#this love is like rain and blue skys 🎶 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jakeyt · 2 years ago

Text

Something

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: On a rainy day, Jake's Les Paul gives you an idea.

Word Count: 6.7k+

Warnings: fluff <3; cursing; sexually explicit content (18+, MINORS DNI); light dom/sub; oral sex (m + f receiving); unprotected penetrative sex

a/n: so, i was watching gvf's pinkpop performance of wod/highway tune yesterday (my personal fav) . . .and i got a filthy idea. i couldn't get it out of my head, so 6,700+ words later, here we are. this is the first smut i'm putting on here, so i'm admittedly very nervous. 🥲

if there is some possible way you haven't heard 'something' by the beatles, i would give it a listen while you read :)

thank you to @joshym for always proofreading/editing. ily <3

i hope this filth is received kindly lmao <3

🌧️🎶

Something

It was a lazy morning in the middle of spring. The flowers that you were watering right outside your home were in full bloom. The sight made you happy, and the strumming on the guitar that you heard through the open window made your heart flutter. A small smile was fitted to your face.

Life couldn’t get any better.

The guys were on a slight break from their recent touring, giving you ample time with your boyfriend, Jake.

You missed him terribly when he was gone on tour. Though, you had decided years ago when you’d started dating, that you didn’t want to live your life only to follow him along wherever he went. You wanted him to have his own time. Time to himself, with his brothers, to live out his passion. And had made the decision for yourself, too — you couldn’t abandon your own life plans like that.

You had dreamt forever of being a teacher, and you loved your students too much to leave them behind. And Jake loved that about you. He wanted you to be able to have the career you’d wanted for so long, just as he had his. His appreciation for your career only encouraged you more to stay behind and do what you loved.

But these moments? You wished life was different. You wished you were living in a timeline where the two of you could always be together.

The sounds he made while playing his guitar soothed you. He was playing some of your shared favorites on his guitar, making butterflies erupt. He knew how much music meant to you, just as it did him.

He loved that you two shared the understanding that there was intimacy like no other in music. These melodies you heard made it so clear that he was communicating to you through the melodies. Different tunes took you through untouchable moments in time. Moments the two of you had so sweetly shared.

The thunder that rolled in the clouds above you shook you slightly from your love-struck thoughts. You peeked up to see the sky. In your daze, clouds had started to gather above. When you’d come out an hour or so ago, the sky was mostly blue, only a few clouds littering.

The rain started coming quicker than you could cooperate with. You ran to the spout to turn off the hose water, and as you turned it off, you realized you left the hose itself draped across the lawn.

Dammit. Now you’d have to go back around the house to gather it all up. You wished you had grabbed it when you came to the spout. As you smashed your feet though the grass that only seemed to continually grow wetter and wetter by the stomp, you turned the corner to come back to the front of your house.

You had no choice but to halt your steps, colliding with a hard chest. You almost slipped in the wet grass. You looked up to the person in front of you, already knowing it was Jake.

Your eyebrows scrunched. “Go back in! You’re going to get wet,” your voice elevated as the rain seemed to start coming down even harder.

You were already completely drenched, your hair heavy on your head, just as the clothes on your body. You watched him bite his lip. Hooded eyes scanned over you, stopping at your tank top, where your nipples were completely hardened underneath.

He blinked away the lust in his eyes and got back to the topic at hand.

“Babe,” his voice was also loud. “I’m already soaked,” he laughed, looking down to his partially-open button down. The rain was creating perfect droplets on his tanned chest. One of his toned pecs flexed slightly at the feeling of it. Your thighs tightened at the sight of it, a jolt at your core. “Just go inside, let me finish this.”

You then looked down to where his hand had moved slightly and noticed the hose was in his grip. Tears then grew in your eyes at the sentiment.

“Jake,” your tone was one of complete adoration, for more reasons than one.

He was already wrapping the hose around his arm. He had a small smile on his face when he repeated, “Go. Inside.”

Your cheeks flushed and your bare feet shuffled to move past him, slipping slightly in the grass. From behind you, you heard him shout, “Baby, please be careful!”

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You continued to heed his advice and moved with balanced steps on the hardwood floors of your home. The soles of your feet were daring to slip.

You glimpsed the living room. You saw how he’d laid his acoustic guitar on the chair. It was odd to find it out of its case, or away from a stand. He’d obviously put it down in a rush to help you as soon as the rain had started.

Your heart springed in your chest, just thinking of the way he was.

You were moving to put the guitar in its case or on the stand, when the sounds of your wet clothing made you think better of it.

You were sloshing and dripping everywhere you went. You could hear your clothes and the slaps of the water falling to meet the floor. It wouldn’t be much of a repayment for you to soak one of his prized possessions, now would it?

You decided to continue on to the master bathroom. Your skin was beginning to crawl at the feeling of your sticky clothing and heavy hair.

You flipped on the shower and as it seemed to instantly fog the bathroom (yay, warm water), you hastily stripped your shorts and tank top.

🌧️🎶

A while later, you were drying your hair in the bedroom and he was taking his shower in the master bath.

Once your hair was dry enough for your liking, you rolled the cord around the base of the dryer and put it away.

You rolled the sleeves to the sweatshirt you’d chosen to wear. You were now at a loss for what to do on a rainy day.

You sat on your shared bed. Your eyes traveled around the bedroom. Then, they landed on his worn red Les Paul, sitting so prettily on the stand.

Suddenly, an idea entered your mind that you simply couldn’t shake. Your cheeks flushed at the thought.

A sly smirk graced your features, and you had to cross your legs at the thoughts you were having.

You suddenly knew exactly how you wanted to spend your rainy day.

🌧️🎶

You waited a while to bring the idea up to Jake. You thought it would entice him, but bringing up new ideas for the bedroom could be slightly daunting to you.

You knew he loved everything you’d thought to do up until this point, but this one involved his first love. You were intimidated to bring his Les Paul into the bedroom, but you just had to try what was now settling in your mind.

You hoped he’d be okay with it.

A movie was rolling on in the background as the two of you sat, curled up on the couch. The rain still pitter-pattered against the roof and windows. You were so comfortable, legs strewn over him, one of his hands going back and forth between your thighs, massaging the tops of them.

Your hand played in his long hair. Jake was scrolling through Pinterest, scheming what he wanted to make for dinner. His lips smooshed together and shifted back and forth as he pondered.

The way he expertly rubbed your thighs, the fullness of his pink lips, and the mustache that sat on his upper lip was making your tummy do somersaults.

These simple things, along with your guitar thoughts, had your core quivering for more.

It was now or never.

“So, babe,” you halted your movements in his hair. Your hands came to rest in your blanket-covered lap.

You connected eyes with him, and his lips pouted, “Why’d you stop?”

You sighed, moving your legs so that you were sitting criss-cross underneath the blanket. When you moved, his hand had fallen from your legs. His bottom lip jutted out even further.

“Jake,” you started again, fiddling with a loose blanket thread. “How would you— I was thinking—,” you huffed. Just spit it out. “Would you be okay with—. Ugh.”

“Sweetie,” he laid a hand on your thigh again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. His phone clicked off, and he scooted up from his spot, turning to look at you directly. “It’s just me.”

You looked in his eyes. “Earlier, I thought of something,” you turned your body to face him more. “A new idea for the bedroom.”

His eyes blinked at the subject. “Oh, yeah?” His lips quirked. “You know I’m always down for new ideas.”

You grew some confidence at him reminding you of what you already knew about him. “You know how music is so important to us both,” he nodded, a sweet grin gracing his full lips at the fact. “Well, I was thinking . . .how would you feel about playing your guitar?” His eyes were questioning. You continued, “While I. . . While I blow you?”

He started coughing on a breath he drew. You looked up to see his eyes watering as he struggled to breathe. You patted at his back. The smallest tear escaped his eye and he got up from the couch.

You followed him to the kitchen where he opened the fridge door and grabbed a bottle of water.

He took a long swig from the bottle. And when he released one more cough after that drink, he took another.

He came towards you, meeting you at the island in the middle of the kitchen, eyes still watering. “I’m sorry, that was just—.” He shook his head, “It was just.”

You stepped back, nerves creeping all over again. “Oh,” You cast your eyes downward. “Okay. I totally get it. That’s why I didn’t want to bring it up. I know that involving the guitar probably wasn’t the best ide—.”

You felt his hands grip your shoulders, your head coming up. You blinked at him. “Baby,” he gave a huff of a laugh. “That is the complete opposite of how I feel about the idea. I think it’s a fucking brilliant idea.”

Your eyes grew bigger. You stepped closer to him, “Really?”

“Sweetie,” his eyes were soft again, consoling your fading worries. “The woman I love most sucking my dick while I play the guitar?” He draped his arms around your waist, bringing your front to his. You could feel a familiar hardness against your hip.

“There’s some rules, though,” you let the feeling pressed to your hip encourage you further, pushing into it. He groaned at the move. “You would have to play a song of my choosing,” you paused. “One you know, of course. But. . .,” You looped your arms around his neck. “If you mess up —if one chord is even slightly off . . . I'll stop.”

His cock pulsed against you. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

He scooped his hands underneath your ass and sat you on top of the island. His voice was low and sultry when he said, “Am I totally naked while I’m playing?”

You hadn’t even thought of how naked he’d be behind the instrument. You felt your shorts get wet at the thought, having spared your underwear after the shower.

“Oh yeah,” your tone dripped with lust. You laced your legs around his waist, bringing him as close as he could come to you. “And you have to play it laying on your back. In this plan, we’ll be on the bed.”

“Sounds like a good challenge,” he smirked. Then, he seriously asked. “Electric or acoustic?”

“Electric.”

His brown irises were the darkest you’d seen them in a long time. Your skin heated at his look. You didn’t have time to think as he dove in and crashed his lips to yours. Your pussy flexed at the action.

The urgency behind his kiss caused you to fly straight back. Your shoulders would have hit the counter hard if he hadn’t strategically placed his arms to be a cushion for your back.

He dipped his tongue between your lips, and massaged your own tongue with his. He licked at every part of your mouth, wanting to taste you. You could only hope you tasted as good as he did. He tasted like his minty fresh toothpaste. Any time Jake showered, even if it was mid-day or late at night, he brushed his teeth. It was almost like a ritual for him. You loved his attention to hygiene.

He took his mouth from yours and started kissing a wet trail down your neck. He licked a trail from your collarbone all the way to your jawline and you lustily whined for the duration of the action.

“My love,” he said into your ear. He then went behind your ear and nipped at the sensitive skin. “I want to hear you as much as I can. Be loud.”

He then completely abandoned your upper half, your legs falling from his hips. He knelt in front of you to rip away your sweatshorts.

You felt his warm breath against your thigh, in contrast to the open air hitting your naked center. He hotly said, “No underwear?”

“Nope. It didn’t align with my plan.”

“You would be correct, sweet girl,” his breath was soothing steam against your sticky heat. His hands grabbed the undersides of your thighs, kneading the flesh.

And then you felt his tongue go completely flat at your slit. He licked a precise stripe up the center of your folds. From the very bottom of your pussy to right above your clit, he’d added a healthy amount of wetness.

You groaned, earning you a few more expert slides of his tongue, back and forth over the same area he’d treated before. Though, the more he went, the sloppier they got. It always went this way: the wetter and louder you were, the less meticulous he became.

He couldn’t ever seem to concentrate, with how your sounds and reactions affected him. He always said that the way you reacted to sex sent shockwaves to his mind. Nothing else could make him go so wild.

Hence the fun of your idea.

He gripped your thighs, bringing them down closer to him. And before you knew it, he was balancing your bare legs on his shoulders, standing up with his arms wrapped around your back. He was keeping you steady as he moved you both to the bedroom.

His mouth didn’t leave your heat for even a second.

The trek wasn’t long, or else you’d have been out of sorts worried about causing his shoulders and back irreparable damage.

And he didn’t give you much time to think as he placed your backside delicately on the bed, sitting up. He rose from how he’d had to kneel to sit you down, opting to strip you of your oversized sweatshirt.

Your breasts immediately flared with goosebumps at the change in temperature. The cool air forced your nipples into even harder peaks. The way he was looking at them made your cheeks warm.

“I just love your fucking body,” he knelt down in front of where you sat and held a breast in each hand. He massaged the flesh. The rough tips of his fingers that accompanied the gentle, knowing touch elicited a moan out of you.

He grinned, then rubbed his thumbs over your sensitive nipples. “You like the way I touch them, huh, baby?”

He flicked his eyes up to yours and winked. He knew how much you loved the stimulation of your breasts. You threw your head back when he licked his way around your right nipple and then sucked it into his mouth. You couldn’t help it. You had to look down to see him work his mouth over you.

Watching his mouth work tirelessly at your nipple made you buck your hips up with want for more.

And somehow the desperate action made you remember the objective at hand. As much as you wished for him to continue, you pushed Jake back by his shoulders. You weren’t supposed to be the vulnerable one.

His eyes were equal with desire and disappointment at the loss of contact with your body.

“No, Jake,” you firmly stated. You stood up on shaky legs, moving around him. “The objective is not me. It’s about you, your Les Paul, and your dick in my mouth.”

He eyed you from his place, still on the floor. But you could see the slight twitch in his flannel pajama pants. “But I wanted you to feel pleasure, too, baby.”

You bent on a shaky knee to meet him, “Sweetie, making you happy will bring me pleasure.”

His eyebrows dipped. “But you won’t—.”

You came up from your knee. You gazed down at him, then held a finger up. “Stop. I’m in charge.”

He looked your entire figure up and down and then raised his eyebrow at you, “Yes ma’am.”

He stood up, coming close to you, though you held a hand up for him to not come too close. It might have looked like you were doing it out of dominance, but you were really doing it to keep him far enough away that roles wouldn’t reverse. He held so much sex in his pinky alone, and you wanted the upper hand.

“If you pass the test, we have sex. And for me, having you inside of me is what gets me off best,” you lifted his self-cropped gray t-shirt over his head. His silver pendant necklace connected with his tanned skin. You were stern with him and placed your hands on his chest, “That’s why it’s imperative you don’t falter.”

You traveled down to the waist of his pants and hooked your fingers into the waistband, slowly dragged them down.

His thick length sprang up as soon as the pants moved past it. The sight of the glistening pre-cum at his smooth, pink tip made your mouth water.

You were glad to see he wasn’t wearing underwear. Around the house, he rarely wore underwear if he was in comfy clothes.

You stayed where you were, appreciating just how neatly groomed he always was. You hadn’t forgotten how attentive he was to it, but seeing it again? It made your stomach flame up.

His cock pulsed as you looked at it. You felt your own arousal father at the sight.

“Oh, Jakey,” you cupped his sac, holding it softly in one hand. You were not going to touch his cock yet. He’d have to wait. He whimpered at the feeling of your hand, playing with his balls. “You like that, baby?”

You looked up from where you had kneeled in front of him, his eyes were clamped shut. His head was thrown back, per usual at your attention to his lower region. He hummed an agreeing response.

“No, no,” you took your hand away. “This is practice time, baby. Rehearsal,” you skated your hands over his bare thighs as you lifted up to stand with him. “If you can’t even keep it together when I’m holding your balls. . .I’m worried about how you’re going to do when my mouth is doing the work.”

He blinked his eyes at you a few times. His eyebrows turned in, he pleaded. “Babe, I’ll do better,” he leaned in and gave you a small kiss. He brushed your hair behind your ear. “Please?”

Your stomach fluttered at his devotion to the task. “Go get your guitar,” you gave the order, trying to keep your voice steady.

He walked over to the guitar that stayed on the stand in your room when he was home. It was the older of the two of his nearly-twin guitars. His original. He picked it up, then balanced it on the bed.

“If I don’t fix this, she’s going to be on top of my dick,” he nodded at his guitar. Then he looked at you and lifted one thick brow. “And that’s where you need to be.”

He then made quick work of adjusting the strap to where the body of the instrument would sit against his stomach rather than where it usually rested.

He looped the strap over his head when he finished. The sight was unusual. You’d never seen the Les Paul rest so high on his body.

He looked down, wrapped his hand around the neck and looked at you. His mouth lifted with a laugh, “This feels weird as fuck.”

You giggled with him, “Yeah, it’s definitely more ‘Lennon-esque’,” you swayed your hips as you walked towards him. “But you still make it look so sexy.”

You gave him one chaste kiss on the lips, taking only a minute to deepen it. When you pulled back, his lips were plump and looked so ready to be kissed again. But you denied the urge. You were ready to test the idea.

“Go plug in to the amp and lie down,” You wanted to be firm with him. Be in control. “I still have to tell you the song.”

He turned and picked up the small amp that stayed in the room. Once he had it situated at his side of the bed, he plugged his guitar into it. The sound of the feedback as it got plugged in made you push your thighs together. You saw him move his arm and strum a few chords from the back, his naked ass flexing slightly while he geared up the guitar.

