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lipglossanon · 6 months

Text

Costumes!

dark stepdad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader - NSFW

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, stepcest, CNC, oral (m & f receiving), dirty talk, costumed sex, slight nipple play, tit slapping, unprotected sex, creampie, slight ass play, calling reader his little wife 🤭, degradation, name calling, mommy kink

not proofread ✌️

Your friend Tiffany invites you to her house for the weekend and for once Leon says it’s okay to go (probably cause you asked while your mom was in the room). Unbeknownst to you, Tiffany is actually hosting a Halloween party. So that afternoon when she picks you up, she’s bubbling over with excitement.

You get to her house and any confusion from her happy demeanor on the car ride over clears up when seeing the huge group of people already milling around her house in costumes.

“Go to my room and change!” she giggles, pushing you towards the stairs, “I picked out a costume for you already!”

Feeling a little hesitant once you see the outright slutty costume, you decide to live a little and quickly change into it. Giving yourself a quick once over in the mirror, you adjust the plaid skirt with the white button up top that’s showing off your breasts. The school girl getup is a little played out, but you still think it looks cute.

Heading downstairs, you join Tiffany and the rest of her group of friends. She introduces everyone and before too long more people show up until you lose sight of Tiffany and the small gaggle of her friends. Feeling a little self conscious at the stares of the other people at the party, you slip away to the basement, thankful that no one else has come down here.

Making your way over, you grab a soda from the mini fridge down here, planning on just hiding out until the party dies down. Turning around, you jump to see a tall figure at the bottom of the stairs. You squint and can make out a plain white mask covering their face.

“H-hi,” you give them a half wave, “uh, there’s drinks if you want one?”

You hold up your can of soda, but they shake their head no, stepping further into the empty basement. You give them a weak smile and go to bypass them but they reach out to grab your arm.

Wincing, you try to pull away but it only causes them squeeze harder making you gasp.

“You’re hurting me,” you frown up at the masked face, “let go.”

They do let you go, only to grab your throat and drag you over to the couch in the corner. You drop the can of soda; luckily, it lands on the soft rug placed down in front of the couch, so it doesn’t just explode everywhere.

He shoves you down onto your knees before sitting on the couch in front of you, spreading his legs so you’re forced to kneel between them.

“Stop,” tears bead your waterline, “my dad’s going to kill you, I swear.”

This response gets a light chuckle from the masked man, but he only unbuckles his belt to unzip and unbutton his slacks, pulling his thick cock from his briefs. Your thighs clench together as you see a bead of precum drip from the uncut tip.

His hand reaches out to wind in your hair, clenching tightly and making you whimper at the pain. A familiar cologne hits your nose making your eyes flutter. Your nipples harden to stiff peaks that can be seen through your flimsy shirt.

“You should s-stop,” you whimper as he flicks across your hard nipples, “my daddy’s gonna be really mad.”

That earns hard pinches to each nipple until you’re arching into the rough treatment. He yanks your top down so your breasts are completely exposed. Still holding onto your hair with one hand, he uses the other to slap your breasts, making sure to catch your nipples with his fingertips.

“No,” you cry, tears slipping down your cheeks even as your flimsy panties fill with slick, “I don’t want this, stop, please.”

The man groans and slaps your tits even harder, constantly swapping sides until your skin stings and tingles. Your eyes keep dropping to his leaking cock, mouth watering at the thought of that fat weight on your tongue.

As if he reads your mind, he drags your head forward until your mouth hovers over his dick, using his other hand to grab the base to slap it against your cheek and lips. You try to turn your head but the firm grip he has keeps you rooted to the spot while he drags his leaking tip all over your mouth and chin.

He presses the tip against your lips but when you press them together to prevent him from going any further, he laughs at you, a low mean sound, and lets go of his cock to pinch your nose shut. Your hands have been balled up in your lap this entire time, but now you bring them up to push against his legs but he doesn’t budge.

You hold your breath as long as possible but once your lungs start to burn you gasp out and he shoves your mouth down on his cock. Whining, your wet eyes stare up at his blank mask as he knocks the tip of his fat dick against the back of your throat making you gag. The familiar taste of his skin and the tang of his precum makes your pussy throb.

