat. he has no idea what matty said last but the host seems satisfied and moves on to the next question. the girl looks up at him again and quickly presses her lips together. still, he sees the slight quirk of them, almost like she’s trying to stifle a smile or a laugh.

this time he stares back just a bit longer, meets her eyes with intention and raises an eyebrow almost in challenge; just to see if she’d keep staring so blatantly. her eyes widen a fraction and the pencil stills on her lips. her teeth graze its end and almost dent her soft lip.

ross sees the movement of her iris, unsure where to look. she fidgets in her seat, shifting again and crossing her legs. then she averts her eyes entirely and goes back to scribbling on her notepad.

“your head’s in the fucking clouds,” george deadpans the moment they step outside on the balcony. there’s already a cigarette dangling between his fingers and smoke curls around his head.

ross groans. “haven’t slept properly.”

it’s not exactly a lie. he was up pretty late last night but ross lights a cigarette of his own if only to avoid looking at george. they stand there in comfortable silence for a bit, letting the smoke settle into their lungs and blowing it out. matty’s boisterous laugh floats outside and ross thinks back to the shitshow of an interview.

there’s a reason he hates doing these, there’s a reason matty always speaks on all of their behalf. but ross knows big publications want all four of them and it’s good to create hype and get the fans excited. and he knows it’s just necessary—

the balcony door open with a creek.

at first, ross doesn’t turn. it’s probably adam who’s bored of the conversation or matty who’s managed to escape it but out of the corner of his eye, he sees george turn around and straighten imperceptibly.

and so he follows suit.

the girl clears her throat. “uh… sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you.” there’s a slight tremor in her voice and she looks up quickly from george to ross. she’s shorter than he’d realised before, only coming up to the base of his throat, fucking tiny compared to him and george and he pointedly ignores what it does to his brain to see her staring up at him, craning her neck just to meet his eyes.

“ross…mr macdonald. sir.” she comes to a stop in front of him, all wide-eyed and flustered and calling him sir for fucks sake. he can almost feel the laugh george is trying to hold in. this isn’t the first time a nervous fan’s approached them and he’s had far weirder interaction. still he plans to smack george later for making him lose his composure

“just ross,” he corrects on autopilot then gestures for her to continue. he expects the usual—a selfie or autograph on a vinyl. to his surprise she holds up a phone in front of him and ross almost gapes before reigning it in.

“your phone,” she says. “you left it on the set.”

quickly, he taps his back pocket and feels nothing.

up close, he can see the tiny smudge of mascara under her eyelashes and the precise shade of red on her lips. up close he can smell her perfume too—sweet and warm, something that definitely suits her.

the girls stares up at him expectantly, still holding out his phone.

“thanks,” he mumbles, voice almost gruff and takes his phone back. his hand brushes her for just a moment—the pad of his finger against the back of her hand. but ross swears he feels a little jolt. quickly, she drops her hand and looks at his chest.

“you’re welcome,” she says and this time her voice is a bit steadier than before. he’s about to ask her more. anything to make her talk more when george steps forward.

“thank you, darling,” he says and gives her a winning smile, “he would have made us all search for it later.”

the girl blushes furiously under all the attention, trying to maintain her bravado from before. ross stifles the urge to roll his eyes but takes the time to quickly look at her again. her hair’s down now, falling over her shoulders and hiding half her neck that was exposed to him before. he has the sudden and visceral urge to touch it, to run his fingers through it and tug on the strands until her chin tilts up to him. until she’s looking right at him.

what the actual fuck is wrong with him!

he steps back and takes a deep drag of his cigarette untilt he smoke burns, until his eyes water. the girl nods and stammers a goodbye. then she quickly scurries back inside.

george snorts and ross shoots him a death glare.

“head in the fucking clouds,” george singsongs under his breath and puts out the rest of his cigarette. then before ross has the chance to respond, he opens the balcony door and disappears inside.

ross stays back on the balcony and groans in his hands. then he lights another cigarette.

there’s a rot in his brain, gnawing at his neurons and eating through the organ until everything is replaced by a single image of her sucking on the end of her pencil absentmindedly. ross has been through this scenario a dozen times now. it was fine when he was busy, staving the thought away by replacing it with work related things.

a million things he’s got on his schedule…

but in the comfort of his home, his bedroom, he can’t stop picturing the hollow of her throat—delicate and unmarred skin in direct contrast to her dress, her voice calling him sir. god, she’d even looked at him like a fucking fawn—all wide-eyed and unsure. he would have fucking loved to trace his finger over her bottom lip right then, if only to steal a sweet sound of surprise right out of her.

he’s going straight to hell for this, straight to the fiery pits for doing what he’s about to do.

ross props himself up on the pillows, delaying the inevitable, or trying to at least. but the ache in him won’t subside, the throbbing between his legs, the dizziness as all his blood rushes south. the tent in his joggers taunting him as if he were a teenager in heat. he groans. the sound echoes around the room.

shame courses through him, already overshadowed by the heat that flows through his veins at the speed of lightning.

he needs to stop thinking about her, this girl who he has barely said two words to. maybe this is how he gets her out of his system. instinctively, his hand creeps towards his thighs.

he wastes no time dipping a hand in his pants, the other arm supports his head; nothing he hasn’t done a million times since he hit puberty. somehow this feels more electric than ever before.

ross palms himself, eyes fluttering close and muscles pulled taut. he’s aware of everything—from the stretch of his soft cotton t-shirt against his skin, to his head touching the bedframe. he needs to keep what little sanity he has left, trying to sort through all the depraved and deviant thoughts racing through his mind. what would she have done if she could read his thoughts, if she could see him like this—a mess at the mere thought of her? would she kneel down and crawl towards him, hunger clearly written all over her face, her big eyes hooded with lust.

ross groans loudly, letting out a string of curses, imagining that it’s her hand wrapped around him—small and inexperienced. stroking him up and down with unsurely; long, tentative, languid strokes making his head swim with deluded thoughts.

his cock is painfully hard. ross knows for a fact that he’s never wanted to fuck someone with this intensity before, never before has his brain reverted to its most basic instinct like this.

thoughts of taking her all over his house makes him fuck his fist faster and faster. gone are the gentle, sensual strokes from before, now his hips buck as he thrusts into his hand. his mind plays a slideshow of made up images—her bent over on his kitchen island, the marble biting into her hips as he pounds into her. he would speak the dirtiest and filthiest words to her as he watches her squirming with want; her pussy swollen and wet. his brain conjoures up the phantom feel of her silky tresses between his fingers, gripped tightly in his hands.

ross chokes out a gasp that turns into a broken moan.

this is wrong, this is so wrong and sinful and every other synonym there is for it yet his mind refuses to move on from her. rather, it conjures up more images—her jaw slack with pleasure, eyes rolled back in her head as she rides him at her own pace, figuring it out along the way. he would flip her at the last second, of course, looming over her like a dominating presence, wrenching another orgasm from her after she’s already cum on his tounge, his hand, his stomach. but she would let go for him again. she would do anything to be his good girl.

his pumps grow rougher and more erratic, gasps leaving his mouth, echoing around the room.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

ross wonders if she’s doing the exact same thing he is, hand buried between her thighs, his name spilling out from her perfect lips. he wonders if that would absolve him of his guilt, his shameless act. it’s the thought of her soft sounds that tips him over the edge until he cums so hard, his vision goes black.

his strokes slow down, back to slow and sensual as he watches his cum flow out of him; milky white ropes splashed on his stomach, on his thigh. his hand is a mess, the tissues he had tried to grab at the last second are nowhere near enough to contain all of it.

with her, ross wouldn’t need any of that. he would fill her up with his cum, fucking it into her, watching it drip out of her mixed with her own release, making a mess of her thighs that he could clean with his tongue.

fuck it. he was damned already. he might as well enjoy the ride.

somewhere in this city, she has no clue about all the dark and wretched things ross wants to do to her. and maybe he could get her out of his mind now, have her out of his system.

he could just as easily fuck someone tomorrow. and someone else the day after.

yes. yes, that’s what he should do. he should forget about the girl he’s known for less than twenty-four hours. that’s what he should do.

he settles on it too, making a mental note to text one of his old flings who might still be in the city. he feels very strongly about his resolve too. the interview is done, he’s likely never seeing her again.

until she shows up at the studio the morning after.

the day starts like any other. he drives up to the studio, one of the assistants tells him that the band will be shadowed for a magazine profile—some prolific publication that’s going to document their entire process ahead of the release. he doesn’t worry about it too much, talking is matty’s job. sometimes george chimes in. ross and adam speak only as a last resort.

besides he has his to-do list cut out for him.

last night—the entire day really—was a momentary distraction. now he’s back on track and focused. the track playing on his headphones is all he is thinking about. all he should be thinking about. until jordan taps him on the shoulder.

“need you for a few photos, mate. and the magazine people are here,” he turns around to leave, almost walks up to the door too then turns back to ross to mouth something. someone new! followed by a waggle of his eyebrows.

ross shakes his head, sets his things aside and walks out with jordan.

everyone’s out in the lobby, and ross hears matty laugh before he sees him. then he hears another familiar laugh and turns the corner to a familiar face. he knows tobias, who shakes his hand and gives him a friendly pat on the back. he’s met tobias before—the man is soft spoken and has a keen ear for good music, a quality ross admires and the thought of him documenting their recording process makes him happy.

tobias goes around making the rounds, hugging george and joking with the sound engineers. then he stops and turns to look at them.

“oh i almost forgot!” he claps his hands together, “need to introduce to a fresh face.”

behind tobias, ross catches a movement. and it’s then that everything around him fades away instantly.

there is no mistaking it. it’s her. it’s the girl, stepping out a bit unsurely from behind her boss and smiling tentatively at the room. he observes how she doesn’t look at him—no, rather she doesn’t look at anyone, cleverly staring at a spot just near them. but never direct eye contact and never more than a few seconds.

unlike yesterday, she’s in a simple jeans and a t-shirt—grey with a faded queen logo on it—but it fits her like a glove regardless. and when she introduces herself in a lilting voice, ross feels his thoughts from yesterday threaten to make a comeback.

this cannot be happening… behaving like a horny teenager once was enough. he doesn’t need her working here and being close to him constantly, doesn’t need her to constantly be a presence in his thoughts. thoughts that are already way too focussed on the way her eyes light up after seeing him. it’s a trick of the light and nothing else. he’s sure of it.

she introduces herself—her name, the fact that she’s here to transcribe and take notes and assist tobias. she tells them she really liked their last album and that it was her introduction to them. matty teases her about not being a fan and she blushes deeply, barely making eye contact with him.

ross, in a world of his own, burns with irrational jealousy. of course, it would be matty who makes her blush and gets her to open up. matty’s a flirt—charming and confident and knows how to get people to come out their shells, even the shy ones it seems. in contrast ross feels about as subtle as a boulder.

but she seems slightly relaxed after that conversation, even throwing him a look once (and only once) when he plucks on his bass string a bit too loud. ross doesn’t look at her for the rest of the day though, not a single time. no matter how tempting it is. even when she’s buried deep in her transcripts, murmuring to herself and listening to a recording of something adam said over and over again.

even when she crosses and uncrosses her legs, sucks on the end of her pencil again—clearly a habit, he’s come to realise. not when she stretches and the hem of her t-shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of smooth skin and the hints of cherry coloured lace. not even when she asks him where the espresso machine is.

the rest of the day ross spends hunched over his bass, glowering at the floor. and he doesn’t manage to focus even once.

day two he’s in the studio bright and early, gasping for some very strong coffee after tossing and turning the whole night (quite honestly, he’s gasping for something stronger but it’s 8 am and becoming an alcoholic now is not an option)

every time he closed his eyes, his brain would haunt him with images of soft skin and lips caught between teeth and sucking on the end of a pencil. every time his brain sent his body’s supply of blood to one organ and one organ alone and ross has had enough of it.

starting today he’s focused. he’s serious!

that is until he walks into the tiny kitchen and sees her on her toes, stretching and struggling to get a coffee mug down. a red one. the same one she’d used yesterday. with some amusement, he also notices that there are at least two mugs near the coffee machine—one plain black and one with a swirly pattern. but she hasn’t cast either of them a single glance.

she’s stubborn, someone who knows what she wants.

shamelessly, he staggers to a stop at the threshold, watching her lean against the counter and wiggle her fingertips in the air as if that would magically summon the mug. her calf muscles are pulled taut and visible in the dress she’s wearing. each time she stretches, he sees a flash of her thighs.

his fingers twitch by his sides, desperate to what what it would feel like to drag his knuckles against the inside of her thigh, trailing them up and up and up until he reaches her hip. how she would react if he pinched the skin between his fingers, if he marked it with his teeth.

“need some help?” in the early morning stillness of the kitchen, his voice comes out a bit too loud and a moment later she startles, whipping her head to look at him and hand coming up to her thudding chest.

“christ!” she gasps loudly, closing her eyes and opening them again to look at him properly. “ross–shit! sorry, you scared me a bit is all.”

he can’t help the way his eyes linger on her face—big, wide eyes and scarlet mouth parted open as she blows out a breath. when he starts walking towards her, she stays in her spot, practically transfixed on him as he comes closer. ross stops right in front of her, their bodies so close that another inch and he would be pressing into her, or rather pushing her body back against the kitchen counter. with some satisfaction, he also realises how he towers over her—almost a head taller and practically twice her size.

her breath catches in her throat when he reaches for the mug, pulling it out and setting it next to her. but he makes no move to step back, not until she finally looks up at him instead of just staring at his chest.

her throat moves, her pupils dilate. almost as if she’s doing it involuntarily, she quickly looks at his lips and back into his eyes.

for perhaps the hundredth time, he’s blown away by how beautiful she is, how fucking perfect. and everything he’s thought about her comes rushing back to him, all the times he’s pictured her mouth and her hand, her soft sounds and the feel of her hair between his fingers. his train of thought runs him over so thoroughly that ross actually staggers back a bit, averting his gaze and pointing at the mug.

he has to wait a beat and clear his throat before he can speak.

“there.”

“thank you…” she trails off unsurely, voice barely above a whisper. “did you want some too? i was just about to brew some fresh coffee.”

all he can do is nod. and when she moves around the room, getting other things out and making coffee, all he can do is watch.

by day ten, they talk a few more times, each time being interrupted by someone or the other—first it’s tobias, assigning her frankly trivial tasks (in ross’ opinion anyway) that she agrees to happily. then it’s matty coming over to shamelessly flirt with her which honestly makes ross want to deck him with his bass even though he knows it’s harmless.

but at least with matty she opens up slightly—telling him she’s been working for tobias for almost two years now and that it’s her first adult job. ross finds out that she’s not from london, instead she shares a flat with a friend.

day ten is also when she stays at the studio much later than anyone else, even when the skies outside darken and turn grey and flashes of lighting burst through every few minute. ross watches her anxiously stare out the window once it starts drizzling a little before she buries herself into work again, sorting through the video and audio footage of that day and making her notes that tobias seems to praise so much.

and so ross does the same, putting on his headphones and focusing of the actual music instead of the tip of her nails digging into her jaw, creating slight crescent moons. this time, he even manages to stay focused for ten whole minutes until he hears unsure footsteps walking towards him.

ross looks up at her, nervously playing with the ring on her index finger and takes off his headphones.

“you need anything?”

she shrugs, looking at him and then around him briefly. “yeah i just needed a little break from work and, uh… barely anyone else seems to be here?”

barely anyone. he’d rather there was no one here at all. and even then, the urge to seduce her into the little soundproof recording booth weighs strongly on him. it would be just him and her and the tiny cramped space and all her sounds would belong to him and only him—

“ross?” he jerks back to her looking expectantly at him before her eyes widen. “uness you’re busy, i don’t want to be a bother. sorry.”

he quickly dismisses her apology, motioning for the chair opposite him before ross smirks at her. “so you’d like to sit there and stare at me huh?”

he feels a little evil for enjoying the way she sputters, trying to come up with a retort or just plain denial or whatever else but he gets a little distracted by the faint red tinge to her face…

what else would make her blush like that? he can think of a few thing for sure.

“what? no! no, i just…” she scrunches her eyes shut, trying to gather her bearings. “i like watching you work.”

oh that’s certainly interesting.

“just me? not the others?”

“uh, well.” she leans back in her chair slightly, getting a bit more comfortable than before and catching her bottom lip betweem her teeth for a second. just long enough for ross to go entirely rigid.

“you’re really still when you work,” she continues, “it’s quite calming.”

oh he’s still alright. if only so he won’t give into the urge of constantly looking at her and following her every move with his eyes like some creep. he has to stay still if he needs to stop himself from going to up to her to try and flirt and like matty does, when he will inevitably end up making a fool out of himself.

but she’s entirely unaware of his inner conundrum. she’s all too absorbed in her analysis of the band.

“matty bounces and paces around and it makes me slightly nervous. i like watching george when he’s on the drums or the piano but lately he’s been doing more production work so he’s always on his laptop and well, that’s slightly… boring”

“boring?!” he laughs sharply. “i should tell george that.”

and then he finds it even more amusing when her eyes widen and she scrambles to backpeddle. there’s nothing to salvage it though. so she just sighs in defeat.

“you wouldn’t! would you?” she looks at him with those big, round eyes and juts out her bottom lip and fuck! she could ask him to sign over half his possessions right now and he would say yes.

“no,” ross laughs again, softer this time. “your secret’s safe with me.”

this time he sets the bass aside, all pretenses of work gone as he leans back on the sofa, one arm behind his head. “what about adam? why not him”

she contemplates her answer for a bit before speaking. “i don’t think he likes other people watching him, he looks a bit uncomfortable.”

“love, half our job hinges on other people watching us…”

“no, not like that!” she straightens, gesticulating wildly, “not when you’re playing songs you’ve already played hundreds of times. i’m talking about when he’s experimenting and writing new stuff. i don’t think he likes to be watched then.”

and once again ross is impressed by her astute observation skills. he knows how young she is—younger than him by a decade, yet here she is, reading his best friend of twenty years perfectly in just ten days.

so he leans forward, properly interested now and scans her face for a bit, trying to get a proper read of her, of what she might say next. “and is that what you like to do? watch people?”

“sometimes,” she shrugs, “when i find them really interesting.”

“so you find me really interesting.”

he expects her to blush and stutter again. it is a bold statement after all and yet again she surprises him. “yeah… yes, i do.”

this time she’s the one with her eyes roaming over his face, maybe a bit over his arms too (something he observes with an immense level of satisfaction) and the way they strain against his t-shirt.

“good,” he smiles. “now i know i’m not the only one dying to know more about you…”

he tries not to flirt with her too directly but they talk. he tries not to ask anything and everything all at once and freak her out before she’s entirely comfortable with him but with every question she relaxes even more, leans forward and places her chin in the palm of her hand while he’s explaining something inconsequential about his bass.

it’s only the muscle memory that keeps him going when the strap of her top slides away and a sliver of lace peaks out.

his fingers still on the strings and she frowns. “no, play! i like the way your fingers move.”

the words slip out before she even realises it. in fact, it doesn’t dawn on her until he freezes completely and she goes bright red!

“i– no, that’s– i didn’t–”

but ross laughs it away, if only so he won’t fucking dwell on it until his head feels like it’s going to explode.

“let’s go outside for a bit,” he offers and she accepts gratefully.

the air on the balcony is cool—the sort of breeze before a thunderstorm—and he’s itching for a cigarette. ross looks at her again as she stares out at the trees outside, swaying with the wind. one strong gust and she shivers. her skin erupts in goosebumps.

“you’re cold.”

she quickly shakes her head. “it’s fine, it’s so nice outside. i don’t mind that much.”

he wishes he was wearing some kind of a jacket that he could give her. the though of her in his clothes does something absolutely primal to him to the point where he has to physically stop himself from grabbing her by the waist and kissing her till she’s dizzy and moaning in his mouth. and she doesn’t help matters by moving a little closer to him, until they’re almost touching, until her arm is almost pressed up against his chest.

“you’re cold,” he says again, voice tinged with roughness but she clicks her tongue.

“‘s alright. you’re warm.”

“am i?” he chuckles deeply and takes a hold of her by her arm. “come here then. have a cigarette with me.”

it’s about as bold as he’s been with her. she whips her head up to look at him, and ross doesn’t miss the way her gaze dips to his mouth. just for a moment, maybe even half a second until she quickly looks away and at his chest.

“i don’t… i don’t smoke.”

“ever?”

that makes her giggle. “no ross. i don’t smoke. ever.”

he wants to say something but the words don’t come out easily. the palm of his hand feels electric just from touching her arm, just from being so close to her. and the breeze all around them makes it impossible to escape her sweet perfume.

“i’m not opposed to trying though,” she continues shyly and ross quirks an eyebrow.

“you could try with me…”

“i’d like that.” he studies her face for a moment, looks at her big eyes staring up at him with a mix of sincerity and interest.

“do you know what to do?”

she mulls it over for a moment, pinching her lips together until they’re in a kissy pout. “sure, i’ve seen people do it. i’ve seen you do it.”

“have you now?”

“mmhmm, seems easy enough.”

so ross pulls out a fresh one from the pack and places it between her lips. his finger grazes her bottom lip, the touch electrifying, making him linger there until her gaze dips to his mouth again and a light flush covers her face. she shivers again and steps even closer to him than before.

“should i light it then?”

she nods tentatively, and ross flicks the lighter on. the flame wavers, almost goes out until he shields it with his palm and brings it up to her mouth. the fire casts a warm glow on her face, in her eyes. and she’s somehow even more breathtaking than he’s ever imagined.

once the cigarette lights, she takes an unsure inhale and breaks out into a cough until there are tears brimming on her lashline and she’s pushing ross away lightly for laughing at her.

“you’re helpless,” he teases. “here. let me.”

his hands graze her lips once again as he takes the cigarette from between her lips. it’s smudged with her lipstick, something sheer and pink. then he places it in his mouth, lazily taking a drag.

“watch.” she obeys instantly, pupils dialating when her eyes linger on his mouth until her lips part and she swallows visibly. he takes the moment to blow the smoke out, bending down so he can blow it in her parted mouth without startling her too much. her eyes widen and she sucks in sharply but this time she doesn’t cough. instead, she bunches her lips together and tries to blow out some of the smoke she inhaled. it comes out in broken wisps and disappears on the wind.

“there we go, darling,” he speaks roughly and watches her blush all the way to the tip of her ears. “should we try that again?”

she nods. he takes another drag. this time, he grips her chin between his fingers, tilting it up until her mouth is so close to his and he can practically feel her breath on his skin. her pupils are so blown out, her eyes almost look black. then he lightly brushes her lips to his and blows the smoke out again.

ross stays where he is. he even pulls her closer until she’s pressed against him and her eyes flutter shut. her breath hitches, her hands move up to his biceps, gripping onto him until she exhales again and smoke caresses his mouth before dissipating once more.

“a-again,” she whimpers but he’s already taking the cigarette out of his mouth and putting it out on the railing.

“yeah?” he challenges just to see if she’d move away but her hands move up from his biceps, fingers traliing up his arms until they’re at the nape of his neck, nails softly trailing down his skin. and when she shivers again, it’s definitely not because of the cold.

“yeah,” she nods and presses her lips onto his.

his heart skips at how unsure it feel, how she has to stand on the very tips of her toes and hold onto his just so she won’t lose her balance. he doesn’t give her a lot of time to overthink it though. as soon as he’s over the initial shock, he wraps and arms around her until she’s fully pressed against him, effectively trapped between him and the railing. the light drizzle of rain starts again. ross grabs her face in his hands, keeping her still so her can kiss her properly—the kind that leaves her gasping when he grazes her bottom lip with his teeth, the kind that has her leaning against him entirely for balance when her knees almost buck under her. the kind that makes her moan involuntarily but ross doesn’t let her pull away in embarrassment. instead, he pulls her up until her legs are wrapped around his middle, her thighs pressed against his waist and his hands under her ass. and then he carries her back inside.

just like he predicted, he fills up the tiny little space of the recording booth. the mic stand clatters and she moves it aside with a ferocity that’s unlike anything he’s seen from her before, it’s a nice surprise, to see just a glimpse into her feral side.

ross groans into the kiss and slides his hand under her ass. his fingers snake up her neck, gripping her jaw in a grip that’s almost too tight. it’s tempting to mark her up, to leave behind bitemarks and fingerprints everywhere for people to see. she responds in kind and bites his bottom lip just hard enough to make him hiss.

“someone’s going to hear us”

“it’s a soundproof booth darling, no one’s going to know a thing.”

his hand that’s been cupping her jaw slowly moves to her throat and she lets out a whine so desperate and needy that all the blood rushes straight to his cock. she’s practically begging for more at this point and he hasn’t even properly touched her yet.

he thinks back to all the times he’s thought of her like this, so malleable in his hands—thought of the feel of her hair between his fingers that damned bottom lip that’s driven him so crazy over the last few days. he can’t resist nipping at it and the sting makes her breath catch.

“i’ve nev-i’ve never done this.”

his heart thuds in his chest and for a second he worries she’s entirely inexperienced. not that he’d have a problem being her first… but he’d be damned if he let her first time be in a fucking recording booth.

“done what?”

“hooked up.” she clarifies almost through a gritted tone, almost like she’s trying not to be ashamed of it. “outside of relationships i mean.”

“no? do you want to stop?”

she takes a beat to think then shakes her head. “no, i-i just really want you.”

ross hums in approval. it does stroke his ego immensely if he’s being honest and he can’t help but see how far he can push her buttons. “do you now? what do you want about me?”

just like she had outside, she blushes furiously, to the point where she has to stare right at his chest and take a moment to compose herself. her hands never let go of his chest though. and it’s safe to assume she can feel his racing heartbeat just like he can hear hers.

“your hands are… i like your hands.”

“do you think about my hands a lot?”

“i don’t–i d—” her eyes go round again, wide as saucers, almost like it’s impossible for her to lie.

“no lying, sweetheart.” he tsks, and then bends down just until his mouth caresses her earlobe. “bad girls don’t get what they want.”

she makes a stragled noise, somewhere between a moan and a sound of protest but ross cocks his eyebrow and that shuts her up effective. a beat later, she tries again.

“fine. yes. i think about your hands a lot. all the time…”

“and what are my hands doing when you think about them?”

he enjoys it very much when she stutters, trying and failing to meet his eyes, to say the dirty words in her head out loud. that alone is enough for his painfully hard cock to throb again.

“go on,” he breathes over her skin and lets his hands trail up and down her body, “show me what my hands do.”

she places her palm on the back of his hand, so much smaller in comparison, and moves it down her body. he lets his fingers trail, lets the callouses pads of his fingers brush over every inch of skin he can until she stops just at the waistline of her jeans and looks up at him again.

“i want you t-to…to touch me. use your fingers on me.”

“that what you think about hmm?” slowly, the slowest he possibly can without jumping out of his own skin, he undoes the button of her jeans. then he pulls down the zipper, all the while letting his knuckles drag across her skin. she shivers at the smallest of touches, so responsive and perfect.

“words, darling,” he taunts again. “i’ll stop touching you if you stop telling me what you want.”

“ross,” she whines, and tries to grind against his hand, tries to push it deeper in her pants but he quickly gathers her wrists together and tuts at how little strength he needs, how easily he can hold both her wrists together with just one hand while using the other to feel her up through her underwear.

it’s soaked and he can clearly feel her clenching and unclenching, desperately trying to move her hips and grind shamelessly against his hand but he won’t give her what she wants until she forces the filthy words out.

“please!”

“you’re soaked, sweetheart. i can give you what you want but only if you ask for it.”

her eyebrows knit together and she almost looks… angry, about as feral and threatening as a little bunny. “fine…” she huffs, “i want–i want you to fuck me. with your fingers.”

the crass words sound filthier from her mouth, like she shouldn’t be saying things like these to lecherous old men in dark corners on even darker nights. “see?” he grins at her, all sharp teeth ready to almost rip into her, “was that so hard?”

when they kiss again, ross pushes his tongue inside her mouth until all he can taste is her, until all her can smell is her. his fingers move faster against her clothed pussy, making the fabric soak more than it was before and her legs spread wider, her hips move faster until she’s soaking his hand and practically rutting against it.

she’s shaking, clenching around nothing and looking at him with tears in her eyes—so frustrated now, constantly whining for him to push his fingers inside her. slowly, ross pushes the underwear aside and circles her entrance with his middle finger. before she has the chance to whine again, he plunges the fingers inside and swallows her cry with another kiss.

she clenches around his finger desperately, slickening his hand every time he pushes into her, more so when he adds another finger and thrusts into her faster. as a reward he lets go of her wrists and she immediately latches onto him, pushes her hands inside his shirt and lets them greedily roam all over his body. she traces his chest and down his stomach, she lets her nails trail up his back, scratching and digging into his flesh every time he thrusts his fingers deep inside her.

her breathing quickens and she starts pressing kisses to his jaw, tracing the golden chain around his neck with her tongue. every so often she tries to nip at his skin, to leave some of her own marks behind. once or twice he lets her… but it’s more fun to hear her gasp and mewl and cry out his name.

“good girl,” he coos at her, “taking it so well, sweetheart.”

“feel so good,” she whispers and lets her head fall back. under his hand, her thigh spasms lightly and his pulse pounds all over his body—his chest and throat and stomach and fuck even his cock that so hard and leaking with precum now.

he needs her so bad, bad enough that he entertains the idea of pulling his fingers out and bending her over right there.

but this might be his one and only time with her and he needs to make it memorable.

he needs her to feel him between her legs for days and taste him on her tongue for weeks.

he needs to bottle up her gasps and whimpers and the feel of her cunt around his fingers and keep it hidden away forever.

so he needs to make her cum over and over again until she can’t remember any other name but his.

and he’s not about to do all that here of all places.

“‘m so close,” she moans out, rutting her hips faster now, almost trying to match his thrusts and ross increases his pace, presses his thumb against her clit harder than before. “kiss me.”

instantly, he obeys, getting lost into the kiss and the way it sends little currents through his blood. she’s no better either, exploring the inside of his mouth with her tongue and riding her fingers until he can practically feel her dripping down his hands and wrist. until she lets out a string of curses and her eyes roll back. she lets out a broken moan, louder than all the ones before and he feels her squeeze around his fingers harder then before.

then he feels her release, gushing onto his hand until he has to hold her up so her legs won’t give out on her.

ross doesn’t stop though, he pumps his fingers in and out of her, each time earning himself another cry or hiss or groan until the tremor in her body subsides to a slight shiver and she presses her face into his chest, sweaty and barely coherent.

“that was–” she tries and breaks off. “you were–”

“have i left you speechless, sweetheart?” he teases pointedly. “look at me.”

when she manages to open her eyes, ross pulls his fingers out of her and brings them to her mouth.

“suck,” he orders. to his surprise she obeys without hesitation. her mouth closes over his fingers, taking them all the way in until her lips are around the base of his fingers. then she swirls her tongue around them and licks them clean. every inch, every crevice.

she lets them go with a slight pop and ross almost gets on his knees right there.

“you are not what i imagined,” he whispers, not trusting his voice at all.

“am i better?”

he only nods in response and kisses her deeply, tasting her on his tongue, tasting the tang of her release mixed with her saliva.

“let me take you home,” he offers. “i want to fuck you. but not here. i want to fuck you properly.”

“like a gentleman,” she giggles.

he worries she might say no. but she only pulls away to button her jeans properly.

“let’s go then,” she smiles mischievously and hooks a finger through his chain, eyeing it with intent. “i have thought of loads of other things apart from your hands.”