It was a sight. It looked almost like normal. Almost how he always looked when he checked the sound of the instrument . . .though this time, clothes were exempt. You were glad this scene was for your eyes only. You didn’t ever want to share this version of him tuning it up with anyone else.

Once he felt it was good to go, he laid (mostly) down. He situated a couple of pillows behind his head to give him some sort of leverage.

When he’d gotten situated, you admired the sight. His guitar was laying across his body, while his erection was still fully present. The way it stood at attention in the air, the worn red body of the guitar right next to it . . . It was something so pornographic. You wanted the image sealed in your mind forever.

“I’m going to be honest,” you spoke, tearing your eyes away from him, wanting to keep some sort of composure. You walked to the Amazon Alexa you kept in the bedroom. “I couldn’t choose one song. So, I just went with a random one I’ve been wanting to hear you play again. It’s been a while.”

He blanched at that. “It’s been awhile?!” He sounded worried. “I kind of want to stand a chance at passing this little test of yours, sweetie.”

You raised a brow at him.

“Jacob Thomas, you can hear a song once and instantly know how to play it,” you checked to make sure the speaker was plugged in. “It’s not going to be a big deal for you. You know it. Don’t stress.”

“I don’t want to mess up and make you stop,” his eyes glazed over. “I love the way your mouth feels too much to lose it. I wanna be good for you, baby.”

Your clit fluttered at that. He wanted to be good for you.

“Then be a good boy and tune your guitar again. You don’t want to know the consequences if it’s even slightly out of tune,” you turned on the lamp at his bedside, the dark room needed some sort of light. Daytime was fading, rain still ticking against the window. “Don’t worry about the song until it starts playing.”

He went about his tuning and mid-strum, he suddenly questioned, “Why are you making Alexa play the song if I’m going to be the one actually playing it?”

“The speaker will help to keep me aware of any possible mistakes,” you tapped it and then pointed at your mouth. “I’m going to be a little preoccupied to only rely on memory. My brain goes a little fuzzy when I. . .”

He swallowed thickly, blinked a couple times and nodded. “Makes sense.”

You watched him go along with his tuning and decided to have another little practice. You sauntered over to him, and sat down on the edge of the bed, next to his leg.

He didn’t look up from what he was doing until he heard you spit in your hand.

You placed your wet hand around his thick shaft, you gave it a couple of pumps. You looked him in the eyes, testing him. He knew if he stopped doing what he’d been doing that you would stop. He knew exactly what this was. And he wasn’t going to mess it up like he had before.

You let your slick thumb rub in the crease at the base of his pretty pink head. You then took the precum from before (and the extra that had gathered since), and rubbed it from the slit of the head all the way around the head.

You glanced up to see his face and the sight was beautiful. There was already a slight sheen of sweat forming at his hairline. He was working so hard for you. And then—.

There was one slight twang of a string. You took your hand away.

He moaned. “You can’t. . .it was just a little—.”

“Gotta do better next time, baby,” you got up from your spot. “Is the guitar about ready?”

He gave the smallest glare. Then he reached up, using the back of his hand to wipe at his forehead. He placed his fingers on the correct frets and played the beginning of ‘Highway Tune’ to test out the sound.

His face was concentrated, looking down to see his fingers go. You watched, too. And besides his fingers going crazy, the music was obviously flawless. Holy shit. You weren’t sure you were going to survive this. You were sweating, flushed, and your thighs felt wet from being clenched around your core.

What were you going to do if you got distracted by him and stopped going when he was doing perfectly fine? You would lose all of your high-standing in the situation and you’d simply look like a loser.

The competitive streak suddenly came to life inside your chest. Your heart started beating so fast.

Or, you noticed how fast your heart had been beating all along.

“Okay, stop,” you said firmly. “You miss one little strum, even the smallest string of a note, I stop. Got it?”

His brown eyes were unaware of your inner conflict and were doe-like as he nodded to agree. He wanted to be good.

“Alexa, play—.”

“Wait,” his voice was frantic. “Is it the entire guitar part or just a solo I’m playing?”

Before you spoke, Alexa’s monotone voice did. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

You rolled your eyes at the device. “Alexa, stop,” you surveyed him. You hadn’t thought so specifically. So, you thought on the spot. “Anytime you hear a guitar playing, you play.”

“Rhythm or lead?”

Damn, good questions. These were things you really hadn’t thought of initially. You‘d just thought of the grand scheme. And, while you both loved music, he was the guitar player. It technically was his job to help remind you of these things. You would be lying if you said it wasn’t slightly embarrassing in this situation.

But, you kept your cool. You tried not to think of the little holes you’d left in the plan.

“Lead.”

He nodded, then cast his gaze down to look upon his guitar. His fingers tapped against the body, waiting patiently. And, like a pro, his tanned cock continued to stand at attention.

“Be ready,” you warned. He visibly gulped. You made your way to the bed, combing a hand through the front of your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear. “Alexa,” you situated yourself between his legs, ass in the air. You knew your body drove him crazy, so you’d use it. “Play ‘Something’ by The Beatles.”

You let the sexy act go, and peeked up at him. He was already gazing so lovingly towards you. You two lazed grins towards each other. As though you were sharing a secret.

Back when you’d started dating, this song seemed to play everywhere you two would go. And so, it had gotten deemed special for the two of you, by the two of you.

It was really silly, but you two had been kids then. Thinking up something for everything.

“Playing ‘Something’ by The Beatles.”

While she repeated what you said, he placed his fingers in position. And without even knowing what it was supposed to look like, you knew he was right. You already felt a little wetness gather at your center, simply for how gifted and intellectual Jake was — especially with his craft.

Right before it had begun, you sunk your mouth down over his tip. The taste of him was what your mind latched onto. He always tasted so sweet. You felt his body shiver. His legs shook on either side of you.

“Baby. . .” He sighed.

And when the guitar started, you closed your eyes to bask in the beautiful melodies Jake was already matching. He moaned and whined a few times here and there as you continued to flex your mouth over the top of him, but other than that, he was focused. He was magic.

You moved your mouth off of the top of him and then let your tongue lavish around the base of his cock. You licked it in long horizontal and vertical stripes, making a pattern of it. You occasionally went back to the top to give it proper attention.

And once you’d made his skin glisten with the work of your mouth, you placed your hand on his base. Letting your hand do some work while you watched him play.

The way his face would change as he played was so like the way it would on stage while playing, but this time, there were little whimpers that accompanied the faces he made. You knew the faces were not only meant for the guitar in this moment, he was reacting to you more than anything now.

His fingers moved in precise motion, the veins in his hand showing as it flexed around the neck of the guitar.

He still hadn’t missed a chord. Damn. As if you needed to be reminded of just how incredible Jake was.

You licked around the slit at his tip and then licked in the crease just below the head, where your thumb had been earlier. You loved this spot on him, almost hidden between the head and length of him.

You took the top half of him into your mouth, bobbing your head slowly up and down while also letting your tongue swirl in and around your favorite spot.

You let extra saliva leak from your mouth, right before you hollowed your cheeks out. You then brought a hand to his shaft and stroked it liberally, grateful for the lubricant you’d provided. It was so slick to the touch, your hand glided perfectly.

He breathed a combined whimper and moan when you added one more hand to the mix, grasping his balls. You rolled his sac in your hand. So fucking smooth.

You decided to massage his balls, giving them attention. With all of these actions combined, one chord stayed slightly longer than it should have. But you pretended not to notice. You were too engaged with your own activity at hand.

You started humming the melody as you swallowed as much of him as you could. He whined at the new vibrations that only added to the present pleasure.

Meanwhile, you generously stroked at him, but added just the slightest squeeze. His hips bucked as both of your hands continued their work, while your mouth sucked at him. You tightened your jaw and your lips went taut as you gave him one especially tight suck.

Your mouth sounded like a little ‘pop!’ as you came off of his tip.

His breath seethed through his teeth. But he was a natural born rockstar, and played seamlessly through the hurdles thrown his way during a performance. The current hurdles being your mouth and hands.

The guitar solo was close. You couldn’t lose focus before then and you had to do your part to keep him steady. You had to stay consistent in your movements to keep his stamina going.

You grasped at his shaft, but realized it was becoming dry. So, right before it was time for the solo to start, you brought your head up.

You gathered as much saliva as you could, and made sudden eye contact with him as you spit (drooled) it all onto his throbbing length.

Your center was aching.

His mouth fell open and you kept your eyes on his as the solo began and you moved your mouth around him. Your hand moved in the places your mouth couldn’t quite reach. Your movements went along to the rhythm of the music. You knew it like the back of your hand, making it one big—.

And his finger slipped off the string, right at the end of the solo.

You sat up, deciding that was a big enough error to hold to your word.

But, his eyes held such disappointment and guilt and longing . . . You felt for him. He never stopped playing, even as you stopped your efforts. He kept going.

He’d also made it through almost the entire song, holding up his end of the plan so damn well.

And his cock was just so pretty, standing up straight, waiting for more.

You realized you just couldn’t hold to your word like you’d wanted to.

Though, you did give his thigh a hard smack, and bit down on the flesh right on the inside of his thigh. So close to his most sensitive area.

“Shit,” he hissed through his teeth. “Won’t do it again,” he continued to play relentlessly. “Just so hot, babe.”

The flawless music he continued to make rushed through your ears. You knew the song was almost over, so you looped one of your legs around one of his. You moved it between your thighs to be in the right spot for satisfying friction and grinded down on it hard.

“Oh,” his mouth was held in an ‘o’ shape at the feeling of you, wetting his leg with your arousal. It was the same big ‘o’ his mouth tended to make during a normal guitar solo.

Fitting.

“You like that, baby?”

His eyebrows drew together, nodding.

You hadn’t taken the time until that moment to realize how sweaty he’d become. His forehead glistened, as did his nose and chest. The sweat dripped down from the middle of his pecs to the top of his tummy.

Your mouth watered.

His eyes stayed glued to the guitar, focus driven. His fingers moved expertly along the strings, finishing the song as if he had helped George Harrison write the song himself.

You finally stopped your movements, wanting to admire the man beneath you.

But he didn’t give you much time.

As carefully as he could manage, Jake slipped through the strap of the guitar, depositing it against the bedside table. And as soon as he was free of the constrictions from the instrument and your game, he took his control back.

And you gladly let him. Almost.

He grabbed your ass, still sitting atop his thigh. But you moved his hands to resituate yourself. You climbed off of him, only to slip your legs to be knelt on either side of his abdomen.

But Jake wrapped his arm around your waist and switched positions before you could even breathe. He wanted you below him. His chest was heaving as his swollen cock rested on your upper thigh.

Before anything else transpired, he got down on his forearms. He nudged your nose with his affectionately and captured your lips in a full kiss. There was barely any tongue, but his plush lips latched securely with yours. Puzzle pieces.

“I love you,” he whispered when he pulled away.

“I love you,” you sighed back to him.

He ran his throbbing cock through your folds. Your body vibrated at the feeling. Then, he took it away.

Sparing no time, he pushed in, sinking into you. Another puzzle piece.

Having just gotten him back from tour, you were still readjusting to the feeling of his girth. But when he started moving, home was found and you moved your hips in time with his.

You knew neither of you were going to last long, but making love seemed priority to you both.

“Not a complicated song,” he huffed between thrusts. “But dammit if it was the most diffi—,” he slammed hard, making you both grunt at the motion. “. . .Most difficult with you doing all of that.”

You blushed, looking up to him. He was looking down to where your bodies were connecting. “Mission accomplished.”

He snapped his eyes back to you, “Mission enjoyed.” He winked at you, a suggestive smirk marking his lips.

There wasn’t any more talking as he rounded his hips a few more times. He never let himself fully leave your center, obviously wanting to drive you to the edge.

It wouldn’t be hard.

One, being Jake Kiszka’s girlfriend, was a constant loop of being on edge for the man. And two, with everything that you’d taken part in together that day, you’d been ready to release for a while. But this was the moment you’d wanted most.

You’d wanted it with him. This connection. It was arguably what you missed most while he was away. These intimate moments, wrapped in time, for only you both.

His hair was so long, it draped around your head like a curtain. You felt every single inch of him as he bucked into you, hearing the sounds your bodies made together.

You moaned outright, “Jake,” your voice was husky. Your pussy clenched. You felt it coming.

“Fuck, baby. I know,” his hips crashed to meet yours, the tip of him connecting to your g-spot.

You whined loud, letting out gasps of encouragement and his name.

Finally, your eyes met his, deep brown, and you held contact like that. You felt the entire world in his eyes. You lifted one hand to wrap at the base of his neck, under his hair, and left one to rest on his shoulder blade. His skin was completely tacky with sweat. Your bodies were vigorously moving to meet each other now.

He stuck his thumb in his mouth, completely wetting it. And then, he slipped a hand between you, rubbing gentle circles on, around, and underneath your throbbing bud.

After a few uneven thrusts, his body started to falter more in its ministrations.

“I’m—,” he started.

“Me too,” you gasped.

His thrusts still guided you, and his thumb nudged just right against you. Everything you felt and saw was him. You shuddered as you hit your peak, your body stiffening. You threw your head back against the pillows. Your core was throbbing at the sensations.

Then, he pushed in one more time, his sticky stomach meeting yours. He whimpered, and you could feel him spill inside of you. All of him.

He stayed where he was for a second, his dick still pulsating inside of your walls.

Then, he slipped out of you, going quickly to get a towel to clean the mess he’d helped to create. Once you were cleaned up, he laid his head to your chest, totally spent.

His breath was warm against your breast. You combed your hand through his now-knotted hair. This was right.

You gazed down at him, his long hair swept across your stomach. Your heart pressed to your chest. You missed him.

When summer came and school let out, you would have to rethink not joining him on tour. You couldn’t take being away from him for so long. These moments were everything.

“What do you think about joining the guys and me this summer, hm?” His fingers were tracing shapes into your hip.

You grinned, braiding a few pieces of his hair when you responded, “You know, I just might have to.”

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka fan fic #gvf fic #jake kiszka #jake fic #my fics

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lemon-drop151 · 9 months ago

Text

Prompts be here! ⬇️

1x10 coda

"Tell me something in Spanish," TK whispered into the quiet. The glow of the northern lights sparkled greens and blues through the sky above them. The residual heat from the camaros engine still seeping through the fabric of his thin grey hoodie.

Carlos cupped TK’s chin with his left hand and stared deep into the sea glass green eyes that had somehow become his undoing the last couple of months.

“No puedo vivir sin ti.” He softly spoke, his right hand squeezing tighter around their laced fingers

"What does that mean?"

"You're so cute," Carlos lied through his teeth.

"I can't live without you."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TK picked up the cowboy hat sitting on top of the box of stuff his mother-in-law dropped off at the loft for Carlos while cleaning her house.

“Is this yours?” TK asked with a glint in his eye.

Carlos licked his lips and glanced up from the duffle bag full of old clothes he’d long since grown out of.

“Yeah. Was in the 4-H club for a couple of years.”

TK slipped the faded white cowboy hat onto his head.

“What’s the 4-H club?” He asked, rummaging around in the box, flipping through a middle school year book.

“Like Boy Scouts for people who live on farms and do agricultural things, horses, livestock, but there’s also like, stuff about community and family.” Carlos answered after swallowing around the sudden lump in the back of his throat at seeing TK in his cowboy hat.

“Huh, I didn’t know something like that existed.” TK replied. “I mean, not like we had a lot of farms in Manhattan.” He chuckled and flashed a wink over his shoulder at his husband. “I’m sure you were the cutest cowboy.”

“Hmmm. I bet you don’t the cowboy rule either.”

TK turned around, questioning look on his face. “What’s the cowboy rule?”

“You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Season 2 vibes - Carlos POV

🎶it's not always rainbows and butterflies, it's compromise that moves us along

my heart is full and my doors always open, you come anytime you want

i don't mind spending everyday out on your corner in the pouring rain

look for the boy with the broken smile, ask him if he wants to stay a while

and he will be loved🎶

(Yes, I changed the pronouns, shut up)

#911 lonestar #carlos reyes #tarlos #911lonestar #tk strand #fic prompt #writing prompt

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randofics · 1 year ago

Text

🎶 Lainey Wilson - Things a man oughta know

Gaz x southern reader

The COD boys are meeting you for the first time! Separate stories for each!

Gaz was uncomfortable, to say the least. This extra training with inexperienced privates in the humid carolina air was starting to take its toll, and he just wanted to get this over with so he could fly back home. The rest of the 141 were also here, but they had their own training groups to deal with. He didn't doubt they also wanted to get home as soon as possible.

Thunder rolled, and storm clouds were slowly overtaking the once clear blue sky. He hoped it would rain, so maybe they could cool off. He wouldn't have to hope long as sprinkles light as a fairy hit his uncovered skin.