With his free hand, he reaches up to push the mask up so his mouth is free. Leaning forward, he tugs you away from his dick and drools on the head before yanking you back down making you swallow his spit along with his cock.

A low moan slips past your lips as he does it again, your own tongue greedily lapping up the spit dripping down his length. Leaving the mask pushed up, your blurry eyes take in his pouty lips making your cunt clench around nothing. He thrusts up until his tip kisses the back of your throat making you cough and gag. Pulling away as you retch once, thick sloppy strings of saliva bridge between your panting mouth and his throbbing dick.

“Good girl,” he murmurs making you whine, tears running down your face, “such a nice tight throat.”

With simple praise dripping from his lips like honey, he doesn’t even have to guide you into taking his cock back into your mouth. He still keeps a grip on your hair, but now it’s only used to hold onto as you eagerly suck him off.

You try to keep your gaze trained on his half covered face, watching as he smirks down at you while his thick length fills your mouth. He keeps you sloppily sucking him off for what must be most of the party.

He bottoms out again and again until your gag reflex can’t take anymore, pulling away while coughing and retching, saliva and precum coating your lips and chin.

“I can’t,” you rasp out, “can’t take anymore.”

He tightens his grip in your hair again and pulls until you’re seated in his lap. His wet cock slides against your slippery panties, completely soaked through at the point. He flips up the hem of your short skirt and pushes the thin see through panties to the side.

“Daddy,” you whimper and he thrusts up into your sopping wet cunt.

He slaps his palm over your mouth as you scream from the sudden stretch. His hips thrust up as he pounds into your pussy without any buildup, making your hole spasm and clench around his fat dick.

“Think I wouldn’t find out,” he hisses in your ear, hand pulling your hair so hard it makes you cry, “I always know what my slutty girl is up to.”

“‘m sorry,” you whimper, “I swear I d-didn’t know, please daddy.”

“I know,” he chuckles meanly, “it’s why I didn’t just take you in front of all your little friends.”

You clench hard around him with a moan, “T-thank you, daddy.”

“You’re so welcome, baby. Knew you could be such a good girl.”

He groans, fucking up into your wet hole even harder, heavy balls slapping against your ass making your pussy drip everywhere. Using his free hand, he reaches around to grab a handful of your ass, helping guide you to bounce down on his dick.

“Work that cock,” he grunts, “have to make up for teasing daddy in that little costume.”

Moaning, you arch your back and swivel your hips down, riding his cock faster.

“I’m so sorry, daddy,” you pant, “promise I’ll be your good girl.”

“Yeah you will,” he grits out, spanking your ass hard, “once we’re finished here, I’m taking you home.”

An idea crosses your mind has excitement buzzing through your body, “Can we stay at a hotel, daddy?”

You feel his cock twitch and throb inside your pussy.

“Of course, baby,” he lets go of your hair to use both hands in grabbing your waist, “I’ll take you to a hotel, probably too late to go home anyway. Wouldn’t want to wake up your mom.”

Mewling, you bounce on his dick harder as Leon squeezes your hips. His cock grinds against your g-spot making your pussy clench around him tighter and tighter with every thrust.

“Now cream my cock so I can cum in your soft little pussy,” he growls out, “if you don’t, I’m gonna spank your hot wet cunt until you cry.”

“I’m so close,” you whisper, tears still dripping from your eyes, “daddy, I’m g’nna cum.”

He yanks you down onto his dick as he bullies up into your spasming hole. The tip bruises your cervix as he grinds his cock as deep as he can into your cunt. He reaches up and tugs your nipples causing you to squeeze around him, making the pleasure pain of his cock knocking into the entrance of your womb so much sharper.

With another rough grinding roll of his hips, you cum hard. Your body folds forward, nails scratching across his clothed chest as your pussy walls flutter and clench around his stiff cock. Biting your lip, you stifle the wail that wants to escape.

“Good girl,” he coos condescendingly at you, “daddy’s gonna give you his cum as a reward.”

You shudder, body still climaxing as he humps your spasming pussy until he’s spurting rope after rope of hot cum into your soaked cunt.

“Take it,” he hisses, hands gripping the fat of your hips so hard you’ll bruise, “fat little pussy always so hungry for my cum.”