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman @oneluckygirl

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#this is the longest. the others are not going to be this long #well it's already past midnight when i'm posting this so i'm already a day late but shh you didn't see that #valentine75 #valentine's week #ross macdonald #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald smut #minors dni #the 1975 fanfic

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wrestletotheground · 4 months

Text

snap out of it - ross macdonald x reader

your boyfriend helps ease the tension when you're feeling stressed..

cw: 18+ minors dni!! smut, dom!ross, f!sub!reader, kitchen sex, fingering, d word, unprotected sex, p in v, orgasm denial, stomach bulging, squirting, degradation, lowkey kinda toxic but in a hot way <3

wc: 2.4k

you're walking- no. storming around the house like a raging bull. for what reason you don't even know. maybe it's the party you're hosting tomorrow, and the fact the house is an absolute mess.

you've woken up in such a mood, feeling like you're going crazy when every little inconvenience is piling up and fuelling the fire. there was no hot water in the shower, you burnt your toast for breakfast, and you're now running around in a frenzy trying to sort everything as if you're being hunted for sport. feminine rage, if you will.

you're muttering under your breath, picking through the piles of clutter in the kitchen when you're startled by your boyfriend placing a hand on your lower back. you jump, so lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear him coming.

'hi baby, whatcha doing?' he asks, wrapping his arm around your waist before you step away from him, rolling your eyes at his cheerful tone.

'ross, i'm sorry, I love you, but fuck off, I've so many things to do I don't need you distracting me, I've been cleaning all day and the place still looks the same and URGGH,' you practically scream, holding your head in your hands.

guilt washes over you, realising you've just essentially snapped at him over nothing, but you're too worked up to backtrack now. you continue what you were doing, ignoring ross' eyes burning a hole into the back of your head. you lift an empty wine bottle from the table to clear it away and start cursing under your breath when you notice it's left a stain that you're gonna have to sort out on top of everything else.

'darling you're too stressed over this, there's no need, just take a break and chill out, yeah?' rage pumps through your body. even though you know he's just trying to help, you can sense an undertone - an edge - in his voice that would usually have you on your knees already, but right now, you're in no mood for it.

'no, look, I've been putting it off it's just- there's so much to do, I'll be fine, okay?' it comes out more frantic and loud than you anticipated, making his face crease in concern. he puts a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

'look at me,' he orders. you sigh and turn to look up at him, heart still pounding partly from the stress and now also from the intense look in his eyes. his hands are warm and heavy on your waist now, gripping onto you like you'd float away if he let go.

'I'm gonna fuck you until you calm down and you can't think of anything else but my name, and you're gonna fucking take it'.

okay, maybe you are in the mood for it. your stomach flutters and you nod silently, feeling like a lamb under the thumb of a lion. his soft yet demanding tone always makes you so turned on you give in immediately. 'there we go darling, daddy's gonna make you feel better, hm?' he says as one hand comes up to wrap around your neck, pushing in gently.

that word sends a rush of excitement coursing through you, and you manage to get out a strangled mix between 'yes' and a moan. you'll be good for him if it's the last thing you do, and you're so riled up you're already starting to channel that rage into desire.

you go to start towards the bedroom before he grabs you roughly, stopping you in your tracks yet again. 'where do you think you're going honey? you're gonna take it here like a good pet.' his tone is stern. 'but the-,' he cuts you off by slapping his palm on the side of your jaw, grabbing your chin and forcing eye contact. you feel a pulsing heat building in your core.

'do what you're told or I'll leave you here, I know you're fucking soaked for me already, clenching your thighs when I haven't even touched you,' he smirks, and you flush when you realise you've been inadvertently squeezing your legs together in a futile attempt to relieve yourself.

the thought of him taking you right here in the kitchen drives you crazier than you'd like to admit. the big sliding glass door that leads onto the garden is only a few yards away, giving any nosy neighbours a full show, but he doesn't seem to mind and you're already too desperate to stop now.

he hooks a finger through the belt loops on either side of your jeans and uses them to pull you forward, making you stumble into him. 'take these off for me darling,' he orders, breath ghosting over the side of your face as he tries to keep his composure.

you fumble around with buttons and zips until they're pooled around your ankles, stepping out and crashing your lips onto his with one hand already gripping the hair at the back of his neck. your tongues melt together, pure lust radiating off one another.

he toys with the hem of your shirt blindly until you get the hint and break away from him to throw it behind you. his breath catches in his throat and he can't help himself from grabbing at your tits instantly, pupils dilated beyond belief as he stares at them in awe. you giggle to yourself, tracing your fingertips under his tshirt and up and down his sides.

he gives you a questioning look. 'you're such a boy,' you laugh. his stare intensifies. 'oh yeah? don't think a boy would make you feel like this, hm?' he replies, bringing a hand down between your legs to cup your pussy and dipping his index finger under the thin fabric, making you moan. 'see?' he whispers. you smile coyly and kiss him again, more passionately this time.

dripping desire pools in your underwear when he grabs you and walks you a few steps towards the kitchen counter. he turns you to face away from him and pushes down on your shoulders. you fold with his touch, straightening out your back as your chest and arms fan out over the cold marble.

with one hand pinning you onto the countertop, he uses the other to rip your wet underwear down, letting them fall to your feet before you kick them away.

goosebumps prickle across your entire body when his fingers graze over your soaked cunt. you spread your legs wider instinctively, allowing him easier access. 'so responsive for me,' he mumbles behind you. he leans over your back, moving your hair to one side to nip and suck at your neck.

without warning, he shoves two fingers inside you, making you scream out in surprise and pleasure. he instantly takes his hand away and you exhale sharply at the sudden loss of contact before it comes back to land a sharp slap on your ass. 'shut the fuck up screaming like some sort of crazy bitch, the neighbours are gonna hear you. don't want them to know how much of a little slut you are do we?' you shake your head too quickly in response, teeth digging into your bottom lip.

after a moment of letting you sit in shame, humiliation, he plunges his fingers back in; this time you know better than to make too much noise. 'good girl, I know baby, I know,' he coos, gazing down at your trembling figure as his fingers work in and out of you.

'mmplease, feel so good,' you whimper, your hips jerking into him every time his thumb swipes your aching bud. the need for release is all consuming. the effect he has on you is unparalleled by anyone else. the way he works you up so much just to watch you crumble and writhe under him is enough to make you submit to his every word.

every bend and thrust of his fingers is delicate and precise, hitting all the right spots to have you doubled over in ecstasy, leaning your whole body weight on the counter to hold yourself up. 'gonna cum, please, ross, SHIT- what the fuck,' you practically sob, your climax that was right at your fingertips being suddenly ripped away from you. the second he knew you were on the edge, he stopped, pulling out his soaked fingers and drying them on your back. your head drops downwards in frustration as the fuzzy feeling inside you dissipates.

'you don't get to cum until I fucking say so, got it?' you let out a strained 'yes' sound, more of a whimper than anything. you nod your head and let your eyes fall shut in relief when you finally hear the sound of his belt being unbuckled.

'need me to fuck you stupid so you can think straight don't you love?' he says, placing a kiss just below your ear as he pulls down the waistband of his boxers just enough to to free himself from the constraints of the tight fabric. you glance down behind you and inhale deeply at the sight of his raging erection, already leaking in his hand before he even gets you into position.

he hikes your leg up, letting it rest on his strong forearm, fingers gripping into the soft flesh inside your thigh. the air hitting your cunt makes you squirm, but you manage to keep your balance, aching for him to give you what you need.

he lines himself up and you feel yourself get wetter, dripping onto him in anticipation. he slides into you with no resistance, groaning at how wet and perfect you feel around him. the full feeling of his thick cock stretching you out makes you see stars, whining softly as he builds up to a delicious pace that practically splits you in two. 'fucking hell, so perfect, just for me,' he rambles, mind going into overdrive already. 'just for you, daddy,' you reply, knowing how feral that word makes him at the best of times.

you can slightly make out your reflection in the tiles on the wall. the distorted image shows him practically fully clothed and you bare, at his disposal to use how he wants. the sight eggs you on further, and you lean up into his chest, moaning at the new sensation of his beard tickling the side of your neck.

with the angle he's at now, he's going so deep inside you that his cock pushes out your lower stomach. you look down and nearly collapse when you see a subtle bulge just below your belly button disappear and reappear with every thrust.

ross notices it too, and trails his hand down your stomach until he feels it. something feral unlocks in his brain when he feels the bump protruding, making him groan into your ear and fuck into you harder, somehow even closer now.

'shit, you feel that? feel how well you're taking me angel?' he says, pressing in on the spot. 'fuck, yes, more, please, daddy,' you whine, gasping when he starts groping at your tits, his chin resting on your shoulder as he teeters closer and closer to the edge.

'more, huh? this not enough for you?' you shake your head, and you can feel him getting more riled up by your reaction as his cock throbs inside you.

the knot in your stomach tightens further as his right hand moves down to circle your throbbing clit. you cry out at the sensation of him all over you all at once, and it takes everything in you not to let your thighs clamp shut. his name echoes from your mouth like a prayer.

the pressure is steadily mounting inside you, and you feel like you could let go any second. 'close... mm-' he slaps his hand onto your cunt, just above where he's pumping in and out of you, making you whine. 'i told you, you're not gonna cum until I say, need to teach you some fucking manners, brat,' he punctuates the last word with another harsh tap with his fingertips before continuing agonisingly slow circles.

the sting of the slaps mixed with the soothing warmth of his touch sends you into overdrive. the cold countertop digs into your palms, using it as leverage to push yourself impossibly further into him, following his pace carefully.

'jesus christ, ross, fuck, please let me cum,' you moan through gritted teeth. you don't think you've ever been this worked up, with him denying you of your orgasm twice already. you feel wound up, like a ticking time bomb that could explode any minute, and fuck, you need to, but you'll strain yourself to the last second to please him.

your core is on fire, warmth spreading all over your body, you can nearly hear the ringing in your ears already and you're about to start begging again before he snaps you out of your head. 'go on. cum all over daddy's cock, that's it- shit,' he curses when you clench tightly around him, the coil in your stomach finally snapping. you cry out as you gush all over him, little squirts splashing from you onto the floor in time with his movements. you grab onto him, pushing his hand onto your clit harder to work you through your high, the head rush like nothing you've ever felt before. it's electric, like a static current washing over you as your whole body convulses.

when he sees the pool of your slick shining on the tiled floor, it's over for him. his groans get louder and with one final push and a 'FUCK,' he tips over the edge, pulsing inside you and painting your pussy white.

your head feels hazy as you catch your breath, slowly coming back to reality. you barely register what's happened with the euphoria lingering in your body. 'did I...' you look down at the mess you made and realise you just squirted all over the kitchen and desecrated ross' hand and jeans in the process. 'fuck, that was so hot, i'm- christ,' he laughs, his head dropping onto your shoulder in disbelief.

'thank you,' you whisper. the stress that's been weighing on your chest all day has completely disappeared, but you're so fucked out you can't find any more words. he lets out a breathy laugh and braces you as he pulls out gently, holding you upright as you stand on two feet again.

'you were right, I'm not stressed anymore,' you smile, placing a soft kiss on his lips before starting to redress. 'daddy's always right,' he teases, a cheeky grin spread across his face.

#runs away and goes back into hiding #ross macdonald #ross macdonald oneshot #the 1975 smut #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald smut #the 1975 #ross macdonald imagine #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy #adam hann #george daniel #not a huge fan of this but we move 💅

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all-things-fic · 7 months

Text

By The Fireplace // RM

A/N: First time writing Ross, could be the last time too! It's long (7k), it's smutty and it's a day late (sorry @abiiors). This is part of Promptober '23 and I'm not sure if I've written it right as it's set in November (as you can tell it's going well lads).

***

November 23 2023.

Six hours and forty-seven minutes.

It made sense for him to fly straight into Glasgow. It shaved almost two hours off the red-eye flight in comparison to London and another twelve hours in the car to get you to your destination.

This airport and this place weren’t something foreign to him either, he found himself popping up here more often than not just to get some advice. At times he knew he could pick up the phone, but nothing beat an actual, in-person conversation with his big brother in a normal pub with a cheaply priced pint without any pretence.

As he walked to the carousel to grab his bag, he slid the second strap of his backpack onto his arm and immediately followed it with pulling up his hood. He was knackered, body achy from the cramped flight and blinking heavy from the lack of sleep.

His glasses-covered eyes silently followed the black tracking as it moved bag after bag past him. Inside his mind, he began to ridicule himself for not just flying with hand luggage. He didn’t need the extra items, only staying here for seventy-two hours before he would be back in America.

Utah he thinks, or was it Oregon? He made a mental note to figure it out before he left.

Subliminally, he felt himself perk up when he saw his beat up silver luggage push through the black rubber flaps at the start of the carousel. Rather than waiting for it to meet him, Ross went to meet it dragging himself to the other side of the carousel.

Plucking up the item with ease, his gaze quickly scanned the case. He made sure to spot the battered dragonfly sticker that represented one of his favourite bands, therefore knowing he was picking up the right case. Last thing he needed was to be on the phone to Glasgow Airport sorting out their mistake (or maybe it would be his).

Wheeling the case through the airport was easy, even at this hour. Hood still up, he was able to keep himself to himself as he headed towards border control.

The queue shuffled along quite nicely, and he couldn’t help but smile as he read your texts that had been sent throughout his flight. The last one saying, “I’m standing beside the massive Christmas tree, it has mistletoe x.”

He was dying to kiss you, mistletoe or not. He didn’t need an excuse.

Passport scanned and stamped, he softly smiled at the lady on the desk before letting his feet take him to you. His ears perked up at the sound of the accent around him, one that always filled him with the warmest of emotions. It reminded him of the soft lilt his nephew was beginning to pick up.

Walking past W H Smith’s, he weaved around what he perceived to be a couple greeting each other and let his eyes scan over the crowd milling around him.

Christmas tree, Christmas tree, Christmas tree.

He actually spotted you first, regardless of the size of the tree that you were next to. All flannel shirt (which he was sure was his), leather leggings (which he definitely knew were yours) and black boots. Ross gently smiled to himself, taking you in.

You hadn’t noticed him, too engrossed with turning around to look at the flight board that was placed over your left shoulder and reading whether there was any delay with his flight. Truth was the stupid board wasn’t updating so it wasn’t the latest information and you couldn’t be anymore in the dark if you tried to be.

It was almost like slow motion when you turned back around, this sea of hair moving behind you as you looked through the crowd and found him. You knew your smile was megawatt, as you ran your gaze over his entire being; biting it away when you saw the way he had embraced his miserable, emo self and pulled his black hood up.

You couldn’t blame him.

Part of you could already see the heavy tiredness in his body, even though he was at least two yards away from you. Guilt was the heaviest emotion in you, relief was the second. You knew it should be happiness, and god it was there as a close third, but your thoughts were so strongly filled with how much he must love you to do these kinds of things for you.

Flying red eyes. Fucking his body clock up even more to see you for three days. Only to pack his shit up and do it all over again.

Ross closed the gap between you both easily; long and strong strides making the most of his 6’4 stature. When he was in front of you, your hands found his abdomen with ease. Arms sliding underneath his hoodie, desperate to feel as much of his warmth on you now that he was here.

Your head buried itself into his neck, and his arms immediately anchored you to him; hand sliding up to gently cup at the back of your neck. Staying in silence allowed you to really breathe him in, he even smelt tired if there was a way to describe it.

“Where’s this mistletoe then?” He queried, voice wrecked from his time in the air, his lips at your temple.

“Any excuse,” you playfully murmured, as you nudged your head back to look up at him.

“I think you’ll find, you text it to me,” he jested, eyebrows raised as he looked down the bridge of his nose at you. You always loved when he looked at you with such a roguish expression, dimples framing his closed lipped smile.

People often thought of him as sensible and he was, but the times that you saw his eyes light up in this way were some of the most alive times of your life.

“Details,” you whispered, as he pulled you up to him with a know-it-all hum and a mumbled “I’ll give you details” leaning down the rest of the way to meet you.

You’d missed his beard, that was the first musing that came to mind. It’s juxtaposing bristle and softness, always something that distracted you in the best way.

His lips were of course a close second, especially in that moment as they tenderly plucked at yours in a way that heavenly sighed god, I’m glad to see you.

This contented hum left you as he pulled away gently, his lips not done as they nipped at your jaw before he buried his face into your neck now. He started to sway the two of you as you hugged, your hands sliding up his back and gripping to the worn band tee that he donned.

“How was the flight?” you asked, voice slightly strained due to your head being tilted upwards.

The question hung around in the air for a while, before he lifted himself and pressed his lips in sponging kisses to yours once, twice and three times once more.

“Shit,” he let the word linger at your mouth as you heavily sighed, “but ‘s fine.”

With a deep breath, Ross raised to his full height once more, chest puffed out as he stretched, before asking, “Where’s the keys?”

“I’m driving,” you replied, quickly. He eyed you, right hand rubbing at his chest. You hated driving, especially in Scotland. He knew it, you knew it. The times you’d let out the girliest of screams when picking him and Rob up from Murrayfield were far too embedded into his mind to not tease you religiously about it.

It was almost like you could hear his thoughts, reminding him of all the moments you’d panicked when on the roads up here.

“I’m driving, Ross,” you stressed, cutting the thoughts dead. You knew he meant well but there was no way he was going to complete the almost six hour drive that you had on your hands after being sat uncomfortably on a plane for six hours himself and most likely only running off fumes.

His lips quirked, amused at your tone which was so heavily laced with reprimand. “Alright,” he conceded. “After you, darlin’.”

***

He had fallen asleep to Dreams by Fleetwood Mac about an hour and thirty minutes into the drive. You had assumed it to be because you had hit the A82 which was such a large stretch of road which you had to drive along for such a long period of time that it had bored him enough to nod off.

As you had slowed in traffic, you took the time to admire him while he slept. His glasses hung at the neck of the tee, never far away so that he would be able to see almost instantly when he woke rather than panic trying to find them.

His arms were folded across his chest; his neck awkwardly propped up by his bunched up hoodie made into some makeshift pillow and placed between him and the car door. You knew he would regret it later - his body was about to remind him that he was a thirty-four year old man who needed a proper bed to rest in - but regardless you were glad that he had given in to his need to sleep.

A soft smile lifted at your lips as you took in his slightly rounded chin, you just knew a double chin was hidden by his impressive beard and it filled you with such affection that you wondered if you needed an intervention at this point.

Eyes back on the road, you lifted your hand to turn down the music even further, not wanting anything to disturb him during his slumber, and concentrated on the journey ahead of you.

“What a dickhead,” you muttered after a while, pressing the break harder than you liked and watching the navy car to your right almost cut you up without a care in the world.

“He had right of way.”

Turning your face to the left, you blinked in silence over at Ross, whose face was far too amused for your likening. He did not just wake up and berate your driving. How long had he been awake?

“Easy to say when you’ve been asleep for just over four hours,” you commented, pulling off and taking the next left onto a road you didn’t catch the name of. “Must’ve needed the beauty sleep.”

The laugh that he gave you was sudden and hearty. He wasn’t afraid to let you know he was amused by your previous comment which was heavily petulant in its delivery.

“M’necks fuckin’ killing me,” he broke the silence.

“Karma.”

He meowed at you then, communicating he was heavily aware of your cattiness towards him. You cut your eyes to him, infuriated by the way his gaze sparkled before he winked at you to try and soften you up.

Next his right hand moved to brush your hair behind your shoulder. He could feel the tension sitting at the back of your neck and across your shoulders without really touching you.

“Ross,” you mithered, “I’m trying to drive.”

“Pull in ‘ere, let me do the last bit.”

“Sweep in and take the glory, true United fan.”

“No,” he spoke, voice level. “I can feel your apprehension, and I want you to relax. Pull in.”

Sighing, you felt your fingers reach for the indicator before you could stop them, signaling that you were moving to the curb. His belt was off him before you had actually stopped, an annoying beeping sound filling the car to signify someone wasn’t wearing their seatbelt as it was still in operation.

You undid your seat belt slowly, watching him wait at the front of the car as traffic moved around. When it became clear, he rounded the car to your side, opening your door for you and giving you space to get out.

“Any CDs in the glove compartment?” He asked when you were stood in front of him. “Driver's choice.”

You rolled your eyes knowing you were about to endure some scream-o band from the early noughties with heavily distorted guitar sounds and tons of drum snare.

“On you go, Passenger Princess. I’m not changing my mind.”

You squinted your eyes up at him, as he patted twice at your backside.

Watching him in your car, fixing the seat for his long legs always did things to you. It felt like an age since you had last seen him drive, hands moving smoothly over the steering wheel and placing the gear stick into first to pull off.

The finesse he showed was always far more attractive than it should be and you always remembered so vividly the first time he had taken you on a drive in America in this fancy old car that just wasn’t responsive.

You had felt on edge the entire time. Ross? He was so calm. So in control. Taking it all in his stride. Not at all bothered about driving on the opposite side of the road than when you were both home.

It weirdly comforted you. Made you feel safe, secure. Here was a man who was exactly everything you had ever wanted. A little bit geeky, a whole lot manly. Able to act the fool when he felt it, but sweep in and put the pieces back together when needed.

Grateful is what you were.

He must’ve felt it too, because as he pulled out back onto the road and got comfortable, his left hand found its spot atop your thigh. You quickly encased it with both of yours, weaving the fingers of your right hand through his before using your left to gently stroke at the top of his hand, knuckles and forearm.

“Woah, what’s this wanker doing ‘ere?,” he broke the silence with his high pitched and incredulous tone, followed by “ya could fucking indicate, mate!”. You watched as Ross turned the wheel with his right hand alone and looked through his mirrors, almost asking himself silently if those around him could actually drive.

“Doesn’t he have right of way?”

“No, he fucking does not.”

The delivery of his response was so deep and astute you bit back your laugh, before lifting his hand to your lips; giving in and chuckling against his skin.

Of course, he didn’t!

(He absolutely did).

***

The Isle of Skye was renowned for its beauty. A hidden gem of sorts within the Scottish islands. Known for its rugged landscapes, picturesque fishing villages and medieval castles, the largest island in the Inner Hebrides was to be your home for the next seventy-two hours.

The feeling you got when you drove over to the coast via the bridge that connected it to Scotland’s northwest was like no other. You heard Ross chuckle under his breath at the way you let go of his hand and clambered for your phone so you could film the scenery around you, mountains and hills that were awash of oranges and browns, with the odd bit of greenery clinging on even though you were fully in the throes of autumn.

Panning your camera across the car, you filmed his profile as he drove with poise along the bridge, barely any cars in front of you giving an open road feel. He looked at you from the corner of his eye when he felt you filming him, this devilish grin lifting at his mouth as you watched him through the camera lift your hand to his lips then placing it against the side of his face.

“Eyes on the road, Romeo,” you replied to his non-verbal action, stroking his cheek with your thumb, before gently turning his head away to look through the windscreen.

The rest of the drive had been quite a damp one, the heavens opening and rain battering down onto your car. With about fifteen minutes to go, you wrapped yourself up in Ross’ hoodie, glancing over at him to see him sat further forward in his seat as he wiped at the inside of the window which was misting up.

You fiddle around with the blowers to help him, blasting them up to the highest they would go and seeing the way the hot heat helped clear the windscreen slightly.

The sat nav told him to take the next right, the car dropping down to 15mph due to the narrow streets that he was driving around and then it was the next left to take you to the cottage that was nestled in the village of Elgol.

The beauty of Elgol was something the two of you had discovered and became captivated by over his short and sweet summer break after attending a wedding of his brother's friend.

During those four days, you had spent time exploring the breathtaking coastline and ventured on scenic walks through the landscapes that were so often talked about when it came to Skye.

When you had last been there, you had been able to experience the perfect balance of seclusion and adventure, which was exactly what you and he had been after for the longest time.

“We’re going to be rained off,” he mumbled, a little agitated as he pulled the car to halt outside your cottage for the next three days.

“You say that as if there isn’t plenty for us to do inside.”

It was meant to be suggestive and you appreciated that he had picked up on it immediately, this smug smile plucking at his lips; the kind that was absolutely driven by a dirty thought or two.

“I know how much you love a game of chess, babe.”

He glanced over at you unamused, as you laughed in such a dirty way, you were almost shocked a sound like that could leave you.

“Just love it, me.”

His deadpan was second to none. It was definitely one of your favourite things about him: made the list of the top five favourite things ever.

“Getting really good at it.”

“And who’s told you that?” He dropped his head back against the headrest and rolled his face to the side to look at you. He was currently on a losing streak, truth be told.

“Hey, Waughy and I talk. Usually when I’m waiting for you to reply to my text but you’re too hungover to pick your head up off the pillow.”

“Oh, I see how it is, fraternising with the enemy. Giving him all my tricks.”

You rolled your lips into your mouth, breathing deeply through your nose. “Not all of them.”

Those words were weighty.

There were some things John didn’t need to know about his friends. Things that were for only you and Ross.

A silence fell over you both, filling the car. You kept your eyes on each other, Ross’ occasionally falling over your features and dropping to your lips. He’d stare at them for a while, before they’d lift and he’d start the process all over again.

He did this a lot when he was away, sometimes in person like now after he had dared to take the flight, or other times through the phone when FaceTiming from California, or New York, or Perth. It was like he needed to memorise you in some way, just in case you changed by the time he got home.

You took him in too, his usual hair less sleek as flyaways made their presence known thanks to the damp moisture in the air. His skin wasn’t as perky as usual, a little sallow in colour but regardless he was still the most handsome man you knew.

Under his loving gaze, you shivered. It was probably more from the cold than anything, but that didn’t stop the light blush invading.

“Best get you inside and warm,” he spoke. “Gonna have to make a run for it.”

You giggled to yourself as you opened your door, breath catching in your throat when the cold splashes of rain hit you. You turned briefly to see Ross using his long stride to his advantage, jogging to the blue front door of your cottage and moving from side to side to keep himself from going numb as the November cold whipped around him.

Car door slammed behind you, you held your bag in your hand and ran to stand next to him, both trying to cram yourself into the alcove under the thatched room.

Your hands shook as you fiddled with the keys. Trying your best to align it with the lock. He watched from the side of you as you shivered on the front door step, all-natural radiance and slightly sodden, swaying from side to side as you tried to keep warm.

“Come ‘ere,” his deep voice chuckled, unable to watch you struggle any longer, gently taking the keys from you and pushing them into the lock. “How are you so fuckin’ freezing and you’ve even nicked my jumper?”

You didn’t answer him, instead opting to push the door open the minute he’d unlocked it and prayed that the owners had left some kindle for the open fire so that Ross would be able to sort it immediately.

***

One warm shower later, you stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the lounge, eyes moving over the scene in front of you. Hair thrown up in a messy bun atop your head, the tartan pyjamas you had purposely packed were loose against your frame.

Ross has disappeared into the bathroom about thirty minutes ago now to wash away the travel, his rendition of And She Was muffled but still present over the sound of the shower.

You’d spent that time going through the welcome pack that was filled with freshly baked bread courtesy of the owners, a burgundy white wine which boasted buttery tastes of peaches and citrus zest, and of course a bag of coffee that sounded completely to Ross’ fancy.

With the bottle uncorked, you poured yourself a glass, quickly placing it into the fridge to keep it chilled. Regardless of it edging closer to winter by the day, there was nothing worse than room temperature wine.

Shoulder pressed to the door jamb, you sipped at the alcohol and rested the cool glass against your lips.

The Nest as it was known, was definitely romantic. All thatched roof and spectacular panoramic views which overlooked Knock Castle and across the Sound of Sleat to the Knoydsrt mountains.

Inside it was all vintage French fabrics and fine linen. With its sheepskin rugs and real wood fire stove, the cottage was described as the “perfect getaway for couples looking to explore and return to comfort after a day walking in the hills and mountains”.

While your exploring had only consisted of you carrying your items from the car and into the cottage, you were definitely ready to get cosy next to the fire and relax in the lived-in space.

“Forgot my clothes,” he spoke in a hushed tone not wanting to break the serene silence when he spotted you across the room. His voice slowly tapered off as he took in the particular tartan pattern that you were donning, recognising it to be that of his own family name.

The smirk that lifted at his lips, and the flare of his nostrils as he inhaled deeply let you know he had caught on. As tribal as it was, you didn’t mind the way his eyes ravaged you.

Your eyes ran over him without shame in return, his hair wet and sitting against his shoulders, lines of water dripping down his hairy chest and over the tops of his broad shoulders. The delicate chain that he always wore was decorative against his neck.

His right hand held a white towel securely at his hips, clenching at the fabric as he glistened and walked closer to you.

“Any of that going spare?” He nudged his head towards the wine, causing you to peel your eyes away from him and down to your own glass. When you looked back at him, he was so close to you you had to tilt your head back slightly.

“Depends,” you started, watching his eyebrow quirk up at you with intrigue. “Are you planning on sitting around in that towel, or covering yourself up?”

The crackle of the fire cut through the room and your question.

“How’d you want me?”

***

Ross opted for clothes, which meant he had to pour his own glass of wine when he came back from getting dressed. Rather than giving him a verbalised answer earlier, you’d flirtatiously tugged at his right wrist trying to get him to drop the towel.

“Towel stays on babe,” he had whispered against your lips, wet hair moving to almost curtain around you. “This cold won’t do anything for my ego.”

You rolled your eyes at him bringing up “winter penis”, which if you recalled correctly had been a topic of conversation a few nights ago when he had called you from Toronto. A conversation that had started with the guys, and one he thought fitting to continue with you.

It wasn’t, but you’d rolled with it. Mainly because at the time of the call you could hear the stage whisky fuelled slur and wanted to humour him.

You had fawned over him in that moment, openly discussing the size of his dick and before you knew it you were engaged in particularly erotic dirty talk while you sat and ate your Weetabix. Time zones were fucking bizarre, but you did what you had to to survive tour. That’s just how it was.

“You know the other morning when you phoned me and started talking about your dick,” he hummed, wanting you to continue. “I was eating breakfast-“

“Was it any good for you?”

“The Weetabix? Ten out of ten.”

He laughed, his head falling back against the cushions as he sat on the floor with his back resting against the bottom of the sofa.

“Cheers,” he bit back in good humour, looking at you upside down.

You let your fingers run gently across his brow, thumb stroking at his forehead as you softly smiled. “You know how I feel about your dick,” you whispered.

“Do I?”

You hummed your response of “yes”, voice light and airy.

“Why are we whispering?” He asked. You shrugged. “They deliver cocktails to this cottage, did ya know that?”

You hummed again, watching him flip through the menu he was holding. His fingers tapping at one of the cocktail names, “Reckon I’d like this one.”

Leaning down and looking over his shoulder you read the title.

Highland Fling. How predictable.

You chose to stay silent as you read the few lines explaining it underneath its bolded title.

The Highland Fling cocktail is a bold, robust and a slightly sweet drink with a flavour of citrus. The smoky and rich flavours of the Scotch whisky are balanced by the sweetness of Drambuie and tart lemon juice. Mixed together they create a complex and satisfying taste experience.

The cocktail is a popular choice among whisky enthusiasts and those who appreciate the rich history of Scottish culture.

“Technically we’re not in the Highlands,” you paused, glancing over at him and seeing his rich eyes were already on you. “For someone who likes to think they’re Scottish, you’ve fucked it there.”

He raised his eyebrows. Touché.

“Spoilsport.”

You leant forward to soothe him with a peck to the lips, whispering against his mouth, “Get four of ‘em.”

***

Before you knew it you were both a few cocktails deep, glasses lined up either side of you on the floor where you sat.