-------

Several hours later, all he wanted was a drink to unwind, his back already killing him from the rough land nav session. He'd met up with the others in the lounge room, and they all agreed with his plan to go out and enjoy themselves a bit.

He'd swapped his uniform out for a white wifebeater and jeans along with his usual cap, hoping that more exposed skin would help with the heat.

Price asked some other guys walking past where the closest bar was, and surprisingly, it wasn't that far at all, maybe a five minute drive at most.

-------

When they stepped inside the neon lit country bar, a couple of people stopped to glance their way but quickly returned to the more interesting conversations and drinks. It was probably a common thing for soldiers to come down from the base for a drink.

He pulled out a seat along with the others, and a waitress sat a stack of menus on the end of the table. The singular laminated papers had two printed sides, one for beers and other strong drinks with food to go along with it. The other side had cocktails and other fruity or mixed drinks with deserts such as cheesecakes or pies.

The team ordered their drinks and three plates of hot wings in different sauces. TV's mounted around the bar were playing different games, and their waitress was kind enough to ask if they wanted to watch anything in particular. She managed to put on a football (soccer) game from the UK, and in no time, the wings and drinks were gone.

-------

A group of women laughing at one's joke walked inside. They sat at a nearby table and ordered their own drinks.

Price turns his head when he hears their laughter. One woman in nicer dress than the others waves at him with a smile. He smiles back before turning to the team and downing the last of his beer in one go. He gives them a look, getting up and following the woman to the bar.

A few minutes go by, and two more women break off from the group drinks having been finished. One in a cammo cap and another in a pastel yellow dress with lace along the hems single out Gaz and Konig.

-------

The woman in the cammo cap introduces herself as y/n. There's a bit of dried mud on the bill of her cap, and it looks well worn. "What's a fella like you doin' here in the States?"

"Recruit training, miss." She leans with her hand on the table. "You know I haven't met too many foreigners yet. You're my second brit."

"With the base so close by, I would've thought you'd met more than that." She gives him a small chuckle. "You'd think so. Maybe I just don't time it, right?"

"You're in luck! There's a whole table of foreigners right here." He holds out his hand for her to shake. "I'm Gaz it's a pleasure to meet you, y/n."

-------

Your conversation draws on for another hour, and you've become engrossed in each other's stories. A couple of beers have been emptied and sit on the old wood table between you.

You had just been laughing at something, he said, twirling a bottle around in front of you. You look up at him with a content smile. "Hey, do you want to go to my place for a bit? Maybe watch a movie or something?"

He's a bit nervous scratching the back of his head. "Sure, I'd love to!" A brighter smile graces your features as you stand.

The taxi drive to your house is filled with hilarious stories and laughs. The tires hit the gravel driveway and come to a stop before your house. Wind chimes on the porch jingle, and your dog in the backyard starts barking.

You pull your keys as he holds the storm door open for you. Cool air hits you when the door swings open and you switch on the light.

He spots the deer head mounted above your couch along with a couple of framed turkey tails and beards. "You're a hunter, after all. I thought you might be."

"Oh yeah, that's my first buck I ever shot. And those are mine and my dad's turkeys from a few years ago." As you put your things away, he glances around the room. A couple of hunting and fishing magazines lay stacked on the coffee table along with a centerpiece bowl of seashells and driftwood.

The shelf nearby has more magazines and old builders manuals along with some miscellaneous titles. Also, a few collectible plates sit on the shelves not packed with books. Movie posters and family pictures cover the empty spots.

You let out a sigh as you plop down on the couch, turning on the TV. "Well, what are ya waiting for? Come sit!"

"Anything in particular you want to watch?"

"Not really no." After a minute of scrolling through movies, you give up.

"There's something we could do to pass the time." You grin at his meaning, setting the remote down and straddling his lap. "I'd like that."

-------

One hand lands on your thigh, the other cupping your cheek to pull you closer. His lips connect with yours, and you relax against him.

As your hands roam his body, he lets out a quiet moan. His tongue presses against your teeth, asking for entry.

He tastes like beer with a hint of buffalo sauce from his meal earlier. To him, you taste like sweet tea and beer. The lingering sugar in your mouth makes him want more.

You pull away to catch your breath when he takes the opportunity to attack your neck. You hum in contentment as his lips dance across your skin. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, slipping beneath to feel your soft skin. His gentle touch down your spine gives you chills as his other hand spreads over your belly.

A groan escapes his throat when you tug his hair, arms around his neck. He sucks on your pulse, leaving behind a blooming red mark. Your own moans make him grin against you.

Reluctantly, he pulls away to look you in the eyes. "Sorry, I can't go any farther than this love. We only just met after all." You smile, nodding in understanding. "That's fine with me so long as you keep touching me darlin'." He grins, shaking his head. "Alright, then let's keep this going."

End

#fanfic #gaz cod #gaz x reader #gaz x y/n #cod mw2 #cod men #x reader #fanfic short series

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e-m-p-error · 11 months ago

Note

🎶

Send 🎶 and I will pick out a song from my playlist that I think would suit our muse’s dynamic

[ Valentino ]

Gonna go ahead and still do the how they currently are, a song for plotting, and a song Val listens to to think about him. I sure love making things Overcomplicated!

Song That Fits Them Currently:

youtube

Val keeps causing fights because he's scared of losing Vox, so he fights with him partially to push him away. Vox manages to get him to snap out of it pretty easily, but he's very good at crying and throwing a tantrum when things don't go his way.

What you crying about, baby? Are you getting lazy? Clear blue sky but it rains all the late fees Did you get the payment? We had an arrangement We don't wanna watch the news, we just read statements Yeah, do you wanna party? Malibu Barbie Are you gonna pack that shit up when it all comes tumbling down? Do you wanna party? Malibu Barbie Are you gonna pack that shit up when it all comes tumbling down?

So go and pitch your fit, no one gives a shit Better off if you just get over it

I'm going crazy Little tiny Hollywood baby Brand new Mercedes I've been at the crib going crazy Oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-whoa-oh Oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-whoa-oh

Song I Would Like To Plot For:

youtube

I REALLY WANT TO PLAY WITH THEM WHEN VAL TRIED TO KILL HIM. The scene is always so much fun to write and I love the idea that Vox's dicks are what saved him from getting murderlized.

I wait in intermission I remove inhibition I don't speak, nobody's listenin' It's not safe to seek the attention I won't sink, I won't wallow In this dream that I have borrowed So don't lead, I won't follow There's no sense in waiting for tomorrow

'Cause I'm hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow Hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow

I move in all directions I don't need any protection And this beast is interjecting And this soul can't help but connect it And I'm ill with all that I know 'Cause it shows what little I know I want sacred, I want final And I'm seeking it wherever I go

Song Valentino Listens To To Think Of Vox:

youtube

Val recornizes that his feelings for Vox are dangerous and he feels stupid for how much he loves him. He loves him so much that it hurts him sometimes. He hurts himself over it and it causes fights between them.

Hey, tell me what you want me to say You know I'm stupid for you Hey, can you come-a-come out and play? You know I'm stupid for you

I'm color-coding my moods, you're yellow, I'm natural blue Let's get together and be green like my insides At least I'll match your eyes, jealous and hypnotized Let's match our faces and be equally in love

Hey, tell me what you want me to say You know I'm stupid for you Hey, can you come-and-come out and play? You know I'm stupid for you

Let's trash our whole afternoon, reciting recycled news Until we melt and go back to your hotel room I'll be your new favorite tune, I'll be your black cloud by June But only when you miss the rain like I miss you

Just double dare me And I promise now That I'll stay It's not like you're married, but I still got carried away

#It’s Best To Keep Me Pleased (Answered Asks)#PLAYLIST ➽➽➽#And If You Get In My Face Then You’ll Get A Taste Even God Would Run Son (ναℓєитιиσ)#(Valentino and Vox - Videokilled)#At Least Your Napalm Will Keep Me Warm (Valentino ♡ Vox)

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trickstarbrave · 2 years ago

Note

💖, 🥺, 🎶, and 🤲 for the Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask! Any, all, none! 🖤

💖 What made you start writing?

oh god. i dont remember. i have been writing fanfics since i was like 12 in middle school. i guess i just saw fanfic for the first time then and went "holy shit you can make your own stories???????" and went off the rails. never rly stopped tbh

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

i love just like. writing the little physical touches that show how close two characters are. little couple interactions. nerevar having voryn feel his beating heart, voryn fussing over nerevar's hair, either of them comforting each other by rubbing the other's arm and shoulders.... touch is such a fun thing to play with in fics and i think can communicate a lot about how two character's feel or how they work together. idk. two characters touch tenderly and brain go brrrrr

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

sometimes yeah! if i wanna set a mood i'll listen while i write or before on loop for ideas. chapter 11 of moon and star i wrote while listening to the song "take me back to eden" and "rain" by sleep token and i think it shows tbh. but maybe im just insane i cant stop listening to sleep token please help

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

sure. actually i rly do wanna share this one rly bad actually but mind the spoilers (also i gotta change some things in it LMAO im shifting stuff around atm if it changes later u know why)

He was in a tent. A nordic tent to be precise. He recognized the style from when he was captured, though this tent was far more elegant and homely than the one they kept prisoners in. There was only a dim lantern lighting up, illuminating the space with a soft, golden-orange glow.

Voryn stripped off his robes, letting the fabric fall from his shoulders with practiced grace and elegance, knowing another was watching him. Gooseflesh broke out across his skin as he shivered slightly from the cold air meeting him. He tried to suppress it, but it was far too difficult in this climate. Yet, he wasn’t cold for long; as his robes met the carpeted ground two large, calloused hands were rubbing against his shoulders, before warm arms took him into an embrace.

“Daelha,” Despite saying a chimeri word, the nordic accent on the man’s tongue was thick and heavy. But in its own way it was endearing—he adored Voryn so much he wanted to refer to Voryn as ‘love’ in Voryn’s tongue so he knew his earnestness. “So beautiful, as always…” He marveled, gently stroking along his skin. Voryn had to suppress a needy hiss from the brush of rough skin on his lower stomach only fanning the flames of his desire more. Then, he twisted, facing his lover properly.

Blue eyes stared at him with warmth and affection twinking in them, a heavy grey-brown beard on a man who barely stood taller than him. Yet, despite the satisfaction that came with knowing he was loved, there was a gnawing at his core that wouldn’t go away. A hunger that was left unfulfilled. Something so tantalizingly close, and yet so far.

Laid out on the cot, his want only grew stronger as he lost himself in the body of the powerful warrior on top of him. He moaned and sang and cried just as he knew he enjoyed it, but part of him wasn't there at that moment. A fragment of his heart was somewhere further away, and its absence was deafeningly loud. The blue of this man’s eyes was more like snow kissed mountains than the blaring hot sky. His body was too large and too tall, even if in its own way it was satisfying to be held and thrusted into by him. His beard too, while part of him enjoyed the way it tickled him when they kissed and curled up together, reminded him of what he was missing.

A face crossed his mind as he screwed his eyes shut, and guilt followed. A golden face with snow-white hair and a devilish grin. He always felt guilty thinking of him when making love to another, yet it was sometimes impossible not to. Voryn could tell this was another one of those nights—another night he could only find release by imagining making sweet love to Nerevar instead. His lover’s calloused hands turned into the fantasy of Nerevar touching him, and the nordic accent fades softly, the tone shifting in his ears. He wondered what Nerevar would say, if he was under the other chimer. Would Nerevar affectionately call him ‘love’ just like the nord did? Would he be sweet and gentle with all the brutal strength in his body? Or would he be rough and cruel?

Voryn sometimes felt like he hated Nerevar, especially in moments like this. Neht haunted his thoughts, and yet cruelly ignored him. When he was captured, Nerevar didn’t even come to his rescue, instead stationing himself on the other side of Resdayn. While Voryn was getting himself out of that mess, seducing their enemy in exchange for freedom and information while his heart grieved his mother, Nerevar was trying to win the queen’s favor. When he was finally freed and saw him again, the mer only awkwardly patted him on the shoulder and gave a half hearted, sheepish smile and said he was happy to see Voryn again.

He wondered if Nerevar wished he had died instead.

The feeling was burning hot in his chest when he thought of it, tears stinging his eyes. His lover brushed them away with all the tenderness he always craved from Neht, and that only made his guilt grow. The leader of House Dagoth instead moaned louder, wrapping his long legs around him, and buried his face in his shoulder. His guilt ached like a raw wound as he forced himself to think about Nerevar again, about Nerevar kissing him and fucking him to completion. Of Nerevar wanting him just as badly as Voryn wanted him.

And it was because of that Voryn knew he didn't deserve this man either. If Nerevar was horrible, then Voryn was just as bad, making love to someone as gentle as him while thinking of his oldest friend.

“Daelha…” Voryn mumbled back as he was kissed over and over again on the cot, pressed firmly under his lover’s weight. After sex he was always affectionate, something that made Voryn feel guiltier the longer it continued. At least he knew he was guilty and wanted to do away with the habit. In time he hoped the feeling would leave him, and he could finally love this man with all his heart as he deserved…

Voryn sat straight up out of bed with a start, panic rushing through him. He felt nauseous—positively sick, his mind trying to make sense of what he saw in his dream.

It was realistic. Far too realistic for comfort. He could taste the man on his tongue, feel the chill in the air, and then the heat of the nord’s body. It felt like a memory he was reliving, not a dream.

But how could that be? How could he conceive of a lover that wasn’t Nerevar? How could he lay beneath someone else and hold back moaning Nerevar’s name? How could part of him hate Nerevar and hate himself all at once? And why did part of him still think of that other man’s face and feel a pang of longing and guilt even now that he was awake?

The information sunk in as he forced himself to ignore the sex that made him feel too many incomprehensible emotions. Nerevar hadn’t rescued him. He had used his trained skills of seduction to get himself out of it. He laid beneath the leader of the nords and whispered sweet nothings and promises to help him. He…

Voryn had taken Ysmir Wulfharth as a lover. Continued to lay with him long after he needed to for freedom. Whispered promises and battle plans in his ear, as he worked to find the heart of a god.

Voryn had betrayed his people, his country, and Nerevar.

“Voryn…?” Nerevar sleepily awoke, rolling over to look up at him. In the moonlight filtering in through the windows, Voryn could see the blue of his eyes and bile climbed up his throat as he scrambled out of bed.

“Voryn?” Nerevar asked again, now more awake and worried. “I need some air.” Voryn said swiftly, tugging on a robe. “I just need some air.”

He rushed to the balcony, dry heaving. The cool air provided some relief, but he felt even more ashamed of himself, unable to make sense of such a revelation.

Voryn would never betray Nerevar, would he? Nerevar had told him he only stood against him because the Heart of Lorkhan had driven him to madness. That he wasn’t in his right mind when he attacked Nerevar. And Voryn had believed him—why else would he ever try to harm Neht if it wasn’t because he wasn’t able to think clearly?

He could feel the hate burning in his chest though, white hot and angry. He knew the emotion was something vile and twisted. Hate, rage, and vindictive spite. He loved and wanted the man who denied him and pushed him away, keeping him at arm's length. Voryn wanted him so much he despised Nerevar, until it twisted him and corrupted him. He loved Nerevar so much it turned to pure hatred and rage that he couldn’t have him. And yet, even in that swirling pit of rage over the fact that Nerevar had essentially thrown him to the hounds, he still needed him to the point he hated himself. Until it was driving him mad. Until he saw Nerevar in another and desperately tried to claw those fragments of Nerevar closer and closer.

Voryn had seen who he used to be, like a reflection in a shattered mirror. And he did not like what he saw—what he knew.

“Are you alright?” Nerevar asked, now dressed in a loose robe himself. The hand rubbing soothing circles was too similar to how the memory of Wulfharth touching him, and the shame made him burn and ache with self loathing. He wished he could curl up and die right there, that he had the nerve to fling himself off this balcony, but instead all he could do was grip the balcony railing until his knuckles went white as tears rolled down his face. “Voryn…?” Nerevar’s voice was soft and sweet, unlike the voice of Nerevar he remembered laying under another man.

In this life, Nerevar came for him. In this life, Nerevar loved and embraced him. Voryn was ever grateful for that, taking immense joy and solace in the fact he was not lost like the other version of himself.

But now Voryn knew what kind of twisted, ugly person he would be without that love. What a horrible person he would become. There was no excuse for what he did—he wanted love selfishly—wanted it because he felt entitled, because it wasn’t given to him. He wanted Nerevar all to himself, and selfishly sought to comfort himself in a way that might harm the other for his own benefit. And a core part of him, that seed of something vile, was still inside him whether he wanted it to be or not.

“I’m sorry…” Voryn sobbed, unable to hold back the shaking in his body. “Neht, I’m so—please…”

“Voryn—” Nerevar took him by the shoulders and turned him around, forcing Voryn to face him. The look of pure concern on his face, the love and adoration and honesty swirling in his eyes was too much.