You whine in agreement, hips trembling as your pussy milks his cock for every drop of his cum. Unsure of how long you sit there, Leon finally pulls out once he’s completely soft, cum and slick dripping slowly from your used pussy.

He snaps your panties back in place although they’re so thin you’re not sure they’ll even stop any mess from escaping. Leon helps you to stand and pulls your cellphone from his pocket.

“I’m texting your friend that you don’t feel good and called me to pick you up,” he says as he locks your phone and slips it back into his pocket, “your bag is already in my car so we can go.”

Feeling out of sorts, you nod and let him lead you through the house and out to his car parked behind the garage. He sets you down in the passenger seat and begins to buckle you in place; however, he glances down, nostrils flaring to see the mess sticking to your thighs. The next thing you know, he’s moving you to the backseat and ripping your panties off, so he can eat the cum out of your pussy.

“Daddy, someone could see,” you whisper.

“I don’t care,” he grunts, licking up the creamy slick coating your pussy lips.

His tongue licks a hot trail up to your swollen clit, suckling the sensitive bud until you’re rocking up into his mouth. Moving his mouth down, he thrusts his tongue into your pussy, shoving his face against your cunt until his nose is grinding against your clit.

It doesn’t take long to make you cream on his face, slick and cum coating his lower jaw completely. He pulls away with a wet schlick and spanks your puffy mound.

“Got the best little pussy, baby,” he grins at you, eyes dark and mean, “going to fill you up so good once we get to the room.”

Shakily, you raise up and Leon kisses you messily, tongue licking into your mouth making you moan to taste the mixture of his cum and your slick together. He pulls away and spanks your cunt again.

“Get in the front seat, the sooner we leave the better.”

Leon plays with your pussy on the drive over until you’re leaking slick all over his leather seats. Anytime you squirm or wiggle your hips, he pinches your thigh hard which only makes your cunt ache more from the sting. You’re a complete mess by the time he pulls up to the building.

At the hotel, he keeps his arm wrapped around you all the way up to the front desk. The clerk makes small talk, eyes wandering over your costume and messy face before quickly looking away.

Leon laughs as he jostles you against his side, “My wife had a little too much tonight.”

Your brain buzzes as your body goes rigid in his hold from the way Leon causally drops that remark. Eyes moving from the clerk to stare up at Leon, you know you must have a love struck look on your face.

The clerk laughs lightly as he hands him the room key, “It’s to be expected this time of year. Have a good night!”

His hand is a hot brand on your hip as he guides you into the elevator and up to your room. Once the door shuts, he grabs you and throws you down onto the bed.

He takes off his shirt as he stares down at you, “You’re in for a very long night, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widen with trepidation and excitement as you watch Leon undress down to his briefs. When your shaky hands reach for the top of your costume, he reaches out lightning quick to smack your hand away.

“It stays on,” he sneers down at you, “you have to earn that privilege.”

You nod, sucking on your bottom lip to stop the noises you want to make.

He smiles at you, blue eyes empty and cold, “Just what am I doing to do with you, hmm?”

“I-I don’t know, daddy,” you whisper, chill bumps racing down your body as he traces his thumb across your bottom lip while he cups your jaw.

“Of course you don’t,” his voice croons in that condescending way that has your thighs pressing together, “you’re just a stupid slut who’s gagging for my dick.”

Exhaling a sharp whine, you part your bottom lip when he presses down on it with his thumb.

“On your knees,” he points to the space in front of him.

Moving from the bed, you kneel down right in front of him.

“Tongue out,” he demands, “and keep that mouth open.”

Hot arousal swoops through your belly as you do as he says, tongue lolling out past your lips as you open your jaw wider. He slips his middle and ring finger into your mouth, rubbing them against your tongue until they’re coated in drool. When he pulls them out, strings of spit fall from your tongue to land on your chest.

He wipes his fingers off on your cheek with a click of his tongue, “Messy little girl.”

Exhaling a heavy breath from your open mouth, your eyes droop as he tucks the band of his briefs down underneath his balls. He strokes his heavy cock once, fingers tugging his foreskin away from the leaking tip.

“I’m going to cum all over your tongue,” he grits out, “give you a reason to be so messy.”

