#the entire honeymoon scene

[papertowness]

“ every thanksgiving i go visit family “ “ every thanksgiving i eat pumpkin pie “ every thanksgiving i watch it’s a wonderful life and bawl my eyes out

[theresebelivett]

been around my mom for under two hours and she’s gotten the arcane infodump with likely more to cooooome

[seilon]

well I finished it. you know someone in one of my classes the other day was talking about how the final edit of this show cut out a fair amount of content for the sake of sticking to netflix’s time limit and how you can kind of just Feel that void when you watch it. and i understand now

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

A blogger in gaza, Amal alhenawi, shared a story yesterday explaining how the past few days have been. Of course there are no words to describe exactly how it is to live under constant bombardment.

She said that she misses sleeping alone in her room, instead of having to share a room with other 10 people. She said she feels guilty when she secretly admits she's terrified of death and that she wants to live. No internet, no food, sometimes when they get lucky each member of her family gets one loaf of bread for the day, other days there might not be anything to eat. She mentioned how everybody celebrated when her brother came back with water, but it tasted weird, turns out it was undrinkable but it was the only solution they had.

What horrified me the most, is when she talked about their neighbors building getting bombed by israeli air strikes. And how paramedics as well as civilian defense came to the scene only to leave minutes later. In their own words: "this building is four floors. We have no equipment to dig through or get anyone out." So they had to leave. People from the neighborhood started digging with their own hands, they could hear some people alive underneath, but no one could get out.

Amal talks about her two cousins who visited her and they're little kids who don't talk anymore. She said they saw their friend and neighbor dead, with his head sperated from his body, the trauma was too severe for them to process.

Amal wants to live. She came to gaza to celebrate her brother's wedding. Who was planning on leaving for his honeymoon before the genocide started.

Each person of gaza has a story, a life worth living. So we must end this genocide. Do everything you can, do not stop and do not get used to it. Annihilating an entire city is not normal and should never be.

[imbecominggayer]

Writing Advice: How To Trauma

In seeing the recent explosion of my "How To Write Trauma With Humanity" post, I have decided to jump back into this topic!

This cute post will be covering how to write complicated individuals with Trauma. From the good, the bad, and especially the ugly since people tend to assume that victimhood is inherently seperated from assholehood

A) Being A Person And Afraid

In my experience, the majority of people with trauma have simultaneously existing fears and desires that often contradict, complicate, or outright hurt themselves.

I call them "fear combinations"

It's these fear combinations that cause people with trauma to often act in ways that seem confusing to outsiders.

For example, the person that's always on the hunt for a relationship but whenever an opportunity for romance strikes, they create relationship havok so the relationship can end

Or a person tries to always sincerely bring attention to themselves but whenver the attention is on them, they just shrug it off as not being worthy of it

This behavior seems kinda weird until you stop to take a closer look at their psyche.

Example 1 is based off of my character, Monday Vũ who has a tendency of jumping into relationships with a sincere desire to find romance until the honeymoon period ends as Monday realizes that if the relationship continues they might have to settle down, forgo their entire identity, and all of their freedom. Then they sabotage the relationship under the guise that it's a selfless endeavour.

Example 2 is based off my character, Niko Preyr who uses grand public gestures and his friendships to prop himself up as a person to be known but if you ever spoke to him then you would quickly see one of the most insecure yet attention-hungry individuals you have ever seen.

"Fear Combinations" are an excellent device in making your characters complex. In my opinion, the trauma-writing scene is just a little bit too neat in it's displays of trauma. It's too logical. It doesn't feel real to my personal experiences.

"he has trust issues because of trauma" What if he also had issues with being clingy to people he sees as trust-worthy?

What if your characters weren't so easy to understand? But I hear you wondering.

How? How do these people manifest such confusing behavior? Why should I add this into my characters?

I'll tell you

B) Instinct Vs Terror, Fighting Against Yourself

In my opinion, "fear combinations" are either caused by the distortion of a human fear or the event in which an intrinsic desire is contrasted against a "survival method".

Humans are born with certain "intrinsic" fears and desires. Humans are born with a desire for belonging, a desire for vulnerability, a desire for self-fulfillment, a desire for independence, a desire for security in themselves.