As he looked over at you, he knew you were at the very least buzzed by the soft flush that littered your cheekbones. He had zoned out at whatever it was you were talking about, too engrossed by the way you shone as you talked to him.

He knew he was fucked, in more ways than one. Hopefully literally, at least later on, but that thought could wait for another hour or two. Loving someone and being in love were different things, and in that moment he knew he was in love with you. He knew a lot of things actually; like he knew he needed to ask you to marry him before the tour was out.

He didn’t know how, he didn’t know when but he knew he had to make it happen.

Maybe he could find some time in the new year, whisk you away somewhere warm to fight away the January blues. At least that’s what he would tell you.

With your feet in his lap, you leant back on your right hand as you sat on the floor, left holding your fifth cocktail to your lips. It was something pink and fruity - watermelon or strawberry based, he couldn’t quite remember - but the way it was staining your lips was all too satisfying.

“I actually think he has a soft spot for me now,” you spoke softly, humming and closing your eyes as you felt his hands move to massage your feet.

“Who?”

You spoke the name of his eldest nephew, seeing the way his eyes smiled at the mention of his brother’s son, when yours fluttered open and looked back at him.

“He’s always liked you,” he reassured, hand rubbing gently along your calf. He liked you talking about his family so breezily, even if you were showing a need to be liked by his three year old nephew in this scenario.

You shook your head, biting down at your lip. “No one compares to Uncle Ross.”

“Uncle Ross, is really fucking cool that’s why.”

He widened his eyes to emphasise what he was saying, wondering how he wasn’t cringing at describing himself as cool.

“Pretty fit too.”

He looked at you over the rim of his glass as he stalled his movement to drink; holding your eyes with his he let his lips encase the rim of the glass. They were dark and smouldering, never leaving your face. There was no chance he didn't know what he was doing; he didn’t need to verbalise how much he wanted you at that moment.

“How fit we talking?”

You breathed deeply, a blissful sigh leaving you on exertion. “So fit.”

He laughed down his nose, the additional sip of his cocktail he had taken now swallowed.

“Really eloquent.”

“I know,” you played along, voice breathy. “The most eloquent, but tell me I’m wrong.”

In goading fashion you pressed your foot gently into his stomach, feeling his hand clasp around the top from your action.

“Behave.”

“Make me.”

Ross pulled at your leg then, hand curling under your knee, needing you closer. Your joyful squeal turned into a throaty laugh as you threw your head back and somehow found yourself in his lap.

He was back against the sofa then, hands sliding up the back of your pyjamas and gripping gently to the nape of your neck. He guided your face down and towards him. His mouth smiled against yours, the two of you too happy to engage in a proper kiss.

Giving up, he slid his lips across your cheek and underneath your chin as you tilted your head back and breathed his name. He gently nipped at your throat, tongue licking and tasting your skin which was slightly salty due to the heat within the room from the roaring fire.

Your fingers were woven into the hair at the nape of his neck, pushing upwards underneath where his hair tie sat, to try and loosen his bun. His hair was still damp from where it had been tied up after his shower hours earlier, and the cool strands felt delightful to your fingertips.

“I fucking love you in this,” he confessed, face buried in your chest as he finally acknowledged you wearing his family tartan. His right hand had a strong hold on your back, hand splayed between your shoulder blades as you leaned back.

His left was fumbling with the buttons of your pyjama top, desperate to rid you of the clothing item. Your mind was telling you to help, but you were too engrossed by the feeling of his lips suckling at your sternum.

“Babe,” you gasped, when you felt him nudge the fabric away with his nose, mouth wet along the top of your boob before he enclosed his lips around your exposed nipple. A satisfied moan left you, as you stroked down the back of his neck and lightly grazed your nails over his skin.

His fingers were firm, deftly plucking at the remaining buttons of your top like the strings of a bass as he grew confident. Top now sat open, his hands were quick to encourage you to move yours from around his neck, so he could slide the sleeves off.

Ross was so immersed in you, the smell of your skin and the way your breath got caught in your throat as he lapped at your nipple.

“Your tits are incredible.”

The comment was boyish and almost lost against your skin. It made you smile, teeth biting down at your bottom lip as he switched boobs.

“I missed you too,” you replied, humour lacing your words.

From your response you felt him lightly trace his nose against your breastbone, he tilted his face back to look up at you, his chin resting at your chest. Your hands moved to gently cup at his face, Ross turning slightly to press his lips to the inside of your palm.

His eyes were imploring as they looked up at you, silently watching you slide your top off completely and aimlessly throw it away before welcoming you back to him by sliding his hands up your bare back and applying a small amount of pressure to your shoulder blades to pull you down to him.

He had missed you. He didn’t need to voice it literally at that moment. It was in his gaze, his touch, the way his fingers dug into your skin as he held you.

You cupped his cheeks, the sound of both your inhales mixing just before your lips met and his face became blurred to you. He started off delicately, almost allowing you to process the feeling of his beard beneath your right hand, and his lips against yours. It wasn’t long until a fervent, urgent need overtook, building from this graduation of intensity that had you clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in your ever-changing world.

Ross’ mouth was insistent as he parted your lips and it evoked a sensuality within you that you had missed the minute he had parted from you all those months prior. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, gentle but demanding, causing a swimming giddiness to overflow your being.

You smiled at the smacking sound of your lips audible, like two teenagers necking on. Faltering lips and a low and muffled moan omitting against your mouth from him as you curled your fingers in his hair and lightly pulled.

Fighting a losing battle, Ross’ lips moved messily down your chin and to your neck. He paused momentarily, holding you against his body before moving to lay you back against the sheepskin rug. It felt sleek and inviting against your skin and you looked down your body at him waiting on his next move.

“Thought about you fucking me on this carpet when I booked this place,” you softly voiced like it was some lewd confession and not one you were sharing with your long term boyfriend.

This wicked glint flickered across his gaze and the smuggest grin you had sworn he had ever worn lifted at his lips; slowly he sat back on his haunches and started to unbutton his top. His eyes were everywhere; at your bare chest, on the sea of hair that haloed above you.

“Did ya?”

Looking down at him, you nodded happily wearing your soft blush and lifted your hand to try and reach for the bottom of his shirt to help him remove it quicker.

“Lured me here under the pretense of wanting a nice little getaway,” he teased. “Really just wanted to have your way with me.”

His eyes took in the way you looked at him, all doe-eyed and biting gently down on your bottom lip. You weren’t going to deny it; why would you?

You instead reached for his hand. The heat and wetness between your legs felt all too inviting, desperate for his touch. He palmed you over the top of your underwear so easily, dexterous digits swiping at your clit in the right way.

“Don’t start without me,” he paused, as your eyes started to close from the feel of his fingers. His lips pressed to your warm cheek when he continued, “Let me go get some condoms.”

As he rose to his feet, he quickly stripped his lower half leaving him naked, unphased and all bare bottom as he walked away. It wasn’t lost on you the use of the plural.

Starting without him was exactly what you needed, fingers caving and picking up where he left off: gently rubbing at yourself and spreading your wetness over your clit.

“Hands,” his chided when back in the lounge, hearing a soft whine escape you and seeing your hands move to easily rid you of your pyjama trousers. When you returned to your place on the floor, you watched the strip of condoms bounce to the carpet next to you, from his relaxed throw.

“Someone’s confident,” you casually commented, gazing up at him through hooded eyes and taking in the open wrapper that was placed between his teeth. He smirked around it, head dropped and looking down at his hands as they adeptly rolled the latex over his erection.

Joining you back on the floor, Ross leant over and pressed a kiss to the inside of your left knee, his eyes finding yours from under his brow. He mumbled, “Some would say prepared…”

He stalled his words, lips now at your right knee. “…. Safe.”

“Sexy.”

“How’d you want me?” He queried in return, feeling your hands pulling at him.

“You decide. Just want you.”

He moved so effortlessly between your legs, them pliant in his hands and accommodating. His weight above you was always welcomed, comfortingly looming and imperturbably virile.

“Put me in,” he spoke, voice low and caught in his throat as slipped his tip between your folds. You whined around your bitten lips, reaching up to pull him down closer from where he was hovering over you.

His lips were heavy on yours once more, all tongue and hungry. He groaned against your mouth as you stroked him over the condom that he wore, hands sliding down your waist and angling your hips.

“S’yours, you know.”

You slowly smiled at his slurred and barely audible words, mouth dropping open and head falling further into the carpet as he slid into you with no resistance, bottoming out in one long, smooth stroke and the manliest “fuck me”.

Humming deeply, Ross bit around his smile as he started with shallow, teasing thrusts. A series of strokes that you found frustratingly sexy but knew as ones he wouldn’t be able to keep up due to his own insatiable desires.

“More,” you craved to feel the power you knew he held.

He listened, thrusts more measured - slow, hard and deep - knowing what you wanted and needed. Undulating and determined.

He jutted his hips forward, knocking your body with more force as you lay relaxed below him, arms above your head and boobs bouncing with each swift jolt of his thrusts as he fucked into you.

“Yes, fuck me,” you breathily moaned, head pushed back further into the floor beneath you, hands moving to the rug upon which your lay, fingers grasping at the soft material.

To think that all those hours earlier, you thought that neither of you were going to get warm. Now you almost choked around the thick air that consumed you within the room and from the roaring fire.

Ross’ thrusts kept their measured in pace, more forceful than before and you couldn’t help the blissful sighs and heavenly cries that left you lips as he devoured your sweaty skin, licking and sucking at the curve between where your shoulder and neck met.

The feeling of his touch let you know how sure of himself he was. You couldn’t disagree as your body welcomed him, receptive and pliant and willing.

He frowned along with you when he felt you begin to go taught. When you breathily gasped his name, he scooped you into him and held you against him.

Your orgasm had crept up on you, causing you to cup the back of his neck and bring his face back to yours. He was muttering words of approval into your skin, something that you couldn’t decipher that had you opening your legs wider for him.

He knew you liked it when you couldn’t quite figure out what filthy things he was saying to try and get you there. It summed up the mystique that peppered throughout your relationship.

As you shook, he sloppily fucked you through your release, hand tilting your hips up as you become slack.

“God, I love you,” you desperately gasped when you came to, face flushed and feeling clammy from the mixture of the heat from the naked flame to your right and pure exertion.

“‘Think you love fuckin’ me,” he roughly spoke, his right hand seeking yours and lacing your fingers together against the rug. You looked at him with desperate eyes, a shake of your head to his words. “No?” He sniggered down his nose, his own skin taking on a pink flush.

His other hand wound underneath your lower back, as you arched slightly, liking the way he wanted to drag it out; to roll his heavy hips into yours this entire time and making it so your clit rubbed against his pelvic bone on every thrust.

He watched your eyes roll back and your chin lifted upwards, him finding your spot once more causing you to clench around him. Ross groaned your name, begging you to look at him. Your hazy eyes found his shortly after he aired his request, hips snapping forward when you silently begged him with fucked out eyes to fill you up.

“Fuck, ‘m comin’.”

The sound of his voice was watery; choked as he groaned causing you to blissfully sigh when you felt him drop down to you, your arms enveloping his body and holding it to yours.

You ran your fingertips lightly down his back, listening to his breathing even itself out, you pressed a fluttering kiss to his temple and purred, “Welcome home, baby.”

#promptober75 #promptober #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonal fanfic #ross x reader #ross x you #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald smut #fluff writing #smut writing

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awellposhmagazine · 9 days

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asking ross to be rougher with u 🎤🎤

you tell yourself it's the wine that pushes you over the edge. in truth, its been months of watching your six-foot-something boyfriend deadlift and throw around stage equipment and wondering why he wouldn’t do that to you.

“do you think you'd ever like to be like - a bit rougher with me? in the bedroom?”

ross frowns around a mouthful of chips. he’s manspreading like nobodys business on the couch beside you, face lit by the glow of the tv.

“like - you want me to choke you when we fuck, or you want to go buy leg spreaders and a whip?”

you cover your face in embarrassment. “oh my god.”

he makes a little noise of indignance and you watch him shrug between parted fingers. “you started it.”

you try to brush it off, going for the packet of chips in his lap as a diversion, but he tugs them away.

“tell me what you mean.”

he really wasn’t giving it up now.

“i'm not like - complaining. you’re amazing - best shag i’ve ever had, honest.”

ross raises an eyebrow. “well, i know that.”

“it's just. something i’ve been thinking about.”

you hate how nonchalant he is about it all.

“gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“um, well not like. bashing me up or anything. just maybe, if you were a little more uh. selfish. sometimes.”

you've got his attention properly now. the chips and the pint glass are abandoned on the table and his eyes are so dark they might as well be black.

again, you're left disappointed as he leaves you floundering under his silent stare. it's making you itch.

“look, just forget about it. you’re being a dick.”

you reach forward to nurse your wine glass once again but never make it. ross’s hand, huge and warm, has grabbed you tight by the wrist.

“want me to use you, that's it, hm?”

you try your best to form a reply, but suddenly your mouth is dryer than the sahara.

“come here.”

you’d be a fool not to obey. you abandon the wine and turn towards him properly, settling up higher on the couch cushions. your heart rattles in your chest.

“can i-”

“yes.” you cut him off with a frantic nod.

the swears that tumble from his lips are laced with a hint of incredulity. “didn't even finish my fuckin’ sentence.”

“anything. you can do anything you want.”

still gentle, but with a forcefulness that makes your stomach do a little flip, he maneuvers you easily onto your front; face pressed down into the cushions and unsure where to put your hands. if there's any awkwardness in the way he manoeuvres himself over you, it’s stamped out entirely by your mutual desperation.

usually he'd have you the other way around so he could see your face; working at you with unwavering eye contact and moaning into hot kisses on the nape of your neck.

instead, his weight is heavy on your back and his hand is tangled in your hair.

“still okay?” breath hot in your ear, his voice is firm and sincere.

arguably only appropriate response to such a situation, you whine loudly into the couch cushion and hope he takes it as an affirmative.

“you know i love you, yeah?”

you huff impatiently. the blind, staticky warmth between your thighs is beginning to ache. “‘course.”

“just making sure. i’m about to fuck you like i don’t.”

#this is. very unedited dont look too closely #i wrote it in my lunchbreak in a toilet cubicle xoxo #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald #ross macdonald smut

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writingchalamet · 7 months

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You meet Ross when he's on a brief break from tour, and hit it off straight away. You agree that it's only going to be a bit of fun, nothing serious, just sex and adventures until he has to go away again. Except it doesn't work out like that and by the time he goes away for the second leg, he's really fallen for you. You feel the same but you both stick to the plan, neither of you aware of the other's true feelings. You keep in touch on tour, casual at first but the flirting ramps up and it soon becomes very apparent that you're mad about each. May or not end up with Matty sending you plane tickets 😆

Just a fling

Warnings: smut, swearing, use of good girl bc I can’t help myself! minors DNI

Loud music pumped through the speakers, drinks flowed through your veins, you and your friends laughed and chatted across the table in the bar together, sinking more and more drinks, you were happily buzzed. Ross was on the other side of the bar, sipping on his whiskey, eyes dragging across various faces in the bar as he half listens to what his friends are saying to him. Taking in the space, when his eyes land on you, his eyes narrowed slightly as he stood for a moment just watching you across the room as you laughed with friends, occasionally sipping your drink, eyes eventually leaving the group when you feel a heavy gaze burning into your skin. Your eyes find his and you see a subtle smirk settle on his face, a smirk that almost read ‘you’re mine, if only for tonight.’

You hesitantly return your gaze back to your group of friends having missed what they said “huh?” You draw out, eyes still lingering back and forth between your friends and the tall, dark haired, handsome stranger. “We said it’s your turn to buy a round” one of your friends practically shouts across the table at you, finally regaining your full attention. “Oh, uh, okay, same again for everyone?” They all nod as you grab your bag heading towards the bar, you place your order with the barman and wait patiently, about to turn around to look at your friends when a broad chest blocks your vision. You raise your head to meet the eyeline of the man an entire foot taller than you, to find the same brown eyes you had met across the room moments ago, only now they were right in front of you, and the warm lights of the bar were glistening in his eyes making them shine, and making your heart race. You gasp when you realise how close he is and that he is in fact real, not a figment of your imagination. “Sorry love, didn’t mean to make you jump” his voice is deeper than you had expected, but he smiles and his dimples pop out making your shocked gaze soften. “It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be there, which is silly really because this place is packed…” your voice trails off, eyes leaving his to look at the floor for a moment, out of embarrassment.

“No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have been standing so close, but you caught my eye earlier and I thought I’d catch you while you’re alone” your eyes widen slightly as he speaks. “Wow didn’t mean for that to come out as predatory as it sounded” he jokes making you laugh, easing the tension, the barman hands over your tray of drinks and your about to pick it up when the kind stranger takes it for you, you give him a strange look but he nods his head for you to follow him. He walks over to your table, your friends all go quiet and stare wide eyed at the incredibly good looking man stood next to you carrying their drinks, he places the tray down and the girls fly to their cocktails like vultures, all needing a drink in their systems for whatever was about to happen next. “Hello ladies, I’m Ross, I was wondering if I could borrow your friend for a little while?” He speaks to them so politely you want to die, the girls all gawk at you until your friend hannah “babe take her, she’s been away with the fairies all night anyway” they laugh and you shake your head whispering a thanks to her as you lean down to grab your drink. Following who you now know to be Ross, across the bar and to an empty table.

“So, you know my name but I’m yet to learn yours, would you enlighten me?” He smirks once more as he sips his drink. You roll your eyes own drink burning down your throat, “Y/n” he smiles and reaches across the table, fingers grazing your knuckles as your hold your glass. “Y/n, beautiful, I like it, it suits you” you feel yourself blushing at his forwardness. “Thank you" you breathe. The night carried on, more questions asked, learning the ins and outs of each other, you learn he's in a band, a successful one, which has you surprised as to what he's doing in a little bar like this, in the middle of nowhere. He learns that you're a writer and write a column reviewing films and Tv series, for a notable news blog. You were both successful in your line of works which was something he liked. He also hated to admit it, but he liked that you didn't immediately know who he was, only recognising him once he told you who his band mates were. "We nearly met once actually" he raises an eyebrow at you as you speak. "I was asked to be one of the journalists reporting at the brits a few years ago, but I had to pass up on the offer" you admit, raising your glass to your lips, as his eyes widen, "and what was more important than a night at the brits?" Ross smirks as he talks, edging himself closer towards you, "I prefer to do my reporting behind my screen, never really been one to get out in front of a camera, besides, couldn't have you fawning all over me when you were supposed be answering questions about your award" You wink a the man, earning a blush and snigger.

You don't know how you ended up here. Back pressed against the elevator wall, as Ross peppered hot, wet kisses along your neck, jaw, biting your earlobe. You're not sure a what point in the night, the soft touches of your hands turned into kisses, but it didn't take much after that for you to get your coat and follow Ross back to his hotel. You hear the ding of the lift doors opening signalling you'd reached his floor, Ross practically dragging you down the hallway, hand struggling to swipe the card through the reader to unlock his door, you stand behind him, hugging him, hands roaming across his chest, dragging them down his front to rest above his belt buckle. You chuckle into his back as you hear him groan tapping recklessly as the door lock trying to get it open. It finally clicks open, Ross turning in your arms, taking you by the waist and pulling you in for a kiss as he pushes through the door.

Hands sliding up his stomach, past his chest to land on his broad shoulders, giving them a squeeze, pulling him closer to you as his lips press firmly against yours, tongue begging for entrance as it glides along your bottom lip, you grant him access, colliding the muscles together, his fingers digging into your waist, bunching your dress up, you moan into his mouth at the feeling of his lips pressing harder against yours, Ross pulls away from you briefly to close the door, backing you up against it again once it's closed. "Do you wanna go over to the bed for me?" Ross lowers his mouth to your ear, lips brushing against the joining of your neck and jaw as he whispers the words to you. You don't trust your voice, settling for a nod of the head, slipping off your heals, making Ross tower over you even more, he can't help himself but raise one of his hands to caress your cheek, leaning down to peck you, the new height difference fuelling something inside him, he felt the need to hold and protect you. You pull apart and walk over to his neatly made bed, feeling bad for the maid who would inevitably have to clean up your mess the next day. You sit down in the middle of the bed, hands pawing at the soft fabric of the duvet beneath you. Ross comes to stand in front of you, kneeling on the, shuffling closer to you, out of instinct your legs parted for him, making him smirk. His rough hands hind their way to either sides of your legs, stopping under your knees, he feels the silky skin of your thighs under his finger tips, running them up and down the length of your bent legs. Your eyes bore into his from your seated position, hands leaving the mattress to find the top button of his dress shirt, beginning to un pop each button, his eyes watch your fingers carefully as they move along each button, slowly and skilfully undoing each one, until you reach the bottom, hands making their way back up his now uncovered stomach, hairy chest, to land on his shoulders, gently pushing the fabric down his back so it hung off him loosely.

You notice the small gold chain that laid flat around his neck, one of your hands reaching round, fingers delicately playing with the metal, you take a hold of it between your fingers and gently tug him towards yourself, stretching your top half up to meet him in a hungry kiss, he moans into your mouth at the feeling of the cold metal digging into his skin, and the way your fingers clench at his shoulder, as if to feel him closer. His grip on the back of your legs tightens, he manoeuvres himself to settle fully between your legs, resting a hand on your back as he pushes the two of you back until you reach the mattress. Your lips moving together in sync, drawing moans and gasps form one another as he pressed you further into the mattress, lowering himself on top of you, your hand reaches behind his head, gripping onto the bun, tugging at the strands, feeling the soft hair wrap around your fingers, and loving the sound the sound that falls from his lips when you deliver a particularly harsh pull. His tongue traces your bottom lip, drawing a line, from your lips and licking down your neck, your head rolls to the side, at the tingly feeling surging through you.

Ross's hands skim over the fabric of your dress, stopping at the bottom, where it had bunched up at your waist, lifting it up further revealing the lace of your underwear, his breath hitching noticing the wet patch gathering, he continues to drag the fabric up, you sitting up to help him rid you of the barrier, he throws the garment to the floor, the second it's off your body, admiring your bare chest, loving the fact you opted out of wearing a bra for the night. Feeling like a teenage boy seeing boobs for the first time, absolutely mesmerised, a hand reaches up to cup your left breast, palming at the soft skin, running his thumb across your nipple, feeling it pebble beneath his touch, he squeezes again earning a breathy moan, and your back arching, practically falling into his hand. His other hand grazes your jaw, thumb running along your bottom lip, watching the way your eyes close briefly in pleasure under his actions. "Does that feel good darlin?" his words come out an octave lower than before, making you putty in his hands (quite literally) "yes" you whisper the words out not trusting your voice. He lays you down once more, leaning forwards sprinkling kisses along your chest, down your abdomen, nipping at your hipbone, and kissing along your inner thigh, placing a kiss to your clothed core, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. He continues kissing over the soft spot, laying his tongue out flat licking up the wetness that had gathered on the front of your underwear, groaning to himself at the taste, his fingers dig into the sides of your knickers dragging them down your legs, revealing perhaps the most obscene view he had ever laid his eyes upon, you laid back, head tilted up to the ceiling, tits perky, back arched up, legs spread and pussy dripping, all for him.

"You look fucking divine darling, tell me what you want" his hands are all over your body, unable to settle on one spot, occasionally squeezing in a spot he finds particularly tantalizing. "You... your fingers, anything I just need to feel you" You grab at one of his hands bringing it to your entrance, watching a sly smile absorb his face as you guide two of his fingers inside you, mouth falling open and whining as he pushes them in fully to his knuckles, hooking them upwards, feeling you tighten around him. He pumps rhythmically, other hand grasping onto your hip, hooking your leg around his waist in his seated position. Your eyes meet, and you swear you could fall apart right there from just the look alone, his big brown eyes boring into yours, scanning your face intently for traces of pleasure, as he works away below you. Your eyes roll back as his actions speed up setting a new thunderous pace, feeling your walls contracting around him each time he thrust his fingers inside you, his thumb reached up and began rubbing circles on your clit, gaining a lewd moan of his name, which he would die to hear again, circling the bud with more ferocity, to match the pace of the fingers inside you, the tense feeling building in the pit of your stomach, begging for release. "Are you gonna cum for me like a good girl?" your nails claw at his wrist, the other hand clinging onto the duvet for dear life. Your head nodding, turning to the side and lulling back all at once, too far gone to comprehend your actions. You feel his fingers hitting and curling upwards one last time sending you spiralling, your legs clench around his waist, walls contracting around his fingers as he continues to pump you through your orgasm, "Ross, need you" you moan out, tugging on his arm until he was close enough to crash his lips back to yours, the connection feeling warm and passionate, he withdraws his fingers from you lifting them between the pair of you, licking one finger himself, slipping the other past your lips, allowing you so suck the juices off from the digit, moaning as your tongue swirls around, keeping heavy eye contact as you suck his digit clean, he pulls his finger from your lips, hand moving around the back of your neck, attaching his lips to yours again.

"Do you wanna carry on?" Ross mumbles against your lips, feeling himself painfully hard in his trousers, "God please don't stop" clutching his shoulders you sit up, flipping the two of you so you were straddling his lap. You wanted to burn this sight into your brain for the rest of your life. His hair messy and falling out of his bun, shirt undone, dick hard in his trousers pressing against you. He raised an arm to lay under his head as he watches you with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. You fingers trace over the top of his trousers, stopping at the button, looking up at him through your lashes to ask permission, his head nods slowly, enjoying the sight of you taking control, knowing fully well he could take it back any moment. You popped the button undone and slid the zipper down, pulling them down slightly, along with his boxers to reveal himself to you. Your mouth watering at the sight of his cock leaking with precum and throbbing in your hand.

You pumped him a few times, listening as his breath goes rigid when you raise yourself upwards, sinking down onto him in one swift motion. His eyes rolling back, large hands making their home on your hips, digging into the skin as you start to bounce up and down on his shaft. He loves every little moan and gasp that leaves your mouth as you fuck you self on him, hands firmly placed on his stomach to balance yourself. “You feel so good Ross” you gasp arching your back, hair cascading down, becoming sticky with sweat. Ross thrusts up inside you, encouraging you to set a faster pace, “come on baby, you can do better than that, I wanna feel you cum for me again, be a good girl” the words are lost to your deaf ears, only caring about the groan that leaves his lips when you fuck yourself even harder on him, pulling him up by his shoulders and finally ridding him of his shirt, your fingers claw at his back as he continues to thrust up into you, you circle your hips, feeling your clit rub against his pubic bone, you continue the action feeling your walls clench and the knot tighten in the pit of your stomach. Ross’s hands trace a pattern up your back, one hand clutching your jaw as he pulls you in for a kiss, wet, sloppy and still tasting the remains of your juices on his tongue. You can’t help but to moan his name over and over into his mouth like a mantra. “I can feel you’re close, let go for me” his words are spoken between broken kisses and hushed moans, feeling you clenching around him.

All you can do is nod, forehead leaning against his as he holds your hips down delivering a particularly harsh thrust, he feels the spasm of your walls crashing around him, and your legs shake as what feels like the most earth shattering orgasm hits your system. “Good girl” he whispers, planting a kiss to the side of your head. Suddenly you’re being flipped again, onto your stomach, ass up in the air and Ross is between your legs once more. You’re not sure you’re ready for what’s to come when you feel him slam his length back inside you. Hand making contact with your right cheek as you pull away slightly, unintentionally awakening something in you, at the all but pornographic moan you emit. Your head flicks back to make eye contact with Ross, who was wearing the most sinister smirk you think you may have ever seen. All at once his hips are roughly pounding into your arse as, hands holding them in place while he fucks you roughly and thoroughly. Your top half falls limp feeling exhausted from exerting yourself as you cling onto the quilt, knuckles turning white. The sound in the room was obscene, anyone walking in the hallway would know what was going on, the bed was rocking, slamming into the wall, Ross was grunting and moaning away above you while you gasped and screamed out his praises, you could only pray that the people in the room next to you were out. His dick pounded into the sweet spongy spot inside you repeatedly building that all familiar knot once more, not sure you could handle much more you cry out for him, eyes watering, pressing the tears away into the pillows. “Ross…please..I” your brain can’t comprehend words too fucked out to form any real sentence. “You can take it, be a good girl, one more, then you’re done okay?” His hand sweetly moved some hair out your face to check you’re okay, a sweet juxtaposition to the actions of his hips pounding away at you. He leant forward placing a kiss at the top of your back as he continued to hit away that spot inside you, “well done, good girl” you feel the fire ignite in your belly once, clenching around his dick feeling your juices flowing, you could feel him pulsating inside you knowing what was about to happen, you contact your walls around him once more milking him for everything he had, hearing him moan your name loudly for all to hear, he stilled inside you as he emptied his load before pulling out slowly flopping down next to you on the bed with a humph.

You roll onto your back turning your head to face him, his fingers brush away the hair that had fallen into your face, admiring your beauty once more. You smile at him and lean in to peck his lips, fingers softly running though his beard. “That has to be the best sex I’ve ever had” you sigh and giggle looking away from his eyes at your confession. “Mmm me too, I can die happy now” you laugh as he slings an arm over your stomach pulling you into his side, you look up at his face and can’t contain your smile. He presses a kiss onto your shoulder, and settles back on the bed, expecting you to lean back with him, but you don’t, you sit up, looking around on the floor to reach for your clothes, Ross frowns. “I should probably get going” you turn to Ross once you’ve slipped your dress over your head. He finds his hand reaching out for you “oh okay, um sure…” it was the first time you had seen him at a loss for words, “I’m just gonna use the bathroom” you give him a awkward smile, crossing the room to the bathroom and closing the door, you freshen yourself up and notice your flushed cheeks and messy hair in the mirror, you look well and truly fucked. Well you had been.

You run your fingers through your hair, splashing some cold water on your face before exiting the room, seeing Ross now standing in the middle of the room, his trousers are done back up and he now has on a T-shirt instead of his button down. You walk over to him, unsure of either of your next moves. “You can stay if you’d like, I don’t want you to feel like you have to leave because you don’t” his words trail off, eyes glued to the ground almost as if he was afraid of your answer. “I uh, I’ve never done this before, I assumed you’d want me to leave” you take a step closer to him, head tilting so you can meet his eyes. “No, I want you to stay, if you want to that is, don’t feel like yo-“ you take another step forwards and attach your lips to his once more, feeling him relax under your touch.

That’s how it all started. Ross was in town visiting friends for a few weeks on a break from tour before going back to America. So you two agreed that while he was in town the two of you would meet up and have some casual fun, however what was supposed to be just a fling, or hanging out a couple of times turned into every night huddled up in each others arms after hours of exhausting sex, exploring each others bodies, learning how to make each other feel good, and learning everything about one another. It was like Ross had a fixation with her, the second they were apart, he wanted her close again. They had spent their time doing novice things like visiting garden centres and book stores, hiding from friends when they saw them crossing the street, then giggling like school children if they nearly got caught, but they promised each other just until tour restarts so no one gets hurt.