He angles his dick until the head kisses the tip of your tongue as he jerks himself off. Eyes crossing as you keep your gaze trained on his throbbing cock, your cunt drools as much as your mouth does, slick and spit both dripping to puddle onto the floor.

He grins down at you, “Were you surprised when I called you my little wife earlier?”

Humming in reply, you can’t say anything while keeping your mouth open, but you know your eyes are overly bright with excitement.

“Like it, don’t you?” he rumbles, voice as soft as silk in your ears, “it’s not enough you’re my little mommy, but now you want to be my little wife too?”

Your eyes slip closed as you whine breathily across the head of his cock. The tip leaks messily onto your tongue as he tightens his fist around his dick to stroke harder. Hands twisting in your lap, you have to push down the urge to reach up and grab his thighs.

“Show me your tits,” he grunts, the wet schlick schlick schlick of his hand making you rub your thighs together.

Blindly reaching up, you pull the thin top up, breasts spilling out since you’re not wearing a bra.

“There we go,” he groans, cock kicking against your tongue right before he shoots out his thick cum all over your mouth.

He pulls back, slowly jerking his dick as he spills more ropes of jizz across your face. Your hands clench into fists, cunt aching as you feel him paint your face with his hot sticky cum.

“Look so pretty,” he laughs meanly, slapping his cock down on your tongue, “swallow.”

You moan unabashedly as you swallow down what few spurts of cum landed in your mouth, grateful for the chance to let your tongue rest.

“Get up and bend over the bed,” he directs, stepping away from you.

Knees throbbing when you stand up, you weakly stumble to the bed and bend over, resting on your forearms. Leon steps up behind you, running his hot palms all down your back, moving your skirt up to cup your ass.

He spreads your cheeks and spits on your asshole, “Need to train this hole next, sweetheart.”

You gasp, half in shock and half in arousal, as he rubs his thumb over your wet rim. He leans over you, one arm braced next to your head as he cages you under his bulky body. His thumb keeps rubbing across your furled hole, teasingly dipping inside.

“That’s what a good wife does,” he murmurs in your ear, “she takes my cock into whatever hole I want to use.”

You whimper, fingers clenching onto the hotel sheets as he slowly sinks his thumb into your ass.

“D-daddy,” you try to relax around the strange intrusion.

“Shhh,” he bites your neck, “let me play with my wife’s tight little asshole.”

Shuddering, more slick leaks down your thighs, clit throbbing for attention as Leon teases the rim of your ass.

“‘I’ll be daddy’s good wife,” you whine, nipples tightening into hard buds as you utter those scandalous words.

“Good girl,” he nips your ear, “daddy’s gonna eat this cute little hole next time, but for now I’m gonna stretch out your needy pussy.”

Squirming, you mewl weakly when he rocks his thickening cock against your sopping wet cunt. He moves both hands down to grip the fat of your hips as he continues to grind against your slit.

Guiding his tip into your pussy, he slides all the way into your hole until his cock’s completely sheathed in your wet heat. Without letting you enjoy the feeling of fullness, Leon’s pulling out until the head is spreading you open before thrusting completely back into your cunt.

His hips smack against your ass, the sound of your skin clapping together making you hot with embarrassment. Hand slapping across your ass, you squeal and clench down on him harder.

“What? You don’t want to be loud?” he mocks, “thought you were trying to be good?”

“I am,” you keen high in your throat, “I’m a good girl.”

“Uh uh,” he slaps your ass again in the same spot making you arch away from the sting, “not my good girl but..?”

“Wife,” you cry out as he slips a hand down to spank your clit, “‘m daddy’s wife.”

He groans so low you almost miss it, but he humps into your pussy deep, cock kicking and throbbing as he fills out even more inside your fluttering walls.

“Yeah you are,” he growls, “gonna fuck my wife’s fat little pussy til I’m creaming her cunt.”

Back arching, you push your hips against his thrusts, loud noises spilling from your lips as his cock batters into your cervix. The pain kaleidoscopes into pleasure when he grinds harshly into your hole as he teases and flicks across your clit, his other hand slipping up to your chest to pull and tweak your nipples.

“Daddy, so much,” you drool into the bed, body being jostled forward with every thrust until you’re prone on your tummy as Leon drills into your squelching cunt.