And with desire comes the fear of "missing out". The fear that you want something that everyone wants but for some reason you won't be able to get it. The fear that you'll loose it. And the fear that your desire might put you into danger. What if you get rejected? What if you never find that group? What if you never find freedom?

In not-traumatized individuals, while it may take some introspection, people can and often do reconcile their fears and desires in a movie-montage when they're children with the help of a strong support system.

In traumtized individuals, what tends to happen is that either the fear of lose and the fear of gain tend to be increased to unpredencented levels

Either that, or a lack of a strong support system doesn't allow the child to safely confront their fears in order to get what they want.

This causes "fear combination"

Niko Preyr has the natural desire to be validated as "good", as "special", as "worthy". A desire we are all born with. However, his upbringing convinced him that he is underserving of what we all need. This causes Niko Preyr to use attention as validation. However whenever he receives this attention, his gifted fear that he is undeserving causes him to reject the attention. But he continues searching for attention to serve that need for validation. A hellish cycle.

Monday Vũ has two understandable fears that we all have. The fear of losing two necessary things: indepedence and security. Monday fears being abandoned, fears being engulfed into relationships. While children and adults can often reconcile those fears in their childhood through a strong support system, Monday never had that. Instead she had her father who emotionally left her and her mother who literally left her. Monday only had herself to rely on, at least thats how she felt. And now, as an adult, Monday wants to fulfill that desire we all have. To be loved. To be connected. But she's afraid. Afraid of being blindsided. Afraid of not having the last laugh. Afraid of being apart of something.

What if that loner wolf found someone who they think is perfect. Someone worthy of their trust. Do you really think that all those years of yearning for love, for connection, are just going to be smothered when they have the perfect person to unleash their childish, half-developed, horrifying emotions onto?

But what next? After we have our character's contradictory fears and desires, after we have the justification for why they feel like this, what's next?

It's this:

C) Self-Destructive Habits: Why We Understand And Can't Change

Let me tell you, unless in very specific conditions such as certain personality disorders and so on, people tend to understand that their behavior is foolish, illogical, and hurting other people.

Monday knows that betraying other people, hurting their trust and faith in their relationships, and entering relationships when she understands her history is bad. It makes her a bad person.

Niko knows that their habits are actively hurting their chances at finding worth.

That "Lone Wolf" understands, deep down, that no single person can handle the high expectations and emotions.

They know it because they can see it. Many times. Monday can see that characters in movies who have their relationship history tend to be casted as the antagonist. Niko can hear the gossip. That "Lone Wolf" can see the way that their loved ones cracked under the pressure and guilt.

So why do they do it? It feeds into their idea of the world. It feeds into what they want to be perceived as. It feeds into their stagnancy.

If Monday can ignore how they hurt others, then they can live under the Martyr label for the rest of their life without having to come to term with the fact that this isn't selflessness, it's called being pathetic.

If Niko can ignore how deep that hurt goes, then they never have to actually make the effort to change. To take that potential and make themselves into something. To be responsible.

If "Lone Wolf" can ignore how nobody can meet their expectations without crumbling down, then they use everyone's failure to feed into their cynical, self-hating notion of how nobody's trustworthy. How they don't have the responsibility of being considerate.

[novaursa]

What about one where the small folk of winterfell and the people of the castle make friendly, suggestive gossip from giggly women and knowing men about cregan and targ!reader. Their lord and lady are close with one another and it is often talked about and seen that they frequent the bed chamber (if yk what I mean 👀)

the folk of Winterfell feel at ease knowing their lord and lady seem to be in love, similar to the honeymoon period and young love.

You don’t have to use this quote i came up with, but it inspired me to ask for this idea “I’m sure our new lady will provide both Winterfell and our Lord with many Stark children. They are certainly not opposed to practicing their duty”

— 🐠

Winterfell's Warmth

- Summary: Cregan takes you to be his wife, a fire to his ice. And it's not long until smallfolk notice just how much Lord Stark is devoted to his Targaryen bride. 

- Paring: targ!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: This entire scene is from the perspective of the smallfolk.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

- A/N: This is the last request that I'll be posting today.

Winterfell bustles with the hum of daily life, as it always does—iron clanging in the forges, boots scuffing over the ancient stones, and the soft murmurs of the smallfolk as they go about their duties. But today, there's a special kind of lightness in the air, a sense of warmth despite the looming chill that clings to the North. The hearths burn brighter, and even the winds seem to whisper with a mischievous grin.