Voryn turned sharply again, throwing up over the balcony. Nerevar—kind, sweet Nerevar—pulled his hair out of his face as he indecently wretched and continued to gag long after the contents of his stomach were empty. And then, like a broken doll, his legs collapsed as he sank onto the stone balcony, trembling and sobbing.

“Shh…” Nerevar soothed him, before gently scooping him up off the cold stone. He left the doors to the balcony open to let in the much appreciated cool breeze and laid Voryn on the bed, letting him curl up. With gentle, clumsy hands he pulled the hair from his face once more, braiding it quickly and messily just to get it out of the way, tying it off. And then he went to the water pitcher in the room bringing a glass for Voryn and also soaking a rag, wiping it across his clammy forehead.

Unworthy, Voryn’s mind hissed. How unworthy you are of his kindness when you would betray him so callously. How cruel you are to hurt him and lie to him just because you selfishly wanted him to love you back.

And his mind was correct—how could Voryn be worthy when he was only loyal right now because he got what he wanted? How is he worthy of Nerevar when he was so loving and kind like this, while Voryn hated and despised him in the past? He was selfish, greedy, and cruel to hurt the man he claimed to love because his affections weren’t returned. Not even that harlot Vivec slept with Ysmir Wulfharth just because he couldn’t have Nerevar.

“I think you ate something you shouldn’t have,” Nerevar’s voice was soft. “It clearly didn’t agree with your stomach.” Ah, how was he still so busy fussing over Voryn like this? Hadn’t Nerevar seen him in the past, so cruel and vile? How could Nerevar treat him so kindly now that Voryn didn’t deserve it? How could Neht love him after all that Voryn had done?

He only loves you because he lied to himself, the sinister voice in his mind whispers. He tells himself you didn’t mean it, that you were driven mad by divine power. How could he ever love you knowing all that you’ve done? He would hate you, just as much as you hate yourself.

#moon and star spoilers #my writing #thank u 🥺

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perdidosbucky-yyo · 4 months ago

Text

It's the most wonderful time of the year🎶

This... IS EVERYTHING

there was a fresh scent that made you turn your face upward.

Gray clouds were rolling in overhead, blotting out the deep navy of the evening sky, and you knew, deep in your bones, that it was going to snow.

OMG!! you see it never snows where I live, I've never seen it so it never occurred to me that when it snows there's that delicious rain smell!! So this is the most beautiful little detail I didn't know until I read this. 🥹

When you finally opened your eyes and turned away from the sky, you found Steve lingering in the entrance of the tent where your friends were browsing, an intensity in his gaze as he looked at you. He didn’t look away when you caught him staring, simply held your gaze, letting you see the heat swirling in the depths of his bright blue eyes.

My whole body shivered just thinking about this, there's something about imagining a gorgeous man being in love with you, the longing, the lingering looks 😩❤️‍🩹 my heart can't take it

“When are you going to put him out of his misery?”

Bucky’s gruff question drew you out of your thoughts of trying to remember someone in Steve’s life who he might be buying jewelry for, and you looked at your friend. Without even seeing your reflection, you knew confusion was written plainly across your face.

THIS IS SUCH A BUCKY THING TO SAY (I love him)

You tried to catch your breath while he was busy pressing insatiable kisses to your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth, anywhere he could reach without straying too far from your lips.

My heart literally fluttered 😭♥️♥️♥️♥️❤️‍🩹I want this

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his eyes roving over your face like he was searching for any hidden remnant of hesitance on your part—any sign that you might run, you realized. “Because I’ve wanted this—I’ve wanted you for so long, that if you tell me tomorrow this was a mistake…” Steve paused, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed, “it’ll break my fucking heart, sunshine.”

I wish all people were this vulnerable with each other, I'd be such a relief and it's such a beautiful thing, molly stop making me feel so much 😩❤️‍🩹

And also, a funny thing happened while I was reading in bed, I was so deep in thought, enjoying every word that when a mosquito passed my ear, I kid you not😂 I told him: "let me read!!" genuinely annoyed.

this time of year

pairing: friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: you've kept your feelings for your friend, steve rogers, quiet for years—but when you're at the holiday market with your whole group of friends, some things come to light, and you don't think you can keep pretending you don't desperately want him anymore.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, light angst, smut, oral sex (m and f receiving), piv sex, protection, fingering (f receiving), nipple play, multiple orgasms, kissing, making out, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (sunshine), aftercare, happily ever after—this is probably the most vanilla sex i've written in a while but it's still porn with feelings.

word count: 11.9k

a/n: my first entry for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, and it's technically still december 1 where i live (just barely)!!! i used the prompt "Can I put my cold hands up your sweater for warmth?" and had an idea i really liked and just ran with it! i promise most of my december fics won't be 10k+ words—mainly because i don't think i'd survive it 😅 but i hope y'all enjoy this soft and sweet and smutty start to december!! ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

Teasing tingles of chill danced across your skin as the crisp December wind brushed against your cheeks, making you huddle deeper into the warmth of your winter coat. You pushed your hands deeper into your pockets, but it didn’t do much. You’d forgotten your mittens, and your fingers felt nearly frozen.

It didn’t help that you and your friends had been meandering through one of the city’s holiday market for more than a few hours, the cold of the evening sinking deep into your bones. Unfortunately, there were only so many cups of hot chocolate one person could consume before they made themselves sick, and you’d reached that limit.

Still, you were having fun—too much fun to complain about the cold or to try to beg off early. That was why you smiled as you watched your best friend, Yelena Belova, duck into one of the market stalls, her green eyes going wide as they raked over the vendor’s display of knives.

You trailed a little slowly behind the rest of your friends—Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers—beneath the pop-up tent, distracted by the chill in your fingers as you rubbed them against your body through the material of your coat, trying to get them warm.

The wintry wind cut through the market again and, despite the trembling of your body, you smiled as you breathed in the scent of it. Beneath the pine smell from the evergreen trees being sold at the big tent near the entrance and the swirling richness of buttery baked goods, there was a fresh scent that made you turn your face upward.

Gray clouds were rolling in overhead, blotting out the deep navy of the evening sky, and you knew, deep in your bones, that it was going to snow. A smile curled the edges of your lips and you let your eyes fall closed as you breathed in that fresh scent of oncoming snow.

You loved this time of year because you loved the snow.

Everything about it conjured up memories of sitting by a crackling fire, wrapped in a cozy blanket, watching the beautiful flakes fall from the sky and dust everything in a perfect wintry cloak. You could spend hours sitting by a window, watching the snow come down, and you were suddenly looking forward to doing just that once you got home that evening.

That heat had begun appearing in Steve’s eyes more and more when he looked at you, and you knew it had started after a certain night at the bar your friends frequented a few weeks prior. But you’d been determinedly ignoring that look in Steve’s eyes ever since that night—just like you’d been ignoring what exactly had happened between the two of you.

As fast as the memory of that night sprang to mind, you shoved it aside, reminding yourself that there was no use in dredging it up. What you and Steve had done that night had the potential to ruin all of your relationships, and no matter how much you might’ve wanted reenact the night at the bar, your friend group was too important to you to risk it.

Even after years of knowing them, you still felt like your addition to the group was precarious because you’d joined so much later. Steve, Bucky, Nat and Yelena had all known each other since they were teenagers, and you’d only met them in your early twenties. You’d sat near Yelena at your first job after college, and it had been best friends at first sight—or, at first snarky comment, anyway.

She’d adopted you as her best friend and introduced you to the others since you were new to the city and didn’t know anyone. You’d liked Steve from the moment you met him, but you’d kept a tight lid on your crush since you were more concerned about fitting into the group as seamlessly as possible, and you figured following your feelings would unnecessarily rock the boat.

Still, despite your intention of taking your crush on Steve to your grave, you couldn’t ignore the way he’d grown into himself as you all had gotten older.

Gone was the boy-next-door blond hair and clean-shaven face of the man you’d first met. Steve’s hair had darkened and he’d recently let it grow long enough that it was beginning to curl at the nape of his neck. He’d also grown out his beard, keeping it thick but neatly trimmed.

Steve had also, somewhere along the way, learned how to dress his tall form—and do it well.

That night at the holiday market, he’d worn light gray slacks, a dark charcoal sweater that you desperately wanted to rub your cheek against to see if it was as soft as it looked, and a black wool overcoat. It was an outfit that had you nearly drooling when you’d met up with your friends, unable to tear your eyes away from how Steve’s broad shoulders and trim waist filled out the clothes.

Despite the chill of the evening, Steve hadn’t seemed the least bit cold, and you’d caught yourself thinking more than once how warm it would feel to be wrapped up in his strong arms. Your fingers would never have gotten so miserably frozen if you’d snuck them beneath Steve’s coat or in his pockets…

With a start, you realized you’d been staring back at Steve for a long, lingering moment, and heat bloomed in your cheeks. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea—though, at that moment, you were struggling to figure out what exactly the wrong idea was—so you ducked your head and pretended like you were bundling deeper into your coat as you made to move past him into the tent.

“Are you alright, sunshine?” Steve asked as you passed him, his hand landing gently on your arm. Even through your coat, you could feel the warmth of his touch; it made you pause and glance up at him.

You realized your mistake immediately. You were too close to Steve—far too close. So close you could smell the rich, masculine scent of his cologne and feel the heat radiating off his body. It made you want to bury your face in his neck and inhale deeply, to wrap yourself up in his warmth until your bones didn’t even remember what the cold felt like.

“I-I’m ok,” you said in a shaky voice, more rattled by Steve’s closeness than the December wind cutting through the city, and you dropped your gaze to the gold pendant around his neck.

It glinted in the soft light of the market stall, and you remembered it had been a gift from his Irish Catholic mother. You used the memory of Steve telling you about the pendant to ground yourself and your voice came out stronger.

“Just cold.”

“D’you want some more hot chocolate?” Steve asked, and there was a hopeful note in his tone, like he was offering to get it for you, but you were quick to shake your head.

“Any more and I think my body will be more hot chocolate than water,” you joked, trying to ignore the emotions swirling in your chest like snowflakes on a wintry gale.

When Steve chuckled, you couldn’t help but look back up at him, finding his blue eyes sparkling as he gazed down at you, affection clear in the lines of his face.

Slowly, his smile eased into something else—something heavier, an expression that was almost yearning. It made the fluttering flakes in your chest swirl more frenziedly while a warmth bloomed somewhere lower, throbbing more to life the longer Steve looked at you with those darkened blue eyes. His expression spoke of things you’d never dare give voice to.

For another long moment, you and Steve just stared at each other, standing too close just inside the canopy of the vendor at the holiday market. A tension you refused to acknowledge crackled in the air around you.

Of their own volition, your eyes dropped to Steve’s mouth, his lower lip looking so soft and pink amid the dark brown of his beard. For what felt like the millionth time in the last few weeks, ever since that night at the bar, you imagined kissing him—how soft his mouth would be, how warm and inviting, and the feel of his rough beard rasping over your cheeks.

“Hey Steve, c’mere!”

Natasha’s call finally broke the spell that had fallen over you and Steve, and you jumped back, only in that moment realizing how close you’d been. Close enough that when you ducked your head and turned away from him, making your way over to Yelena and Bucky, that you missed Steve’s warmth almost immediately.

You let out a shaky breath, trying to ease the tension and whirling emotions in your chest, and slid between your friends, who were still looking at the knives on sale. Looping one arm through Yelena’s, you rested your head against Bucky’s shoulder, taking comfort in your friends’ warmth, even if it wasn’t as soothing as Steve’s had been.

“Both of you already have too many knives,” you said by way of a greeting. Your comment made both of them snort derisively, which made you smirk since it had been your intention to get a reaction out of them.

“There’s no such thing,” Yelena scoffed, tearing her eyes away from a double-edged dagger with an engraved handle to glance sideways at you. Her gaze met yours and then slid over your shoulder.

You followed it to where Natasha and Steve’s heads were ducked together. They were standing near a display of jewelry and you figured Nat was helping Steve pick out a Christmas present for someone, though you couldn’t think of who. You frowned.

“When are you going to put him out of his misery?”

“What?” you asked, a little sharper than you’d intended, but you didn’t appreciate the implication that you were making Steve miserable.

Bucky cut his eyes to you, then slid them to Yelena, giving your best friend a pointed look. You spun your head around to your other side in time to watch Yelena’s mouth flatten into a reproachful frown.

Suddenly, you got the distinct impression that your friends were having an argument about you, though you couldn’t even begin to wonder what it could be about, except that it had something to do with Steve.

It took a moment of silent arguing before Yelena and Bucky seemed to come to an agreement. Yelena looked at you, a gentle expression on her face that made your stomach drop with anxiety—which only worsened when she put her free hand on your arm that was still looped through hers.

However, before she could voice whatever bad news she clearly had to tell you, Bucky cut in.

“You know no one would be upset if you and Steve dated, right?” he asked bluntly, his eyes intense and searching when you turned to look at him. “We all know you like each other.”

If you’d been drinking hot chocolate at that moment, you would’ve spit it out all over Bucky and the display of pretty decorative knives.

Thankfully, you weren’t. But you still managed to sputter and open your mouth repeatedly while you searched for the words to address the preposterousness of Bucky’s statement.

“I do not—”

Whatever weak protest you were going to utter was cut short when Yelena blurted, “We know you kissed.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, the snowflakes that had been fluttering in your chest when you’d been standing with Steve sharpened into icy daggers of unease. You whirled on your best friend. “Pardon?”

“I saw you guys at the bar that night—I went back to get my scarf…” Yelena explained quickly, having the good grace to look apologetic, both for what she’d seen and for bringing it up. “I know you’ve liked Steve for ages, even if you haven’t said anything,” she rushed on, as if she thought if she spoke fast enough, it would make it easier to hear. “I was so excited it was finally happening that I blurted it out to Nat and she told Bucky—we were just so happy for you both.”

You floundered again, your mouth opening and closing as you processed your best friend’s words. It was almost too much to take in. Not only did everyone know what had happened between you and Steve that night at the bar, but it hadn’t changed anything. You’d told yourself for years that nothing could happen between you and Steve because it would throw off the whole balance of the group, but something had happened and it hadn’t done anything.

“I—”

Again, you were cut off, though it was seemingly Bucky’s turn, and your head swiveled back to him on your other side, feeling a bit like a broken bobblehead.

“He’s liked you too, for what it’s worth,” Bucky said. Your face must’ve conveyed disbelief because he went on. “He’s been talking about you since Yelena first introduced you to everyone, but he didn’t know how you felt,” he said, cutting his eyes to Yelena with the barest hint of a glare, “and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Hearing that Steve liked you was officially too much for you to bear. The dawning realization that you could’ve been with Steve without risking your friendships with Yelena, Bucky and Nat was like a yawning, desolate chasm waiting to swallow you whole. You’d lost so much time because you were so afraid of losing them all, and it hurt—it hurt enough that it took you a moment to realize Yelena was talking again.

“We thought someone had finally made a move, but then you guys were pretending like nothing happened,” she was saying, and you turned back to her, your mind so overwhelmed that you no longer felt cold, only numb. “None of us wanted to bring it up because, y’know, I wasn’t supposed to have seen it.” She shot you an apologetic grimace before plowing on, her expression turning gentle again. “You know we’d never stop being your friends, even if something happened with you and Steve, right?”

Your heart was racing, the fear of change quickly eclipsing the fear of losing any more time with Steve. You’d been friends with Yelena, Bucky, Nat and Steve for so long that you couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if the two of you started dating—let alone what might happen if you broke up. Shaking your head, you refused to acknowledge Yelena’s assurance. Even if they’d still be friends with you, nothing would be the same.

“Nothing happened,” you said vehemently, even as you choked on the words, the lie tasting like ash on your tongue. But you couldn’t seem to stop. “We were drunk, it meant nothing.”

But then Bucky—blunt, too-perceptive Bucky—broke into your thoughts and pulled you up short with another simple question.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, his tone not unkind.

You opened your mouth to snap a quick answer, but the ‘yes’ died in your throat. Because of course something had happened, and of course it meant everything.

For the first time in weeks, you gave yourself permission to remember that night.

You’d tried to forget it—forget the softness of Steve’s lips on yours, forget the heat of his tongue as it slipped into your mouth, forget the pleasant scrape of his beard against your skin and the gentle way he’d held your face as he deepened the kiss.

Your first kiss with Steve Rogers had been glorious and messy and too short and too perfect—and it had meant everything to you.

But then you remembered what had happened after, the way you’d pulled away, even though you’d been the one to initiate the kiss in the first place, and panicked as soon as your mind had caught up with what you’d done.

The rest of the memory was a blur, the anxiety of the moment softening the edges, but you distinctly remembered extricating yourself from Steve—which had felt a little like cutting off a limb—before telling him it was a mistake and it couldn’t happen again.