“Messy pussy,” he bites your shoulder so hard your legs kick out, “squeezing me so good, little wife.”

“Yes, yes, wanna be so good,” you gasp out, pussy drooling all over Leon’s cock as it pistons in and out of your hole.

The shrill ring of a cellphone cuts through the atmosphere like a knife. Leon stills inside you before pulling completely out with a wet schlick.

“Noo,” you wail out in displeasure, making him spank your ass so hard you squeak.

“Hush,” his voice is harsh as he pulls his phone out of his pants pocket.

“Aww honey, it’s your mom,” he smiles at you, all wicked and sharp.

Swiping before bringing the phone up to his ear, he keeps his eyes locked with you as he answers, “Hello.”

Your body freezes up as Leon joins you on the bed again, slipping his cock inside your twitching cunt as you shove your face into the bed to stifle any sound. Barely listening to what Leon’s saying, you’re hoping against hope that your mom doesn’t notice what’s taking place on this side of the call.

“Work’s as busy as usual,” Leon lies through his teeth as he ruts his cock lazily into your pussy, “I know, but it’s not something I can just ignore.”

You clench down on him as he starts to really thrust his hips, cock bullying in and out of your fluttering pussy until you’re moaning and whining. The way he’s rocking into you makes your clit grind down into the bedspread perfectly. Leon fucking you as he talks to your mom riles you up in the worst way, slick gushing from your cunt.

“Oh that?” Leon chuckles as he drapes himself over your body, “that’s just some of my coworkers.”

As his hips rabbit hard against your own, you’re surprised at how brazen Leon is acting.

“Of course,” Leon coos into the phone and you clamp down on his cock at the tone before you realize it.

He drops his cell down onto the bed as he grunts against your hair, cock buried to the hilt in your pussy. You can distantly hear the tinny canned voice of your mom still on the line.

“Keep that up,” his smoky baritone has you pulsing around him, “fuck, feels so good in your fat little pussy.”

You keep tightening around him, orgasm on the cusp of overwhelming your body. His hand reaches up and he grabs his phone again.

“Sorry about that, someone came in. I’ll have to call you later.”

He hangs up and tosses his phone without hesitation, both hands gripping onto your waist as he jackhammers into your cunt.

“That’s it,” he chuckles, “you were about to cum all over your daddy’s big cock while he was on the phone with your mom, huh? What a slut.”

“I’m your slut,” you hiccup a whine as he rams against your g-spot with every thrust, “daddy’s slutty wife.”

“Goddamn,” he snarls, yanking your body into every powerful flex of his hips, “need to wife you up soon, baby. Keep you naked and ready for my cock 24/7.”

The idea makes your belly burn with arousal, that sharp coil tightening even more.

“Want it, wanna be daddy’s slutty free use wife,” you babble out, eyes rolling back as your cunt’s battered by Leon’s cock, “want to be daddy’s little mommy.”

“Fuck me,” he slaps your ass with a loud crack, his handprint lingering on your skin, “ready for me to dump my load in this sexy little pussy?”

“Want it, want it so bad,” you choke out, “please, pretty please.”

He wraps his hands around your neck, squeezing until you can’t breathe as he rails you into the bed. The mattress has been knocking into the wall so hard you’re sure the neighbors can hear as Leon rearranges your guts.

Yanking your hair is the last straw and your spine bows back as your climax sweeps over your body like a tidal wave. Your toes curl as your pussy gushes and pulses rhythmically around his thick cock.

“Mm yeah, milk me,” he groans, “I’m so close to filling you up.”

You cry out as he shoves your face down into the mattress while he uses your pussy for his own pleasure. He pounds into your cunt until you’re crying from overstimulation. With a low growl, he snaps his hips forward one final time. You moan as he stuffs your pussy with rope after rope of his hot sticky cum.

He grinds down against your ass as he spurts his thick jizz against your fluttering walls, pussy still milking him softly.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, “gonna pull out and play with your stuffed pussy til you’re cumming again,” his voice darkens, “then we’ll take a shower so daddy can eat that cute little ass. Okay?”

You whimper but tiredly nuzzle into the bed, “Okay.”