The reason for this subtle shift? You, Y/N, the new Lady of Winterfell, and your lord husband, Cregan Stark. Since your arrival, the inhabitants of the castle have grown accustomed to your frequent disappearances with their lord—disappearances that always lead back to your shared bedchamber. The smallfolk know, of course, as do the courtiers. They know very well what goes on behind those thick stone walls, and the knowledge brings them no small amount of amusement. 

In the courtyard, a group of washerwomen gossip while scrubbing linens in the cold, frothy water of a trough. Their fingers are red from the chill, but their spirits remain high.

“Have you heard?” one of them, a round-faced woman named Ellyn, leans in, lowering her voice despite the fact that no one important is nearby. “Our lady was seen entering the lord’s chambers again this morning, not long after the first bell rang.”

A younger girl, barely past sixteen, giggles and covers her mouth. “She didn’t leave until just before the midday meal yesterday, either!”

Another woman, older and seasoned from years of service, cocks an eyebrow but smiles knowingly. “Winterfell hasn’t been this alive since…well, since Lord Cregan’s own parents. I’d wager the bedchambers have seen more use in the past fortnight than in the last decade combined.”

The women burst into laughter, their voices carrying through the open courtyard. Ellyn smirks, leaning in even closer. “I’m sure our new lady will provide both Winterfell and our Lord with many Stark children. They are certainly not opposed to practicing their duty.”

The young girl flushes a little but can’t help but join in the giggling. "It's true, isn't it? They’ve only been married a moon’s turn, and yet I’ve never seen a man so... devoted to his wife."

“Well,” the older woman says with a playful shrug, “the Starks may be wolves, but it seems our Lord’s heart is well and truly claimed by a dragon.”

Across the courtyard, a pair of stable boys are equally enthralled with the ongoing rumors. One of them, tall and lanky, leans against the stall door, shaking his head.

"I swear by the old gods, I’ve never seen Lord Stark smile so much," the boy says, eyes wide with the incredulity of it all. "He used to be all serious, always about duty, honor, the needs of Winterfell. But now? Every time I see him, he’s got that daft look on his face, like he’s already back in the Lady’s arms."

The other stable boy, shorter and stockier, chuckles. "Aye, I noticed that too. You'd think a man so cold in demeanor wouldn’t be so… warm in his private affairs." He glances around, as if Lord Cregan himself might be lurking behind a pillar. "But gods, can you blame him? Our lady is like a flame. She’s got the blood of dragons in her veins, and it’s like he can’t resist her."

The tall boy laughs loudly. "Well, Winterfell is colder than the South, and a bit of fire in his bed can’t hurt, can it?"

Their laughter echoes through the stables, joining the chorus of quiet gossip that fills the castle.

In the kitchens, the cooks are no less entertained. An older man, grizzled and stern-faced, chops onions with a practiced hand. "It's a good thing they’re so taken with each other," he grumbles to a nearby scullery maid. "Winterfell needs strong heirs, and soon. Better they start early."

The maid, a cheerful woman with flushed cheeks from the heat of the ovens, snickers. "Aye, I doubt that'll be a problem. They’re always together, locked away for hours. If they keep at it, we’ll have a new little Stark running about before winter comes."

"I’ve heard they’re inseparable," another cook chimes in, stirring a pot of stew. "Lord Cregan hardly lets her out of his sight. It’s almost sweet, really."

"Sweet?" the old man scoffs, though there’s no real bite in his voice. "It’s practical, is what it is. They’re doing their duty, ensuring the Stark line continues. But," he adds with a chuckle, "it doesn’t hurt that they seem to enjoy it so much."

The scullery maid laughs. "Oh, they more than enjoy it! I was passing by their chamber the other night, and, well…" She lets the sentence hang, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let’s just say, they were not quiet."

The group erupts into laughter, and even the old man can’t suppress a grin.

And so it goes throughout Winterfell. From the servants who clean your chambers to the guards posted outside the great hall, everyone in the castle is aware of the affection that flows so freely between you and Cregan. Even in the great hall during the evening feasts, there are stolen glances and soft touches between you, enough for the smallfolk to notice.