Back at the market, you buried your face in your hands, and almost sobbed at the memory. “I’ve already ruined things,” you mumbled miserably into your frozen fingers, squeezing your eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.

Bucky made a humming noise, as if he was considering your words. “Whatever happened between you two, it hasn’t changed Steve’s feelings for you,” he said, squeezing your wrist gently until you looked at him. He stared at you for a long moment, making sure you heard him. “So my question stands: When are you going to put him—and yourself—out of this misery?”

Your friends let you sit with that question for a silent moment, then Yelena selected one of the knives, claiming it was an early Christmas present for herself and made her way over to the checkout.

Steve was also apparently buying something, accepting a small wrapped package from the cashier that he slipped into his pocket. You were too overwhelmed by your thoughts to be curious about it anymore though.

You stood with Bucky near the entrance to the tent, waiting for your friends to finish their transactions while your mind swirled. You were grateful to your friend for leaving you alone with your thoughts, though you knew it was only because Bucky was confident he’d made his point.

And he had. Oh how he had.

Your mind and heart were a mess. You’d spent so many years telling yourself that you could never let anyone catch on about your feelings for Steve, because if they did, it would lead to the end of the friend group. But they’d all known for weeks, and nothing had changed.

Well, nothing except apparently Bucky and Yelena had taken it upon themselves to play matchmaker. And you wouldn’t have been surprised if Natasha had been in on the ploy as well, distracting Steve purposefully so Yelena and Bucky could ambush you.

Still, you couldn’t fully silence the tiny voice of fear deep in your heart that insisted that if you and Steve got together, and things ended badly, you’d lose all your friends.

The rest of the group had known each other for so long and it had been more than a little daunting to figure out where you fit. Adding a romantic relationship into the mix seemed like a recipe for disaster—and if it ended so badly that everyone was forced to choose sides, you couldn’t imagine them choosing yours when they’d known Steve so much longer.

But as you watched Yelena finish paying for the knife, her words about always being your friend came back to you. She was your best friend—and you were hers. As if proving the point, she caught your eye and smiled impishly as she caught up with you, linking her arm through yours and tugging you back out into the market.

In that moment, something settled in you. Without fully realizing it, you’d always been a little insecure in your group of friends, always worried they would kick you out at the smallest infraction. But Yelena had said it plainly—they’d always be your friends, and you owed it to them to believe her, to trust her, because that was what friendship was.

That was what you had to do to have any kind of meaningful relationship.

As your group of friends wandered further down the row of stalls at the holiday market, you couldn’t help the way your eyes kept straying to Steve. Each time, you found him either looking at you already, or glancing your way within seconds, like he could feel your gaze.

When you looked at him, really looked at him, you noticed a little bit of hurt in his eyes. There was only a hint of it, like he was trying to hide it from you and everyone elese, but you could see it.

You wondered, briefly, how you’d missed it, but a part of you knew you’d been seeing it since that night at the bar. You’d just been ignoring it along with everything else swirling in his gaze.

“When are you going to put him out of his misery?”

You’d known you were making yourself miserable—of course you had. But the realization that you were making Steve miserable, even as he made a valiant effort to hide it, was what finally made your decision for you about what to do with everything Bucky and Yelena had told you.

No matter how scared you were that things might end badly, and you’d end up getting your heart broken and lose all your friends, you had to trust them when they said they’d always be there for you. You had to trust that Steve knew what he wanted—and that what he wanted was you.

The group came to another stop when Bucky spotted a specialty chocolate vendor and he ducked inside. Nat and Yelena followed him in—the latter giving you a meaningful look as you trailed behind before cutting her eyes to Steve. The message was clear and you nodded, giving her a playful shove that made your best friend cackle as she followed Bucky and Nat.

You stepped toward Steve where he hovered just outside the tent, and he shot you a knowing smile when he caught your eye.

“Still feeling like you’ve had enough chocolate?” he asked in a friendly tone, referencing your earlier joke. His beard twitched like he was trying to hold back a smile and it warmed your heart that he not only remembered the joke, but still found it funny.

The side of your mouth curved up in a lopsided grin, and you inched a tiny bit closer, just barely stepping into Steve’s personal space as you looked up at him.

“Yeah, I’ve had my fill,” you said, keeping your tone light. You took on a considering expression, tipping your head to the side and tapping a finger to your chin as if you were thinking. “For tonight, at least.”

Both of you laughed, but the December wind cut through the holiday market just then, and it reminded you of how cold your fingers were, especially out in the open. You quickly shoved your hand deep into the pocket of your coat, and Steve didn’t miss the movement, drifting even closer to you.

“Do you have any gloves, sunshine?” he asked in a low, rumbly voice that had warm tingles of delight dancing down your spine, all the way to your toes.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. Steve had moved close enough that you had to tip your head back to keep looking up at him, and you could feel the heat radiating off his larger body.

His blue eyes were sparkling in the warm, golden light of the market, and you could see the swirl of emotion in their depths that was only there when he looked at you. But there was a crease of concern between his brows, too, and you knew he was seconds away from offering to find you some gloves—or something else that would be chivalrous and perfectly friendly.

You realized, very suddenly, that if anything was going to happen between you and Steve, anything like what had happened at the bar, you needed to make the first move. Bucky had said Steve had been worried about making you uncomfortable before that night, and you were certain it had only worsened after the kiss you’d shared.

So, before he could say anything, you blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Can I put my cold hands up your sweater for warmth?”

Steve’s brows lifted in surprise, and you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from trying to take the words back as soon as they’d slipped out of your mouth. And you were glad you did, because as the moment stretched on, and Steve realized you were serious, his brows lowered and his blue eyes darkened with interest.

“Ya sure about that, sunshine?” he asked, his voice low enough that you knew it was meant for only you. He ducked his head slightly, so he was nearly at your eye level, and held your gaze. “I wouldn’t want you doing anything you might regret.”

The words stung a little, but you knew you deserved them, especially after you’d told Steve that kissing him had been a mistake. So you held his gaze and stepped even closer to him, until there was barely any space left between your bodies.

“I’m sure,” you said firmly, letting Steve see the honesty in your open expression. “I know what I’m doing and I—this is what I want.” You were proud of yourself for only stumbling once, and held your breath as you waited for Steve’s response.

The corners of Steve’s mouth flickered in an eager grin, but he wiped the expression away, like he was worried that if he appeared too excited, he’d scare you away. You felt a pang of regret, and it doubled your determination to show Steve that you weren’t going to panic and run away again.

Pulling your hands from your pockets, you brushed your fingertips against Steve’s stomach in a silent reminder of your question.

“Can I?” you asked, your voice breathless with anticipation.

“Yeah,” he rasped, his eyes molten with heat as he stared down at you. “Go ‘head, sunshine.”

You were cold enough that you didn’t waste any more time, slipping your fingers beneath the hem of Steve’s soft sweater and pressing your frigid fingertips to the warm, smooth skin you found.

“Fuck, your fingers are freezing,” Steve rumbled, the muscles of his abs contracting beneath your touch like they were trying flee. But before you could apologize and pull away, Steve’s hands flattened over yours outside his sweater, pressing your palms against the hard-packed plane of his abs. “Good thing ya got me to keep you warm, sunshine,” he teased, his voice so full of charm that you melted into him.

“Yeah, good thing,” you echoed in a whisper, the edges of your mouth curling up into a pleased smile. You shimmied closer to Steve, watching the way his blue eyes sparkled with affection as he held your gaze captive.

He wrapped you up against him, holding you in the loose cage of his warms while your fingertips stroked idly against his smooth skin. You wanted to let them wander further beneath his sweater and explore the wonders of Steve’s bare chest, but you managed to keep the urge in check since you were in public—though it was a near thing.

“You know what I like to do most in the winter?” you asked Steve, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over the two of you. The sounds of the market all around you were a distant soundtrack.

“What?” he asked indulgently, squeezing you slightly in his arms.

“Curl up in bed and snuggle on a snowy day,” you said with a sly smile. And then, as if a thought had just occurred to you, you tilted your head to the side. “Hey, is your bed comfy? Do you have a lot of nice warm blankets and good pillows?”

A grin pulled across Steve’s face even though he was fighting it, trying to look like he was taking your questions under serious consideration.

“Y’know, I think it’s very comfy,” he said, giving you a knowing look. He’d obviously picked up on the not-so-subtle cue that you might want him to take you back to his place, and you appreciated that he was sticking to the bit. “But it sounds like you’re an expert, so I think you should come over and be the judge of that.”

An answering grin curved your mouth and you murmured, “I’d like that.”

Then, before you could let your fear get the best of you again, you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes, your lips brushing against Steve’s beard as you moved to whisper in his ear.

You shivered at the physical reminder of the coarse hair rasping deliciously against your cheeks when he’d kissed you and it took a moment to remember what you’d been about to say. When you did, you couldn’t hold in your smirk.

“Did I mention I do my best snuggling naked?”

“Sunshine.”

The nickname was uttered in a gruff, rumbling rasp, like the sound of a plow on snowy streets. It was so deep and delicious, your toes curled in delight and your mouth pulled into a full-blown grin.

You barely had time to pull away before Steve was wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and towing you in for a kiss.

Steve’s mouth was wonderfully soft and exquisitely warm and achingly familiar against yours. He wasted no time licking along the seam of your lips, seeking entrance that you happily gave him.

Your fingers curled around Steve’s sides beneath his sweater, digging greedily into the soft skin at his waist while you kissed him back feverishly, trying to close every gap between your bodies.

“Fuck, how does this feel so much better than I remember?” Steve growled against your lips, his hand on the back of your neck tilting your head just the way he wanted so he could lick even deeper into your mouth.

Your breathy, delirious laugh was swallowed by his all-consuming kiss, the sound turning into a helpless moan.

God, he was right, it did feel so much better than you remembered to have Steve’s mouth on yours, and you couldn’t fathom how you’d run away from him before because, in that moment, the last thing you wanted to do was stop. You wanted to kiss Steve for the rest of your life.

“I don’t know, but Steve, please, don’t stop,” you murmured when he finally let you up for air. You tried to catch your breath while he was busy pressing insatiable kisses to your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth, anywhere he could reach without straying too far from your lips.

Pulling your hands from beneath his sweater, your no longer freezing fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, pulling him closer while at the same time pushing yourself up onto your tiptoes again. Your bodies slotted together even more perfectly, and you moaned softly into his mouth as you tugged him in for another kiss.

Steve kissed you harder, holding you tight to his chest like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear on the wintry wind. In turn, you held him just as fiercely, your nails raking through the beard on the underside of his jaw and tugging lightly to bring him closer until he was rumbling a pleased sound deep in his chest.

“Get a room!”

The perfect bubble that had formed around and Steve abruptly popped, the sounds of the bustling holiday market rushing in along with the December chill and you pulled away, your first instinct to worry about what your friends would think. But then you caught the look on Steve’s face.

He was staring at you with such a blissed out expression, his blue eyes dark and hazy, a pleased smile on his kiss-swollen lips, that you couldn’t help but relax and melt back into him. You took your time to press a sweet kiss to his lips before turning to your friends.

Natasha, Yelena and Bucky all wore matching smug grins. Nat was even popping little chocolate candies into her mouth like she was enjoying the show.

“Oh no, please don’t stop on our account,” she called to you and Steve, gesturing with her hand for you both to continue. The whole group burst into raucous laughter.

Cracking up and shaking your head, you buried your face in Steve’s rumbling chest, feeling a little shy about being caught making out so heatedly by your friends. But you felt relief, too, that no one was upset—that all your friends were happy for you and Steve.

When you’d finally gotten ahold of yourself, you tipped your face up and caught Steve’s eye, giving him a sly smile that had his expression instantly darkening with a hunger that made you pulse with desire.

“So about that comfy bed of yours…” you murmured, just for him to hear. When he nodded once, quickly, to acknowledge he remembered it, you went on. “I’d love to see it if you’re ready to go?”

The implication of your question was clear and Steve clutched you tighter to his chest, capturing your lips for a brief, hot kiss that did more to warm you from the inside out than any of the hot chocolate you’d consumed that evening.

“Sunshine, I’ve been ready to take you home for years,” he rasped against your mouth, the honesty in his voice making you smile.

When Steve pulled away, he tugged you over to your group of friends and told them you were heading home—yes, together, he confirmed. All three of them murmured encouraging words in your ear as you hugged them goodbye, and you could tell by the pink tinging Steve’s cheeks that they were doing the same to him.

Once farewells were said, Steve snagged your hand and laced your fingers together. As you walked to the subway, he tucked your clasped hands into the pocket of his overcoat, and then your other into the crook of his elbow, where he covered it with his palm to keep you warm.

Steve held you tucked into his side the whole way back to his place while he made idle conversation, asking about the latest books you’d read and movies you’d watched. He only let go when it came time to pull out his keys and unlock his door.

There was a giddy, electric energy between the two of you as Steve helped you out of your coat and hung it up. Your gaze kept drifting back to him while you took off your boots and he hung up his overcoat. Once done, he stepped close, toeing out of his shoes next to where you’d dropped your boots.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Steve asked, his voice rough and a little uneven, like he was nervous. It made you smile, settling your own nerves to know he was right there with you.

You stepped further into Steve’s space, your fingers sneaking beneath the hem of his sweater and giggling when he sucked in a sharp breath. He’d made an excellent effort to keep your fingers warm on the way home, but the December cold had still snuck in.

It was a good thing Steve was there to warm you up again.

“I think I’d just like to see this comfy bed of yours,” you murmured, pushing up onto your tiptoes and kissing Steve.

The two of you lingered in the entryway of Steve’s apartment for long minutes, kissing and learning what made each other gasp and moan. His teeth nipped at your lower lip, sinking in hard enough to make you whimper before relenting and soothing the sting away with his tongue.

Meanwhile, you let your hands wander further beneath Steve’s sweater, finding a light trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his slacks. You raked your nails through it, and relished the pleased sound that rumbled in his chest.

Warm, wet desire was gathering between your thighs, and it wasn’t long before you squirmed impatiently against Steve, needing more.

By the time Steve broke the kiss and spun you around, his heavy hands dropping to your hips to guide you through his apartment, your panties were damp and you were aching for something only Steve could give you.

Both of you moved quickly as you let Steve lead you to his bedroom, pausing just inside the darkened room while he flicked on a light.

A soft, golden glow emanated from two lamps set on low wooden tables on either side of the massive bed. Curiously, your gaze roved over the room, taking in the earthy colors and tasteful design.

It seemed Steve hadn’t only gotten his wardrobe and appearance together—he’d also made his home a place that was warm and welcoming and entirely him.

The king-size bed was swathed in a thick, forest green comforter with dark charcoal sheets, a veritable pile of pillows at the head that looked far too enticing. The rest of the room was furnished with a dark wooden bookcase and dresser that matched the bed frame and side tables. There were even some vintage photographs of Brooklyn decorating the wall, along with some framed pictures on dresser.

Wandering over, you picked up one of the photographs. It was from the first autumn after you’d met Yelena and the others. The group had rented a car and gone to a farm upstate to go apple picking and enjoy all the other autumnal delights the state had to offer.

In the photo, you were tucked into Steve’s side on a bale of hay, ready for the hayride the group had decided to go on, with Yelena on your other side. There was a blanket draped over your laps, and Steve’s arm was wrapped around your shoulders. The three of you were beaming at the camera.

“Do you remember that trip?” Steve asked, sliding up behind you and wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder while he peered at the photograph.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. Then you winced as you remembered something about the trip. “Wasn’t this the time I fell asleep on your shoulder on the way home and drooled all over your jacket?”

Steve laughed huskily in your ear.

“It is,” he confirmed, brushing a kiss to your cheek before murmuring. “I didn’t wash it for a month.”

It was your turn to laugh, though the sound was more of a surprised exhalation as you twisted your upper body so you could see his face better.

“What?”

Steve grimaced, wrinkling his nose and scuffing a hand against the back of his neck sheepishly, like he regretted admitting that to you.

“It was more because it smelled like you than because of the, y’know, drool,” he explained, his tone a tiny bit defensive. But then he looked at you, finding your face still frozen in surprise and his expression softened. “I’ve liked you since I met you, sunshine.”

It wasn’t anything Bucky hadn’t already told you, but it still felt like an entirely new revelation coming straight from Steve, and all you could think to say was, “Oh.”

You turned back to the photo, still held in your hand, and all you could think about was the fact that you had the same one tacked up on the corkboard over your desk. You wondered if Steve liked it for the same reason you did—because it made the two of you look like a happy couple, even with Yelena sitting next to you.

“I liked you too,” you confessed in a small voice.

Steve was quiet for a moment, his hold on you loosening slightly as you stepped forward to put the photograph back on his dresser. But when that was done, he towed you back in until your back was pressed to his chest.

“Liked?” he asked, enunciating the ‘d’ at the end of the word.