The day did finally come for Ross to leave and you’d spent the night before in his arms telling him how much you’ll miss him and begging him to promise to stay friends with you, to which he kissed you so hard it knocked the air out your lungs. And you thought in your mind that when he left that would be it, just a bittersweet memory of your time spent with the bass player, but when your phone wouldn’t stop dinging with the back and forth text messages every day you couldn’t help but feel hopeful. He’d been gone a month, the both of you never failing to message everyday and call when you can when Matty noticed something was up. The once sociable Ross kept hiding himself away, quieter than usual, always staring at phone, and when it did finally ring or buzz, he couldn’t help but notice the smile that reached his best friends face, he looked like a Cheshire Cat. But there was one day where Ross just moped around, not saying a word to anyone, barely eating, and he hardly interacted with the crowd when they performed that night. The band were in their dressing room after the show having a drink all chatting and praising each other feeling the after show high, bar one, Ross was skunked in the corner on a sofa staring at his phone, Matty watched as the taller man shook his head and made his way out the room, leaving his phone behind on the sofa. He knew it was wrong but the way he’s been staring at his phone for weeks has given Matty his suspicions, walking across the room sitting where Ross once occupied the seat. Seeing Ross had left his phone unlocked he took a quick glance, instantly tapping on his text messages, seeing the first name that popped up being an unfamiliar name, he clicked on the messages, and clearly he had found the source of Ross’s discontentment that day.

Y/n 🖤 - I hope the tours going well I miss you xx

Ross - it’s going great, would be better if you were here tho, I miss that beautiful face xx

Y/n🖤 - I wish lol xx

Ross - please come, I’ll send you ticket, I really wanna see you babe xx

Y/n 🖤- Ross, you know what we said, besides what would everyone think of you bringing a random girl on tour with you! Xx

Ross - I know we said it was just a fling but I want you, I miss you too much, and the guys would love you, please just think about it? Xxx

- message read

Matty looked at the name and the photo attached in his friends phone, feeling giddy at the thought of his friend having a secret girlfriend, he sneakily puts your number in his phone dropping the phone back to the arm of the sofa before standing to join the other boys.

———

Another week passes and you dodge the topic tour all together when you speak on the phone, at least you try your hardest. It’s another late night for him, early morning for you spending as time talking to each other, wanting to hear each others voices. Ross can’t help but feel how deeply he missed seeing the way your lips would move with each word you would annunciate. He missed watching your smile light up until it reached your eyes and he missed the pretty sounds you made, just for him. He would give anything to have you close again.

“Sorry what did you say, babe?” His voice relaxed finally hearing the soothing tones of your voice in his ears he forgot to listen to what you were saying. “ I said I saw some videos of you the other night, you looked really good, like you’re having fun” he waits a few seconds before replying knowing he’ll get reprimanded for it. “I’d be having a lot more fun, if a certain someone I know would come along” he sighs dramatically, head resting back on his pillow as he daydreams about the girl on the other end of the phone. He just hears you chuckling, picturing you shaking your head, “I have to get ready for work soon” you wished you didn’t. “Don’t go, come back to bed, we’ll cuddle a bit longer” Ross sighs eyes shutting at the thought of you being with him in his bed. “You know, I cuddle your jumper every night, it’s starting to smell like me instead of you though, it’s making me sad” you admit, pouting as if he can see it through the phone. “God I would give anything to touch you right now” you gasp at his words he can hear you biting your lip through the phone and it drives him wild. “Not even like that, I just miss holding you, feeling your skin on mine, I don’t think you realise how much I miss you, I really care about you y/n”

————

After that night Ross finds himself in a bit of a slump, he had tried his best to push his feelings down but the more he did that the more they grew. And even though you were both making the effort, the calls and the messages just weren’t enough. He longed to be near you and didn’t realise that being without you was bringing him down. He was messing up on stage, missing cues and looking miserable and the band noticed, trying to cheer him up onstage to no avail. The person that would cheer him up was thousands of miles away blissfully unaware of the affect she had on him. After 3 consecutive nights of fluffing up on stage Matty confronted the tall bearded man, much to his surprise.

“Hey man, what’s going on?” He decided to keep things simple, afraid he’d aggravate the man. “Nothin, just missing someone I guess” he draws out, taking a sip of his drink, subconsciously tapping his phone while he thinks about you, Matty notices, “anyone in particular?” He pushes, tilting his head to the side hoping his friend would finally open up to him about the mystery girl he has been messaging. “It’s uh…” he sighs shaking his head thinking for a moment “no one, just family, you know how it is” Ross stands from his place on the sofa, clutching his phone in his hand tightly, nodding his head to Matty, before walking off out the room, head in is phone.

You were asleep when your phone began ringing on top your beside table, you groan as it carries on ringing, the caller relentless to speak to you apparently, you click the green button before seeing it was an unknown number calling giving them a very groggy “hello” down the line. “Is this y/n” you hear the other person speak, “yeah, uh who is this? And why are you calling me at 3am?” You question flinching as your phone screen brightens to find out the time. “Oh shit sorry about that, I always forget about time zones, it’s Matty, Ross’s friend, from the band…” it takes your tired brain a second to comprehend what he’s saying before it clicks. “Oh right, hello Matty” he laughs, a bit too loud for your liking, you wince pulling the phone away from your ear. “Uh basically I’m calling because Ross has been super down the last couple of weeks, and really isn’t himself, and I think he really misses you” you almost jump up in your bed, “he’s spoken about me?!” Matty chuckles shaking his head, if she was as mushy about him as his friend was they were a match made in heaven. “Indirectly, he just keeps moping around waiting for his phone to go off all day and if it doesn’t he looks like he could cry…anyway I was wondering if I could sort you out a plane ticket and get you out here to surprise him?” You could feel your heart beating fast in your chest at the thought, and before your brain could say no your mouth was saying “yes!”

Matty had picked you up at the airport telling the guys he had some ‘business to attend to’ then not really caring what that meant to question it. Ross had been messaging all day but had received no response, making him worry. And when he tired to call it went straight to voicemail, had something happened or were you angry with him about something, his head was reeling and he felt like he could pass out. They were performing a few shows at the same venue, opting to stay in a hotel for the week instead of the usual bus, which you had been glad to hear about, not liking your chances with squeezing into a bunk with your giant of a man. Ross was sitting impatiently on his bed in his hotel room staring at his phone, waiting for the read receipts to appear next to his text messages when there’s a knock on his door. He huffs and drops his phone reaching the door in a matter of seconds. Eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when he spots you behind the door. In the flesh. “Hi” he doesn’t respond or acknowledge Matty standing next to you holding your bags, he lurches forwards lifting you into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist, your hands find their way to his hair and beard, combing through the locks, noticing both had gotten a bit longer. “Hi” he finally says, lips pressing to yours with so much passion. His arms around you squeezed you as you kissed making sure you were really there. Matty stood awkwardly before dropping your bag walking down the hallway muttering “so much for thank you Matty” shaking his head laughing. Ross pulls away to laugh resting his head back against the door frame “thanks Matt, appreciate it” he shouts to his friend, who in return waves the pair of you off, entering another room on the floor. Ross sets you back on the ground, hands flying to your face, brushing hairs out the way, and caressing your cheeks. “I’m not even gonna ask why, or how, just gonna thank god because I’ve missed you so much” he kisses you once more and you feel everything he gives you in the kiss, all the hurt he’s been feeling, all the joy he feels now, and you want to feel everything. “Come on Mrs, let me show you how much I lov- miss you” you’re eyes widen, biting your lip as you excitedly follow him into his room.

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tillthelandslide · 2 months

Text

Same For You (14) : Can't Get Enough

Series Masterlist

(13) Take Me Higher

A/n: a huge thank you to my love @achangeofheartx ilysm, thank you for reading this for me, i miss you. Heads up everyone, its a long one and im not entirely sure when the next part will be out so enjoy this for a while hehe. Love you all - Lou

The Uber drops her off at Matty's house 15 minutes later. She had texted him a few times and tried to call him but didn't get a reply. She thinks maybe he's fallen asleep but her worry had truly started to set in so she had to at least try to see if he was okay. It was unlike Matty to leave through a session, sure they were nearly done but he was usually the last to leave and if he did he never left without saying goodbye and a hug or two. She politely knocks on the door twice, waiting for some kind of sound from inside. She can hear a low mumbling sound so she knocks again, hoping he’d be close enough to hear her now. The house falls silent for a few moments before she hears shuffling again. Her hand finds the door and she knocks once more, deciding if he didn't answer this time she'd give in and head home.

She hears someone swear inside and a few moments later someone is fumbling with the door handle. Inch by inch she sees him and her throat dries. Her eyes rake slowly down his form but to him it’s quicker than a blink of an eye, he still notices though, and if he was in his usual ‘Matty state of mind’: the Matty that fancies her like mad and whose heart would pick up with so much as a single look from her; he’d smirk. He stands before her, his hair a mess on top of his head, trousers undone and hardly on, a clear sign he had just put them on. He is shirtless and he looks a mess. But not an 'im sick and you've just woke me up" kind of a look, but a "you've just caught me after I've been fucking" kind of look.

One tell-tell sign is the red lipstick stains covering his neck. She immediately takes a step back, distancing herself from him. Her chest constricts, her throat dries, she swallows but that doesn’t help, she looks him up and down again, attempting to see this from a new angle, one in which doesn’t make her feel this way. She hates this, she hates that she stands there with a mouth opening and shutting like a fish out of water, she hates that it's him standing there, topless and looking like that. More than anything she hates how she finds herself feeling jealous, all whilst she can still feel the ghost of another man’s lips on her skin - on her lips. Her eyes fall to his lips and they move, he speaks. His voice is sudden and it has her stepping back more.

Walls back up but they’re weak but at least they’re there, whether they protect her at all is yet to be seen. She tries to push down the sicky feeling that makes its way into her stomach and the sudden nausea she feels is off putting.

"Y/n…" his voice trails off and he looks like a deer caught in the headlights. She hears a noise coming from further in the house and her eyes flick towards it, hearing a woman speak before she sees her. A high pitch and entirely fake "babe, come back to bed" before she sees a blond girl wearing his shirt and a pair of panties standing at the middle of his stairs. She steps back again, another step back, more distance, it doesn’t stop the pain in her chest and it definitely does not stop her feeling sick.

"Y/n wait!!!" He says, she turns and starts walking down the street. She doesn't look back but he follows. He watches her chest as she walks, rising and falling rapidly, he hates it.

"Wait, I can explain!" Matty shouts, despite jogging alongside her now.

"Matty it's fine you don't have to explain… it's pretty obvious what's going on" she says her voice is slightly snappy and she scolds herself for sounding like that. He stops her with a hand to her shoulder.

"You can't seriously be annoyed?" He asks and she sighs. She closes her eyes for a second or two before they’re opening. Glazed and glistening orbs finding his.

"I'm not annoyed Matty" she doesn’t sound like her and Matty really doesn’t like that. It feels odd, like he’s talking to a version of her that he doesn’t know, it feels formal and way too unfamiliar.

"Tell that to your face" his eyes flick around her features, despising the way his heart picks up as he looks at her.

“Go home Matty, you’ll freeze out here” she says, stepping back again until his hand falls from her shoulder.

“Y/n talk to me please”

"Sorry, George told us you weren't feeling well so I thought I'd come check on you but it's fine… I see you're preoccupied" her eyes flick back down the street to where his door can just about be seen.

"You're so annoyed" he says with a smirk, taking a step back, running a hand through his hair cockily. He can’t deny that he enjoys the fact he’s gotten under her skin and how she's trying to hide it but failing miserably.

"I was worried about you Matty! I thought you were sick! So I come to check on you only to find out you're not sick at all" she laughs "actually you're so ‘unsick’ that you're fucking some girl' she says, she looks away from him but he turns her face back to look at him. She cringes at how jealous she sounds.

"Y/n you were with Ross…." He says and she freezes. Shit… he heard. She's silent.

"You were with Ross… you are with Ross" he raises his hands in the air before they fall to his sides. His chest matches hers now, rising and falling harshly but in tandem with one another.

"Me and Ross… we're not… with each other" Matty rolls his eyes. He takes a step towards her and she takes one back, needing the distance.

"But you want to be and so does he"

"Matty we can't… we work together" she lies again and she hates that she does. She hates that she can't seem to tell him the truth.

"I wish you wouldn't lie to me… and stop! Stop saying that! Just be an adult and admit you want to be with him… it would save a lot of trouble"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asks, raising her voice slightly.

"It means… maybe if you'd grow up a little and admit you like him that it would save us all a lot of time" he says, venom laced in his words. Their age gap was something that both of them agreed was something trivial, a fact that didn't really matter. But now he's bringing it up and using it to spite her. And it's horrible.

"Fuck you Matty' she spits back, turning and walking away from him again. He catches her quickly, pushing against her until her back is against the wall of a building. One hand rests against the brick next to her hand whilst the other anchors her to him with a firm grip on her hip. She’s breathless.

"Tell me you don't want Ross… tell me and I'll go tell that girl to fuck off…" he says, his hand moves to her waist and it feels electric - it feels like fire and ice combined. It burns against her skin and she has to close her eyes to push the feeling away. She can’t keep them closed for too long though, not wanting to miss a single moment.

"Matty…" she opens her eyes, she can feel him against her, really feel him. His chest against hers, soft but toned, so close that she can feel his erratic heartbeat against her chest. She can feel their breath combining, beginning to move in tandem, riding and falling together, against each other.

"I know you feel something here" one gentle hand presses against her chest between them, right over her heart.

"Matty stop" she clamps her eyes shut again, making him disappear. But the feelings she's been trying so hard to push away don't disappear either. And she hates that.

"Say it" he leans in closer, so much closer. She can feel his lips graze hers. She wants to move away from him, but that would make her seem bothered by his movements.

“Tell me you don't want me too” she feels his words against her lips. It's a featherlight touch, a graze, a barely-there connection but she feels it in her soul.

She breathes a heavy breath before her eyes flutter open, they cover his face, landing on his lips and one of her hands comes to rest against his cheek, soothing over the stubble covered skin. He watches as her eyes gloss over slightly, before she's whispering the two words that he has to pretend don't completely derail his world.

"I can't"

“Doesn’t mean you don’t want to” he says, begging her one last time, to change her mind, to tell him what he wants to hear, what he so desperately wants her to say.

“I can't” she repeats.

"Exactly" he pulls away and starts walking back to his house again.

"Matty! Wait" she says, halting him, he turns again. She wants to say that she does want Ross but she wants him too. But she can't.

"Whether you admit it or not.. Ross likes you and you were with him. I heard you… so as long as you keep denying how you feel… I'm going to go back up to my house" he says, pointing behind him "and I'm going to be with someone who can actually admit they want me" he walks two steps before he turns again.

"And preferably someone who doesn't also like my best friend" he leaves her standing there breathless and speechless.

She walks home in an attempt to clear her head, but Matty's words keep ringing around her mind. It makes her heartbeat quicken and she finds herself walking twice as quickly.

She showers - a long, hot shower and another attempt to rid the thoughts from her mind. It fails. She tries to sleep but she can't. She tosses and turns, getting more tired by the minute but still failing to sleep. She hates that he was right. She hates that once again he saw straight through her. She hates herself even more for the whole ordeal… for falling for someone so quickly and even more so for the feelings she bore towards Matty.

She almost wishes she never met them, it would make things easier, she wouldn't have come in and fucked up both their lives.

But selfishly (or not so, knowing they'd feel the same) she knows this, complicated and kind of fucked up situation is a thousand times better than not having them in her life.

She hates that she can’t stop thinking about his words, about that girl standing at the top of his stairs. She was nothing like that girl… is that why he picked her? To distract himself with something different, someone different. Someone who wasn't her. She feels her eyes flutter and she thinks she might, finally, fall asleep. But then her phone is blaring on her nightstand and she reaches far too quickly to retrieve it.

“Hi” she says sadly, knowing who was calling.

“Hi…” he says, his voice is quiet and unsure.

“I was trying to sleep… trying so goddamn hard to not call you… but I made a promise” he explains and she sighs.

“Maybe you should've broken it” her voice sounds bitter and she hates it. She hates that she's mad at him, because she doesn't really have the right. She brought this all in herself.

“Y/n/n…” his voice trails off, she hears the flick of his lighter and the soft exhale. She imagines the smoke piling out between his lips and once again she has to close her eyes to get the image out of her mind.

She feels her breath quicken, her eyes water and her lip shakes.

“Matty” his name slips out, the word wavering. He immediately knows she's crying and his heart twists in chest, as if someone's thrust a hand through the skin, grabbed hold and squeezed with all their strength.

“Do you not understand how hard this is for me?” She asks, each word is so quiet he nearly misses them.

Matty doesn't reply for a few moments, listening to the way she was breathing on the other side of the line. Bated and harsh, occasionally she'd inhale and it would be shaky. He made her cry. He swore he wouldn't do that again.

“It's hard for me too y/n/n…” she nods although she knows he can't see her.

“Do you wish you never met me? It would be easier that way”

“No y/n. No. Never” he says.

“Why do you not hate me Matty?” her voice shakes and he hears the sob that tears through her at the end of her words.

“I could never hate you”

“But why? I deserve it…” she wants to continue, to say, "I'm stringing you along, I'm falling for your best friend faster than I should be, I'm allowing myself to be with him but denying you and you should hate me for it” But she doesn't say that.

“No matter what you did… no matter what you will do… I don't think I could ever hate you”

“I don't think that's how it should be Matty” she rolls onto her back, looking up at the pictures hanging across her room. She both loves and hates how many there are of both men now. They’re there, always there, demanding that her heart belongs to them and she doesn’t have the power to say no, to either of them and that’s the problem.

“Who says?” She shrugs. They're silent for a second before she lets her intrusive side ask the question that's been on her lips from the moment he called.

“How was she?” He chuckles and it makes her smile. Why was she smiling?

“She wasn't you”

The date is perfect, exactly like a dream, every detail is etched in her brain and she's sure it will stay there forever, marked as the best date she had ever been on.

He arrived with a huge bouquet of lilies and tulips, so big that she couldn't see his face when she opened the door. He lowered them slowly, making her giggle and reach for his collar, tugging him inside her flat. She felt freer this morning, hellbent on just focusing on the man in front of her. The man who, with one more tug from her, is lowering the flowers to the little table she has by the door and taking her waist into his large hands.

He lowers his mouth to hers gently, they both sigh in tandem. Bliss. This was bliss.

“I missed you” he murmurs against her mouth. She doesn't say it's been less than a day, she doesn't say that despite barely having a minute to think about anything but Matty and his words, and the phone call, she missed him too. She didn't even have to think about Ross to miss him, she didn't have to think at all. Her body and the way it longed for his touch, longed to see those dimples appear at his cheeks and the way his eyes glistened as he looked down at her. Her body and her mind missed him without even having to try.

“I missed you too” she says, slowly pulling away, she reaches for the flowers behind him, smiling widely down at them.

“Thank you, they're beautiful”

“Just like you” his words make her giggle and blush.

“Let me go put these in some water and then we can go” he nods, and follows her into her kitchen. She retrieves a vase from one of her cupboards, filling it with tap water before unwrapping the flowers and putting them in.

She turns to him and smiles, watching the way his fingers traced over a new photo attached to her fridge - One she took of Ross and June at the studio. His smile is so big and it makes her heart swell every time she looks at it, only worsened by the way her nephew is looking up at the bassist.

“What’s the plan Macdonald”? She asks, loving the way he blushes slightly and the way he smirks down at her and especially the way he nibbles his bottom lip slightly.

“Well…” he says, turning to her and opening his arms, she steps into them freely, loving the way his large arms wrapped around her frame. She instantly felt safe. She felt at home.

“There's this record shop I wanted to show you” she smiles and nods excitedly “and then I booked a table at this restaurant” he says and her eyebrows raise.

“Aren't I a bit underdressed for that?” She asks, eyes flicking down to her clothes.

“Love you could turn up in a bin bag and still look better than everyone in there” it makes her giggle again which makes him smile widely, pecking her lips briefly.

“Besides…” his hand that's around her waist slips slightly, resting against her hip and squeezing.

“You could be…” his hand slips further, rounding the side of her hip, taking a handful of her arse and squeezing until she's gasping.

“More, underdressed” his words make her cheeks coat a deep red but she doesn't hide from him. Darker eyes boring into hers as he smirks an evil smirk.

“I like these jeans” he says, squeezing her arse again. She wore them on purpose, loving the way they accentuated her bottom. She was glad he liked them too.

“You're going to make it really difficult to leave this house, you know that?” She asks, her hands drifting up to his jumper cladded chest, eyes wandering south from his eyes until they land on his lips.

He leans forward until his lips are barely touching hers as he mumbles a “mhmm”. He's tortuously slow as he presses his lips to hers. Giving her a firm kiss, his tongue only slightly peaking out, grazing her lip before he's suddenly pulling back.

“We should go” he delivers a quick smack to her bum which makes her gasp and then he's gone. Walking to the door and turning to her at the last moment, smirking at her playfully.

“You're mean Macdonald”

“Now you know how I've felt every single day since meeting you”

They walk hand in hand as they walk the streets, searching for the store Ross mentioned. They talk and laugh as they walk and sometimes Ross can't resist the urge to pull her close with an arm around her shoulders and press a kiss to the side of her head, even leaning down and capturing her lips with his occasionally.

They eventually stumble into the record store, Ross shushing Y/n with his lips as she giggles at something he says. It's quaint and quiet, an oldish man rounding the corner with a huge smile on his face when he sees them.

“Ross” the man says, making the bassist step forward to greet the man with his hand still on her waist. Ross extends his hand and they shake hands before the man's eyes are on her.

“You must be Y/n” he says and she smiles and nods.

“I am” she says, looking up at Ross who smiles at her before looking at the man again.

“Ross here talks a lot about you” he says before he slips round the back of the counter. He disappears for a moment.

“Is that so?” she asks the bassist who smirks down at her, rolling his eyes and pinching her hip lightly making her yelp.

“Don’t get cocky” he warns and she almost has to stop herself from falling to her knees.

The man appears again with several records in his hands all of which she recognises immediately. She slips from Ross’ grasp and meets the man at the counter as he places the records in front of her.

“Now these are really special and not for sale unfortunately but Ross here told me you were a big fan so I pulled them out especially for you” he says making her smile. Her eyes flick back to Ross who is already watching her intently, watching the way her face lights up. She turns away from him but her hand reaches out behind her - reaching for him. He comes to stand next to her, his right arm resting around her waist, holding her hip against him.

The man shows her his Fleetwood Mac collection, many of them limited edition vinyl's and even a few test pressings. She's overwhelmed with gratitude, not just for the records, but for the effort Ross put into making this day so special for her. As they browse through the collection, his fingers gently trace patterns on her hip, and she can't help but steal glances at him, realising how lucky she is to have him by her side.

They finish exploring the record store, revelling in their shared joy of music, they leave hand in hand, her bag a few records heavier, their laughter echoing through the quiet streets and Ross can’t help but want to hear nothing but the beautiful symphony he draws from her, forever more. The sun is beginning to set, casting a warm glow of orange and pink over the city. As they approach the restaurant y/n looks up at Ross excitedly. Inside Ross takes over her coat, his fingers grazing her bare shoulders, setting her skin ablaze.

“Trying to undress me already, Macdonald?” she asks, her voice low, purposefully trying to get him hot under the collar. He coughs lightly, pushing away the lump in his throat and the way his stomach flips. He hands his coats to a waiter who instantly recognises him, leading them to a secluded corner table with flickering candles.

“Do you know everyone?” she asks as he holds out the chair for her, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek as he tucks her in.

“I’ve got my links” he says into her ear, making her giggle. She takes in the bouquet of pink roses at the centre of the table, the scent of the flowers mingling with the cuisine, creating an intoxicating atmosphere, although they both knew even without them it would be intoxicating. The low thrum of conversation and gentle melodies from the live pianist create a tender atmosphere.

They each pursue the menu, Ross suggesting they share a variety of dishes, talking with the waiter and taking suggestions for the best dishes. She watches as he interacts with the man, confident and sure. She looks at him with her chin placed in the palm of her hand, eyes flicking around all of his features, practically drinking him in. They begin to share stories about their childhood and their love for music and their friends and everything they can think of, wanting to know every single detail about each other.

The waiter arrives with a bottle of red wine and they clink their glasses together, Ross watching intently as she brings the glass to her lips, obsessed with the way her lipstick leaves a mark on the rim. They savour their meal in contented silence but Ross can't help but gaze at Y/n, truly captivated by her beauty. Between bites, their fingers brush against each other, sparks striking and electricity flowing freely between them. Each graze feels charged with so much more, with longing and desire and love : a magnetic pull which makes it impossible to break away from each other.

The soft glow of candlelight accentuates Ross’ soft browns and she feels the way he gazes at her, in every part of her body, feeling like she’s the only person in the room, the only person on earth.

The night deepens, the sky outside turning dark and stars beginning to show - a rare feat for London. They share a dessert, the sweetness coating their tongues. Ross leans in, his lips grazing her ear as he whispers words that make her heart (and core) flutter.

“Nothing is as sweet as you love” his words are laced with lust and desire, a deep crimson coating her cheeks as she smirks. She brings her spoon up to his mouth, coating his lips with chocolate, closing her mouth around his before he can lick it off.

Everything fades into the background when his tongue grazes hers, they become engrossed in each other, no one and nothing else mattered in that moment. He begins to pull away but her finger hooks underneath his chain, halting his movements as she places one more firm kiss to his lips.

They pull back, Y/n giddily smiling at him, he can't help but tuck his hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone to capture a snap of her. She plucks a rose from the vase in the centre of the table, carefully threading in-between her teeth, smiling. It makes Ross swoon, his stomach dipping and then soaring, she looked completely ethereal. He gently pulls the rose from her teeth, smearing his lips against hers with a hand cradling her jaw, controlling their movements until she's sighing blissfully into his mouth again.

As they leave the restaurant, the night sky twinkles, mimicking the sparkle in their eyes. Ross pulls her close, wrapping her up in his warmth and they stroll through the streets. They make their way back to her apartment, the bassist halting at her bottom step, making her turn to face him with a frown.

“I’m not going to come up tonight love” he says, making her frown deeper, her hands finding the lapels of his jacket, smoothing over the fabric of his chest.

“Okay…” she says, doubt setting in her mind, did he not want her? He silences the doubt in her mind with his next words.

“Trust me I want to…” his hand finds her waist, tugging her until she’s in his arms, lips finding hers in a passionate kiss, his tongue moving against hers and she loves the way he kisses now, sure and determined, moving against hers the way he’s worked out she likes. The way that has her breath accelerating and her hands gripping him tightly.

“You’re making it hard for me” she says against his lips. She smiles when he groans, throwing his head back, forcing their lips apart.

“I want do this properly, take you on another date, be a gentleman” he says, squeezing her waist as he groans again, eyes falling to her lips that are just too tempting “but you make it so hard” his lips are on hers again, hands practically clamping around her waist, lifting her up the steps until he’s pressing her against the door.

“Impressive” she chuckles against his lips, hands threading through his hair. He indulges the both of them for a few minutes before he’s pulling away again, placing his head against her chest as he breathes in and out heavily.

“Okay you should go before I beg you to stay” she says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He pulls back to look at her, his right hand resting against her cheek, swiping across the soft flesh gently.

“Now that’s something I’m willing to wait for” there’s a softness to his words, it makes her smile and lean forward for one more, gentle kiss. It’s a brief one, a thank you for a perfect date, a thank you for being so amazing.

“Today was perfect Ross, truly” she says, playing with the chain resting around his neck.

“Good enough to warrant another date?” he asks and she nods as she smiles.

“Definitely”.

He pulls her into a brief hug before he’s pulling away to walk down the steps. She hates the way she instantly feels his absence. He tries so hard not to glance back and he immediately regrets it when he does.

She watches as his eyes darken, the way his eyes fall back to her lips. She doesn’t realise she does it, but when her teeth close around her bottom lip he’s there again, he lunges up the step and he’s pressing his lips back to hers, hands greedily grabbing her waist.

She leans into him, sighing into his mouth as he greedily takes what he wants from her. He pulls away but instantly finds the skin at her neck, tongue gliding across the flesh, teeth biting and grazing and god does it feel good. His lips graze her ear and his movements stop.

“You are the subject of all my deepest desires. I want you, your mind, your soul and body so badly Y/n” his words are hushed and she can’t quite believe they’re coming from him. It was too surreal. She can feel her heartbeat grow erratic just like her breath.

“I’d take you up to that room of yours and make you forget every other man you’ve ever been with… every man you’ve ever wanted… I’d put them to shame I swear Y/n'' she's speechless, back arching into him as pleasure courses through her body. He’s not even doing anything now but his words have her flying. She knows they’re true, if the time he was buried in between her thighs was any indication, he’d be everything.

“I’d make you scream my name so loud until it's the only word you can comprehend” his lips graze her neck again, moving round until they’re back against her lips.

“Ross” she sighs, he pauses his attack against her lips, tongue grazing her lips one last time before he pulls away fully. His hands let go of her waist, grip loosening until they fully disappear.

“I’m not going to do anything to you until I’ve spoken to Matty” the mention of the other man has her mouth flying open, even more speechless before.

He gently closes her mouth with two fingers and he places one more peck to her mouth.

“I want this Y/n, believe me I want this, don’t think I don’t, I know what you’re like, you get in that pretty head of yours and I can’t have you thinking i don't want you in every way possible okay?” he asks and she nods slowly.

“You’re everything I have ever wanted and more” he says smiling down at her, hands smoothing out her hair softly “but I can’t do anything until I speak to Matty, I’ll never forgive myself” it's the first time he’s spoken about Matty as if he wanted her. Of course he did, but Ross usually tiptoed around the subject of his best friend.

“I’m going to go now okay? Don’t get into that pretty head of yours okay?” she doesn't speak but nods, leaning up to kiss him once more before he leaves. She opens her door silently, her back finding the other side before she slides down the wood.

“Jesus christ” she says, running a hand through her hair. That was so hot she couldn't help but think. But also what the fuck? She asks herself.

She draws out her phone from her jacket, opening Matty’s number and typing out a message.

“Fuck you” she types. She can't help but think if Matty wasn’t an issue, she would’ve had Ross in the way she wanted. She quickly deletes the message. Pulling up Ross’ contact instead.

“Thank you for today, it was perfect. Perfect”

The bar is empty, the lights that are usually low are bright and her eyes flick around the room as they practise, noticing things she usually wouldn’t have. The space looks huge without all the people, the stools resting upside down against the tables, the absence of glasses, the smell of smoke and the noise of the people makes it calm. The bar manager was kind enough to let them use the space for free, they usually would’ve met at the studio but Jamie wanted to see them in a live setting (that and she was trying to ignore a certain lead singer).

Jamie is set at the back of the bar, glasses perched at the bridge of his nose as he drinks a dark liquid - likely whisky. He sits with papers covering the table and his phone is flat against the wood, he occasionally picks it up to answer an email or text but his focus is usually on them.

They’ve practised a few songs now and he smiles and nods at her before requesting another one. He had given them free reign of choosing their setlist, the show they had planned an important one. He only makes a few suggestions here and there, mostly here to hear their full repertoire.

“Hey Jamie” she says, she watches as his eyes flick up to her and the way he smiles as he nods. Lots of people didn’t like Jamie, she knew this from being in the fandom for years. But she didn’t receive that side of him, he was always kind to her and treated her with respect - valuing her opinion above all else.

“Can we try something new?” she asks, and he nods again.

“Of course… original or cover?” he asks, his pen resting against his lips.

“Cover” she asks, wondering if that would be a problem, she knew he eventually wanted them to just do originals but for now she thinks he might be fine with it.

“Okay… go for it” he says. Her eyes flick around to the band and they all nod.

They begin playing a familiar tune and it's not long before her voice rings out across the room. He hears the door open slightly and his eyes flick to the noise.

The rain is pouring down outside, hitting the pavement harshly. Matty stands there, wet curls clinging to his forehead and small droplets fall, landing on his cheek and slowly trailing down his face. He looks out at the stage, watching as her eyes flutter shut the minute she begins to sing.