At one such feast, a group of bannermen seated at a lower table murmur amongst themselves, casting knowing looks up at the high table where you sit beside your husband. Lord Cregan’s hand rests casually on your thigh beneath the table, his thumb tracing circles through the fabric of your gown. You lean toward him, whispering something that makes him laugh softly—a sound rare enough in these halls that it turns heads.

One of the bannermen, a grizzled old warrior with silver streaking his beard, nudges the man beside him. "See how he looks at her? Like she’s the only thing in the world that matters."

The younger man nods. "Aye, I’ve noticed. Seems our Lord is well and truly smitten."

"Better that than cold and distant, I say," the older man replies. "Winterfell’s seen enough hardship. It’s good for the people to know their Lord is happy. And with the lady he’s taken to bed, I’d say we’ll be seeing Stark children sooner rather than later."

The younger man grins. "Aye, and they’re certainly not opposed to practicing their duty."

As laughter ripples through the hall, you catch Cregan’s gaze, and in that moment, the world seems to fade away. His eyes, as grey as the Northern skies, are filled with a warmth reserved only for you. And though you are surrounded by the murmurs and laughter of your people, all you feel is the pull of his love, binding you to him as surely as the ancient stones of Winterfell bind the North.

The smallfolk can whisper all they like. Let them. Winterfell is at ease, and your love for Cregan is as fierce and unyielding as the North itself.

[jiminscockr1ng]

hi! i love your works. can i put in a request? joon or jk x reader. arranged marriage. breeding kink and pregnancy scare. thank you for your service🫡🙏🏾

✩｡°𝄞🍼 TRY AGAIN✨𝄞°｡✩

╝ requested / one-shot ╔

╰ ₊ 𓂂➢ pairing: namjoon x fem!reader

╰ ₊ 𓂂➢ genre: arranged marriage au, smut, angst, a little fluff.

╰ ₊ 𓂂➢ warn!ngs: breeding kink, pregnancy scare, mentions (suggestive) of infidelity, degradation (usage of slut), reader is a brat, reader has a high libido, oral (namjoon and reader), squirting, unprotected sex, mentions of birth control, spanking, hair pulling, rough sex, negative pregnancy test, mention of (trying for) children. (let me know if there’s more!)

╰ ₊ 𓂂➢ summary: your arranged husband punishes you after causing a scene and acting like a brat.

╰ ₊ 𓂂➢ word count: 3,765 words

The sounds of slapping bounces off of the walls like gun shots. Your face is buried into the large fluffy pillows on your king sized bed with your ass raised in the air. Giving Namjoon, your husband, the perfect access to spank your behind.

When the sharp, burning, sting— a millisecond of pain and pleasure is inflicted upon your ass again you let out a whimper into the black silk pillow. As the indecent sounds exit your mouth, Namjoon couldn’t stop the depraved thoughts that battle their way through his mind. You just looked so fucking sexy. So vulnerable and submissive before him, he could just eat you whole right now.

But that wouldn’t be right, now would it? After all, you were a bad girl. You brought this on yourself.

You didn’t think Namjoon would just forget about the way you rubbed your ass against that man on the dance floor? No. He’s not that graceful. You’re his wife, for god sakes. Even if you didn’t take this arranged marriage serious, he must show you that he is. He is taking this very seriously.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to have people asking if the woman causing a scene on the floor is my wife? Huh?” He begrudgingly asks, caressing your ass that is two slaps away from bruising.

You deserved it, the way you seductively eyed him while dancing on another man replays in his mind. He best not be fooled by your little innocent and submissive act right now, you whimpering and whining. He knows you’re a brat.

When his parents first introduced you to him, he knew he’d eventually fall for you. Despite the distasteful you held on your face that entire meeting. You didn’t approve of the arrangement, Namjoon knew that. So he gave you space. But of course, one thing leads to another. Especially when you’re flew out to Italy for a honeymoon, a villa all to yourselves. If you recall correctly, you believe the two of you fucked in all 8 rooms. Plus the kitchen… and the bathroom… the couch, the garden, the pool, the arcade room— damn there everywhere.

Needless to say, Namjoon has been pussy whipped ever since. Becoming helpful, loving and caring— all the amazing qualities one could find in a husband. Along with those qualities, he grew possessive over you, rightfully so, you’re his wife. But it seems like regardless of anything he did, you still seemed to show little to no care for the man. Except for what was between his legs. Because babes, the dick is bomb!