Your mouth flickered in a smile and you turned around in his arms. Your hands smoothed over his broad shoulders while you leaned into him, your soft curves pressing into the hard planes of his body.

“I liked you then, and I like you now, Steve,” you said, holding your breath as you stared up at him. Even knowing he felt the same way about you, it was still scary to lay your heart bare for the first time, and you waited eagerly for his response.

An exhale gusted from Steve and you couldn’t help but note the relief in his expression, even as he grinned wide.

“That’s good to hear, sunshine, because I like you, too.”

“Good,” you said with a grin, dragging Steve down for a too-brief kiss. “Now, will you take me to bed already?”

Steve’s laughter was muffled as he kissed you again, guiding you around and walking you backward until the backs of your legs hit the bed. He didn’t break the kiss as he lowered you to the soft mattress and helped you slide up the bed until your shoulders settled into the pile of pillows at the head.

Your arms wrapped around Steve and you pulled him down on top of you while he braced himself so he didn’t crush you. One of his legs slid between your thighs and he lowered himself down on top of you until his bulge pressed into your stomach. Your belly swooped with excitement and your pulse thrummed with desire.

Hiking one of your legs up around his waist, you writhed beneath Steve, grinding your hot core against his thigh through your jeans.

You couldn’t seem to stop touching him, your hands sketching the exact measure of his body, and he seemed to be doing the same. Steve’s hands couldn’t stay still, sliding up and down your sides before finally pushing beneath your sweater.

His warm, calloused fingers stroked covetously over your skin, and you felt extra sensitive wherever he touched you, his every caress sending shivers of pleasure racing through your body.

“Steve,” you whined, wrenching your mouth from his to drag in a much-needed breath. Even still, you craved more and your body rocked up into his, grinding against his thigh while his bulge pressed insistently into your belly.

“You feel so good, sunshine,” he rasped as he kissed a trail along your jaw and down to your neck. The scratch of his beard against your skin had you shuddering beneath his big body. “Can I…?” he asked, his fingertips teasing along the edge of your bra beneath your sweater.

“Yes—please,” you gasped. Your own fingers curled into the soft fabric of Steve’s sweater between his shoulder blades and you tugged on it, trying to pull it over his head.

Steve chuckled into your neck before he sat up and yanked his sweater off for you, baring the broad expanse of his chest. You caught glimpses of soft brown hair dusted across his pecs and endless swaths of golden skin before he was helping you out of your sweater.

You grumbled disgruntledly when your view of Steve was cut off as he tugged your sweater over your head, then as he leaned close to unclasp your bra and toss it somewhere in the room. You only dragged your eyes away from Steve’s perfect chest when he made a low, almost anguished sound.

He looked a little dazed, his eyes staring down at your bare breasts. Your chest was heaving slightly, making them bounce gently, and Steve looked almost hypnotized by the sight.

Snorting to yourself, you curled your fingers around his firm biceps and tugged him back down on top of you, whimpering when your nipples brushed against the hair on his chest. They pebbled as pleasure spiked through your body, settling heavily between your thighs and making even more wetness soak into your panties.

The movement had broken Steve from his trance and he began kissing from your neck down your chest. The rasp of his beard over your clavicle sent a delicious shiver down your spine, making you keen and tremble beneath him.

“Fuck, you’re so soft,” he rumbled gruffly into your skin. He buried his face in the valley between your breasts, groping your supple flesh in his big hands while pressing teasing kisses and gentle bites to your skin. “You’re so perfect, sunshine.”

You whined a needy sound, reacting to his touch as much as his awe-filled words, and threaded your fingers through Steve’s soft hair. You held him tightly to your chest, wordlessly pleading for more, and he enthusiastically indulged the request.

Steve wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked deeply, drawing so much of you into his hot mouth, it felt like he was doing his damndest to devour you. You were already so sensitive for him that it felt like there was a direct line connecting your sensitive peak to your clit, and you cried out in pleasure, your spine arching up off the bed and pushing your chest further in Steve’s face.

He grinned, doing a poor job of hiding his self-satisfied expression in your soft tits, but you didn’t begrudge him the smugness—not when he nibbled at your hardened nipple so good, it made your hips buck up from the bed. A whine slipped from your lips when you realized you no longer had his thigh to grind against, your legs kicking restlessly at the sheets.

After giving the same torturous treatment to your other nipple, wringing even more whimpering whines and desperate keening sounds from your mouth, Steve began kissing his way further down your body. He nipped playfully at your belly before lifting his head to catch your eye.

It took you a moment to blink them into focus enough to see him clearly.

“I’ve been dreaming about your taste for years, sunshine,” he rumbled, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your jeans and tugging just enough that you knew he was asking if he could take them off. “Please, can I…?”

You were already nodding, your fingers fumbling over the button of your jeans. Steve seemed just as eager as you, gently pushing your hand aside and taking over as he thumbed it through the hole in the denim and pulled your zipper down. Then he was peeling your jeans down over you hips and thighs, taking your panties off at the same time.

In only a few seconds, you were stripped bare for the first time in front of Steve Rogers, and if it wasn’t for the shuddered exhale that gusted past his lips and the sizable bulge twitching in the front of his slacks, it might’ve occurred to you to feel a little insecure.

But before those thoughts could even begin to creep in, Steve was dragging his hands up your thighs and spreading your legs with a reverent look on his face, giving an appreciative rumble deep in his chest as he raked his eyes up the naked length of your body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, sunshine,” he rasped, pressing his face between your thighs and taking a deep breath.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but you didn’t have time to wonder at how you smelled because Steve was licking his tongue into the seam of your pussy, groaning like he’d eaten something delicious.

“Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined,” he growled before diving in deeper, burying his face against your cunt and eating you out like he was a dying man and you were his last meal.

In no time at all, he had you crying out, your hips bucking up off the bed as pleasure swirled through your body. It was all you could do to try to stop yourself from humping against his handsome face.

Steve’s thick biceps banded around your thighs and he held you spread open while he feasted on you, his eyes staring up past your quivering belly and heaving chest to watch your reactions. He sucked and nibbled and flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit, paying attention to what had you writhing and moaning your pleasure beneath him.

He licked into your pussy, fucking you with his tongue until you were squirming and panting on the bed, your thighs tensing and trembling with your building release.

Needing something to hold on to, you threaded your fingers into Steve’s hair, holding his head against your greedy pussy and rocking your hips into him. You moaned loudly, unabashedly, grinding against his mouth and beard as you neared the edge.

“Oh god, Steve, ‘m so close, please—please, don’t stop, ‘m gonna come,” you babbled, your spine arching up off the bed as you threw your head back into the pile of soft pillows. “Fuck, please, please, please!”

It was clear that Steve was a quick study when it came to your body, and he put what he’d learned to good use, sucking hard on your clit and flicking his tongue over it, steadily driving your pleasure higher until, finally, it crested. And then he pushed you right over the edge.

Your fingers fisted in Steve’s hair and you humped shamelessly against his face as you came with a cry of his name—“Steve!” Your body tightened, and then loosened as wave after wave of pleasure swept through your limbs, making you shiver intensely while Steve’s mouth worked you through your release.

When the pleasure began to ebb, you melted back into the soft blankets on Steve’s bed, a dazed smile curving your mouth. Steve eased you down with gentle sweeps of his tongue and soft kisses to your inner thighs, murmuring sweet words to you about how good you tasted on his tongue.

It wasn’t until you whimpered from overstimulation that Steve stopped. He pressed one last kiss to the top of your mound before pushing himself up. His happy grin when he saw the sated, content expression on your face made your heart skip a beat in your chest. He was just so damn handsome.

“Good?” Steve asked, though you knew from the self-satisfied look in his eye that he already knew the answer to his question.

Still, you nodded. “So good,” you purred, stretching and reaching for him. Your fingers curled into coarse hair on the underside of his jaw and you tugged him up your body for a kiss.

You could taste yourself on his lips, and his beard was so drenched in your juices, it made your own cheeks damp. A groan worked its way up your throat at the filthiness of the kiss, and you pulled Steve closer, letting him muffle the sound as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

Even though Steve had just made you come harder than anyone else in your entire life, renewed desire was beginning to bloom in your core, the heat of your arousal already building again. Distractedly, you recognized that you’d never felt the way you did for anyone but Steve—insatiable, unwilling to let the night end just yet.

When Steve’s hard bulge knocked against your hip, a devious smirk curled your lips and you wasted no time trailing your fingers down his bare, golden chest to grope his cock through his slacks. He was hard and heavy in your hand, and an excited thrill raced down your spine at the thought of taking him in your mouth.

Steve groaned against your lips, his big body shuddering when you squeezed and stroked him through the thick material of his pants. So you did it again, rubbing him with your palm until you felt his hard length jump against your fingers, like his body was just as eager for your touch as the rest of him.

“We don’t have to do more,” Steve said, his voice a little breathless. “I-I mean, you don’t have to return the favor or anything. I’m good to just go to sleep if that’s what you want.”

Steve’s words were honorable, but you didn’t want to sleep.

You pushed at his larger body until he flipped onto his back. Following after him, you kissed down his chest, taking a moment to nuzzle in the soft hair scattered across his pecs before you lifted your head and caught his eye, letting him see the desire in yours.

“I bet I’ve dreamed about sucking your cock just as much as you dreamed about eating my pussy,” you whispered huskily, holding his gaze determinedly while you shifted down his body until your face was level with his bulge. You mouthed at his hard length through his slacks. “Please, Steve, can I…?”

“Yeah—yes—fuck, sunshine, you can do whatever you want,” he rasped, helping you undo his button and fly, his fingers trembling. Then he lifted his hips so you could pull his pants down.

You felt like you were unwrapping the most perfect Christmas present as you tugged his slacks and boxer briefs down his thick, toned thighs. You even let out a little gasp of delight when Steve’s cock bounced free, marveling at the sheer masculine beauty of it.

Impatiently, you pulled his clothes the rest of the way off, pausing only to kiss his thighs, enjoying the softness of his leg hair against your lips and cheeks, before returning to his cock.

Taking him in hand, you circled your fingers around the thick shaft and gave him a loose pump, watching how he bucked his hips into your fist from just that little bit of touching. Steve’s hands were fisted in the blankets on the bed, like he was holding himself back from touching you, and you decided you want to make the man—your man—lose himself in pleasure, just like he’d done to you.

You ducked down and licked the tip of Steve’s cock, humming in delight as the salty, musky taste of his precum burst on your tongue. The vibrations made Steve groan and you hid a self-satisfied smirk against his cock, before refocusing on your task.

You pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses up and down Steve’s shaft, staring up his hard, firm body while he watched you worship his cock. His cheeks were tinged pink, a light sheen of sweat dotting his brow and his eyes were so dark, his pupils blown so wide, they looked like the navy blue night sky on a winter evening.

When you ducked down further, taking his balls into your mouth and suckling greedily, Steve’s gaze widened and his cock twitched in your hand.

“Sunshine,” he rasped, the nickname sounding like a plea for mercy as he groaned loudly. “Ya keep sucking my balls and I’m gonna come way too soon.”

With a smirk, you gave his sensitive sac one last little suckle before letting it fall from your lips, then you licked up the length of his cock.

“Can’t have that,” you quipped, shooting him a smug grin. You pressed a kiss to the tip and wrapped your lips around the head, taking him into your mouth and sucking hard enough to make his hips buck up off the bed.

Another anguished sound wrenched free from Steve’s lips.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned as he settled back down, one of his hands coming to rest on the crown of your head—not pushing you down or pulling you away, just holding you like he couldn’t help but touch you.

For a moment, you focused on Steve’s cock, pulling back before taking him deeper into your mouth, using your tongue to swirl around the head and trace the veins decorating his shaft while your fist stroked him. But when you flicked your gaze up to Steve, you found him watching you with adoration in his eyes.

“You’re amazing, sunshine,” he rumbled when he noticed he had your attention, one side of his mouth pulling up in a lopsided grin. “You’re gorgeous—and you look so fucking hot with my cock in your mouth.”

The corners of your mouth flickered in a pleased smile as his praise washed over you, and you closed your eyes, soaking it in. When you opened them again, you redoubled your efforts on Steve, bobbing up and down on his length at a steady pace while you pumped him in your fist.

You lost yourself in the pleasure of sucking Steve’s cock, and before long, you could feel yourself growing wet all over again. Your inner walls clenched pathetically around nothing while your mouth was filled with his big dick, but you didn’t want to stop.

However, before you could make Steve come down your throat, his hands gently gripped your head and he pulled you up off his cock. With his considerable strength, Steve hauled you back up the bed and rolled you over onto your back beneath him, bracing himself on one hand while the other slide between your thighs. He bit off a curse when he felt how wet you were.

“Christ, sunshine, ya got this wet from sucking my cock?” he asked, a note of teasing in his tone that had heat coursing through your body. Before you could respond, though, his mouth found yours for a kiss.

You were certain he must’ve been able to taste himself on your tongue, but he didn’t seem to care. He was too determined to devour your lips and swallow your moan while he speared you open with two fingers, capturing your cry of pleasure.

“Oh god, Steve,” you mumbled against his mouth, your hips rocking into his hand and fucking his fingers. “Please, I need you—I need you to fuck me.” Your hand was fisted in Steve’s soft hair and you clung to him, your entire being straining to get closer while still taking all the pleasure his fingers offered.

“Thank fuck—I need you so goddamned bad, sunshine,” he groaned, easing his fingers from your dripping hole and rolling onto his back so he could reach for something.

A moment later, you heard the sound of a wooden drawer snap closed and he rolled back on top of you, the square foil packet of a condom held in his fingers.

“Ya wanna do the honors?” he asked, his grin so charming and so like the Steve you’d known for so many years that it took your breath away.

But there was a comfort and an ease to the moment because you were there with Steve—your Steve—and you laughed at his silly offer. You were shaking your head even as you took the packet and tore it open, tossing the foil aside and making quick work of rolling the condom onto his cock.

When you were done, you gave the base of his shaft an affectionate squeeze and Steve chuckled, capturing your lips in a kiss while he shifted on top of you, pressing his knees between your legs and spreading your thighs to make room for his big, broad body.

You opened happily for him, kissing him back while your legs hooked around the backs of his thighs. Together, you lined your bodies up until Steve’s cock lay heavily against your mound, kissing lazily all the while.

After a moment, Steve broke the kiss, pushing himself up with one hand while the other fisted his hard length and held himself away from the place where you ached for him to fill. He stared deep into your eyes and gave you a serious look, a little bit of anxiety swirling in his gaze.

Steve’s voice cracked a little on the pet name and it made your heart split open in your chest. You didn’t know if you’d ever forgive yourself for hurting Steve the way you did, for saying those things you didn’t mean and trying to push him away when all you’d wanted was to pull him closer.

You decided then and there to make it up to him—and that began with being honest with him. Always.

So you threaded your fingers into Steve’s beard until you were cupping his face and you stared him directly in the eye as you answered his question.

“I’m sure, Steve,” you said firmly, certainty resonating in your tone. “I was scared before—I’ve wanted you for so long that the thought of finally having you was terrifying.” You gave him a tremulous, apologetic smile, and his expression softened. “But I’m sure about this,” you said again, your voice stronger. “I’m sure about you, and I’m sure about us.”

When you finished your confession, Steve’s eyes closed and he exhaled a long, relieved breath. You pulled him down for a kiss, and it was a gentle thing—tentative as you both savored the vulnerability you shared, physically and emotionally, thanking one another for the trust that took.

It was only when the kiss ended and Steve pressed his forehead to yours that he pushed inside you for the first time, his thick cock sinking deep into your pussy with one determined, inexorable thrust.

Your arms and legs were wrapped around him already and you clung to Steve as you cried out, tears of emotion pricking at the backs of your eyes even as pleasure radiated through your body.

“You ok?” Steve asked softly and the question—so gentle and genuine—had a tear spilling onto your cheek. He brushed it away.

“This is the happiest I’ve ever been,” you admitted in a thick voice, tugging Steve’s mouth back to yours, kissing him deeply.

Together, you gave yourselves over to your instincts. Steve pulled his hips back until only half of him remained inside, and your heels dug into the backs of his thighs, urging him to plunge deep into you again. He slid home, and both of you moaned.

Steve rocked into you with slow, thorough thrusts, but when you moaned for more, he drew back more each time and thrust harder. It wasn’t long before he was fucking you in hard, deep strokes that hit all the most perfect spots inside you, his mouth kissing your cheeks and neck and anywhere he could reach while he held you pinned to his chest, his hips working his cock deep into your cunt.

With every hard thrust, you clung more tightly to Steve, holding him with your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers buried in his hair, thankful he’d grown it long enough that you could grip it tight in your fists. Your body writhed beneath his bigger form, using your legs draped around his thighs to meet his thrusts.