He feels his heart tighten in his chest. He feels a pit at his stomach, recognising the song and wondering who she was singing it for.

“If you, if you could return, Don't let it burn, Don't let it fade, I'm sure I'm not being rude, But it's just your attitude, It's tearing me apart, It's ruining every day” she sings. Jamie beckons him over with a finger to his lips, not wanting to disturb her or the band.

She sounded beautiful, she always did. Jamie was impressed again, wondering if there would ever be a time where he wasn’t. Matty feels his breath getting rapid, she sung this song with such pain, it was hauntingly beautiful. But where was it coming from? Who was it about?

“I swore, I swore I would be true, And honey so did you, So why were you holding her hand?, Is that the way we stand?, Were you lying all the time?, Was it just a game to you?” her eyes open and find him and he half expects her to stop singing and storm off the stage, he expects her to look anywhere but at him. And he hates that she doesn’t.

They hadn’t spoke since he called her that night, but he knew, he knew looking at her now, those eyes that he could stare into for eternity, the way they bore into his soul, they way they look broken but hopeful… he knows he needs her and he knows she needs him just as much.

“But I'm in so deep, You know I'm such a fool for you, You got me wrapped around your finger, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?” her voice is beautiful, she’s beautiful. Her eyes soften looking at him and he sees the twitch of her lips, she almost smiles, almost.

Matty can't do this, he can't sit here and pretend anymore. But he can't move now, entranced, enthralled, captivated. Always captivated by her.

“Oh, I thought the world of you, I thought nothing could go wrong, But I was wrong, I was wrong, If you, if you could get by, Trying not to lie, Things wouldn't be so confused, And I wouldn't feel so used, But you always really knew I just want to be with you” her eyes flutter shut again. Who was she thinking of? Was it him? Was it Ross?

“And I'm in so deep, You know I'm such a fool for you, You got me wrapped around your finger, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?” she sings the words again. She pictures him in her mind, she feels horrible, convinced she’s the worst person to ever walk this earth.

The date with Ross was perfect and she knew… she knew she was falling for him, hard and fast the exact way she was terrified off. But he made it so easy. So why was she having these feelings towards his best friend? Why did she want them both so much? And why was she so terrified of losing both of them?

The singer. Why did she know that if she opened her eyes again, he’d be there, so close to slipping from her life?

“And I'm in so deep, You know I'm such a fool for you, You got me wrapped around your finger, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?” her eyes open again and find his own immediately.

She looks across his features and she knows. He’s here, but he won't be for long. She knows the furrow of his eyebrows, she knows the lines in between his brows, she knows the way his lip quivers slightly… he couldn't do this anymore. She was losing him.

“You know I'm such a fool for you, You got me wrapped around your finger, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?”

He watches as the tear falls down her cheek, she quickly wipes it before her fingers are back at her guitar, finishing the song.

He stands abruptly, walking out the venue. The rain soaks him but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care about anything but her. It's not long before she’s standing with him, drenched, tears falling just as quickly as the rain. He’s facing away from her when she finds him but he quickly turns to face her when he hears his name.

He steps towards her quickly and she throws her arms over his shoulders as his wrap around her waist pulls her towards him.

“I'm sorry” he murmurs against the top of her head. He shakes as he speaks and she wonders if he’s crying. She knows what his words mean. They mean, I'm sorry I'm leaving, they mean I'm sorry you’ve broken me, they’re sorry I love you, they’re sorry you love him more.

She shakes her head against his chest, placing her head there, silently saying “no, don’t leave, don’t give in”. Neither of them speak. The silence is suddenly broken but she doesn't like it when the words that break it are his.

"You said we couldn't because we're working together... You said it wasn't because of Ross, but then I heard you and-" he lets go of her, stepping back and turning around briefly. His hand covers his face, and he sighs heavily against his hand before he’s facing her again. She sees the heartbreak and it hurts her more than anything else ever had. His eyes are red and she sees tears she wishes she never would see.

"Matty I'm so-"

"Don't say you're sorry" he interrupts her and her tears fall faster.

"I thought you'd never lie to me" his words are sad.

"I didn't mean to Matty... I swear... I wanted to tell you…. But" he stops her again, a sharp turn towards her, she takes one look at the angry look on his face and her voice fails her.

"But you what? What's the poor excuse you're going to come up with!" He's shouting now.

"I didn't want to hurt you Matty!" She shouts back, not because she wanted to but because she was afraid he wouldn't listen if she didn't.

"Don't do that! Don't pity me..." Neither of them say it. Neither of them mention that the fact she didn't tell him about Ross was because it was obvious he liked her too.

"You knew I liked you... You knew it.. and you still got with my best mate" it's the first time he's admitting it out loud, and it shakes her to the core.

"Matty please... As soon as I had the slight inclination that you liked me, I tried to put an end to it .. I really did. But Ross..." Her tears fall faster now and she tries to grip onto him, to pull him so he's looking at her, listening to her.

"Ross what? Ross made you?"

"No... I really like him, Matty... I tried to stop it I did but I-"

"you just couldn't" he's facing her now, grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer to him. It's a weird move but she allows him. His fingertips graze her cheek, catching the tears.

"And here I was thinking... Hoping... That you'd like me just a little bit... That you'd choose me over him... But who am I? Who am I compared to Ross? He's my best friend... He deserves you" his words are sad and she frowns up at him, shaking her head.

"Don't say that... You're everything Matty" she truly believes it's why the situation has been so god damn difficult for her.

"Don't say that just to be nice to me..."

"I'm not Matty... You have to know, this hasn't been easy for me. In fact it's been really fucking difficult" she chuckles at herself before her hand clasps his face gently.

"How?" He can't see how it would've been difficult for her.

"Because... I like you too" the confession knocks the breath from him, and her too. It was the first time she had admitted it out loud.

"But you like him more right?" She shakes her head.

"It's not like that...It's- it's both. You're both so different..." She tries her best to explain. She doesn't mention that Ross was real, whilst Matty represented a fantasy, someone who reflected parts of her soul. Whilst Ross was her soul. Ross had her heart, she knew that, and secretly so did he.

“Ross told me you went on a date…” he doesn’t look into her eyes and she doesn’t look into his actively avoiding each other, not wanting to see her reaction, hoping she’d speak and hide her true emotions. His thumb runs along the side of her face, hooking under her chin and raising it until she’s looking into his eyes. She nods.

“How was it?” he asks, eyes silently begging her not to lie. She breathes deeply, she wouldn’t lie, not this time, she couldn’t.

“It was almost perfect” the ‘almost’ accidentally slips and she’s quick to squeeze her eyes shut, wanting to avoid the question she knew he’d ask now.

“Almost?” he says. She nods but doesn’t open her eyes.

“Open your eyes Y/n” he pleads, “please” he knew she wouldn’t tell him what the singular word meant, but they both knew, one look into his eyes and he’d be able to read her like a book. She opens them slowly, finding his glistening brown orbs.

They tell him everything he needs to know. Her eyes don’t hide the secret like she’s trying to. His mind flicks back to the conversation with Ross, he knew what Ross said, that he wouldn’t do anything without Matty’s permission, that he didn’t want to hurt his best friend but that he wanted her more than anything in the world: he wanted her soul and her body and wanted her to be his. Matty didn’t quite believe him when he said it, wondering how well his friend actually managed to resist her. But looking into her eyes now, he knows it's true.

And what hurts more than anything, what completely destroys him, is the fact he can tell she wants Ross just as badly.

"I can't do this," he steps away from her.

"Matty please..."

"no I can't do this y/n... I can't watch you fall in love with my best friend... Who I know is falling just as hard... And he deserves you he truly does... But I can't do that, it will break me"

"Matty please" she begs "I can't lose you..."

"It's not enough... I can't do this" he gestures between them "I just can't, it's too hard"

Right then and there, looking into his sad eyes which are coated with tears, she knows, if she didn't do something, she'd lose him.

"Matty" her voice is the clearest it's been all night and it makes him turn to her again. "I want you to kiss me" she says and his mouth falls open, despite what his brain tells him, that he can't, that it was obvious she was Ross', he steps towards her.

"we can't..." His hand holds her waist as hers fall to his shoulders.

"Please Matty... Kiss me" his eyes search hers, seeing no lie or uncertainty. She wanted this, and so did he. So he slowly lowers his mouth to hers, the initial graze sets her soul ablaze. This one graze redefined everything she ever thought. It was fireworks. It touched part of her soul which she thought was dead. But only part.

It didn't light up all of her, it didn't completely overwhelm her, they didn't merge into one being as they kissed. It was beautiful and loving and it was spectacular... But it wasn't Ross. It could never be Ross. Matty felt it too. He pulls away with a silent sob.

"You're never going to love me like you love him" he murmurs into her mouth. Her tears fall again, sad ones, ones in which tell her and him that he's right.

"I want to .. I can't lose you Matty"

"you won't, losing you would destroy me completely" he presses their lips together again. They move against each other but not easily, it’s the hardest kiss either of them have shared with anyone. Even now, it's full of we-can't, it’s full of we-shouldn’t, it's full of hurt and heartbreak. Her hands grasp his shirt harshly, not wanting him to leave just yet. They needed this, if not only for a moment.

“Matty” she sighs against his mouth. His tongue peaks through his lips and through hers, finding hers and intertwining. He feels a wet tear fall to his cheek but it's not his and he pulls back.

"I'm truly a shitty friend" he thinks. He didn't deserve her and he most certainly didn't deserve a friend like Ross.

Fuck... Ross they both think they had well truly messed this whole thing up. She pulls away, gasping as the realisation settles in.

"I just kissed Ross' best friend .... Twice" she’s gone before he can stop her. She runs faster than her feet allow, but she still runs.

"Shit. shit!" He shouts.

She doesn’t know where she’s running. But she runs and she doesn’t stop.

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @promocodesorry75 @eaglestar31 @thefrontofmymind @fallingforel @partoftheairforce @procrastinatinglikeapro @poisonmedaddy13 @xthe1975 @all-things-fic @jstbeeingme @rossgirly @juliardk @you-muppet @moodyyyychickx @k4tie75 @insidemymind19 @zzzhealy @maybeiwouldlikeyou @at-her-very-foreign @not-alien-girl-v @sinarainbows @friedlandblog @momentum2023 @youlooklikeshitandyousmellabit @inhalerbea @sugerkane1001 (add yourself using the link in my bio 😊, those with a line through are the ones i couldn’t tag)

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64yrsold · 9 months

Text

play with me (pt. 2) ross macdonald x reader

-> part 1 cw: 18+, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex

He kissed me, all familiar and equal, his lips falling between mine perfectly. He held my hips, gentle as he could, anchoring himself to me.

“Come on,” I murmured, lips still pressed to his. He took a breath of me, hands finding the small of my back. He pulled me closer. “Baby.”

He laughed. He laid wet kisses down my jaw, finding my neck like an arrow finding its target. He sucked down my pulse, biting at my skin and drawing pretty mewls from my mouth.

“Hurry up,” I whimpered, wrapping my legs around his waist. I knew he would be hard for me, aching for me, dreaming of stripping me down on the counter and fucking me legless.

“You’re tipsy,” he groaned, squeezing my outer thigh. His hands gripped me, cupped me like water. They kneaded and worked, remembering and memorizing.

“So are you,” I grasped for his hair, untying it quickly. It felt like a reflex. I slipped his hair tie onto my wrist.

“You’re impatient when you’re tipsy,” he tugged me closer, letting me feel his length between my thighs. I wanted to laugh or hiss, but kissed his neck instead.

“You like that.”

He huffed, upset that I was right, and slipped the strap of my dress off my shoulder.

“Why aren’t you wearing a bra?” He frowned, nipping at my collarbone.

I giggled, “Why are you pretending to only notice now?”

“Fuck you,” he laughed in my ear, twisting my hair in his fist. I looked at him, lips plush and red, eyes glassy and dark. I thought I saw infatuation, deep behind his eyes, but it could have been lust.

“I like the way you stare,” I answered, and he bit back a smile. I brushed the other strap off my shoulder, letting him watch as my dress fell to my waist. He breathed in through his nose, eyes dragging over me.

He pulled a hand down my neck, palm dragging against my skin. He reached down to my heart, spreading his hand flat against my chest. I breathed into his hand like that, stuttering moans against his lips. I liked the magnetic space between our lips, fizzling between us like static as our lips threatened to brush into each other. I arched my back, my palms pressed to the bar to support me. His eyes were downcast, locked on my shaking chest.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” he murmured, his hand falling between my breasts. He followed my sternum, up and down.

“Just tonight,” I suggested, shrugging. I rolled my head to the side, and watched him bite his lip, his eyes focused on the tendons flexing in my neck.

He grunted, bringing his lips to the space between my collarbones, “You always say that.”

“Do you want,” I rested my chin on the top of his head, “you want me to beg?”

I put a hand on his shoulder to feel him sigh. He kissed down my chest, his tongue wetting my skin. I shivered when his hand cupped my breast, his thumb circling my nipple.

“Well?” I asked, my thighs tightening around his waist as his tongue licked up my breast. He kissed the underside, sucking and bruising the skin. His cock twitched against my core.

“Beg if you want,” he groaned, and reached up my dress, fingers curling around the lace at my hips. “You’ll get me either way.”

“That’s a good man,” I grinned, and he narrowed his eyes, tongue still teasing my nipple.

“Fuck off with that,” he muttered, and pulled down my underwear, balling it in his fist.

“Good boy?” I tried, rolling my eyes as I caught him stuffing the pretty black lace into his back pocket.

“No,” he scrunched his nose, sighing when I turned my head away from his kiss.

“Pretty boy? Handsome?” I giggled, twisting my hands into his hair. “Daddy?”

That did it.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, licking his lips to hide his smirk. He grabbed me by the waist roughly, pressing my wet cunt against the front of his jeans.

“Ross?” I smiled, sheepish. My face flushed, “My Ross?”

His lips parted, and he dragged his hands up my thighs, my dress gathered at my waist uselessly.

“That’s better,” he nodded, eliciting a gasp when his middle finger swiped at the mess between my thighs. I groaned, a throaty, needy beg. His finger toyed with the slick of me, aimless and bored. I held his wrist, hoping to pull him into me, but he was immovable. He held my gaze, finger circling the cusp of my entrance.

“Please,” I breathed, high and pretty. “Ross.”

He kissed me, and pushed a finger into me. I whimpered, the vodka making me forget how to keep quiet. He didn’t seem to mind, adding his ring finger to placate me. He knew I’d be begging for his cock next, and brushed my clit with his thumb to keep my head spinning. I should have been embarrassed, the way I arched my chest into his, how I clawed his button-down open, how I cried and swore at only his fingers. But he only encouraged me, rewarding me with a faster pace.

“I want you,” I moaned, unbuttoning his jeans. He pressed his tongue to mine, muttering something about patience into my mouth. I ignored him, clenching around his fingers as I palmed his cock.

“Come first,” he said, and pulled his fingers from me counterintuitively. “Then you can have me. You’d like that?”

I nodded, trying to kiss him, but his hand pressed into my chest. He laid me down on the bar, grabbing my already-trembling thighs. I whined as he draped my legs over his shoulders, kissing the inside of my thigh roughly. My face twisted at the scratch from his beard, but I was quickly soothed by the softness of his tongue trailing up my thigh.

“Ross,” I managed, crying out as he flattened his tongue against my clit. His hands dug into my legs, holding me in place as I tried to squirm into him. He was still, just holding his tongue against me. I dropped my head against the bar, knowing he wanted me to relax. I took in a deep breath, pleasure burning dull and hot down my veins.

“I didn’t even have to ask,” he spoke, lips brushing my clit. I jolted each time his voice vibrated into me, and he laughed. “My good girl.” He was teasing, but his words still made me flutter.

I curled my hands into fists, and let out a string of expletives as his tongue licked up my center. He found his way back to my clit, circling and sucking. He moaned into me, making my cunt throb. My head rolled, my hands tugged at his hair, I spat and whined and cursed. I was there, I was throbbing for him, I was shattering and scattering to pieces.

He dipped his fingers into me again, fucking a delicious rhythm into me. I tightened and relaxed, I was breathing so heavy I felt dizzy.

He was fucking relentless, giving me everything I had wanted in quick succession. I saw blue and red, crowding the edges of my vision as he dragged me over the edge.

“Almost there, aren’t you?” He squeezed my thigh. “Let me have it, darling.”

He kissed my clit, sucking it between his teeth. It was a twisting sort of pleasure, making my vision blur and my heart stutter. Then he lapped at me prettily, making up for the pain tenfold. I was gasping, praising him, begging him to slow down, chanting for him; I’m there, I’m there.

I came with a final flick of his tongue, crying out and pulling his hair. He hummed, buzzing up my thighs, curling his fingers inside of me. I cracked under him, weightless and gone. I was nothing in front of him, unmoving as he drew his fingers from me.

“All talk, you are,” he pulled me to sit up. I lay weakly against his chest. “Come on, I’ll take you to bed.”

I shook my head, “I can do it.”

“Sure you can,” he huffed, and picked me up off the counter. My feet hit the ground unsteadily, still wobbly and pathetic from my orgasm. I leaned against the bar, watching him breathe a laugh as he pulled my dress up over my breasts. He tried to put my arm through the strap, but I slapped his hand away.

“I’m fine,” I urged, and slid my dress down. It pooled at my ankles.

He looked up and away from me.

I held his wrist gently. I leaned up to kiss him, but he wouldn’t bend down to meet my lips. I huffed.

I turned my back to him.

“Let’s get you to sleep, okay?” He mumbled, and I caught his gaze in the mirror behind the bar. I smirked, stretching my hands in front of me. I slid them up the counter, the wood pressing into my forearms. I arched my back, spreading my legs. Just enough space for him to stand between them.

“Fuck me,” I stated, watching his darkening eyes, unable to look away from my needy cunt.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the heel of his hand against his erection. “You can do it?”

“Mhm,” I nodded, smiling at him in the mirror. “You know I can.”

He threw his head back, groaning loudly. I throbbed at the sight, his pulse pounding up his neck, his palm to his cock.

I pressed my tits to the bar, looking back at him. He pulled himself from his briefs, stroking his length in his fist. His tip was glistening as he held himself, just standing behind me, contemplating what to do. His pace quickened, and I grew jealous, watching him pleasure himself without me. I was tempted to turn around, or to swipe at my clit, but couldn’t break from the trance that the sight of him held on me. I wanted to lick the pink from his cheeks.

“You look so pretty,” he breathed, and I saw the sheen of sweat gathered on his neck. He must have been desperate, holding himself back from me for so long. He had been restrained all this time, not wanting to be mean. Maybe he would change his mind.

“I feel pretty too,” I murmured. “I think. Why don’t you tell me?”

He stifled a moan, and grabbed my hip with his free hand. He ground into me, dragging his cock up and down my slit.

“You feel fucking soaked,” he sighed, finding my entrance and edging the tip of his cock into me. “Such a perfect fucking cunt.”

My mouth opened, feeling him tease and stretch and dig his fingertips into my hip. I wanted to watch him, to see his chest heave as he tried not to overwhelm me, to see the constricted muscles in his forearm. I was too busy feeling to look, desperate to grind my hips to his and let him fill me. Instead, I whimpered on the counter, listening to his praises as he slowly pushed into me.

“You alright?” He asked, bottomed out and breathless. I circled my hips carefully, hoping to give him his answer. He choked back a moan, slapping my ass in response. “Fuck, could you just use your words for once?”

“I’m alright, baby,” I giggled as his hand ran up my back. He found my shoulder, gripping it tightly. My heart beat in a slant, anticipating what it knew would happen next.

“You’re forgetting to breathe,” he commented, still buried inside of me.

Obviously, I wanted to spit. I took a heavy, careful inhale, letting his hand feel the air in my lungs.

“I don’t remember you being this…” he massaged a thumb into my shoulder, “obedient.”

“Just fuck me already,” I cried, my legs quivering and my skin on fire for him.

“There she is,” he said, and I looked back to see his grin. He raked his fingers through my hair, looking down at me with his pupils blown. I wondered what he was thinking for a moment, his eyebrows drawn together as he watched his hand run through my hair. Then, he was splitting me open, his eyes closed as he thrusted and moaned. I let out a muffled cry, trying to turn my head away from him. His grip on my hair held me in place. He snapped his hips into me at a gratifying pace, finally praising me for my patience. The sound of his skin on mine made me whimper, filling the bar with pretty sounds it shouldn’t know.

“You feel so good,” I whined, and he trailed his hand to my back.

“Yeah?” He already knew, but pushed into me harder, watching my face twist. I wanted him to tell me I was pretty, to tell me I was good, to tell me I was everything. He showed me instead, filling me up until I thought I would overflow. My exhales were stuttered, punctuated by his hips. Pleasure spun around my head, flittering up my thighs and twisting below my stomach. He should have been getting sloppy, grunting as he chased his orgasm, reckless and crazed. Instead, he was infuriatingly rhythmic, a constant bombardment I couldn’t lose focus of.

“Ross,” I crooned, gasping between his thrusts.

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” he mumbled, knowing I was asking permission to fall apart. “I’m right there.”

I squirmed under him, finding his hand pressed into the bar above my shoulder. I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, anchoring myself to him as I cried out. He liked that, sucking air in through his teeth as he quickened his pace. I was drowning in the bliss he shattered through me with each thrust, each gasp, each muffled groan from his lips. My breaths were thinning, becoming less frequent and more desperate. I wondered if it had always felt this good.

“I can’t, I can’t,” I panted, legs shaking under me.

“Come on this cock for me, pretty girl,” he whispered, wrapping an arm under my stomach to take the weight off my legs. I whined, eyes shut in an opiated trance, my heartbeat loud in my ears. “You’re perfect– fuck, perfect.”

He reached a hand between my thighs, pressing two fingers against my clit. I choked through a gasp, straining to look back at him. He was still pounding into me, snapping up into my ribs, pretty beads of sweat collecting at his hairline. His eyes found mine and I slipped, pleasure shearing through me as I finished around him. He groaned at the way I shook under him, losing his militant rhythm and fucking into me lazily.

“Shit, can I–”

“Yes,” I interrupted, nodding wildly. He cursed loudly at my eagerness, tightening his grip around my waist. I was in complete bliss, fucked out and humming underneath him. He thrusted against me, sucking in a breath before spilling into me. He filled my aching cunt, stilling inside of me as his cock twitched.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling out of me with a sigh. I frowned at the lack of him, limp on the counter as he pressed kisses into my dewey back. “You alright to stand, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” I sighed, peeling myself off the bar. My legs were barely able to hold me up, loose and hollow.

“You sure?” He laughed, turning me towards him and pressing a kiss to my forehead. He guided my hands to his shoulders, kneeling before me to pull up my dress. His thumbs dragged over my skin as he brought it up, kissing at my navel and along my sternum.

“Stay in my room,” he said, pushing my hair behind my ear, “Please.”

I nodded, pressing my flushed cheek to his chest. He sighed, and ran a hand up and down my back.

#the 1975 #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald #ross macdonald smut #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut

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alovesreading · 10 months

Text

Quarter Past Midnight

Summary: Thanks to your best mate, you’ve found yourself welcoming the New Year at a party one of her bosses is throwing at her new house. Since you stepped foot in the place, your only plan has been to spend the night dancing and drinking with your friends. But it all changes when you find a certain bassist looking at you from across the room. And as the night progresses, and a few kisses are shared, you seem to agree on the fact that you’re leaving the party together.

Word Count: 19.4k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, lots of cursing, suggestive dialogue and smut.

A/N: Hello!!! I'm so excited to finally be posting this one shot since the idea for it was born back when we were writing Chicken Shop Date chapter 6! You know, when Ross disappeared most of the night to socialise... So this is basically the spin off of that part of the story. I'm sorry it took me so long but, then again, it had always been the plan to post it today because it's the one and only @imagine-that-100s birthday and I thought a filthy Ross one shot was the perfect gift for Mrs. MacDonald herself. I hope you all enjoy it loads and remember: keep both hands on the phone!!

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

You really fucking love the holidays. It’s probably your favorite time of the year and every gathering that is thrown during this time makes you the happiest.

It’s so much fun spending Christmas and boxing day with your family, but it’s even better to spend New Year’s Eve with your friends.

When you were a teenager, you had adopted the tradition of welcoming the new year in company of your mates and that had stayed with you despite your friendships coming and going as time went by.

Every New Year party was a different crowd and you love thinking about the differences between them, from who was attending to the theme—if there was one.

You would’ve attended your co-worker’s party this year if it wasn’t for the fact that you had gone to it the previous year and it had been horribly boring so you had opted to accept the invitation to a party that one of your best mates from university sent your way.

Cecilia worked for a creative agency that designed many artists' stages for their tours and she even went on to help the promotional aspect of said tours, so through her you had met many people that had left you quite starstruck. That’s why when you found out this was going to be a party thrown by Charli XCX, one of the artists that she works with, you accepted in a heartbeat.

And now here you are, sipping on a vodka cranberry soda and swaying your hips softly to the beat of the music playing through the speakers as you listen to one of Cecilia’s co-worker’s stories.

You’ve been keeping to your mates ever since you arrived at the big house a few hours ago and now that it’s a little over an hour until midnight, you find yourself a bit tipsy from all of the drinks you’ve been nursing the whole time.

You feel bad for tuning out whatever story is being told and choosing to people watch over the girl’s shoulder, nodding absentmindedly as if you’re listening but your eyes are swimming around the place and looking for something interesting to latch onto so at least you have some entertainment as you waste your time waiting for midnight.

What you aren’t expecting is to see someone already looking at you, and you raise an eyebrow with a smirk on your face when he doesn’t let the fact that you’ve caught him staring steer his gaze away from you.

Instead, the bearded man looks you up and down slowly, tongue swiping across his bottom lip teasingly as he takes you in and you would be lying if you said his shameless behavior didn’t make your stomach flutter with a hint of want.

It shows on your face just how much you’re enjoying the attention and it makes him more smug when he sees you smirking at him after he’s drank in your appearance. You’re wearing a tight black dress that falls down to your ankles but there’s a slit on the side that lets the skin of your left leg show smoothly up to your mid-thigh; the velvet material hugs your body beautifully, accentuating every curve of yours and the square scoop neck of it held by two thick straps on your shoulders allows for your tits to be perfectly hugged and showcased.

All he’s thinking about at the moment is how fucking gorgeous you are and he can’t peel his eyes off you.

“Hi.” You mouth at him, the slightest bit shyly and it’s pathetic how easily he gets your smile to grow on your face when he reciprocates with the same mouthed word and a bright grin.

You roll your eyes at yourself mentally when you feel the heat coming up to your face and just because you can’t keep up with the eye contact, you turn back to your friends and tune back into their conversation. Thankfully, they had been too engrossed in it to notice your lack of attention.

Jumping back into the conversation, you’re aware of every minute that passes by and so when you realize it’s been at least ten, you turn back to where the tall man had been and smile when he catches your eyes on him after a mere few seconds. He looks incredibly handsome in the black on black outfit he has on: black button up with its long sleeves rolled up just below his elbows and it’s tucked into black trousers that fit him perfectly.

It’s a game of who can keep up with the eye contact the longest from then on, and maybe there’s an underlying message to every look which is probably you both daring each other to go up to the other first. You’re also trying to think about where you find him so familiar from but your brain is a mush at the moment so you can’t really come to a conclusion fast.

Stolen glances and cheeky smiles is all you share for the next fifteen minutes, and you sigh to yourself when you find your glass empty and he’s still not made his way over to you.

Softly, you excuse yourself from the conversation and make your way to the kitchen where you know the drinks are and when you get there, you smile at the people around and silently get yourself a refill.

You’re about to pick up your glass when a deep voice startles you but you’re quite pleased to see the man you’ve spent a while looking at when you turn around. He’s standing right in front of you and since the kitchen is a bit crowded, it would take for him to lean into the marble of the kitchen counter to have you trapped in between it and his tall frame.

He smiles down at you with a hint of curiosity in his eyes and starts his chat with you by asking, “What are you drinking tonight?”

“Vodka cranberry soda.” You reply factually, your lipstick smudge showing prominently against the rim of the glass after the shy sip you take of your drink.

“You’ve got a sweet tooth.” He scowls like he disapproves and it makes you roll your eyes in amusement.

“Do I? What are you having then? A beer?” Your tone is sassy and it sparks up something inside him.

He purses his lips briefly, like he’s trying not to laugh and eventually says, “Whiskey.”

You’re just trying to wind him up a bit when you say, “Can’t say I’m a fan, prefer rum.” accompanied by a clearly forced smile.

“Course you do.” His eyebrows raise and he puts on an unimpressed face but inside he’s just thinking, I like her.

Your scoff is loud enough for only him to hear, “Okay stop trying to make assumptions, you know nothing about me.”

He gives you a good surprise when he straightens as you say that and swiftly answers, “Which is exactly the problem.” You pretend that has just not made your knees go a bit weak and accept the handshake he offers you as he introduces himself, “I’m Ross, you are?”

“Y/N, nice to meet you Ross.” His grip on your hand is delicate but you know he’s holding back, though the brief feeling of the roughness on his fingers makes your mind go places it shouldn’t.

“Lovely name. Y/N. I like it.” It makes you laugh how he nods his head in approval, and at the sound of your giggles he smiles at you.

He’s definitely a sight and you just can’t waste the opportunity to shamelessly flirt so you chat back with a suggestive, “Rolls off the tongue quite easily doesn’t it.”

Which he gets straight away because a smirk breaks on his face and he quite explicitly quips back with, “Sure it does in more ways than one.”

“Oh we’re going there?” You try to act innocent as if you weren’t trying to go to that place with your words.

But Ross is quick to act just the same with an airy and faux confused, “Where?”

“Don’t play dumb now.” You take a sip of your drink with your eyes sternly on him like you’re warning him not to.

“M’not, love.” Feigning honesty he places his free hand on his chest but leans in to whisper in your ear, “But if there’s somewhere you want us to go then let me know.”

When Ross leans back, he gives you a subtle wink and suddenly you feel a bit out of control because of everything that you’re feeling inside. Especially how his words, which sounded like a dirty little secret when he dropped his voice an octave, went directly down between your legs.

“You northerners are so cheeky, aren’t you?” You had caught the accent from the very first second he spoke to you and you cannot say it didn’t fall on your ears like warm honey. It was thick and sultry, you kinda wanted him to whisper in your ear again because it felt way too nice.

It seems that it filled him with pride that you had caught onto that fact but now he was curious, “And where are you from?”

“West London.”

“Makes sense then.” He snorted out in laughter and it had your jaw falling in amusement.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You have to force yourself not to laugh because you know exactly what it meant, you’re well aware of your posh accent and you’re completely used to people taking the piss out of you for it.

But Ross shakes his head as he giggles, “Nothing, I’m just fucking with you.”

His answer gives you the perfect opportunity to turn it flirty and you like the way his eyes go dark when you say, “Yeah you wish you were, you div.”

He smirks hearing you use the insult lightheartedly but loving how you keep flirting with him, so he lays it on thick, puffing his chest out as he agrees with your words, “Maybe I do.”

You steer the conversation away from the topic then, unsure if you’d be able to function if he keeps saying things like that to you, and you ask him how he’s managed to end up at this party. You blush like an idiot when he tells you it’s his best mate’s house you’re in and that’s when it clicks that he’s in the band that George is in.

He asks how you’ve ended up there but before you could properly tell him about your best friend working for Charli XCX, he asks if you want to go outside so you can properly talk without all the noise.