Recently Namjoon has been depriving you from the ‘bomb dick’. So you did what any brat would do. You acted out. Unfortunately for Namjoon, that led to complete and utter embarrassment, displayed in front of all of his friends at a work event. But who cares about that, right?!

Because fortunately for you, Namjoon is spewing all kinds of sexy little insults at you, dirty talking your panties right off.

“Do you enjoy being a fucking slut?” Another slap is planted on your ass. You let out a gasp before biting down on your bottom lip. Useless, as to when he grabs a handful of your hair, roughly yanking it back, your mouth falls agape.

“You like that shit, huh?” You eagerly nod your head, so high off of the thought of getting fucked up. This is exactly what you wanted. Namjoon always gives you exactly what you want.

You strain yourself forward to close in on his lips. His lips wraps around yours as you share a sloppy kiss. Your teeth graze his bottom lip as you pull back. What you do next makes Namjoon lose his shit.

You giggle.

Like actually fucking giggle in his face. Without thinking, he grabs your face, pulling you back in for a hot yet desperate kiss. Namjoon’s eyes furrow into it, trying to get some sort of understanding. He needs to understand how you do it. How you act so heinous one second and then so admirable the next. Even now, you’re submitting to him. But Namjoon knows more than anyone that you have him wrapped around your cute little finger.

The hold on your face doesn’t leave as Namjoon roughly pulls away to marvel in your beauty. Your gorgeously melanated skin, your two toned lips, and those big brown almond eyes he willingly falls victim to. There’s a smirk that plasters on your face that Namjoon doesn’t miss.

“Am I being a good little slut for you?” Namjoon couldn’t hide his widened eyes. He’s angry— completely enraged, you mustn’t forget. But as usual, he gives in. Because you’re in control. “Fuck yes.” He whispers out before flipping you over, absolutely manhandling you. Your figure bounces on the bed as Namjoon hovers over you.

“You don’t even know just how crazy you make me.” He mutters in your ear. Your hands wrap around his neck, fingers traveling through his short blonde locks. “Show me.” You lick at his jawline, slowly nibbling on the chiseled edge. “Show me how crazy I make you, baby.”

Without a second to waste, Namjoon lifts up, attacking the buttons of his black dress pants. He slips them down to his ankles along with his briefs, kicking them off to the floor. The thick, long, pink tipped length you desire is revealed. You lick your lips just to make sure you aren’t drooling. He gives his length a few pumps before his hands are replaced with yours. This is what you’ve been begging for, what you desired and needed inside of you for weeks.

Hell, you even danced on some random middle aged man just to get it. You love it! Namjoon would battle that you love it more than its owner. Especially the way you kiss the tip. Like you’re finally meeting the love of your life after years of being apart. Namjoon breath is shaky when he exhales. Your lips wrap around his tip, you close your eyes and let out a moan, sending vibrations through his dick. “Don’t tease.” He says sternly. And you look up at him, his tip still resting in your mouth.

You look absolutely angelic. The way your big doe eyes innocently look up at him with his dick in your mouth. He could just cum at this image alone. “I’m sorry, baby.” You say with a feigned apologetic tone and expression.

Even if you aren’t sorry, Namjoon is immediately relieved once you take his whole length in your mouth. Your nose touching his lower stomach as you slightly choke. The little gag reflex doesn’t stop you from showing your love to the pretty dick. Namjoon lets out low pitched moans as you continue to attack his length, your performance growing messy. Something you quite liked. What can you say? You’re a proud slut.

But still a brat. You back away from Namjoon’s dick, resting yourself on your elbows that are propped up behind you. Namjoon lets out a groan at the abandonment of your mouth. Instead, you spread your legs, quickly slipping off the soaked black thong you were sporting.

“Look,” you say as your hands reach for your wet cunt— fully exposed, you slip your fingers through before showing them to the man before you. “Look how wet you make me.” You say and you can see Namjoon’s dick twitch at that. You slip your coated digits in your mouth, sucking off your own arousal.

Namjoon is actually fucking shook by your pornographic performance. He knew you had a high libido but damn… he think you might even have him beat.