For what seemed like forever, you and Steve were nothing more than two writhing bodies trying to get closer, deeper, tighter together, like your hearts were straining to become one. And you were so consumed with pleasure that it wasn’t until you were right on the precipice of your release that you realized you were close.

“Steve,” you gasped, trying to tell him you were going to come, and just then he changed the angle of his hips, stealing the words from your lips.

He was driving his cock so deep into your cunt and grinding against your clit so exquistiely that you saw stars. Your body shook under a deluge of pleasure and the coil of tension twisted tighter in your core.

“Come for me, sunshine,” Steve rumbled, fucking you hard and deep and so perfectly you knew you were forever ruined for any other man. “Be a good girl and come on my cock before I fucking explode.”

His filthy words were your undoing.

You shattered apart, sharp, sparkling pleasure devastating your body and mind while you screamed Steve’s name as you came. Your whole body clenched tight, clamping down on Steve’s cock hard enough that he grunted into your neck, then you succumbed to the pleasure as it dragged you under its thrall, whimpers and moans spilling from your lips mindlessly.

Steve’s hands gripped your hips tightly, and he rutted into your clenching pussy with wild thrusts as he chased his own release. He found it only a moment after yours, groaning your name against your cheek while his hips stuttered and shunted forward, burying himself balls-deep in your fluttering pussy while he came, his cock throbbing deep in your cunt.

You held each other close as you came down from your releases. Your fingers stroked through Steve’s soft hair, the strands damp with sweat, and twirled around the gently curling ends. Meanwhile, his hands were petting up and down your sides, his face buried in the pillow beside your head while he rumbled muffled words of praise in your ear.

Eventually, Steve sat up, pulling his softening cock as gently from your body as he could manage, watching your face closely for any hint of pain. You were a little sore, but when he pulled free, your body mourned the loss of him more than anything else.

He quickly disposed of the condom and wrapper in his bathroom, then came back with a warm wet washcloth. He cleaned you up with gentle caresses, pressing a kiss to your hip and nipping playfully at your belly until you were giggling and pushing him away, your body too tired and sated and oversensitive for such treatment—but you were grinning all the same.

When he was done, you rose from the bed and went to the bathroom while he padded to his dresser. After you were done, you found Steve relaxing on his bed in only a pair of lounge pants, his chiseled chest deliciously bare and biceps bulging with his hands tucked behind his head.

You paused, raking your eyes over his gorgeous chest, only catching his gaze when he made a deep, rumbling sound of good-natured warning.

“You better put on some pajamas, sunshine,” Steve started, his blue eyes heated and a playful smile flickering at the edges of his mouth, almost hidden by his beard. “Unless you want me to fuck you again.”

The threat in his tone was flirtatious and you almost took him up on the offer. But you knew that if Steve fucked you again, you’d be sore the next day, and you didn’t want that. Huffing a petulant sigh, you moved to the pile of folded clothes Steve had left on the corner of the bed.

The heat in Steve’s eyes didn’t abate as he watched you pull one of his shirts over your head, tugging the hem down until it covered your ass and part of your thigh. You didn’t have any clean panties, so you crawled into bed like that, your eyes finding Steve and watching as the heat of desire softened into the warmth of affection.

The two of you slid beneath the blankets and you curled up at Steve’s side, your head on his chest. You fell asleep quickly and easily to the sound of his gentle breathing, and the steady drumming of his heart beating beneath your cheek.

The next morning, you woke to snow flurries drifting past the windows of Steve’s bedroom, the flakes having covered his neighborhood in a blanket of white while you slept. You pressed a happy smile against Steve’s sternum, the expression deepening when you felt his heart skip a beat at your closeness.

“So, is my bed comfy enough for you, sunshine?” he asked in the deep rasp of a man who’d just woken up. Using his arms looped around your waist, he pulled you on top of him, his mouth finding yours for a decadent good morning kiss before he let you answer.

“Hmm,” you hummed playfully in thought, smiling against his mouth while you pulled him closer with your fingers curled into the scruffy, coarse hair of his beard. “It could use a few more pillows—and maybe a nice throw blanket.”

“Consider it done,” he murmured, rolling you beneath his broad body and sliding his hips between your thighs. His morning wood brushed against your bare core and you moaned into his mouth. “Anything you want, you just tell me, sunshine,” he rumbled in between slow, drugging kisses, his hips rolling leisurely against you. “I want my girlfriend to feel comfortable here.”

“Girlfriend?” you gasped breathlessly, your heart beating harder with excitement while he pulled away to kiss down your neck. You could feel Steve’s grin against the side of your throat before he pressed a kiss against your thrumming pulse.

“You wanna be my girlfriend, don’t ya, sunshine?” he asked.

It was only because you’d known Steve for so long, and were so determined never to hurt him again, that you heard the tiny thread of anxiety in his tone. You squeezed him tightly in your arms and rushed to answer, eager to put his worry to rest.

“Yes!” you cried happily. “Yes, I want to be your girlfriend, Steve.” You twisted your fingers in his soft hair and tugged his mouth up from your neck. “Now kiss me, boyfriend,” you murmured and Steve, obligingly, crushed his mouth to yours in a blissful kiss.

You and Steve reveled in your new relationship, spending a long time in bed just kissing and exploring each other and making up for lost time before your growling stomachs finally made you get up.

After breakfast, Steve seemed to remember something and he padded to the entryway, coming back with the box he’d acquired at the holiday market the evening before. He handed it to you, saying there was no way he’d be able to wait until Christmas to give it to you.

You opened the present, finding a simple silver chain and a stunningly engraved sun pendant within. You were so overwhelmed with happiness that tears sprang to your eyes and you had to hastily wipe them away.

“A little bit of sunshine for my sunshine,” Steve murmured against your temple before pressing a kiss to your skin.

At your insistence, he helped you put the necklace on and you thanked him graciously—with words and kisses. Then you towed Steve back to bed, and the two of you gave in to the pleasure of your bodies until you collapsed, sated once again.

All day, you couldn’t stop smiling. You were doing one of your favorite things, snuggling on a snowy day, with one of your favorite people in the world—your boyfriend. And you were making plans for the future, talking about what you were going to get your other friends for Christmas and arguing about how to best decorate Steve’s apartment for the holiday.

The whole time, you couldn’t help but think about how Christmas would always be extra special for you from that year on. It was a wonderful holiday but, more importantly to you, it was when you and Steve Rogers finally admitted your feelings for one another and took the first step toward a forever together.

So, this time of year would always be your favorite time of year.

december daze challenge masterlist

#carrot's fic recs

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livealittleoc-cb · 2 years ago

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"The clouds look so pretty today~ ^^"

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.: Skyler "Sky" Van den Berg

⋆｡°✩ Warlock, with medium magic pool, Specializes in Moonlight/Moon Magic && Cloud Magic

⋆｡°✩ His Pa is a Moonlight Warlock && his Dad is a Clouds Warlock

⋆｡°✩ Can gain energy from the moon use it for light spells && other useful spells along with being able to create cloud formations && create small clouds in his hand

⋆｡°✩ Is an artist, has gallery shows, does graffiti, along with illustraition && animation

⋆｡°✩ Became an instagram influencer/model && tiktoker by accident-

⋆｡°✩ Has a Bee Hummingbird named Blue [wants more bird familiars]

⋆｡°✩ From Escain, the human equivalent to Manhattan, New York [Is mixed: Otrar/Netherlands [Dad] Escain/New York [Pa]]

⋆｡°✩ He/Him | Bisexual, Demisexual, Polyamorous | 24 years old [Collage Junior] | 9/23 [Libra] | 5’3”

⋆｡°✩ He is:

Really shy at first

Bubbly

Super happy

Touchy as hell-

Loves to talk

Super affectionate && loveable

Actually super scary when mad or annoyed

Sassy little man

Baby™️

Extras

⋆｡°✩ natural eye color: grey with white specks

⋆｡°✩ eyes might change color: blue grey [happy], white [anger], black [sadness]

⋆｡°✩ he gets little fluffy clouds in his eyes when he likes someone

⋆｡°✩ has tan skin, looks like a twink but is actually really fit, has no tattoos but wants some, has earrings && hip piercings along with cheek piercings, has freckles on his wrists && the tops of his hands

⋆｡°✩ likes: books, birds, reading, art, paint, colors, cloud watching, picnics, soft looking outfits, fluffy && soft things, stuffed animals, arcades, comic books, video games, animated movies

⋆｡°✩ dislikes: mean people, needles, hospitals, being sick, rain, sadness

⋆｡°✩ languages: english [thick dutch accent], dutch

NSFW

⋆｡°✩ strict sub, obedient && bratty; some of his kinks are body worshipping [giving && receiving], size kink, praise [receiving && giving], degradation [receiving], shibari [receiving], marking [giving && receiving], breeding [receiving], toys, hair pulling [giving], impact play [receiving], orgasm control [receiving], choking [receiving], pet play [will be your puppy~], oral [giving && receiving]

⋆｡°✩ hard nos: feet, watersports, wasteplay

⋆｡°✩ he is open to most kinks but will need a talk through harder kinks

⋆｡°✩ he might be willing to dom if you are close enough

⋆｡°✩ his eyes turn a stormy grey when arroused

⋆｡°✩ safe word: fluff

⋆｡°✩ uses ☁️ on dash

Relationship Statuses

He is dating Greyson!!!

⋆｡°✩ at the art studio && happy

⋆｡°✩ happily dating [1/3] @multi-joong Rockstar 🎶 [soft musician 🥰], uninterested

⋆｡°✩ happily dating Greyson [big mean dragon 🐲] [him && grey will be taking ONE more partner]

⋆｡°✩ friends: Ace [bestest bestie around 😎]

⋆｡°✩ family:

Tags:

⋆｡°✩ realtionship tag(s):

⋆｡°✩ friend tag(s):

⋆｡°✩ music tag(s): #🎶skyler music [music inspo], #🎼character music [all character music inspo]

⋆｡°✩ inspo tag(s):

⋆｡°✩ other tag(s): #☁️skyler.txt [skyler text/interactions]

faceclaim: @/im_gage on ig

#☁️skyler.txt #profile.txt

0 notes

hwaightme · 2 years ago

Text

Rewind and remix

🎶 pairing: hongjoong x gn!reader 🎶 genre: angst, fluff if you squint, a bit of comfort 🎶 summary: your relationship with hongjoong is much like a musical piece made for two, but what if its tone keeps getting darker, and growing dissonance threatens to turn it into a cacophony? 🎶 wordcount: 5.3k 🎶 warnings/tags: angst on valentine's day 'nuff said, seonghwa is the friend with some sense, heartbreak, try again, neglect, conflict, quiet arguments, miscommunication, secrets, hoping for something better, unedited (lmk if there is something too chaotic) 🎶 wordcount: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 🎶 a/n: Hello beautiful people, this is for all those who wish to dive into angst today, much love and biggest hugs! (p.s.: Sky, you know exactly what conversation this came from xD)

» [regent's park by bruno major] « 0:00 ─〇───── 2:57 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Hongjoong wished it would rain. He wished that the clear ultramarine blue skies would concentrate into blue droplets and pour down in a lifesaving frenzy and drown out the sound of his heart as it pounded. Drumming out a cacophonic, dysfunctional beat against his ribcage, already preoccupied with containing his progressively less functional lungs. But most importantly, he wished that it works rain so that you would not look as beautiful as you did, glowing even under the February light, magical as you floated across from the park gate, slowly making your way towards him. Maybe if your hair did not frame your face as well as it did and was stuck to your delicate features hidden under an equally soaked beanie, then he would be less afraid to look you in the eyes. Maybe if your amble were to be an unsteady jog, with all your efforts concentrated on chasing a spot where the downpour had not yet started, maybe then he would not be frozen in place, terrified of your approach and dreading the conversation. Maybe if some external circumstance could have perturbed you in some way, any way at all, then he would not have to experience your indifference, your masterfully crafted mask that signified it was truly over.

You had given him an ultimatum. Exactly a month ago, while sat at the cafe which you two had called 'yours', you told him to step up, or confidently decide to fall apart. It had not been a spontaneous proposition, either. For the many months over the course of your relationship, you had felt like you were giving your preferences up in favour of his far too often. In terms of organised meetings, you had managed to find a compromise, sure. You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to date Hongjoong, with high stress and chaotic schedule being a regular element to consider while planning, so you were more than happy to find time whenever you could, calmly settling for any short-notice changes and for unplanned emergencies during your times together. But in terms of the quality, there was a lot left to be desired, at least when it came to knowing where both of you stood when it came to defining your duo.

You swore that him asking you to be his girlfriend had not been a hallucination, but at times it really felt like such. As though this had all been your wishful thinking, turned into an obsession that you had been projecting onto him. Your request was a cry to prove you were sane, at least when it came to Hongjoong and you. There was no need to continue entertaining something that was a mere figment of your imagination, as painful as letting go would be. You did not want to do so, but what would the point be if all you had been holding onto was thin air and a man of your own design? You needed something real.

Hongjoong could be a romantic when he wanted to. He had written songs just for you, rapped adoring lines over syncopated beats and sang his sweet confessions. Even if circumstances had, on occasion, made it virtually impossible to contact one another for more than a couple of texts back and forth, you still had those personal reminders playing all through the day, on repeat. From voice notes to compositions to playlists painstakingly crafted for your ears only. Perhaps he had even made you fall in love through sound alone. But as your feelings grew, so did the silence. Until all you listened to was your alarm clock in the bleak, lethargic mornings.

» [a thought on an autumn night by JANNABI] « 0:00 ─〇───── 3:07 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Another night without as much as a single emoji to tell you that he was thinking of you, even if just in passing. You had reached a new low - barely sleeping in the hopes that perhaps his insomnia would lead him to shoot you a message. If that were to happen, and you were to stay awake and ready, you could immediately text back and have a conversation, for once without a few hour long delays.

Alas, here you were, curled up into a feeble ball in your bed, supposedly not alone, but so incredibly lonely. What hurt was that you knew he was awake. You knew that he was in his studio, as he always seemed to be, even that time when he had said he missed you. It could have been a song lyric that he had accidentally sent you, you assumed, since as soon as you had sent your loving greetings back, he was long gone. That evening you could not believe you had to settle for the official photographs posted on the group's social media to feel like he was your significant other.

Today, you had not been so lucky. No Fan Café, No Universe, No Instagram, No Twitter... You stopped counting on him contacting you on his own. Of course, there was a time and a place for everything, but it hurt that you had neither in your own boyfriend's life, it seemed. You had tried to hint at this problem on the rare occasions that you could spend time together, but he appeared to be perfectly content with how things were, his perfect smile healing a portion of your fragile heart, only for it to crack and crumble as soon as you said your goodbyes and parted. He needed for you to be like a virtual assistant: there when he called on you, ready to help and to listen; silent and easily forgotten otherwise.

Your situation and state did not feel real as you began to doze off, not bothering to draw the curtains, as that meant at least the moon could embrace and comfort you. If a couple of months ago you would have fallen asleep with a smile on your lips, this hurting hour of the night you were fighting back a cry of disillusionment. What was even scarier was, when, a few hours later, you had awoken from a restless slumber and noticed a message from Hongjoong – judging from the preview it was an apology for ‘not being in touch as often’, ‘but producing is going well’, you could not find a single fibre of willingness to answer him. All the way until late evening, right before you went to bed and set your phone on do not disturb.

» [don't leave me, my love by colde] « 0:00 ─〇───── 4:45 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

As he stared in your direction, his hands clenching the medium-sized box behind his back until his knuckles turned white, Hongjoong was caught in a myriad of regrets. They seemed to enjoy rearing their heads only some time after their source could have been easily amended. Now, the best that could be done was to learn how to sew with actions, and hope that the crude string could turn to gold as time went by. Otherwise, the shared reality would fall apart at the seams.

There was no reason for you to forgive him, he realised that to his terror. With his work swallowing him whole, sleep schedule leaving him winded and the day rendering his ability to function outside of scheduled activities to be non-existent, he had become downright neglectful, both of himself, and even worse, you. You had no part in his mistakes when it came to planning, and yet he was making you suffer the consequences. After having spent months in united bliss, Hongjoong had to admit – he had gotten comfortable.

It was easy to assume that you were never going to leave his side. You were his angel. Kindhearted and understanding, he could never comprehend why and how you could be how you were. Utterly selfless, you were his confidence, his anchor and clarity. He never told you, but one of his favourite moments had been when, after work, you had surprised him with a visit to his studio. Sharing your favourite snacks and enjoying your favourite music, you two were immersed in your own universe. He enjoyed the moments you had made him forget about time. Until it caught up with him. But you were who you were, so you would understand him, right?