He softly pets your hair, “Such a sweet girl.”

As you relax into his soft petting, you think to yourself you’ll probably pass out before making it to the shower, but that’s a worry for later.

divider: firefly-graphics

#lipglossanon #lipglossanon promptober 2023 #lipglossmasterlist #lipglossanonmasterlist #promptober 2023 #promptober #dark stepdad!leon s kennedy x fem!reader smut #dark stepdad!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #dark stepdad!leon s kennedy smut #dark stepdad!leon s kennedy #fem!reader #fem!reader smut #leon s kennedy x reader #mind the tags

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all-things-fic · 6 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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imnotasuperhero · 6 months

Text

Shelter my soul with your love.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader.

Summary: The absence of the love of your life had you holding onto her sweater for dear life. And as the weeks passed by and her scent started to fade away, you started to feel the dread of losing her at the time that same sweater became your life support.

A/N: DAY 20 OF PROMPTOBER IT'S HERE! This is a continuation of Couldn't stop this if we wanted to, like I promised. Could've posted this on Saturday, but an impromptu chapter of Sweet Blessing took my inspiration away. Lol. Hope you enjoy this thing and your tears are plenty.

As your fingers played with the hem of the cozy sweater, you couldn't hold back your mind from going to the past, where better times we lived. A time when you were allowed to see her, where you could hold her and tell her all the things you felt inside.

A better time when you felt complete because you had her.

Now, all you had was this sweater that held the last remains of her. All you had now were the memories and the tears that you were left with.

Nowadays, you were just a shell of what you used to be, and the only comfort you could feel was when holding onto every single trace Wanda has left behind for you to remember her.

Funny how life can take things from you out of the blue. No matter how happy they make you or how invested you are, apparently, when a door closes, it can be right in your nose.

Looking through the floor-to-ceiling window, you made yourself smaller on the couch, allowing Wanda’s almost-faded scent that impregnated the fluffy sweater you religiously wore to engulf you, taking your soul to a sunny day in the park with your beloved’s company.

If only you could revive those impromptu dates.

Your apartment had been abandoned long ago, having settled camp at the massive compound in hopes of easing your pain. But even though most days you made it through the day in a relatively acceptable mood, some days were like a plumb blanket had been placed over you, making it impossible for you to get out of bed, turning the way to your job into utter torture.

Brushing away the never-ending tears, you decided to have some mercy on your rumbling stomach and quickly fixed yourself a simple sandwich since it was a Friday. The week had been full of work, leaving you drained physically and mentally.

“Miss Stark, your vitals are getting agitated. May I check them quickly?” The AI broke the silence, making you work on your breathing.

The lump in your throat had messed with the small bite you just swallowed, making it hard to pass the food.

“‘S okay,” you answered as you chugged a glass of water, fist gripping tightly at the corners of the sink.

You hated eating when you’ve been crying, and you should’ve known better.

The tears falling down your eyes for another different reason than before had you working on your breathing, matching every exhalation with a failed attempt to swallow the bolus trapped in your throat.

Once you finally achieved your task, you filled the glass with water, almost throwing the discarded sandwich on the fridge, before you made your way to Wanda’s bed. The need to just sleep your life away was stronger than any TV show or movie on your current list.

You didn’t like this new empty person you had become. But the sorrow and longing and… torture you experienced had you with nothing but just the needed strength to breathe. So working on your inner growth and that bullshit was not possible at this time. And frankly, you weren’t desperate to get any better, for her absence had ripped your will of living away.

If only you had a grave to cry her on.

Wanda’s ghost following you everywhere was the only thing that had you moving. But as time passed and her body wasn’t around, her smell kept fading away, making it harder and harder to breathe. It was as if your own life had started to leave your body painfully slowly.

So in an attempt to keep her looming presence, you didn’t take off her sweater. Instead, you just laid down on her pillow before covering yourself tightly with the covers, breathing in as much of her aroma to keep you warm as you silently prayed for this agony to end. Once and for all.

“Detka,” her voice, as clear as day, sent shivers down your spine.

“Wands? Wands, where are you?” You cried, the sorrow engulfing you like a cocoon. “Please, I need you.”

Standing there in the middle of nowhere, with the big tall trees surrounding you, the anxiety started to eat you from the inside out.