Soon enough, you manage to weave your way through the crowd, with his hand placed on your lower back which makes your skin feel like it’s being lit up under his touch. And when you finally get outside, he offers you a cigarette which you turn down.

You’re not really a smoker but god does he look good as he takes the first drag of the cigarette while waiting on you to tell him the story of how you’ve ended up in this party.

Ross listens intently as you tell him how Cecilia and you met in fresher’s week in uni and ever since then you’ve been inseparable. He laughs when you tell him you work at a law firm as a paralegal and just as anyone would expect, the holiday parties your co-workers would throw were dire and you had learned that the hard way the previous year.

He admits he thinks he’s heard of your best friend through Charli and he hints at having seen her at Leeds fest earlier that year. You confirm that she was indeed there for Charli’s set in Leeds and you manage to get him laughing again when you refer to the band he’s in as the one where the lead singer eats the raw meat and gets himself off on stage.

“Yeah, that’s us in a nutshell.” He laughs a bit more, and you cackle loudly before clarifying that you actually did know them.

“I’m joking. Though, that is all I really know about yous lately. But yes, I’ve heard your music before. Your first album remains my favorite.” You’re being entirely honest about it now and it elicits a sweet smile from him before he takes another drag of his cigarette.

“Was it Robbers?” He asks with a smirk, as if he’s clearly reading you.

But you shake your head, “It was actually The City. Heard it once and I was sold.”

Ross hums at her answer, it settles in him the fact that he likes you and without really knowing, his eyes fall on your lips as he continues to silently smoke. Your stomach flips at the clear cue, and you have to let your eyes wander somewhere else before you can continue with the conversation.

The tension is growing heavy over you so in an attempt to lighten up the mood a bit just for your own sake, you joke, “That Matty guy really likes kissing people doesn’t he?”

“He does.” Ross apprehensively replies, taking one last drag of his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and stomping on it.

You bite your bottom lip as you watch him and hesitantly steer the conversation into a territory you’re intrigued about, “He kissed you didn’t he? I think I saw that the other day.”

“Yeah, he did.” The bassist has no idea where this is going, but he’s taken over by the feeling that this will be one of those times someone goes to him to get to Matty.

And when you cheekily say, “Quite jealous of that actually.” a heavy weight comes to rest on his shoulders.

“Sorry to say he’s got a date tonight.” He says rather dryly, and you notice instantly the way his behavior shifts. He avoids looking at you, his attention suddenly taken by the tumultuous party inside, taking his glass up to his lips to down the last of his whiskey like he was in a hurry.

You find it rather funny, but also you’d hate to miss a chance with this gorgeous man thanks to a misunderstood comment so you clear up with a soft smile, “Not jealous of you, jealous of him.”

That blank look on his face changes in a split second the moment your words reach his ears, and you watch that smirk you’d been growing used to seeing the past few minutes make a comeback.

Ross takes a step closer to you and it makes you have to look up at him. Even with the high heels you’ve got on, he’s still taller than you and you quite like that. Smoothly, he wraps an arm around your waist so he can pull you flush against his chest, “Should’ve mentioned that before, love.”

The pet name does to you the same as his lips trapping yours does—your knees buckle a bit and you instantly are wrapping your arms over his shoulders to keep him in place. The contrast between his soft lips and his rough beard drives you mad, your mouth falling open in a gasp that he swallows at the feeling of it all. And his tongue coming to meet yours has you dizzier than all the vodka you’ve had so far.

He tastes like whiskey and tobacco, and his tongue is diligent as it goes against your own. Your thoughts go straight to a lustful place, wondering if he’d be just as intent between your legs and adding what his beard might feel like against your thighs has you letting out a breathy moan in the kiss.

His fingers dig into the clothed skin of your waist possessively, like he wants to leave his mark on you and it only grows the need you feel running through your veins.

Your free hand goes up his neck and digs into his hair, which is annoyingly tied in a low bun that you end up pulling as if to say you wanna undo it and have his long hair fall freely so you can pull on it just how you want to.

A groan comes from deep in his chest and you swallow it proudly. You just cannot fight how much you enjoy the sound you’ve gotten out of him and it shows in your smile that interrupts the kiss, as he’s left half pecking your teeth.

You pull back slightly, looking down at his swollen lips which have a bit of your lipstick smudged on them and bring your thumb to clean them as you conclude, “That was good.”

“Very good.” Ross mumbles against your finger, biting the pad of it in the middle of your task which has you giggling like an idiot.

You stay silent and focused on his lips when you continue wiping them and once you’re done, you ask quietly, “Have you got anywhere to be first thing next year?”

“Like after midnight.” He asks back a bit puzzled by your wording.

“You’re so smart.” The sarcasm in your voice has him rolling his eyes in fake annoyance, but inside he’s excited and intrigued about what it is that you’re trying to do.

Your hand leaves his face to fall on his chest, and he notes how he likes this proximity with you as he says, “No, I don’t. Why?”

You pray he can’t see how nervous you are when you bravely ask, “Wanna come over to mine?”

In all honesty, Ross hadn’t expected that to be your inquiry but it’s the best surprise, “I would like that, yeah.” He would more than like that, he would love that but he plays it cool to not throw you off.

You’re trying to act cool as well, shrugging your shoulders and giving an alternative as if it didn’t matter where you went, “Or back to yours, I don’t mind.”

And it didn’t really matter where you ended up at, you both know where this is going and you couldn’t be more excited about it. No better way to start the new year.

“I’m fifteen minutes away.” Ross tells you in all honesty and seeing the sparkle in his eye at the last minute planning makes you incredibly giddy.

It shows just as clear in your smile when you say you’re “Thirty.” minutes away.

And the answer to where you’re taking this later is clear, only Ross settles it in stone when he says, “Mine then.”

You hum, looking down to his lips again and stealing one last peck from him before you nod and nonchalantly reply with, “Alright.” as if you’re not mentally begging time to go faster so you can leave with him.

“Shall we go back inside?” Ross asks with a smirk on his face, you can see how clearly smug he is about this going the way it is and it excites you.

So you nod, letting him take your hand and guide you inside. You walk past a large group of people and stumble into George, who’s at the decks queuing up some songs for everyone’s enjoyment.

You greet him and congratulate him on his stunning house and the brilliant party, pointing out how much you love the disco ball hanging from their ceiling, and he gives you a smile and a wholehearted thank you in return. You’d met George a fair few times when you got to go to Charli’s gigs as Cecilia put you in the guestlist, and he’d been an absolute sweetheart from the moment you met. You hadn’t even recognized him from his band then, and it had been rather refreshing to him that someone he met was being nice to him just for the sake of being it and not because of his job and who he was.

Of course the drummer tells Ross about it right then, very briefly how you had apologized for ten minutes straight for not recognizing him back then and you’d promised him you’d listen to his music again soon.

Ross pinches your waist as he laughs and he tells George how you hadn’t recognized him either until he’d said he was in the band with the drummer. Adding a paraphrased recount of you only knowing about Matty wanking on stage and eating raw meat.

You fully feel yourself burning up and you shake your head at them. “Yous are the worst.” You say with narrowed eyes and scoff before you’re excusing yourself, “I’m gonna get myself another drink, please continue taking the piss.”

Their laughter is what you hear behind you as you try to make your way through the crowd until the music drowns you and you get to the kitchen. There you fan your face and you smile like a fool to yourself.

However, suddenly, a squeal slips past your lips and it isn’t because of you thinking back to what has happened in the past twenty minutes, but because Cecilia pokes your ribs before she complains about you disappearing.

“Where have you been? It’s been almost half an hour and you still haven’t gotten another drink?”

You press your lips together and then turn back to your glass so you can make yourself your drink, “Sorry, I sort of got carried away talking to this guy…”

The loud gasp that she lets out manages to make you giggle shyly, “Who?!”

“Ross…” You quietly let her know and you leave her frozen in her place while you pour some vodka in your glass.

Silence engulfs you until you’re done making your cocktail and when you look back up to your best friend, you laugh at her agape mouth.

“As in–” She starts saying in shock and you nod.

“As in George’s best mate.” You bring your glass up to your lips and take a long sip, the sweet drink refreshing your throat but you can’t help but think back to how much you’d like to taste Ross again.

Before you can go back to the bassist though, Cecilia is dragging you back to the rest of the group you’d been with at the start of the party and squealing like a high schooler, she makes you tell her all about what’s happened.

You keep it brief, not really wanting to get in too much detail and ruin this for yourself but it seems like the simple knowledge that you’ve kissed him outside has them screeching and asking questions about it for what feels like an age.

It’s a miracle they let you go to the kitchen to get one of those little Patron bottles you’d seen laying around so that you could do shots together but what you aren’t expecting is for Ross to be leaning by the door of the kitchen seemingly waiting for you to come around.

“Where’d you go?” He asks curiously once you walk up to him, his arm snaking around your waist to bring you closer and it makes you smile.

You sigh, free hand coming up to his shoulder and you smooth the fabric of his black shirt there before you look up at him to say, “My friends found me and complained about me disappearing.” You watch as he analyzes every inch of your face and hums at your excuse, “They’re waiting for me now to bring them some tequila so…”

The silence that comes over you two after you drift off is nice, it’s not really that much silence because the music is still loudly shaking the walls but it’s peaceful enough to have you enjoying each other’s company.

He breaks it when he leans into your ear to say, “You better have not promised anyone a midnight kiss.”

You wait until he leans back and is looking at you for you to shake your head, “I haven’t.”

A simple, “Good.” is what you get back and you roll your eyes in amusement at the fact that this is clearly him wanting to have you say the words.

“Why? You wanna kiss me again?” All inhibitions are slowly being pushed out of the window the more time you spend with him and it feels thrilling.

“You know I do.” Ross says almost pained at the fact that he has to wait more time to get to that moment.

But you relieve him when you assure him, “You don’t need to wait until midnight to do it, babe.”

There is nothing more to say to have him pouncing on your lips and the hint of desperation in his actions makes you moan softly in his mouth. Ross has both of his arms wrapped around your waist tightly, pressing you against him in such way that you’re dreaming about the moment you get to feel him like this without your clothing in between. Your hands come up to cup his jaw, his beard tickling the palms of your hands and you’re the one to tease his mouth open when your tongue comes to lick at his bottom lip.

The meeting of your tongues heats up the kiss, tasting each other makes you both hungry to take everything the other can give. As one of your hands comes to cradle the back of his neck, he lets his free hand slowly drop down your lower back until it’s resting over your ass and a gasp slips past your lips when his fingers dig in your clothed flesh.

You certainly love the way he kneads your ass, cupping it and squeezing it with no mercy and you’re left wondering if he’s just like that in bed. Everything is so promising so far, you can feel the wetness starting to pool between your legs and ruining your underwear.

Instinctively you clench your thighs together and he chuckles into the kiss when he notices. Shy is not a word that has ever been used to describe you and Ross learns that by the way you seem smug about him catching onto you trying to relieve yourself even a little bit.

You pull back with a massive smirk on your face, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath and a subtle grind of your hips on his. The heavy exhale he lets out hits your parted mouth and you have to bite on your bottom lip to at least conceal in the slightest how that feeds into your ego.

His hand which was still on your ass confidently, squeezes it harshly and you drown the mewl it elicits out of you by pressing your lips together. Ross stares at you, eyes dropping from your eyes to your lips to your chest and then back up to your eyes so he can breathlessly ask, “How fast after midnight can we leave?”

“That eager?” It’s so hypocritical of you to tease him for it when you’re just as eager to go but you will never pass on the opportunity to have a man show you how much they want you first.

And Ross doesn’t let up exactly what’s going through his head, “You look stunning and I really don’t know if I can kiss you again and not want to take you in the middle of the room.”

Those words are enough for you to fully make up your mind about it all, if you had been sure you wanted this earlier then you’re entirely convinced there’s nothing else you want to do now.

It’s quickly that you think about the best time frame for you to go, you come to the conclusion, “Half past. I need to spend a bit of time with my friends so they don’t say I ditched them for some guy later.” You don’t necessarily want him to know you’ve told them who you had been talking to and kissing just in case that could put him off.

But it’s the way he narrows his eyes at you and pinches your ass as he repeats, “Some guy…” that makes you think maybe he wants you to tell them.

“Does it hurt your ego, Mr. Rockstar?” You can’t help but tease, there’s a darkness that shadows the brown of his eyes when you push at his buttons and you enjoy trying to find out what it is that could happen when he snaps.

Ross shakes his head at you, a soft chuckle managing to escape while he tells you to, “Shut up.” before he’s doing it himself.

Kissing him is something that you’re finding yourself to really enjoy and so you relish in the feeling for as long as you can. Your hands are in charge of keeping the other as close as possible, clutching onto each other tightly as if there was the possibility of being taken away. Nothing else is in your minds, wanting to take each other to the limit and that is until your lungs beg you to offer some oxygen to them and your lips separate from his with a smack.

“Okay, go on.” Ross instructs, a hint of satisfaction filling his insides after kissing you again, his hand patting your ass softly, “Back to them now, love. I’ll come get you at midnight.” There was only less than twenty minutes to wait until then so he was fine with seeing you go, knowing he was gonna have you back with him in a bit.

You nod with mischief written all over your face and he winks at you when you peel yourself off him. Out of the corner of your eye you watch how he walks off back into the crowd of the party, leaving you a flustered mess looking for one of those damn little Patron bottles for your friends.

The task gets pathetically hard with your mind still stuck on the thought of the bassist, the feeling of his touch on you and his presence right next to you. Eventually, you manage to get one of the bottles and you all but run back to your friends, as if rushing back to them would help time move faster until you got to see Ross again.

It’s so pathetic but you blame your hormones and the lack of action in your life the past few months thanks to your job.

The shots you do with your friends loosen you up a bit. And you find your hazy mind easier to get lost in the conversation and laugh more at your friend’s jokes because of the way you lose any grasp on time.

And that is the reason why you don’t notice him walking up to you until he’s right beside you and his hand is coming to delicately hold onto your waist.

“Ladies…” Ross clears his throat as his eyes go to every one of the five girls in the group, offering them a smile that teases a glance of the dimples on his cheeks, “Mind if I steal her from you?”

You look up at him through half lidded eyes, your smile so big it reaches your eyes in such way that it almost closes them and, god, does he melt at the sight.

“Go ahead.” Cecilia smirks knowingly and just to taunt you both, she asks, “Is she coming back for the countdown or shall we say happy New Year already?”

You groan and roll your eyes at her because she sounds like your mum, which has her laughing to herself and the rest of the girls are trying not to giggle at your behavior.

Ross nods though, a smile plastered on his face as if permanently, “I’ll have her back with you afterwards, don't worry.”

“Enjoy it then.” Cecilia cheers with a tilt of her glass and Ross nods at the gesture.

“Happy New Year.” The bassist wishes them as he brings his hands from your waist to your hand, intertwining your fingers before starting to walk away from your group of friends.

A chorus of “Happy New Year!” is heard right as you’re turning around and you wave comically at your friends as you walk beside Ross.

When you had gotten to the party, Charli had told you to leave your coats and bags in a room somewhere in the house so you didn’t have your phone on you to look at the time. You did have a small watch on your right wrist though, and when you catch a glance of the time while Ross guides you back to his friends, you giggle.

“Five minutes early. Aren’t you impatient?” Your smile is big on your face and just thinking about how he has had to be looking for you for a bit makes your stomach flip.

His hands drop yours to bring it around your waist and guide you to walk in front of him, you bite your bottom lip when you feel him press himself flush against your back as you continue walking into the crowd.

“I think that’s being punctual.” Ross quips back easily, leaning down to say the words in your ear.

Just when you manage to walk past a large group of people dancing and you get to spot a bit far away from the center of the room, you stop in your tracks and turn around to face him.

Purposely, your arms go over his shoulders and wrap around his neck. He leans in, thinking you’re about to give him the opportunity to taste your mouth again but you skip past his lips and lean further until your lips graze his ear.

Whispering, you deem his behavior, “A bit desperate.” and he instantly reacts to it by digging his fingers into your waist and pushing his hips forwards to press on yours.

“You wouldn’t have come in time.” He explains breathlessly once you pull back so you can see his eyes again.

By pressing your lips together you avoid smiling too much at his words, humming before you play in on his train of thought, “So you were just making sure I kept to my word?”

“Exactly.” He nods with a serious expression on his face like you understanding his point was a pressing matter.

You roll your eyes with a snort of laughter and sarcastically note, “How kind of you.”

But before he can add something else in his defense, someone comes from behind you and Ross lets go of you to hug them. You watch with a soft smile and your cheeks burning up because of how they had found you and Ross and it seemed like these people were Ross’ long time friends.

“Y/N, this is John and his fiance, Lilly.” Ross introduces them to you and you shake their hands with a sweet smile on your face, “Lilly, John, this is Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you!” You say kindly, and you’re so relieved to see the genuine smiles on their faces as they reciprocate the sentiment.

You expect Ross to start the conversation but he’s got an empty glass in hand and your hands are completely empty so he asks you, “Do you want another drink?”

“Oh, sure. Please.”

Ross nods and excuses himself quickly, the three of you watch as he walks in direction to the kitchen and when he disappears from your sights, you turn back to each other and start small talk.

In the few minutes it takes Ross to come back, you find that John plays the sax for the band and his fiance works in the medical field as a nutritional therapist and biomedical practitioner. They ask you how you know Ross and you honestly tell them about how you’d ended up at the party and met Ross an hour before.

The bassist appears behind you just when you’re sharing how you hadn’t recognized him at first until he said he was best mates with George, letting his presence be known with an amused, “Oh yeah, she had no idea who I was.”

You scoff, and you try to defend yourself by pointing out, “You looked familiar!” but he raises his eyebrows at you and tilts his head slightly at you like he’s saying wordlessly that he doesn’t believe you and all you can do is sigh in defeat. He hands you the drink he got for you and you say a soft, “Thank you.” before he comes to stand beside you, an arm wrapped around your waist to keep you pressed to his side.

There’s something possessive about his touch and you find yourself enjoying it far too much, your head going places it shouldn’t and continuing to build on the anticipation inside you. It’s like a tower of wooden blocks that keeps growing taller and you know there’s only so much you can go without feeling more of him—or all of him, if you’re able.

Your conversation gets interrupted when you hear there’s only a minute left until midnight and after that, you’re all just warily letting your words out as if being careful not to miss the moment midnight strikes.

But it’s impossible to miss it when the countdown starts from ten and Ross swiftly turns you around with a smirk on his face that grows as you hear, “Five, four, three, two, one… Happy New Year!”

You meet in the middle, your hand cupping his jaw while his holds your waist. It is quite delicate in comparison to the previous kisses you’ve shared and you can’t help but think if it has anything to do with the fact that his friends are right beside you. Not that they’re paying you two any attention though, as they’re both lost in each other’s lips too.

The heat between your bodies grows when his tongue teases your open mouth but he lets you be the one to deepen the kiss. You really enjoy being the one to take control but soon it’s like he fights back to be the one to direct the kiss and the kiss elongates and becomes more intent until you just have to pull back to catch your breath.

“Happy New Year.” Ross wishes you with his pupils blown out, his gaze hungry looking down at you and his fingers resting tightly on your waist like he’s holding himself back from pouncing on your lips again.

With a quiet, “Happy New Year.” you reciprocate before being the one to grant his silent wish, and you’re really glad he’s holding you because your legs weaken when hearing him groan into your open mouth the second you crash your lips together again.

When you break the second kiss, it seems like he doesn’t want to let you go—his hand on your waist still holding you close to him and he dips his head to leave pecks on your lips that he’s trying to turn into a proper kiss again.

The giggles that escape you make him smile, your thumb rubs over one of his dimples matching his grin and you playfully remind him, “You promised I’d be back after midnight.”

“Did I?” He plays dumb, pressing another chaste kiss on your lips that makes you whine.

You shake your head at him, narrowed eyes like you’re really surveilling his every move and you press, “You did.”

The sudden announcement that comes from Charli through the speakers distracts you and when the song she’s announced being a remix she and George did for a Caroline Polachek song comes on, you forget you should be going back. You’re jaw dropped at the song, not only because of how fucking good it is but from the rather hot lyrics and you can’t help but think good for her about Charli when the song is over.

Turning back to the bearded man who still has a tight grip around your waist to keep you close, you make sure to give him a challenging look. Ross sighs in defeat and says, “You’ve got thirty minutes now.” not without cheekily letting his hand fall to your ass and squeezing it before you can go.

“Keep an eye on the clock for me then.” You say after you giggle, tapping on his chest and stealing one last peck before you’re off to hug John and Lilly to wish them a happy new year and finally excuse yourself to go back to your friends.

It’s not really like you want to go but you’re enjoying the tension building up and maybe you really want to squeal about it to your friends. You’re far too elated about it all and it’s hard to keep your composure in front of him with the lingering touches and the kisses he gives you, especially under the influence of the drinks you’ve had all night.

That’s why it’s not really a surprise you keep checking your watch when you’ve finally found your friends and you can’t go more than ten minutes with them before you’re hugging them all goodbye and saying you’re going back home.

Cecilia is the one who narrows her eyes at you, your eagerness shining through you and she has a feeling home is not really where you’re heading but she reckons if anything happens, you’ll be telling her soon enough—you’d just told them how you and Ross had shared a New Year’s kiss and had gone into a bit of detail about it.

There is almost a skip in your step as you go to the kitchen to leave your glass behind and then off to get your coat and bag, miraculously stumbling into the right door when you look for the room everyone had left their stuff at. And with growing excitement, you walk back to where you remember leaving Ross behind.

Ross is the one who gets surprised when he sees you walking in his direction from across the room. He pulls out his phone from the pocket of his black trousers and checks the time, frowning in curiosity when seeing that it’s merely a quarter past midnight.

“You’ve still got fifteen minutes.” He points out when he meets you in the middle, having excused himself from a conversation with some lads, pocketing his phone again.

You shrug nonchalantly, praying he can’t see the way you just can’t wait anymore written on your face, “Yeah well, I think we can use those to be on our way to yours.”

He smirks, downing the rest of his drink and using your words from before on you, “That eager?”

You just stare at him, your tongue poking on your cheek and you end up sighing to say, “You’re not getting an answer to that.”

Something shifts in him, dark eyes looking intently at you through his lashes and he leans closer to your face so he can mumble against your lips, “Oh I will, love.”

There is something about it, a hidden message—maybe a promise masked as a threat—and it makes every atom in your body buzz in anticipation. In your head you’re speculating all about what this could mean, picturing if he’s going to be the type to kiss you until you get to his room and then push you face down on his bed to fuck you into the matress or if he will be one of those who can barely make it to their settee before the need for release takes over and has you ride him with your tits pressed all over his face so he can suck bruises as you milk him dry.

You clench around nothing, getting flustered again and your arousal wetting your underwear. So you don’t waste another second to ask, “Are you ready to go?”

“Definitely.” He nods, grabbing your hand delicately and he smiles seeing your coat hanging on the crook of your elbow, your bag hanging off your shoulder. Yet, he still inquires, “Are you?” and you only hum in response.

That’s the green light he needs to pull out his phone from his pocket and order you two an Uber back to his place. Fortunately, it’s only about eight minutes that you have to wait for it to arrive since it’s not that late yet and you watch as he places the device back in his pocket before grabbing your hand so you can go outside.

“Aren’t you gonna say goodbye to your mates?” You ask quite puzzled, but he shrugs it off like it’s really not important.

“They’ll survive.”

It makes you laugh softly but you follow as he leads you to the front door. Someone opens it before he can and, of course, the quite tipsy girl who walks in seems to be his friend because they hug very briefly.

Comically though, Ross says hello and goodbye in the same sentence and you have to swallow a cackle when the girl’s face contorts in confusion. But she comes to an understanding when Ross pulls on your hand and you walk a step closer, almost pressed to his back.

“Hi.” You smile at her and wave amicably, your insides warm when you see her smile and wave back, about to say something to you but then Ross is a little shit and pulls you away as he walks through the threshold of the main door, taking you with him.

A mouthed apology is all you can manage before you’re closing the door behind you. “Taxi’s not even here.” You call him out for taking you away, but he nods like it’s knowledge that really doesn’t change anything.

Instead, he takes out his packet of cigarettes from one of his pockets and lights one up in between his lips, his cheeks hollowing slightly and the smoke coming out of his nose and his parted mouth.

His hand extends to offer you one but you once again turn him down, this time explaining further with, “I don’t smoke, Ross.”

To which he coos as if you’re a child, and his mocking, “Awh, aren’t you cute?” makes you roll your eyes.

It’s quite cold outside, so you put your coat on and cross your arms over your chest, trying to keep warm as you wait. He notices that regardless of that, you’re still shaking so he takes a stride towards you and throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him—your cheek resting on his chest comfortably, taking advantage of the moment to inhale his scent and smile at the feeling of his chest hair tickling at your face.

He continues smoking as he cradles you into him and, despite having to breathe a bit of the smoke he’s exhaling, you enjoy the feeling of being held by him in silence.

It’s only a minute after he’s dropped the bud to the ground and stepped on it that the taxi comes around, greeting you with a lovely “Happy New Year.” that you both reciprocate. You’re the one to rush to open the door, but you don’t go in, instead you make Ross go first and, at first, he’s trying to get you get in before him but you stubbornly stand your ground and he begrudgingly enters the vehicle.

Ross is about to scoot to the side so you can sit to his left when you get in but his breath hitches in his throat when you let yourself land on his lap and you purposely squirm over him before you’re actually taking a seat to his right.

His head whips to the side to look at you but you act like you can’t feel it, your gaze stuck straight ahead but a smirk managing to tug at the corners of your lips against your will.

The taxi starts moving once Ross closes the door and the driver makes light conversation as he goes. You’re answering enthusiastically, letting him know a brief summary of the party you were at and giving him a little white lie about how you two were so tired that you decided to go back home early.

The smile on your face falters when you feel Ross’ big hand coming to rest on your thigh before he’s clutching it tightly and squeezing it to make you squirm in your seat.

“It’s been a long day mate. We’re going home and heading straight to bed.” He adds into the conversation, a blank expression on his face as if he wasn’t letting his hand slowly trail up further up your thigh, making your skin break out on goosebumps at the touch.

The leg slit of your dress has allowed for it to go further up and the skin of your thighs show dangerously close to where your underwear hugs your hips. And Ross is taking full advantage of the access he has to make your heart rate speed up. His fingers are rubbing circles on your skin, slowly inching closer to your inner thigh and you really have to bite your tongue not to shiver and make any noise.

He smirks when he hears your breathing getting heavier the more his fingers get closer to your heat and he annoyingly continues the conversation with the driver like he isn’t doing what he’s doing.

You jolt in your place when his pinky finger moves up and grazes your cunt, and you hear him hum to himself in satisfaction when he feels your wetness soaking the material of your underwear.

It’s a sadistic conflict that goes inside your head when he lets his hand trail downwards on your thigh again, feeling every inch of distance between his fingers and your center. You want him back touching you where you need him most but you also don’t know if you can keep quiet with how desperate you are for some friction.

The relief you get when he takes his hand up again is unreal, your mouth parting slightly in anticipation but you have to close it tightly not to let out a gasp when his pinky grazes you again but instead of leaving this time, he rubs it up and down your clothed core until he finds your clit.

Ross feels it pulsating under the pad of his finger and he smirks to himself when he starts drawing circles on it and your legs twitch.

You’re so incredibly turned on by him and the intent behind his actions, the high chance of you getting caught fills you with a rush of adrenaline that morphs into pleasure that’s making your head spin.

He’s so relentless at trying to get a proper reaction out of you that could get you caught that he presses a bit harder on your swollen clit and he’s victorious when you can’t hide the soft gasp that leaves you and you let your head pathetically fall down on his shoulder. Your hair coming to cover your face which is contorted in a frown induced by pleasure.

“Oh, is she falling asleep?” The driver asks, seeing your sudden movement through the rearview mirror and you’re half mortified hearing that, though Ross’ skilled finger moving on you takes over most of your thoughts.

Your walls are fluttering around nothing, and you feel like you’re so fucking close to the edge when suddenly, Ross’ hand is gone. He robs you of his touch in a fleeting second, hand coming to rest on your knee instead and he pats on it awkwardly in comparison to the teasing touches he had been leaving on you since the start of the drive.

“Yeah, bless her. She’s really tired.” He replies with a faux pity, you can hear the laughter stuck in his throat. “We’ll get to bed soon, love.” His words are now directed at you and you really want to glare at him and mockingly recite them back to him but you stay in your place and silent instead.

The driver, blissfully unaware of what had actually happened, kept quiet for the rest of the drive so he could let you sleep. Bless that old man. If he only knew you wanted to throw a tantrum over the pleasure that had been stolen from you.

It’s about seven minutes later that you stop at your destination and the sweetness you offer the driver when you bid him farewell and thank him is gone when you’re walking into the building with Ross.

His eyes are stuck on you when you’re walking next to each other, because instead of being close to him, you make it a show of inching away from him as you walk towards the lifts. He wants to laugh, his amused grin showing the dimples on his cheeks and the wrinkles by his eyes.

“You’re grumpy.” He points out when the lift doors close behind you, clicking on the button for the sixth floor.

Your scoff is telling enough but it becomes even clearer how annoyed you are when you spout, “You’re a fucking tease.”

The bassist coos at you, clear mockery of your inability to take it and it’s a contrast to the meek, “That’s nothing.” he lets out right after.

You’re huffing and puffing as you follow him through the halls but when you walk into his flat, you shed your coat with a pout on your face. Your tantrum melts into your best try at puppy eyes so he has some mercy on you and resumes what he was doing as soon as possible.

He looks at you entirely amused but he lets a bit of sweetness seep into his actions and words when he grabs your coat from your hands, “Let me get that for you.” He gets your bag next and hangs it right next to it.

Your skin tingles at the change of temperature from outside and you hum and close your eyes in bliss, mumbling a happy, “Oh, it’s warm in here.”

But he quickly points out how “You’re still shaking.” and you sigh because it’s a bit embarrassing he notices just how poorly you do in the cold.

“I know.” Your arms cross over your chest again and his gaze falls straight down to your tits, you’re pushing them up by doing that and he just wants to bite on the flesh of them.

You take one step forward and he comes up behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle. When he dips his head down, you feel the hair in the back of your neck rising and you almost shiver when he whispers, “Lucky for you, I know just how to get you warm very quickly.”

“Do you, now?” You mischievously quip back as you turn around, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively, as if you know exactly what he’s going to do.

Except, Ross hums deeply and leans down onto you just enough for his hands to get ahold of the back of your thighs and with incredible strength, he picks you up like it’s nothing. It elicits a squeak to fall past your lips and your legs go around his waist instantly, you thought he was going to kiss you but him picking you up like this has just the same effect.

Like this, you’re the one to look down at him and you really like the way his eyes are drinking you in this way. It feels like ages but it’s barely half a minute. He bounces you up and catches you again, but it’s all so his hands could be holding you from your ass and it makes you laugh.

Your fingers go up his neck until they disappear in his hair and you softly pull on it as you say, “You think you’re smooth, don’t you?”

He cocks his head and he grips your ass as he starts walking, “Am I not?”

“I haven’t made my mind up about it yet.” Your answer is teasing like all of them before, and he’s already thinking about whether or not you’ll be a brat when you’re under him in bed.

Ross rolls his eyes playfully at you and you take the lack of witty comeback from him as the opportunity to pounce on his lips. He freely lets himself hum into the kiss, it’s hungry from the second your lips touch and your tongues taste each other desperately. It’s like you both agree there’s no time to be wasted here, not more than has been wasted already tonight, and the sound of your heels thudding on the floor after you toe them off is the confirmation of it.