And that, you did. He was on cloud nine when you had said, in response to an allusion to a busier period, that you fully appreciated his unpredictable schedule, and that you wholeheartedly respected if, sometimes, he needed to fully prioritise work, so long as he communicated. Sounded like a dream, with which he had agreed on the spot. But as the ideas, the projects, the recordings kept on piling up, so did the number of times he would say ‘later’ when it came to reaching out to you. When was ‘later’?

» [i'd rather be alone by boodahki] « 0:00 ─〇───── 2:22 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

“Hey Joongie!” you exclaimed, waving shyly as your boyfriend opened the door to his studio. You had to knock quite a few times, much to your surprise. You had even informed him of your arrival and checked with him whether he would be free.

“Oh, Y/N. Hey… what are you doing here?” you stopped dead on your tracks, midway across the room, while Hongjoong had remained by the door, holding it open and appearing to be deep in thought, albeit a little lost.

“I… I sent you a text. And you responded, by the way. With a thumbs up.” You felt childish elaborating this. The canned coffee in your bag suddenly began to feel far too heavy.

Confusion was written all over his face, as he finally shut the door – an action which you swore had been done with severe hesitation. He wanted you to leave, didn’t he? You looked over the place where, evidently he had been borderline living who knew how long. The lights had been dimmed, while the computer screens were glaring like lighthouses into the musical ocean. A blanket was draped over one of the arm rests of the couch, and a pillow was thoroughly beaten up and stuck in one of its corners. So, he had been sleeping here too. In order words, the opposite of what you had been asking him to do for the past… however long.

You had lost count of the times you had the conversation that Hongjoong should take better care of himself. There had even been a couple of instances that you had called Seonghwa, fellow ATEEZ member and resident ‘mother’, to team up with what Hongjoong undoubtedly considered to be nagging. That was pretty much how you had bonded with the eldest, and formed the Hongjoong protection front. But now, as you stood in said man’s studio, you felt like you were treading on unwelcome territories, invading his safe space and making him unbelievably uncomfortable.

“What… are you… working on?” you whispered, a sheepish grin on your face as you let your boyfriend walk right past you. What if you had merely caught him at a bad time, and he was annoyed at something other than yourself? What if a computer program had crashed and there was no recovery file?

He plopped back down on the spinning office chair next to the equipment and set up, not bothering to invite you to take a seat anywhere around him. In the light coming from the screen, you noticed the dark circles, half hidden by a pair of glasses, weighing on his features, so deep that you could call them designer. He was pallid and haggard, clicking away while in a zoned-out state. He was attempting to be discreet, replacing all the open files with some others from the same applications, but you were not that ignorant to not notice practically all the loops, and instrumental tracks that were on Ableton change. You squinted in suspicion. So, what was he hiding? Only once you leaned in, and were within centimetres of him, did Hongjoong honour you with a response.

“A new track. Just, you know, some thoughts here and there. Nothing special.”

“When you say it’s nothing special, whatever it is ends up being a masterpiece, so I am very much intrigued! Also, why the secrets? I know you switched the tracks up. Not the best at being sneaky, I’ll be honest with you.” You responded, trying to keep yourself as neutral as possible in your delivery, even though it was a challenge to not get upset. You bit back your comment on him probably not wanting you in his space – you were not even asking for a hug, just… a softer look. The bare minimum.

“Uh…” caught off-guard, Hongjoong scrambled for excuses. But only found your desperation. He could not sustain your gaze, eyes darting back to his keyboard. He began to spin the rings on his fingers to distract himself, their intricate detail providing him with an escape. “Seriously, it is nothing. I was just… working, and caught up in a lot of things. You know how it is.”

So, it was on you now, apparently. Your apparent lack of understanding. Were you not patient enough? Were your basic human needs for affection and for a simple conversation too much? ‘You know’… oh yes. You knew that this was disrespectful. This had not been the first time you had been to the studio, in fact, the production team knew you well enough to leave you to your own devices in this room, and even let you in when Hongjoong was not here. But this was the first time you wanted to bolt and not look back, due to how scalding the coldness of your boyfriend’s approach was. Before your heart was to freeze over entirely, you tried one last time to bridge the gap:

“Is everything okay Joong? It’s just, well… I feel a bit distant lately, so I wanted to visit. If it is a bad time I understand and-”

“Yeah.” Hongjoong cut you off, not daring to look up at you. Your heart was beginning to shatter, and the sickly, suffocating silence that followed his response was doing nothing to soothe you.

“Yeah?” barely a whisper escaping your lips as your hands dropped to your side after keeping them intertwined, as if in prayer.

“A bad time. If you don’t mind.” you were not going to cry, you were not going to cry… you kept on repeating to yourself. It was not the first time you heard these words from him, quite frankly you encouraged open communication and setting of boundaries, but not when there already was an abyss forming between the two of you and you were desperately trying to salvage what was left. To no avail.

“Dang. Hah. Okay. Yeah. Sure. Fine. Well. See you. Then. I guess.” You stuttered out, in deep shock, and spun around to shoot out of the room. You could not bear to stay here any longer. The coffee was just going to have to deal with staying in your fridge. Or better, if you saw anyone you knew in the corridors, they could enjoy it with someone who cared.

The door slammed shut and woke Hongjoong up from his trance. He was exhausted, and could barely piece sentences together. The number of hours he had slept in the past week was clearly not enough. Your arrival was almost like that of a divine apparition: floated in, floated out. Blurry figure in his eyes. He could not properly register what you were saying, but figured that you were probably curious in what he had been up to. But Hongjoong could not say. He could not expose himself to you like that. Not when he had a grand masterplan in the making - pretty much the reason why he could not rest. He envisioned himself playing it to you on Valentine's Day, and as it finished, to be there, on one knee, waiting.

But now instead of continuing to work on it, he cursed at himself and began to search for his phone. Five calls and seven texts later, he pressed his face into his hands, the conversation that he had just dared to have with you screaming back at him in his head.

» [seasons by wave to earth] « 0:00 ─〇───── 4:16 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Song: seasons – wave to earth

As you walked, your shoes letting out a clicking sound with every step you took, you could not believe that this could be the end. You had concluded that you had acted rashly. Maybe that meeting, and a calm conversation would have been enough to change things. You did not have to set such demands, with you and him hanging by a thread, your entire relationship, more than a year on the line. So what if he was to be colder than you wanted towards you. That was ‘just Hongjoong’, and if he had to be that way, so be it. You could learn to get used to it and appreciate it. Just like his night and day not having particular hours. You could just pretend that for that collection of moments, he was in a different time zone. It would be easy then. Had you just a little more patience.

The scarf you had gifted him without any specific occasion aside from the fact that it was getting cold, tightly wrapped around him with the material pushing up and covering most of his chin. How adorable he looked with his hair having been tousled by the winter wind, that was growing warmer as the spring was starting to fight for its turn. The closer you got to the man who still was fully in control of your thoughts and feelings, the harder it was to subdue your trepidation. If you could be a third person, acting in the role of an observer, you would cover your eyes, fast forward, skip the scene. You felt the greatest loneliness not when you were alone, but when you were with a person who you could not understand, and one who could not understand you.

Had you a little more patience, you could have dedicated more time to learning his habits and behaviours. If you had more time, what you did not have otherwise, to rearrange your mind palace into a cosy hut so he could visit, then you could be one of those couples who did not even need to speak to understand each other. Finish each other’s sentences, and whatnot. That was how things were supposed to be for happy couples, right?

But you were running on empty. With only one last hope in the form of Hongjoong, standing there, waiting for you in the middle of the park where you had had your first date. As you had told him to exactly a month ago. Not a second went by when you did not want to call him, but for the sake of proving to yourself that you could survive without him if you wanted to, you waited. Right up until the day that you had marked on the calendar hanging in your room.

You were grateful that it was sunny, otherwise the season would be far too similar to the turmoil you were concealing, and you were afraid that you would not be able to hold back. Just imagining Hongjoong hidden under an umbrella, in the same place as he was now, gazing in your direction, was enough to send your thoughts into a frenzied spin. Rain had always made you think of him. The only reason why you had come to love autumn. Rain was an extension of Hongjoong’s warm embrace, and made you think of times you had spent tucked away indoors, together, listening to song after song, enjoying each other’s presence.

There you were. Standing right in front of him, unreadable and untouchable. The young man was unsure of how to begin, even though he had spent many nights rehearsing, down to every gesture that he was supposed to make. But as soon as his eyes met yours, and spotted their magical glimmer, he could not breathe, let alone utter a single word.

» [gone gone gone (dream edit) by HONNE] « 0:00 ─〇───── 3:09 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

After two weeks of radio silence, followed by the meeting at the café, you had slammed the brakes so hard Hongjoong’s world came crashing down. It was at that moment he wholeheartedly realised just how horrifically he had treated you and disregarded your humanity. For being a captain and, supposedly, a responsible man, he had behaved like a walking trainwreck, and no clue as to how to even begin to pick up the pieces. He could only trace back the steps, and come to understand just how many times he had not realised that what you were doing, and choosing, you were doing for him.

You never played up your workload and did not let it creep into the time you had dedicated to Hongjoong. Similarly, you were not one to dump all the happenings of the day onto your boyfriend, out of the worry that he was already juggling too many things at once. There were some advantages to this – you were able to remain level-headed and reassess your climbing anxieties. But at the same time, was this not another form of a lie? To him, you were never busy, when in reality you were almost always overwhelmed and struggling to keep your head above the water. There was the overtime – your colleagues constantly offloading their tasks onto you, since you were the junior, and apparently that meant you could be exploited. There was the derogation – you had somehow become the target of the gossip chain, and it was commonplace to hear comments about you around the office, some half true, some so false they could barely even be associated with you. There was the spiral into which you sank in the times when you were left alone with your thoughts for far too long, the blame, the constant ache, the fear, the idea that you were not deserving of anything and that was why you kept on experiencing the things you did. Because that was where you were meant to be. But Hongjoong did not need to know all that, he had enough to worry about.

You had let all your concerns bubble over into a crisis, and something that might have been one conversation was now a make or break. If he cared to listen, if he cared enough to treat you like his significant other and not empty space, then you would promise, and act on said promise, to learn to be more open about your not so happy times too. But until then, you were to drive yourself mad and ignore Hongjoong’s attempts to contact you in the same fashion as he had done – always busy, always at work, always unavailable for him specifically.

If he had a questionable sleep schedule before, he had none now. Walking around like a zombie, he had grown so sluggish that he physically could not keep time to any music, and registered any conversation around him slower than the worst video game lag. Even Yeosang was impressed by how many times the members had to repeat what they had said to him. Hongjoong did not want this ‘us’ to fall apart, but was clueless as to how to fix anything, whether it was even possible. A misery that he could not shake, amplified by the visions of you in every object, every moment, every passer-by. It was always you, and yet he wordlessly crossed it out into a never. A villain, undeserving of your unconditional love. Could it be for the better-

“You’re bringing the mood down so low that I can almost see your cooking skill.”

“Huh?” Hongjoong raised his head to find Seonghwa standing in front of him. Recently he had been practically locked away in the studio – while before it had been maybe for half a day, now it could easily be upwards of two or three. The vending machine down the corridor became his trusty supporter.

Seonghwa looked less than impressed at the leader’s position – splayed out on the couch, the same hoodie enveloping his ghostly form for the fourth day now, eyes bloodshot. After giving you a spontaneous call and seeing you in a similar situation, though you were better at hiding it than Hongjoong, he put two and two together. Something had happened between the two of you, and that needed to be sorted out, pronto.

“So, your speech level stopped about there too?” Seonghwa crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow. He kicked Hongjoong’s shin, and commanded: “Get up, you sack of potatoes. You have a love to save.”

“How did you-”

“I know you, Joong. And you would not be playing the most sappy, sad songs on loop if you weren’t in a deep feels hole. Now, what did you do?”

“Hwa, I’m so stupid…” he wailed, covering his face with the sleeves of his hoodie that slipped over his hands. Squeezing his legs to his chest, he wanted to become as small as he could, or disappear so that he would no longer be an inconvenience for you. You would be so much happier without him.

“Tell me something I don’t know. What did you do?”

“They are gone… Hwa… they are gone, gone… so gone…”

“No yet they aren’t. I spoke to them this morning and wow, Hongjoong. You really screwed up. But they are a saint. So, instead of doing… this,” Seonghwa gestured towards his friend, “You should use those rusty gears in your noggin and do what you can actually do to get at least something back on track.”

Seonghwa sat down beside Hongjoong, leaning over to put his elbows on his knees and rest his head on his palms. There was a comical similarity between the captain and you. Both of you were so desperate to not burden one another, that you ended up hurting each other in the process. It seemed that sometimes, love could turn out to be too much and turn into a weapon. Without conversation, without sharing the soul there could never be a harmonious duet. For this piece to continue, Hongjoong needed to follow through and show he was willing to switch up the melody, destroy the discord and continue the musical journey together with you. Otherwise, Seonghwa’s friend would find himself as a solo artist in a few weeks’ time.

“Is there really anything I can do to be better?”

“Be there. How did you show them you were there before?”

“Well, I have the track in the works, but-”

“Yeah, don’t even think about proposing right now. That would just be downright manipulative. You have some issues to settle first. How?”

“…I think I have an idea.”

Funny how everything was to be decided on Valentine's Day.

» [we go down together by dove cameron, khalid] « 0:00 ─〇───── 3:04 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

“Hi.” He mumbled airily, attempting to quietly clear his throat. The lump that had lodged itself in it, the jumble of emotion and nervousness, remained motionless.

“Hi.” You mirrored, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your coat, glancing off to the side. It was too much for you to keep the eye contact if you were to remain standing.

Two people on the verge of breaking. Fumbling for a way to rewind, and repeat the path that they had traversed together, avoiding the pitfalls. Bold to assume that either of you knew what the future would hold, making promises that you could not keep until they formed their own tragic symphony, haunting you into your and his isolation, respectively. This was why one fell in love, instead of rising above the clouds, proclaiming this to be their forever. Love was a thorned path that challenged vulnerability and the natural tendency of people to run and abandon. You were brave, braver than Hongjoong could ever be, giving him more chances than he ever deserved.

“So…”

“So?”

“I am…” he took a shallow breath, collecting himself. His eyes fluttered shut as he recalled his preparations and began.

“I am very, deeply, sorry. I know that no apology would ever be able to heal the hurt that I had inflicted upon you. And for that, I am sorry. I know that I am not able to turn back time and make the right decisions, and for that I am sorry. I know that I have, again and again, taken you for granted and your kindness was exploited by me, and for that I am sorry. I am sorry for ever making you think that you were not loved. I am sorry for not being there when you needed me most. I am sorry for not being enough and for not giving the bare minimum while you gave me the universe.”

You felt your legs grow weak as he spoke, and when he reached out with one hand to support you, you let him. Biting your lower lip, you attempted to stifle the building cry. Hongjoong searched for your eyes once again, leaning until he was only a few centimetres away. He dropped his volume to a whisper, and let his hand travel to yours, fingers intertwining.

“I am so unbelievably grateful for you giving me this opportunity to even see you again… even though I don’t think I deserve it one bit after how I had made you feel. I… I lost the rhythm. I failed us and I failed what we had been fighting for. I made you carry the load when you already have so much to consider, so much to work so hard for. It is too much to ask, I know, but if we can stay as a ‘we’, it would be an honour to continue our composition. Through thick and thin. Come rain or some shine. Go down and go up together. I love you, and I would never dare to feel otherwise.”

Inhale. Exhale. You mentally counted the moments flying by.

“This is not much at all. And you do not have to accept it, but… remember our playlists? The ones that we would make together for any mood that existed?”

“Mhm…”

“Well, this… this selection is for us. Now. Right this moment. Reliving the days that we had spent too far from each other, presenting them in these songs. I am not too good with words, but I want to prove to you now, and in the future, if you let me, that I am here. And I am willing to keep on going, for you, with you.”

Hongjoong revealed the box behind him, and opened the lid to reveal a DVD, a player and small headphones – a set which he had showed you some time ago, a ‘trophy’ which he had found while thrifting. You took the DVD out of the box, reading what had been written on the disk in sharpie.

I really love you but I’m not good with words so here you go

He helped you put the headphones on, and guided you to a nearby bench, and patiently waited as you listened to each track in the collection. He watched for any reaction from you, concern growing as you remained motionless.

Until the last song. Abruptly, you rushed to grab the player, and hit the rewind button until you were at the beginning of the song again, and closed your eyes. Soon enough, you did the same thing again. And once more. When you felt Hongjoong’s hand touching yours, in an attempt to awaken you from your daydream, you opened your eyes and broke into a bittersweet grin, clicking pause. Finally, an understanding between you. You scooted closer to him, and tilted your head until it was against his shoulder, and sighed.

“I don’t want this song to end, Hongjoong.”

“Neither do I.”

“You better keep it going, music man.”

“Only with you as co-producer. Rewind.” He motioned a circle with the index finger of his free hand, and you slapped it playfully with your own.

“And remix.”

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