“Detka,” Wanda’s voice called again and you couldn’t help the choking, feeling your knees collide against the dirty grass at the confusion.

Her voice was way too clear for it to be a result of your imagination.

“Detka,” you felt her hand cup your left cheek and you couldn’t help breaking down completely at the way-too-real feeling. “Baby, I’m here.”

“Wanda,” you cried louder, leaning your head on her hand, “I can’t see you. Please, take me with you,” you begged as your hand placed over your left cheek, choking on the brutal sob that escaped you when you didn’t find her hand there. “I don’t wanna live without you,” you begged, feeling your insides tear apart at the phantom of her.

“Y/N, I am here, my love.” despite the security in her voice, the fact that her touch was only vivid in your imagination had your lungs fighting for a single bit of oxygen.

“Wanda, I’m begging you. I don’t wanna be without you anymore,” your labored breaths sent a painful throb to your head.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” You felt Wanda’s lips against your lips for a few seconds too long before she connected your foreheads.

Jolting awake, your eyes blinked rapidly trying to adjust to the dim lights, making sense of the body against you.

“Detka,”

Looking up, a heart-wrenching cry ricocheted through the room as you launched yourself into those pair of arms you’ve dreamed of for the last 2 months.

Feeling her warmth engulf you, Wanda kissed the top of your head. “I am here, my love.” She only tightened her grip around you, providing you the comfort and the time to calm yourself as she cooed against your hair, rocking you both. “I am here,”

Once your breath returned to normal, you broke the hug to look at her face, choking on a new wave of tears as you cupped her cheeks, looking into those forest green eyes you had missed oh, so much.

“You’re alive,” you cried.

“I am alive, Y/N,” she smiled tearfully, allowing your eyes to scan her face.

Choking on a sob, you launched at her once again, placing your weight on hers as you peppered her face with sloppy kisses as if trying to show her the unconditional love you held for her.

Pausing for a moment, your eyes locked with hers and you felt your heart squeeze in pain at seeing the tears running down her face.

But instead of speaking the words on the tip of your tongue, you joined your lips together, pouring in the kiss every single ounce of devotion you held for her, sighing deeply as your lips danced to a well-known melody at the time your soul eased the suffering away.

“I don’t wanna live without you,” you spoke against her lips, nuzzling your nose against hers.

“I’ll never leave you again,” Wanda’s voice was so intimate you felt a chill run down your spine.

“I love you,” you vowed, sighing in the kiss Wanda just started.

“I love you too, Detka,” the brunette kissed your nose before carefully pushing away. But before you could protest, your eyes scrutinized her movements as she started to undress until she was only in her underwear to do the same with you after, crawling under the covers as she opened her arms in a silent invitation.

Smiling, you cuddled against her front, basking in her half-naked body against yours.

As her scent filled your nostrils, you thanked the fluffy sweater discarded on the floor for keeping you company all this time, making a mental note to have Wanda wear it every day for when she had to go away in her missions. And for your dad to design a device to give you constant information on her vitals.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Wanda spoke against your head.

“I’m not sorry,” you placed a tender kiss on her chest, right where the origami raven was resting, before you looked up, smiling sheepishly.

“I’m in love with you,” she smiled before she kissed you, squishing your body once in the hug before her hand started to run up and down your spine in lazy caresses. “I’ll always be with you, like I know you’ll always be with me. Whereve I go.”

“Marry me,” you pouted, fighting the smile at Wanda’s soft giggles.

“Make it right.” She clicked her tongue.

“Game on, Witchy,” you pecked her lips before you cuddled impossibly closer against her soft skin.

Giving up to the mental exhaustion you’ve been under, you allowed Wanda’s presence to lull you to sleep, knowing she was alive, by your side.

The strong, calm thudding of her heart provided you the comfort you needed, like a silky veil against your scarred soul.

With the last ounce of consciousness you had, you thanked whoever was out there for returning her to you, making a silent promise never to lose faith again.

Taglist: @wandabear @red1culous @xxxtwilightaxelxxx (if you wanna be tagged in my fics, let me know)

#wanda maximoff x reader #promptober #day 20 #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x Y/N #wanda x Y/N #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #vee writes

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