You gotta say you find his ability to multitask impressive because before you know it, he’s kicking his door open without breaking the kiss and still holding you up.

His steps come to a stop when his knees hit the edge of his bed and you hold him tightly as he leans in so he can lie you on it softly. His right arm goes around your waist so he can help you up the bed, his left hand keeps your leg around him as he kneels on the bed and crawls up until you both can comfortably fit on it. Not that it’d be uncomfortable when you break the kiss and you catch a glimpse of the king sized bed you’re laying on.

In a blink of an eye, his lips have gone down to your jaw to start attacking the rest of your skin and you shudder under him when he licks from your collarbone up the side of your neck until his nose hits your ear.

His teeth catch your earlobe and it makes you gasp, he tugs on it softly and when he lets it free, he asks, “How about now?”

You try to suppress every reaction your body is begging to show, but letting a shaky breath before you conclude, “I reckon I need some more convincing.” A devilish grin shows on your face and he takes it in the view of you beneath him like this: hair splayed over the covers, pupils blown out and dark in lust, lips red and swollen from the kiss you’ve just shared, tits wanting to spill out of your dress.

He leans closer to your mouth, noses barely touching, “You’re greedy.” He mumbles against your lips and your first instinct is to lick his bottom lip.

The wetness of your tongue suddenly swiping across his mouth makes his hips buck into yours and you take your tongue back inside your mouth to show a toothy grin and agree, “I am.”

Ross is completely taken aback, and there is certainly not a thing he’s not thinking about doing to you, with you and on you. “Fucking hell, Y/N/N.” He curses in a low voice, his chest vibrates against you and you’re the one to grab the back of his neck to have his lips back against yours.

Your tongue laps at his and all that’s heard in the room is the loud smacking of your lips as the kiss grows fervent. Your hands go down his shoulders to the front of his chest and your quick nimble fingers undo each button of his shirt. You can feel his heaving chest under your hands once the shirt is completely open and you push it off him messily, wordlessly saying you want it off.

He breaks the kiss, a heavy breath hitting your parted mouth before he pushes off the bed and takes the shirt off the quickest he can. The second he throws it somewhere behind him, he comes back down to hover over you but this time he goes straight down to attack your neck.

His beard feels coarse on your skin but his swollen lips feel warm and he glides his wet tongue over the skin he bruises, and the combination of it all drives you crazy. He doesn’t relent on his actions, only making you moan and mewl louder as he goes.

You’re a whimpering mess when his hands start bunching your dress up until he reveals your stomach and he starts pressing open mouthed kisses on every inch of the skin he’s just uncovered.

The tips of his nose ghosts a trail down from your sternum to your belly button and further down until it hits the edge of your underwear, sitting just on your mound. His teeth grapes at the fabric and he tugs it a little only to let it spring free and snap against your skin.

You jolt in your place, a gasp coming from your throat out into the air and getting lost when he runs his tongue flat along the edge of the lace of your underwear and a moan gets stuck in the back of your throat.

“Are you gonna be good and do as I say?” He mumbles against the skin of your lower stomach, his beard tickling you and the feeling rushing straight down between your legs.

“Yes…” You nod fervently, your eyes closing tightly when he starts kissing over your clothed heat and when he licks a strip up your folds, you’re letting out a strangled, “Oh, fuck, yes!”

His cock twitches in his pants, and he feels himself starting to harden. “That’s a good girl.” Ross praises with one last kiss to you clit, his warm breath feels further away a second later and it has you opening your eyes to see where he’s gone.

He’s just staring at your ruined underwear, willing the image of you at his mercy to brand its place in his mind. His hands are on your thighs, so close to where your underwear sits on your hips and you have to plead with a pathetic and breathy, “Ross…” to snap him out of his trance.

“Yes, love?” The bassist asks, leaving a soft kiss on your inner thigh and looking up at you through his lashes.

“Please.” You lift your hips up to show him exactly what you’re asking for and he smiles sweetly at you, taking pity in your desperation.

“I know, I know.” He nods and his fingers finally hook on the sides of your underwear, but it’s at an agonizing speed that he peels it off you. He pulls back to take it fully off, throwing it mindlessly as he’s far much more interested in watching your glistening cunt finally on show for him. “Look at this sweet cunt.” He coos and his mouth water seeing your arousal making a mess of you, “So wet for me.” He lays on his front again, head between your legs and he hooks his arms under your thighs so his hands come clutching you in place over them. His hips buck forward and he groans at the friction relieving him in the slightest.

You take a deep breath which leaves you almost immediately when his tongue finally makes contact with your heat. He laps at you like a starved man, groaning from the depths of his chest at your taste, “So sweet for me.”

Your legs close around his head subconsciously and your hand comes to his head so your fingers can tangle in his hair as he continues lapping at you. His tongue starts flicking at your clit and it’s impossible for you to control your moans. His beard tickles the inside of your thighs and once again, it’s the contrast between the roughness of his beard and his wet tongue skillfully going quickly at your swollen clit that’s beginning to send you into overdrive.

“Fuck, Ross.” Your back arches off the bed and your fingers pull harshly on his hair making him groan against you, his hips writhe against the mattress and he’s sure he could cum just hearing you like this and dry humping the bed.

You’re just about able to catch a breath when he pulls back slightly but a loud whiny, “Shit!” leaves you when his lips wrap around your clit and he starts sucking on it with intent.

Your hips write against his face, looking for even more from him because you’re feeling the hints of an orgasm start to build up in your lower stomach. But then he pulls back, letting go of your clit with a pop and you whine at the loss.

His index and middle fingers come to take over and he rubs quick circles on your bundle of nerves. Your hips roll against his digits to aid in the friction and you really try to look at him but it feels so good that you can’t pick your head up from the mattress.

“Look at you clenching around nothing.” He points out, marveled at your dripping throbbing cunt.

A loud whine from your mouth bounces on the walls of his room, echoing out the hallway. Your mind is gone, all you can see is stars behind your eyelids and your only constant thought is him and getting to cum so you stupidly reply a desperate, “Yes, please!”

“Please.” Ross mocks with a laugh, his fingers stopping their attack on your clit to rub up and down between your folds, gathering your arousal, “Greedy girl. What do you want now? My fingers?”

An attempt of a hum comes from you but it sounds more like a moan, “Yes, anything. Please.”

“So well mannered.” Ross calls out, dropping kisses on your inner thighs, first the left and then the right and before he can wrap his lips around your clit again, he snorts, “Please, she says.” He sucks on your sensitive clit harshly and you yell out, legs starting to tremble.

He pulls back once again, earning him another whine in complaint but he dismisses it and asks, “Are you gonna be good and listen if I stuff you with my fingers?”

You nod eagerly, humming too so your confirmation is clear but he doesn’t accept it. With a slap to your clit, he makes you jolt and a high pitch moan comes out of you at the same time as he calls out, “Words, Y/N.”

“Yes, I will be good.” You reply breathlessly, “Please. I promise. Promise.” If he asked you to beg, you would. You couldn’t care less anymore.

Without a warning he dips one finger, your jaw going slack at the feeling of his long finger inside you but since you’re so wet, he knows you can take another one.

“Ohhhhh fuckkkk…” You breath out at the stretch, your walls clenching around him tightly and a shiver runs down your spine. Your toes curl when he drags them out slowly, almost all the way out to them dips them back inside you and just like that he sets a slow pace.

“Tight sweet cunt.” He says as he watches your cunt swallow his fingers, welcoming him warmly and drenching his hand as he goes. His mouth falls when he starts going faster and you meet him in the middle when you start bucking your hips into his hand, “All mine.”

Despite being knuckle deep inside you, he’s almost drooling, wanting more of you so he brings his tongue back on you, flicking at your clit again. You squirm and call out his name in sweet moans that he’s getting drunk on, but he wants you loud and begging so he goes back to sucking your clit and it makes him want to smile when you respond just how he wanted to the second he does that.

“Ross! Ross! Oh fuck yes!” You scream, nails digging into his scalp desperately while your other hand comes to claw at the duvet on his bed, white knuckle grip that serves as the only hint of grounding you have right now.

But any trace of sanity leaves you when he starts shaking his head, lips still wrapped around your clit and sucking. It makes you scream, your thighs fully closing around his head to keep him there, fighting the strength of his one hand trying to pin your right leg back down on the bed. His beard feels so fucking good, and you’re sure the beard burn will be worth enduring tomorrow because now every single one of your nerve endings is tingling at the feeling of it all.

He pulls back again, your legs falling limp on the bed again for a second before they’re shaking again but you’re being good and trying to keep them open.

Your arousal is glistening all over his beard and a mess of his spit and your wetness trailing down the corners of his mouth. His eyes don’t leave your cunt, looking intently at how he’s fucking into you, scissoring you open so you’re ready for him later.

His other hand comes to tease your clit, slowly this time. You had been so close just then, about to give in and fall off the edge when he took it from you. It’s torturous and you have no idea how much of that you can take.

Soon he feels you clenching around him, your orgasm building up faster now so he hums, “Just like that.” Ross rubs on your clit faster and you feel it coming at any second, the coil in your stomach about to snap so you get louder, pure gibberish as your thighs shake and they start to close again.

“So– So fucking good!” You manage out, your hips writhing against his hands again, the friction being incredibly perfect and you know there’s only a bit more left for you to let go, “Oh f-fuck, m’gonna cum.”

His fingers thrust into you. Once, twice.

And then, they’re gone.

“No, no, no, no.” Your eyes are wide, your chest heaving and a thin coat of sweat makes your skin glisten. The surprise has your grip on his hair and the duvet loosening so he kneels back on the bed and watches your reaction with a wicked grin.

You try to sit yourself up but you’re so frustrated, your body is exhausted and it doesn’t cooperate so you have to wait for him to crawl back up to you to see what he’s doing.

“You taste so good, love.” The cheeky fucker says before sucking his fingers clean, your arousal coating his tongue and he groans around his digits as he tastes you.

Your legs wrap around his waist and your push on his ass with your heels so he hovers over you. Desperately, you cup his jaw and start begging, “No, Ross. Baby, please. Please. Please.”

“Is it baby now?” One of his eyebrows raise and you nod stupidly. “You’re cute.” He replies with a chuckle and you whine in frustration.

You hate that he’s finding this entertaining, “Why would you do that? I was so close!” Another whine comes from you, making his grin impossibly bigger, “That’s not fair!”

His laughter is about to make you angry so before you actually snap at him, you bring your hand down to rub at your clit yourself. But before you’re even past your belly button, his fingers wrap around your wrist and he pins your hand on bed over your head.

A darkness shadows the brown in his eyes as he utters a curt, “No.”

“But–” You try to fight him but he interrupts with another, “No.”

Your mouth opens to complain some more but he kisses you to shut you up. His mouth presses harshly on yours and you whine in annoyance, you don’t want him to have control if he’s gonna play with you like this.

In an attempt to get him back, your hand goes to the back of his neck and to his hair, pulling on his man bun harshly so his head tilts back slightly with a gasp falling from his lips. Some strands of his hair fall free and tickle the sides of your face. You smile in satisfaction.

A fire sparks within him at your sudden defiance and with just the same strength, he grabs your other wrist and pins it over your head too.

He attacks your lips again, his hips pressing viciously into your sensitive core and you writhe against him in response, he’s so hard in his trousers and it makes you want to win control over so bad. You’re trying to fight who’s in charge here and god it’s turning you on even more.

The kiss is all tongue and teeth clashing, heavy breaths and groans, moans and spit dribbling down the corners of your mouths. But then he deprives you of yet again another pleasure when he pulls back. Yet this time he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, digging onto your delicate flesh, tugging on it as you pull back.

Wetness pools between your legs at his actions and you arch into him in pleasure, whining for him and because of him again.

He lets go of your bottom lip and you stare at him with your mouth agape, heavy breaths to get some oxygen back in your lungs and the ache between your legs almost hurting at this point.

That’s why, your eyes roll into your skull when he has one of his hands gripping both of your wrists in place over your head so his other hand comes to get ahold of your face and he seriously spouts, “Are you gonna be a brat and keep complaining? Or are you gonna be a good girl and take it?”

You don’t wanna give him an answer but you know exactly what you’re choosing and your pride takes a blow at it.

Alternatively, you figure there isn’t any better way to forget about words than clashing your lips together again but when you lift your head to capture his mouth in yours, he pulls back and demands, “Answer.”

You huff when he pies you off, rolling your eyes and clenching your fists, a long few beats of silence go by before you begrudgingly reply, “I’m gonna be good.”

“I know you will be.” Ross says with a wicked smile on his face, his ego getting a fill at you submitting yourself to him.

That’s when he finally gives you the pleasure of another kiss, this time more mindful than the last and he lets go of his hold on your wrists so you can touch him how you want, silently telling you this isn’t just about what he wants.

One of his hands delicately holds your face as his lips move on yours and his other hand is on your waist, fingers digging into your skin and lighting a fire under his touch. He goes up but finds your ribs still being covered by the velvet material of your dress so he tries to push it up, failing to move it even an inch.

You let go of his lips to offer him some guidance but you barely manage to tell him, “Zip’s on the back.” because his lips keep pressing wet kisses on your mouth.

Ross hums into your mouth when your lips interlock again but he only lets the kiss keep going for a few more seconds, a smack sounding inside the room when he pulls back slightly and then he mumbles against your lips, “Turn around for me, love.”

He says that but he actually helps you flip around so you’re laying on your stomach beneath him, his weight comes to softly press on you when he hovers over you again. His right hand pushes your hair to the side so he can uncover the skin on the back of your neck and he starts a trail of kisses from there.

His mouth leaves patches of wetness as he presses a kiss on every exposed inch of skin on your back, and you let out a few giggles when his beard tickles you on a sensitive spot.

The tension dawns heavily on you when his hand finally goes to grasp at the zipper and, very slowly, he starts pulling it down. You feel it reach its limit and his breath hits the newly exposed skin of your lower back.

The bed dips slightly when he crawls down so he can wrap his arm around your middle and pull you up to your knees on the bed, just like he is. You don’t argue, the anticipation makes you grow hotter and you quite like letting him handle you. With those big strong calloused hands of his.

A shiver runs down your spine when his ghostly touch comes over your shoulders and his fingers push on the straps on your shoulders swiftly. With the straps no longer holding the front of the dress up, the fabric falls flimsily to pool around your waist and your breasts are finally exposed, your hard nipples finally on show for him.

Ross props his chin on your shoulder and a heavy breath comes from him, hitting the side of your neck as he catches a glimpse of your beauty. His hands come back down to bunch the skirt of the dress up to your waist and he drops a kiss or two on your shoulder before he’s pulling the dress up your body and finally taking it off you.

The silence that has taken over the room is deafening, that’s why when he throws your dress on the floor you hear it land with a soft thud on his wooden floors. And when his hands hold onto the sides of your waist and pull you flush against his front, the gasp you let out rings loudly in your ears. You can feel his hard length pressed on your ass and you’re not sure how you’re gonna take him later, your cunt throbs at the idea of him splitting you open.

But he’s cruel about his touch, keeping it slow as his fingers trail up the sides of your waist, feeling every ridge of your ribs, coming down your abdomen to your thighs before he can even get to your tits. But when he does, you’re shattering the bubble of silence like a hammer to a mirror.

His hands come up to cup your tits and he’s gentle at first, gracing them like he’s trying to memorize how they feel in his hands. Your breathing grows heavy, and you’re baffled by the fact of how much you’re feeling from his touch on your breasts—attributing the fact that you’re feeling so affected by it because of him edging you.

But then Ross gives your nipples attention and you all but lose it with everything he does.

He starts by flicking them and bolts of electricity run down every nerve ending of your body. He stops and his hands start kneading on your tits harshly, making you whimper and lose stability. It’s like you’re drunk for a moment when his fingers dig into your breasts like he’s trying to mold them to his pleasure but then he shocks you awake when he pinches your nipples with his thumbs and index fingers.

“Fuckkkk.” You curse loudly as he continues to use that pattern, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder as you moan out into the air, your ass rubbing on his hard cock as you clench your thighs together.

You know he enjoys seeing you like this. You know it from the way his breathy laugh hits your neck, from the way his teeth sink into the flesh at the side of the base of your neck and you shiver in his arms, from the way he hums in approval of your every reaction.

And you honestly should’ve expected him to stop.

You should’ve.

But you didn’t.

So you’re left whining again, at the loss of yet another form of pleasure. But this time he doesn’t laugh at your needy behavior, instead he places soft kisses on your shoulder rubbing circles on your waist where he’s holding you.

He plants a string of kisses up your neck and when he reaches your ear, he whispers, “Can you lay on your front for me, love?”

There is no negotiation to be had anymore, nothing to be discussed within yourself because all you want is to reach your orgasm, so you nod desperately, spouting a rush, “Yeah, yes.” before you slowly lay back down on your front.

“You’re so good aren’t you?” His hands come to rest on your hips, rubbing circles on your skin as he admires the view.

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement, only softly because you don’t want to push it anymore. You don’t wanna fight him, you just want Ross to make you cum.

His hands pull your ass up and even with your hazy mind you understand what he wants, so you arch your back so your ass is up for him, your cunt on full show just for him and your face pressed on its side on the mattress.

“Poor little cunt, left it a mess didn’t I?” His words fall slowly from his lips, his tone lowering as he brings a finger down to your wetness and he bites his bottom lip when he runs it up and down your folds. He watches the slight tremble of your legs and he smiles to himself when you press your face straight into the mattress so a cry is muffled against the duvet, “Does it hurt?”

You turn your head to watch him out of the corner of your eye, over your shoulder and you pout, another pathetic cry leaving you as you say, “Yes.”

“Should I help you relieve the ache?” He asks this time, his finger leaving your cunt alone to come grasp at the flesh of your ass and roughly knead it until you’re squirming and moving your hips in the air in search of something, anything.

“Yes, please, yes.” You plead desperately, not a sign of embarrassment in sight at how pathetic you sound.

“Should I?” Ross taunts you by asking, and you close your eyes trying not to cry so you don’t see him lowering down.

Your hands grip onto the duvet hard when you feel him start biting softly on the backs of your thighs and your legs start to shake instantly. He enjoys seeing the effect he has on you, and you feel the smile on his face when his lips graze up your skin and then back down, only to lick a stripe up your leg before he’s switching that for open mouthed kisses which come back around to soft bites.

Whimpers and begging is all that comes from you, your legs shaking and your mind going haywire from the sensory overdrive. It’s his beard combined with his wet tongue and his plush lips and his teeth biting on your flesh. You’re going mad.

You lose track of time entirely, drunk on every sensation he brings you until he finally goes back to where you’re aching for him—throbbing for him.

“Fucking dripping, babe” He points out, almost drooling at the sight but instead of tasting you again, he brings his fingers up and slides two in easily. “Look at you, taking me so well.” His fingers drag out of you and when he sinks them back in, he growls. “Think you can take a third, love?” He’s already daydreaming about stuffing you with his cock in a bit, hitting your hilt every time he thrusts into you.

Despite his mind being busy making up a scenario based on his current views, he notices you haven’t answered. You have your face pressed on the bed, almost suffocating yourself because you’re feeling so much pleasure, every moan is stuck in your throat.

His big hand strikes mercilessly on one of your ass cheeks, letting loose every noise you’d been holding and coming out in a yelp as you jolt forward. You clench around his fingers at the hit, and he smirks looking at the print of his hand becoming a darker pink as the seconds go by.

“Answer.” He demands with another loud hit on your ass, which earns him a pornographic moan from you. It goes straight to his cock, his hand coming to adjust himself in his trousers as if that could help in any way.

“Yes, I can take it.” You whine in an obnoxious high pitch. If you could see yourself now, you’d roll your eyes at yourself, sounding like a bitch in heat. But you don’t care right now, because he gives you what he’s promising.

With your approval, Ross slowly dips a third finger inside you and he hears your loud mewl as you stretch around him. Your walls adjust to the new digit after a few seconds and once he feels you relaxed again, he starts pumping them in and out of you at a decent pace.

The bassist is completely entranced by the sight, the squelching sounds of his fingers coming in and out of your dripping wet cunt fill the room along with the lewd noises you’re letting out and isn’t it a fucking scene.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the print of his hand red on your ass cheek and he can’t help himself from smacking it once more. But this time, it’s all too much and your knees lose strength so you’re falling limp on bed, his fingers slipping out of you and you gasp at the loss.

“No!” You cry out but before you can actually start crying this time, his left arm snakes underneath you so he can prop your ass up again and with no time to waste, he’s slipping three fingers inside you again.

This time though, Ross has some mercy on you and he makes up his mind about finally letting you cum. So his thumb skillfully starts rubbing circles on your clit as he continues fucking into you and you’re left clawing at the sheets in pleasure.

Your cheek presses on the mattress as you turn your face to the side to loudly gasp when he curls his fingers and he hits that spot that has you seeing stars, “Fuck, yes, just like that Ross!”

“Like this?” He puts on a naive tone in his voice before he curls his fingers again, and all you’re able to give back is a bunch of pornographic sounds that make him grow impossibly harder in his pants.

You’re panting with your face pressed on the bed, eyes shut tightly as pleasure bathes you, but he asks you to, “Play with your tits for me, love.” and he’s glad to see you’re listening when you do just as he says.

Your fingers are weak from the tight hold you had on the sheets so you’re very soft with the way you try to copy what he was doing on them before.

“Come on, love. You can do better than that.” He says as he purposely goes faster with his actions and you moan loudly at the increase in his pace. Wanting to appease him, you knead harshly on your tits and he hums in approval, “Yes, just like that. Now, pinch your nipples.” He instructs, his mouth going dry when you do it but he’s not feeling you squeezing his fingers with your cunt yet so he knows you’re not being deliberate about it.

“Hard.” He demands and when you do, your eyes tear up at the amount of pleasure running through you. You clench around his fingers tightly and he smiles to himself, “There we go. Don’t stop.” And you nod, entirely willing to do whatever he wants you to.

But you’re not sure you can continue with much intent when his thumb leaves your clit and instead, he brings his mouth to your clit to suck on it harshly again as he continues to relentlessly fuck three fingers in and out of you.

“Oh Ross! Fu– Fuck! Fuckkkk!” You chant as you feel incredibly close to the edge and a tear falls down the corner of your eye when he moans around your clit and the vibration of it is what tips you over.

Your legs shake uncontrollably as you cum, his left arm having to keep you propped up so he can fuck you through it but you’re cumming so hard, you yell his name over and over until you go limp and collapse in bed, completely exhausted.

“Such a good girl.” He praises you, dropping kisses on your back and rubbing circles on your ass cheek to soothe the soreness he left after spanking you that hard.

“Let me turn you around, yeah?” He softly speaks in a whisper in your ear and, in your completely fucked out state, you can only mumble incoherently and nod.

You don’t even register the way he giggles when you groan and call him mean as he turns you around, your ears only stop ringing almost a minute later, which he’s spent kissing all over your flushed skin, you hear him say, “You did so well, babe.”

Your eyes are lost, looking all over his face and a stupid smile tugs at the corners of your lips when you remember how you’ve gotten here.

He smiles back at you, and he leans in closer to your face so he can whisper, “You wanna taste yourself?” as if it was a little secret of yours.

The erotism of the offer makes you perk up and you nod, biting on your bottom lip as his hand dips down to gather your arousal with two fingers by dragging them up your folds.

“Suck.” He tells you once his hand comes up before your mouth and his slick covered fingers are entirely at your disposal.

You part your mouth for him to slip his fingers inside it and you moan around him the second you get a taste of yourself. He continues pushing his long fingers into your mouth until you gag when he hits the back of your throat, your eyes filling up with tears as you look up at him.

“So fucking perfect.” He praises you and he’s about to pull back but you bob your head up and down his digits and he curses under his breath. His fingers slip out of your mouth to cup your jaw, fingers digging on your cheeks as he says, “Fucking come here.” before he smashes your lips together hungrily.

Your head is still a bit gone after that orgasm, but you manage to keep up the pace he sets on the kiss, and you both can’t stop moaning when you taste your arousal on each other’s tongues. Your hands cup his jaw and you’re massively turned on by the mess your wetness has left on his beard.

After everything, you have almost forgotten about how he’s not gotten any relief yet, until his hips buck forwards and press into your sensitive core and you feel him rock hard against you.

Ross swallows a whimper you let out when his hard on presses on your overstimulated clit again but then his hips still for a second when one of your hands comes down between you and you start palming him over his trousers.

A guttural groan rumbles from the depths of his chest when your fingers wrap around his length over the fabric and he really has no self restraint left in him anymore so he starts thrusting up into your hand in search of relief.

You apply more pressure around him with your fingers and he stops kissing you, so he can let moans out against your mouth.

“Shit…” He mutters under his breath, the veins on his neck popping as he continues to buck his hips into your touch, meeting your strokes in the middle.

You hum in approval of his action, pecking his parted lips as you quicken your pace but that’s when he comes back around his senses and he stops moving.

Seeing that he stops, you slow down and a frown starts to show on your face. Thankfully, he looks at you through half lidded eyes and panting, he explains, “If you keep doing that I'm gonna cum in my pants.”

You clench around nothing at the prospect of him cumming inside you, so your hand leaves his cock alone to cup his jaw again and, fluttering your lashes at him, you plead, “Fill me up. Please.”

It’s animalistic, the growl he lets out and you gasp when he’s on your mouth again. Desperation, lust, need, is all you can think of when his lips move roughly against yours, his tongue almost fighting yours from how intent he moves.

And it has you speechless when he pulls back, struggling to catch your breath as he leaves you in bed to go over his bedside table and dig in the drawers for a condom. You tilt your head back to watch him finish undressing himself and your mouth goes dry when seeing the size of him.

Fuck me, is all you can think when you see him in all his glory.

He’s painfully hard, so swollen you can imagine the heaviness of him on your tongue. You almost start drooling thinking about how he might taste like, his tip already waking precum and you swear you would offer him to use your mouth as a mere hole so he can relieve himself after giving you the orgasm he did.

The muscles in his arms flex when he rolls the latex down his length, a groan of his ringing in the room and it travels right down between your legs.

When he’s back in bed, he kneels in front of you so the front of his thighs are flush against the back of yours and from that you were expecting him to take you in missionary but a split second later, you’re gasping when he twists your lower half to the side so one of your legs rests on its side right next to his and your other leg he lifts up when he hooks it on the crook of his arm.

With his left hand, Ross wraps his fingers around himself and brings his cock down to run down your folds, teasing your hole with a faint push of his tip.

“Ross…” You beg without the proper words, and he takes pity on you by dragging himself up again until he gets to your clit and he taps on it with the tip, making you gasp in pleasure.

It feels like ages pass when he keeps doing all of that, a cycle that makes your head dizzy but then he sees you flutter around nothing and he can’t wait anymore to sink himself inside you.

So he aligns himself and slowly, sinks an inch of his inside your cunt. “Fuck me, you’re so tight Y/N/N.” He curses loudly as inch by inch you welcome him but, not even with how wet you are, it’s a struggle to push himself deep inside you.

One of your hands grips tightly at the duvet while the other comes to grab ahold of the arm with which he’s lifting your leg up. He’s stretching you out so good, you’re tearing up again and your jaw goes slack, “Oh Ross!”

“You feel like fucking heaven, love.” His words sound strangled as he pushes the last of himself in and when he bottoms out, he stills. Hips flush against your ass, his pubic hair tickling you when he adjusts his standing on his knees and it earns him a loud whine from you when he moves inside you slightly from that.

You curse and pant, relaxing slowly and when he feels your walls finally accepting his girth and size, he kisses your calf so he can have your attention and get an answer when he asks, “Can I move?”

“Mhm.” You hum as you nod, eyes screwed shut at the feeling of him. But that means you don’t see as he lifts your leg further up until he props it on his shoulder and it’s when he leans into you the slightest bit that your eyes open wide at the angle.

“Ross, fuck! Move, please, move.” You desperately spit out, loudly so he doesn’t have a chance to mishear you.

And he does as you say, slowly dragging himself out of you a few inches before sinking back in. Your toes curl and your grip on the duvet and his arm grows tighter when he gives you a few more slow thrusts, a loud moan ripping out of your throat when he increases his pace a little.

The sounds in the room are lewd but they start getting pornographic when he leans forward further until his left hand comes to rest on the mattress right by your waist and his right hand presses your leg against his chest so it stays propped up on his shoulder.

From this angle, you feel him everywhere and you’re almost sure that if you looked down you could see him poking out into your belly when he pounds particularly harder on you.

“Like you were fucking made for me.” Ross says out into the air as he easily glides in and out of you, your wetness allowing him to increase his speed little by little and you’re gasping and moaning as his hips slam into you.

In between gasps, which he draws out of you with every snap of his hips, you manage to beg, “Don’t stop baby, please.”

“I won’t, I won’t” He promises, there’s not even a hint of stopping this in his mind, not when your walls hug him so perfectly and you clench around him when his pubic bone presses on your clit as he pounds into you.

“Can you take it harder, babe?” He asks sweetly, his lips leaving open mouthed kisses on your calf as if to offer some soothing in comparison to the way he has you folded.

Through half lidded eyes you look up at him, brows furrowed in pleasure, and you chant, “I can, yes, I can.”

The tone in your voice encourages him and he calls you, “Perfect girl.” before he draws almost completely out of you only to slam back inside you harshly.

“Fuckkkkk!!!” You yell, your back arching into him as he fucks you hard. His cock fills you up and stretches you out deliciously but the harshness of every thrusts feels like he’s splitting you open just like you had imagined, and you truly can’t think of anything better happening to you right now.

You're so close to your orgasm, your walls are closing tightly around him and Ross groaning and moaning like a mad man over you at the tightness of your cunt. And at the sight of it all, your skin glistening with sweat, the way your tits bounce as he thrusts into you, your pretty lips wet and parted with a string of spit dribbling down the corner of your mouth. He wants to kiss you so badly right now, but he doesn’t want to hurt you by folding you more than you are right now.

But you’re squeezing his cock so tight, it’s driving him insane.

“M’gonna cum Y/N.” He lets you know with a strangled moan, his fingers clutching onto your leg tightly and you feel him desperately speeding up in chase of his release.

You whine loudly and agree, “Me too, I’m so close.” nails digging in the flesh of his arm, and the hint of pain is what sends him over.

It’s a mess of grunts and moans as he cums, his cock twitching inside you as he spills into the condom and it’s the raw filth of the scene that snaps the coil that had been forming in your lower stomach.

You cum all over his cock, your name being the only cohesive word coming out of your mouth and turning into moans as he continues slamming his hips into you.

You’re too sensitive now but Ross has been holding back for so long, he feels like he hasn’t fully let go yet so he picks up his pace again and fucks fast and hard into your cunt, making you scream his name along with a string of curses.

He wants you milking every single drop out of him so he lets go of your leg, trusting that it’ll stay up on his shoulder and brings his hand down to your heat so he can play with your clit. The fast circles he rubs on it earn him high pitch cries from you but you squeeze his cock impossibly tighter and he growls as he continues to cum.

It’s all so much, and you’re soon feeling a second orgasm looming on you with the speed of the fastest roller coaster you could imagine until you can’t hold onto your sanity any longer and you just let go.

“Ross! Fuck!” Your scream bounces on the walls of the room as you cum, your release so intense you squirt all over his hand, wetting his thighs and drenching the duvet.

“That’s it! That’s it!” He chants as his thrusts falter, his fingers still rapidly flicking at your clit and you give him all that you’ve got.

He feels dizzy when he stops, almost like you’ve sucked even the life out of him with your cunt and he has to take a few deep breaths before he can gather his thoughts. Though his one and only thought right now is “Fuck, Y/N/N, you’re so hot.”

Ross allows you both a few seconds to catch your breaths before he pulls out of you, and you whine at the loss of him. You find your hazy mind managing to conjure the thought that you would do anything to feel him like that again and again and again.

Very carefully, he grabs your leg and brings it down on the bed, and he chuckles softly when you’re just laying there limply like a rag doll. Your skin is flushed and sweaty, and your chest heaves as you collect yourself.

The bassist crawls on the bed and hovers over you to start dropping kisses all over your face, brushing the hair that’s sticking to your skin back and watching the way your eyes flutter shut at the touch with adoration.

“Are you okay, love?” He makes sure to ask you, thumb caressing the apple of your cheek sweetly.

“Mhm.” It’s the only thing you can trust yourself uttering right now, simple and easy to understand unlike the knot of thoughts in your brain at the moment.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says genuinely, drinking in every detail of your face in the state you’re in. You smile softly at him, your eyes struggling to open since you’re so spent.

But you’re not surprised when he adds with a hint of awe in his voice, “Milking me dry and drenching me like that? Such a good girl.”

You giggle at his words, shaking your head in amusement at him. He’s such a boy.

He dips his head to capture your lips in a sweet brief kiss and then he’s pulling back, whispering “I’ll be right back okay?” against your lips.

He waits for you to give him an answer, which is just a simple nod since you’re still trying to gather your wits, and then he’s off the bed walking out of his room.

There aren't any clues about where he’s off to circling your mind, instead you’re trying to get your brain to work again. And of course, the second you find yourself coming back to reality, the first thing that flashes to the forefront of your mind is the image of him relentlessly pounding into you.

His brows furrowed and accentuating the wrinkles on his forehead and by his eyes, his mouth parted and letting his beautiful moans escape, strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty face.

You find yourself heating up head to toe again, and you know right then that you’ll be thinking of him on lonely nights when all you have at your disposal is your vibrator and your fingers to bring you pleasure.

Ross coming back into his room startles you out of your filthy memories of merely a few minutes before. He’s got a rag in hand that you find has been wet with warm water once it makes contact with your sensitive core.

“Sorry.” He says softly when you flinch as he wipes you clean and it makes you smile like an idiot.

You bite your bottom lip and hold your breath when he grazes your clit again so you don’t react badly and once he’s back on your inner thighs, you breathe out, “S’alright. Thank you.”

When he deems his work done, he offers you his hand so he can help you up and you thank him yet again when you’re up on wobbly legs. His hand doesn’t leave yours and instead of just telling you where the bathroom is, he guides you to it, kissing you before you can close the door behind you.

It doesn’t take you that long to do everything you have to do in the bathroom, feeling refreshed when you throw some water on your face and pat it dry. You run your fingers through your hair to try and tame it, you bite your bottom lip thinking about him waiting for you in his room and without more time to waste, you’re out of the bathroom and walking back to him.

The first thing you notice when you’re back in his room is that he’s taken the duvet somewhere else, which you expect to be to the wash since you drenched it as you came the last time.

Ross looks at you expectantly, patting the empty side of the bed while lays on his side with his head propped on the palm of his hand.

You giggle at him, raising a brow as you question him, “What? You like cuddles after sex?”

“I do so come here.” He demands lifting the sheets up for you to get under them and you comply. As soon as you come to rest on the mattress, he snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you in so you’re pressed flush against him, turning you around slightly so you can spoon.

A warmth coats your insides and seeps through your pores, and a hum of bliss manages to slip past your lips against your wishes. You like the contrast in his behavior, you find it so fucking sexy that he can get you to oblige to every one of his words during sex but be a sweetheart afterwards.

You’re relishing in the feeling for a bit, your eyes growing heavy when suddenly you remember where you have to go tomorrow morning—or later in the morning, more like since it’s already past one in the morning.

“I have to be home early by the way.” Your words are soft, more like you’re just letting him know instead of a warning.

You feel the way he cranes his neck up as if to look at you over your shoulder, “You’re gonna try to sneak out on me?”

In all honesty, you’re gutted you even promised your sister you’d go to your parents’ house around eleven in the morning so you could go out for brunch to spend the first day of the year around your family, but he doesn’t have to know you’re kinda considering bailing on your family so you shrug, “I might.”

He groans and pulls you impossibly closer to him, almost like he’s trying to cage you and trap you so you don’t go. And it makes you open your eyes to giggle when he doesn’t budge or say anything for a whole minute so you find yourself reiterating, “I mean it when I say I have plans early tomorrow.”

You’re not sure what you’re expecting him to say, maybe a ‘Alright, I had fun with you, let’s sleep and you can leave whenever you want but I’m gonna stay asleep.’ or ‘Sure, but let me know before you leave so I know you’ve gone and I can lock the door behind you’, anything along those lines.

However, the words coming out of his mouth are sassy and definitive, “Yeah, you can reschedule that.”

And you’re scoffing at the confidence he has at saying that. It’s hot, you think but god, the nerve.

“Bold of you to assume I wanna.” You play with him. You do want to reschedule, though it’s more leaning towards canceling on your family at this point.

“Would it help if I said please?” He bargains efficiently, a sweetness laced around his words that you know it’s just to get you to twist your arm.

Suddenly, he’s no longer pressed on your back. He hovers over you and without much of a warning, traps you in a needy kiss, almost like he’s pleading for you to do what he’s saying.

One of his legs weaves in the middle of yours and with how he’s leaning into you, his thigh presses on your cunt, the friction of his thigh on your overstimulated clit elicits a moan out of you that he takes as a good sign.

So he pulls back, stealing one last peck from your lips to ask, “Can you reschedule whatever tomorrow morning is? Please?” He puts on his best puppy eyes, a pout forming on his lips and it’s so hard trying not to fold instantly.

You force yourself to appear nonchalant, smirking up at him to challenge him, “Keep this up and I might consider it.”

No more words are needed for him to continue, his next strategy being kissing down your neck onto your collarbone. “Greedy,” He starts saying planting another kiss on your collarbone, “Greedy,” He mumbles against your skin but this time pressing a kiss between your breasts, and he moves to the side slowly, tip of his nose and beard tickling you as he moves, “Girl” He finishes his sentence before biting on the top of your right breast making you gasp.

The moment his teeth leave your skin free, his tongue licks over the bite mark he’s left one you and, weakly, you admit, “Maybe I can reschedule.”

“I can work with a maybe.” He mutters smugly, his tongue flicking on your nipple once, his right hand holding your hip tightly.

You shiver beneath him, your eyes closing as he flicks it once more, “Sure you can.” Your words are laced with sarcasm as you try your best to act cool about it but he’s watching you through his lashes and he’s certainly happy with himself for making you crumble like this so easily.

His hold on your hips loosens up and it slowly inches closer to your core, you’re almost shaking in anticipation at the ghostly touch of his fingers over your mound and you barely hear him say, “I can,” just as he dips a finger inside you.

“Fuck…” You moan in response, feeling his fingers inside you again threatening to have you stupid all over again.

He watches the way your face contorts in pleasure with his lips parting agape, his cock twitching at the sight. He drags his finger slowly in and out of you a few times before curling it inside you, smirking when a loud mewl comes from you and your hands come to grip on his shoulders tightly.

“That good?” He’s taunting you and you know it, and you’re expecting him to continue doing just that. It’s no surprise to you that just to push you further into giving into him, he adds a second finger.

“Oh fuck, Ross.” You breathe out, your nails digging into his back, “Feels so good.” You finally answer, one of your hands coming up the back of his neck to grab at his hair and pull on it.

He hums, continuing to patiently fuck you with his fingers and due to how overly sensitive you still are, that familiar knot has started to tighten in your lower stomach.

You’re practically holding him in place, so he doesn’t even think of pulling away just when you’re about to come but this time, Ross thinks about just having fun with your overstimulation and he wonders how fast you’d cum if he wrapped his lips around your nipples at the same time as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you.

The second he catches your nipple in his mouth, your back arches off the bed, goosebumps breaking on your skin as he sucks on it. It’s dizzying when he lets it go to flick on it with the tip of his tongue and then bites on it mercilessly.

“Ross! Fuck!” You don’t think you’ll last much longer if he continues what he’s doing, and he knows it from how you’re squirming beneath him and the way you’re clenching around his fingers.

So he moves onto your other nipple, repeating the process and it’s that, along with his hand picking up its pace that you convulse under him as you cum yet again tonight.

“Yes, Y/N/N. Just like that, babe.” Your ears barely register him saying sweet nothings into your ear as you come down from you high, his fingers slowly riding you out of it.

Until you can’t take it anymore and you’re pushing his hand away from you. Ross hears your silent plea to stop and he slowly drags his fingers out of your cunt. You manage to peel your eyes open just when he’s licking his fingers clean, lapping at every drop of your cum on his hand intently.

“Is it rescheduled now?” He asks you as if you’re not completely fucked out again, and he’s so smug seeing you this way, it makes you want to scream.

Yet he’s got you so stupefied that you don’t even find yourself able to keep playing along with him, instead you pant and nod, “It is. It definitely is.”

That’s all he wanted and he lets you know with the shit eating grin he has on his face, along with the sultry, “Good girl.” he offers you as praise.

He kisses you again, almost like a thank you but the meaning is lost on you when you taste yourself on his tongue. You moan into his mouth, pulling on his hair once again and this time managing to let his hair fall down freely when you tug off the hairband that kept it in its bun.

Of course, Ross complains, with a groan that you ignore being one to call you out for what you’ve done. But then your hands are both lost in his hair, soft and long strands of jet black hair tangled between your fingers and you pull on it harshly like you’d been dying to do all night.

His groans are like music to your ears, but then you realize what’s just happened again and you pull on his hair, only this time is so that you can break the kiss and scorn him, “You’re such a prick, now I gotta go back to the bathroom.”

You’re too lazy to pick yourself up from the warm bed to clean yourself up again and pee, you roll your eyes just thinking about having to do all that when you’re exhausted after all your activities tonight.

Your complaint falls on deaf ears, since he only focuses on what you’ve called him and he warns you, “Call me that again and you’ll see what happens.”

A scoff is the only answer you given him, before you’re pushing him off you—he doesn’t even budge when you do so, you have to whine and ask him to move with a please added by the end for him to let you go—and going to the bathroom to freshen yourself up yet again.

When you come back, you snort seeing the same thing happen as the first time around but this time you just silently go along with his wishes. He holds you tightly against his front with one of his arms around your waist, one of his legs comes to tangle between yours and he presses a bunch of kisses to the back of your neck before nuzzling into it and willing himself to get some sleep.

“I ain’t quite done with you yet.” Ross whispers against your skin, drinking in your scent.

Your eyes are heavy and his limbs over your body come to feel like a weighted blanket that has you more sleep than awake at this point, yet you still manage to let out a bubbly giggle and you whisper back, “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Definitely a promise, love.” He replies breathily, the hair in the back of your neck rises in goosebumps at the prospect of it all and a tingly feeling starts bubbling in your stomach.

You’re not sure what awaits you when you wake up in the morning, but if it’s anything like what’s happened so far then…

It’s a very Happy New Year to you.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

A/N: I'm not even sure what to say other than I hope you enjoyed lol. Now I'm off to drown myself in a tub full of holy water to cleanse my soul and repent for days on end, I think you lot should do so too. I'm incredibly excited to see your reactions, they are always so great and they make me giggle and kick my feet. Thanks a million for reading as always my darlings, and I hope you have a lovely week! xx

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tonguepiercedanyway75 · 30 days

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a/n: This picture is doing unspeakable things to me.

summary: imagine waking up and first thing is having a make out session on the couch.

warnings: 18+ mdni

masterlist

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“Morning,” you murmur, leaning against the doorway to the living room. Ross is in a short black sports shorts and a black t-shirt. His hair is in a mess which means he hasn’t got ready yet. It’s the same with you. You’re only wearing a (Ross’) shirt and only panties.

Ross gives you a sleepy smile and puts his phone on the table in front of him. “G’morning love, sleep okay?” He asks and you move a little closer to him. His hands find your thighs and he rubs slow circles into them.

“Slept amazing,” you hum. It’s always a pretty late night, even when he’s home from tour or if he has work. But when he comes to bed, you fall asleep almost immediately after his arms find his way around your waist.

“Yeah?” He grins and pulls you into his lap. You giggle as your legs settle next to his thighs. “Yeah,” you say, “how long have you been up?” He places his hands on you waist, kissing your head as you rest it on his chest, hiding your face in his neck.

“Couple hours, had to work for a bit,” you just hum at his response and close your eyes but he lifts your head by cradling your face. “Tired much?” He laughs but you just shake your head.

You notice how his beard is at the perfect length and you bite your lip down as you think about the feeling of his beard between your thighs. “Or not,” he chuckles as he sees your blushing.

“C’mere,” he says as he grabs your hips and moves them a bit higher, the action causes you to let out a small whimper at the friction you’re gaining.

Ross rolls his hips up into you, continuing to kiss you, softly biting down on to your lip. You can feel him, hot and heavy against you and you roll your hips again, taking what he’s giving you. This time he groans into your mouth, one of his hands leaving your hip to grasp the base of your neck and pull you even closer.

You spend the next ten minutes in this position, grinding, panting and kissing. Groans and whimpers fill the air as his bulge presses into your core. You feel like you need to pull away as soon as possible because it’s embarrassing of how fast you could come.

You let your head fall back and Ross just moves down your neck. His beard tickles against your collarbone as he leaves wet kisses down your body. “Shit,” you pant.

You stop your moves and pull his head back from you. Your breathing sounds like you ran a marathon and you sure as hell feel like it. “Fuck,” He whispers breathily, once you both stop moving, hot and sticky under your clothing as you both lean into each other.

Ross’ pupils are dilated, his mouth is parted and his lips wet. The sight makes you melt and sink into him even more. “Sorry,” you say but he’s quick to speak.

“Don’t be darling,” he cups your face and gives you a kiss on the cheek, “you need a break?” He asks and tilts his head. You’re unsure, you just need him.

You shake your head and pull him in again, grinding your hips down again, earning a groan. He smiles into the kiss, “Jesus,” he says and starts to guide you by your hips. “Insatiable.”

#ross macdonald #Ross Macdonald blurb #ross macdonald smut #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 fic

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abiiors · 9 months

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three's a party 🍸// george daniel x reader x ross macdonald

a/n: hi. thank you so much to my darlings @bookish-strawberry and @ughgoaway for helping me with some of the scenes!!! this is quite tame compared to some of the others i read for "research" but it is still quite...porny. this note is so long, but i'm just rambling because i'm nervous!!! anyway, here, have this unholy piece of writing with barely any plot

cw: threesome (obv), "good girl" and other feminine words/pronouns, uhhhh...yeah, just. general nastiness.

wc: 3.6k

the pub lights are dim, ambient. people chatter around you in low volume, a friendly humdrum of couples out on date nights and old friends catching up, it’s nice—this place. the food is good, the alcohol is even better; the playlist is just the right mix of sensual and exciting. absolutely perfect for a casual first date.

except for the man in front of you who drones on and on and on about one thing or the other—none of which you have given two shits about in your entire existence. but now you have to sit there and pretend that the local football team—the bulls or the foxes or some other inane animal—are the most riveting conversation you’ve ever had.

you also have to pretend like you haven’t been checking out other people sitting at the bar, laughing and joking and having way more fun than you in general—the group of drunk girls out on a friday night, couples on dates, two men sat at the edge of the bar who haven't stopped glancing your way since you first walked in.

a blond and a brunet, one with a sharp, clean-shaven face, the other with a softer face and a thick, dark beard. one with close-cropped and buzzed hair, the other with long hair tied up. two ends of the spectrum, yet they both have the same aura of je ne sais quoi about them. it’s tempting, distracting. and certainly a million times better than whatever’s happening in front of you.

every time one of them looks over at you, you lower your eyes coyly, pretend to be engrossed in a conversation with your date—nodding along to whatever he’s saying and laughing when he pauses expectantly. it’s truly a testament to his intelligence that he hasn’t caught up to your little game yet.

the blond man looks at you again, intense eyes and a full pink mouth. his eyes linger, lazily staring you from head to toe in your tight black first-date dress. then out the corner of your eye, you watch him mumble something to his friend.

he’s a bit subtle, turning only slightly and checking you out from the corner of his eyes, making sure he doesn’t get caught every time you look over in their general direction.

your date clears his throat.

“so i was thinking we could get one more drink and…take this back to my place?”

well… shit

“i had a lot of fun…” you begin, trying to hide the wince in your words but your date’s face falls as realisation finally dawns. “but i don’t—”

“so you’ve wasted my time then,” he cuts you off, nostrils flaring in anger as he clutches his beer pint harder than necessary.

“excuse me?”

“bitch,” he spits under his breath yet you hear it clearly.

all you can do is roll your eyes at his petulance. the glasses clatter as he stands up abruptly, gathering the attention of a few people nearby. you’re beyond feeling any sort of embarrassment; and why should you? it’s not you making a scene.

“classy,” you mutter, taking a leisurely sip of your aperol spritz.

it’s great, no reason for you to ruin a perfectly good evening for a little bitch baby. in your peripheral vision, the two men snicker. the rational part of your brain knows they’re laughing at an inside joke; nothing to do with you. but your delusional brain can’t stop imagining the two of them listening in on your conversation, smirking at your date’s little temper tantrum. you take your own sweet time finishing your drink after he leaves. he’s already out of your mind before he’s even halfway across the pub. you can finally indulge in your other pursuits after all.

“well, that was a pathetic date."

it's after fifteen minutes when you've sought solace in the first floor balcony of the pub. a few people loiter in the nooks and corners, making out and sneaking quick puffs of cigarettes, some wait for their turn to use the loo. some linger in search of peace.

you focus your attention on the stranger.

his voice is deep, deeper than you would have imagined. there’s a gravelly and rough edge to it that makes his words skitter down your bones. even just the way he walks towards you, slow and leisurely, has you hypnotised and transfixed on him. but you won’t be swayed so easily.

“are you always this straightforward with strangers?”

he comes to a stop a few inches away from you and leans against the railing; his body mirroring yours. his spicy cologne permeates the air around you. it's a struggle to not inhale sharply and get a lungful of it. even in your heels, you’re a good few inches shorter than him.

“no,” he shrugs and the movement makes his arm brush against yours ever so slightly, “i guess you caught my eye.”

you attribute the goosebumps on your arms to the chilly night air even as a small voice in your head reminds you that it’s august.

“george,” he extends a hand. it’s big, rough-looking with callouses all over his palms. either he’s a gym rat with pretty show muscles, or… you can’t exactly place the or. but it leads to quite a few interesting theories.

“your…friend didn’t come out with you?”

the man—george—raises an eyebrow, either at the way you leave his hand hanging in mid-air or at the mention of his friend but he does a rather good job of hiding his surprise. if he even felt any, to begin with.

“why? you’re more interested in my friend?”

a small part of you almost purrs in delight at the tinge of jealousy in his tone. good, possessive men know how to make nights like these into memorable ones. his fingers curl slightly, ready to put the extended hand down. the nicotine stains on them should have put you off a long time ago. instead, you find yourself looking at those fingers; imagining things you really shouldn’t.

“you always answer questions with more questions?” you bite your bottom lip, letting just the hint of a smile ghost over your mouth. let him work to figure out your tone. your intentions.

george chuckles deeply, sucking air between his teeth, and about to say something when you hear the second set of footsteps. these are imperceptibly heavier, almost like you know who it is…

a smirk curls up your mouth as george turns around to look at—

“ross…” he says quietly.

possessive men know how to have wild nights.

possessive men are also…incredibly easy to predict.

george is behind you, pressed up against your naked ass, hard and thick. the only thing that separates you are his cotton brief. it only took you fifteen minutes to decide to take both the men home with you. and judging from the minimum resistance you got from either of them, one thing is clear—this isn’t their first rodeo.

“you feel this, darling?,” george whispers, mouth brushing over the shell of your ear while rolling your nipple softly between his fingers.

it’s a lot of stimulation. it’s the good kind of stimulation, the kind that has your toes curling and your thighs shaking. and if it weren’t for the other man kneeling between your legs, holding you up with his hand on your hips, you would have fallen to your knees a long time ago.

“mm–yes, fuck, it feels good,” you moan, head rolling back to rest against george’s chest. your fingers are tangled up in ross’ hair, long graceful fingers twisting and turning traces of his soft hair between them, guiding him as he licks and sucks your clit until you’re nothing but a wet trembling mess.

ross won’t be outdone so easily. he hums against you, sending vibrations that shoot through your entire body at lightning speed. “is he making you feel better than i am, baby?” he pouts, stopping entirely.

his beard glistens in the ambient lights of the room as he stares at you with intense, blown-out eyes. a whine escapes you, your fingers tighten in his hair—tugging at it harshly and making him groan. it’s so close to your cunt, enough for you feel it but not close enough. you writhe against george, trying to thrust your hips back into ross’ face, trying to get him to continue. but george tsks.

“not before you answer him, baby.” his fingers are back to pinching your nipples; pain and pleasure blending in together in a heady mix. “don’t we deserve to know?”

his voice is gruffer than before, barely restrained—a man so used to commanding people that it rolls off his tongue effortlessly.

ross smirks when you mumble something incoherently, ready to finish what he started but george is not satisfied. “use your words, darling.”

it sends a spark of desperate annoyance through you, clearing the fog in your brain. “ross is better,” you grit out, guiding the man back between your legs smirking at the way george tenses behind you.

for someone who seems so calm and composed he certainly has a competitive streak…

ross grazes his teeth against you, licking it after—almost like a reward for declaring him the winner. you throw a leg over his shoulder, hissing at the way his tongue has better access now, crying out when he swipes his fingers against your folds almost lazily.

you suck in a sharp breath, ready to cry out again but the scream dies in your throat. rather, it’s strangled—literally—by george wrapping his free hand around it, applying pressure to the sides.

“you want to be a brat?” he tsks again, “she wants to be a brat, ross.”

ross laughs breathlessly, letting go of you for just a second, “you’re just a sore loser.” he smirks, eyes alight with mirth. there’s a hint of danger in them, not the kind you sense in george—one that comes with a touch of sadism. ross’ brand of danger feels more arrogant. someone who knows what effect he has on people, on women. he’s not a taker. he’s a giver. and right now, he looks at you like he’d give anything to watch you fall apart with his name on your lips.

the almost lack of oxygen has your head spinning, combined with the knot pulled taut in your stomach—it’s almost impossible to stand up, to make your legs hold you up. but that’s what george is here for.

his fingers adapt a rougher pace, pinching and flicking your nipples, matching ross’s movements. your mind feels like it’s torn both ways, fighting hard to keep track of two sensations, two feelings. it’s too much.

a string of curses fall from your lips. “gonna cum,” you plead, struggling against ross, desperately trying to get more and more and so much more. “can i cum, please. please–fuck.”

“what should we do, george?” ross hums, ignoring you entirely. his nails dig into your ass, feeling up the curves and the firm muscles. you are nothing but a toy in his hands, for him to use and control. all your bossiness from before melts away as soon as george snakes a hand around your waist, stroking ross’ head and guiding it the way he wants to.

ross doesn’t resist, he only chuckles, making you cry out pleas once again.

“have you earned it, sweetheart?” george asks, whispery rough voice burrowing on the insides of your skull.

have you?

you nod, or try to at least. it’s hard when your head rests limply on his chest, throat gripped between his hands.

“please, yes. i’ll do what you want, pl–fuck, fuck.”

“whatever we want?”

“whatever yo–you want.”

“go on then,” george pinches your nipple, twisting it between his fingers, “give him a taste.”

he’s barely halfway through the sentence when you scream out incoherently, falling apart as waves after waves of pleasure hit you all at once. everything goes white for a split second, all that remains is intoxicating pleasure. you have no sense of time, of self. only that one man holds you up as the other laps at your folds greedily, licking away every last drop of what you have to offer.

“want a taste?” ross smirks. his voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere under water. you’re unsure if you can stand up on your own just yet. vestiges of the orgasm course through you, heady and hot. “she’s fucking sweet, george, like honey.”

ross stands up, right in front of you, tall and imposing. and for the first time, you’re between both of them, feeling their sweaty skin on yours, inhaling them greedily.

“open your mouth,” he commands, fingers taking hold of your chin and roughly tilting it up. you know what’s coming as you watch the sinister half-smile on his face. and oh how delightlfully right you are.

the moment you open your mouth for him, ross spits in it; saliva mixed with your slick still coating his tongue.

“good girl,” he whispers, turning your face to george who captures your mouth in a rough kiss. his tongue flicks on the insides of your mouth, searching, tasting you and ross together. he moans, satisfied. “now about that promise…”

“be a good girl and get on all fours”

it’s a shock to you how ross takes charge when he wants to. george doesn’t contradict him, he only watches with vague amusement as you try holding yourself up on shaking arms and legs, drenched in sweat and thighs sticky with your own slick.

your entire body buzzes with adrenaline, shivers racking down your spine, still needy for more and more, still wanting to please the men who have been pleasing you for… what feels like hours now.

“now,” george says, walking up to you and stopping just in front of you, “you can take both of us, can’t you?”

you peer up at george, tall and imposing george who looks at you with such blatant lust that it makes a tiny moan slip out of you. you can, you have been dying to do just that. now you look at him through your eyelashes and through the sweaty hair sticking to your forehead, falling in your eyes.

“yes,” you nod eagerly, “please, yes.”

the men smile, all teeth and hardness and intensity—it’s intoxicating. almost hypnotising, you get on your knees, hand drifting between your legs one more time just to feel the friction again but ross is quicker.

“ah–ah!” he quickly catches your wrist, before it’s even reached past your navel. “that’s our job, darling. all you need to do is get on all fours and look pretty.”

“but she already is so pretty,” george tsks, palming himself through his briefs. his cock is a stark, thick outline that stands out, making you drool. if he already looks so big and delicious then how good would it be to feel him on your tongue and stretching out your mouth?

the moment stretches on—you on all fours, on trembling, shaky limbs, waiting there like a good little slut for either one of these men to fill you up.

george continues to play with himself, fingers dipping in and out of the waistband of his underwear, touching and teasing. until finally he pulls his boxers down. you watch, transfixed as george shamelessly pumps himself in front of you, head thrown back, throaty moans echoing in the room as he slides his fist around his cock. you stare, eager and waiting, almost leaning forward.

behind you, ross is silent. you can almost imagine him staring at the scene in front of him in awe and lust. you try to imagine it from his perspective. your dripping swollen cunt right in front of him growing wetter still the more you watch george.

“don’t tease,” you almost whine, unable to take more of this. you need to know what he tastes like. and you need it now.

“eager, are we?” george asks, walking up to you. “are you not pleasing her enough, ross?” he tuts and ross chuckles; throaty and distracted.

you get little warning before you feel ross sliding a finger up your slit, lazily collecting your wetness and then the tell-tale sound of his tongue lapping it up from his fingers. it’s filthy and disgusting, it makes you arch your back and drives you almost crazy with want.

“i could do better than your hand.” your grin matches george’s who comes to a stop in front of you.

“guess she likes me better, ross.”

ross huffs, “we’ll see.”

before you have the chance to respond, ross draws a hiss of pleasure out of you. his length drags against your cunt, almost between your ass cheeks, sliding just the tip in. no further. red, hot need spears through you. if the men are determined to tease and taunt you then it’s for you to take matters into your own hands.

before george can registers it, you cup a hand around his ass, pulling him forward until his cock practically rests on your face.

a thick vein runs along the side, pulsating, practically inviting you to trace it with your sharp fingernail. you let your tongue swirl over his slit, humming at the salty taste of his precum. george moans as the vibrations of your hum hit. ross moves his hips slowly, almost pulling out before slamming into you fully. the force of it has you choking on george, gagging around him, drooling messily.

“breathe,” he commands softly, stroking your hair. you do as he tells you, relaxing your throat more and letting his weight rest on your tongue.

the sides of your mouth burn from the stretch, black, glittery mascara tears stain your face. and yet all you care about is this, here, now. it’s fullness like you’ve never experienced before, delicious and thick, drawing out gasps and moans from you that mix with his grunts.

“such a perfect girl,” he coos, “isn’t she ross? doesn’t she feel fucking great?”

ross hums behind you, thrusting into you again at a steady pace. shameless need and lust pools in your belly, bleeds through your veins as you trace along george’s cock with your tongue. his fingers remain tangled in your hair, guiding you, commanding you to please him as he wishes.

you hollow our your cheeks, licking and sucking until his hips move in much the same pace as ross’ do.

ross’ hand snakes up your waist, between your legs again, finding your clit again to rub and pinch, to make you whine. each one of his flicks makes you moan around george, sending small hums of pleasure right up his spine. he looks blissed out, head rolling and eyes half-lidded. a surge of pride runs through you at the sight.

ross’ fingers dig into your hips, bruising the soft flesh. twinges of pain intertwine with sparks of pleasure as he pushes in, stretching you out and filling you in.

“taking me so well, sweetheart,” he praises. the term of endearment from his mouth makes your knees weak and your legs tremble but ross holds you up, slamming into you until he bottoms out again and again.

flesh slaps against flesh—rhythmic sounds punctuated by guttural grunts. the position you’re in allows ross to thrust deeper each time, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. if your mouth weren’t otherwise occupied, he would have had you mewling by now. but that doesn’t mean you don’t let out the occasional whimpers as you continue to bob your head up and down george’s dick.

the man is close, you can tell. his cock twitches and spasms in your mouth. he has lost some of his rhythm, hips bucking wildly as he chases his pleasure. you can’t help but caress the base of his cock with your hand, moving it lower to softly squeeze his balls.

“shit–shit,” he curses loudly, “do that again.”

so you oblige, letting your nails graze on the sensitive skin. within seconds, you feel his hold tightening in your hair. george fucks your mouth with wild abandon, careless thrusts—he couldn't care less about the drool dribbling down your chin, about your tear-stained face. the burn around your lips.

“gonna cum, darling, doing so well,” he grounds out. your own body mirrors the feelings as ross continues to thrust faster and faster.

the knot in your stomach tightens, blood pumps through your veins, infused with lightning until the bitter-salty taste of cum fills your mouth. george cums, groaning loudly and shooting spurts of his release down your throat that you lap up hungrily. some of it dribbles down the side of your chin but you don’t swallow just yet. instead, you open your mouth wide open for him to have a look.

“you’re killing me,” he swears, trying to get a grip on himself. only then do you swallow, whining loudly when ross pinches your clit, kneading the bundle of nerves in rough circles.

“go on,” he commands, “cum for us. wanna feel you around me before i fill you up.”

it only takes one more thrust from ross before you’re almost falling down face first from the force of the orgasm that hits you. vaguely you’re aware of ross cumming inside you, of it spilling down your thighs, mixing with your own release. vaguely you’re aware of george falling to his knees in front of you, legs still spasming as he watches you fall apart again and again.

you cry out something unintelligent—perhaps their names, perhaps something else. the world blacks out, until slow, blurred images creep back into your line of sight.

the beginning of the night, the pathetic date is long gone from your mind. right now all you can think of is ecstacy.

and then perhaps a round two.

lemme know what you think <3

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#RIGHT. GOODBYE.#ross macdonald #george daniel #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #ross macdonald smut #george daniel smut #the 1975 #the 1975 smut #matty healy #adam hann #smut writing #smut fic #minors do not interact #female reader #the 1975 fic #three/some

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