“You want to taste— or you gonna just keep kneeling in front of me.” You raised a brow, growing impatient. Namjoon is in utter disbelief that you’re his wife. He doesn’t know what he did in his past life to get so lucky. Yet, due to the circumstances, he can’t quite figure out whether he is or not. He shakes away his thoughts, though. He can’t ignore the highly appetizing meal that glistens in front of him right now. The meal he dives into.

His tongue ventures through your folds, mouth sucking on your swollen clit. You throw your head back as Namjoon’s mouth brings you the familiar pleasure that you have wholeheartedly missed. He enters two digits inside of you as his tongue flicked at your clit. You grasp onto his blonde hair as he eats your pussy out like no man ever has. “Fuck yes! Just like that.” Namjoon holds your thigh with his free hand, spreading them wider. His fingers move faster inside of you and you can feel yourself growing closer. You scream out an excessive amount of “yes”s and eventually squirt in his mouth.

Namjoon freezes as you release— not once but twice into his mouth. He looks at the way your chest heaves up and down. That wasn’t enough for him. He needed to be inside of you now. Without any warning, Namjoon slips his dick into your sex, slowly stretching your pussy out. Your legs shake as he makes his way through. “You feel so fucking good.” He mumbles as he thrusts into your pussy again.

The pace almost instantly quickens, the hunger and need from both of you takes over. “I missed your dick so much.” You say as you trail your hands up his chest, caressing over his thickly defined pecks. “Mhn— you’re such a fucking slut. Causing a scene just to get my dick inside of you.” He grabs your hands and places them above your head, restraining you from touching him.

“You feel so good inside of me— ah!” You moan out as Namjoon thrusts deeper inside of your wet pussy. “Fuh— faster, please!” You beg and Namjoon continues to thrust deeper inside of you.

“You’re begging now?” He mocks. It’s quite entertaining to see, actually. He bends down to grab your face, slowing the pace down to tease you even more. “Oh, you don’t like that, do you?” You desperately shake your head. “Beg me to go faster.” Stubbornly, you stay quiet as your pussy aches around his length that slowly strokes inside of you. His lips rest just above yours. “Come on,” he murmurs softly against your lips.” “I wanna hear my little slut beg for dick.” You moan at his words, growing even more aroused.

“Please Joon.” You bite your lip as the grip on your jaw grows tighter. “Please fuck me faster! I— I need your dick.” You beg.

And just like that— you should’ve braced yourself. Namjoon slams his dick inside of your tight hole. Your body jerks at each thrusts. You scream out as Namjoon abuses your tiny cunt. Your screams could be heard throughout the whole two story house.

You look up at Namjoon who is hovering over you while slamming his dick into you. He looks so sexy the way his blonde hair clings onto his dampened face. The sweat trickling down the sides of his face. The sounds of your skin clapping together and the arousal from your pussy lapping up around his dick is sending you over the edge. You feel yourself growing close again.

Namjoon pulls your legs over his shoulders as he fucks into you. You’re completely fucked out— your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel Namjoon hit your spot. You don’t even notice when he attaches his lips onto yours again. You feel yourself unraveling underneath him.

“I’m gonna— mm” You say against his lips. Namjoon nods, breathing heavily. “Cum for me.” He slurs and on command you release yourself around his dick. Namjoon lifts up, still thrusting himself into you. You can feel his dick twitch inside of your pussy, signaling his high.

“Cum inside of me.” You say, eagerly. He looks down at you with an uncertain expression but you nod your head. “Please, cum inside of my pussy.” You whine and Namjoon groans at the sound of your begging. “Fuck.”

Immediately, you feel the warm, sticky, drags of cum release inside of you. You moan at the feeling. He doesn’t pull out. Instead, his chest meet yours and the two of you share another erotic kiss.

It’s been two weeks since that night Namjoon had fucked your brains out. Ever since that night, he hasn’t touched you. Most likely still angry about the events that occurred before he fucked your brains out. Rightfully so— even you can admit that you crossed the line that night. Did you mention he fucked your brains out?

Nevertheless, you have bigger fish to fry. You’re late on your period. You should’ve gotten it a few days ago but the red flood never showed.

Yes, you’re on birth control. Still, inevitably you miss a few days because of your inconsistent schedule so it may not be that effective. Especially not when you beg your husband to cum inside of you.

You wince at the thought as you rest your head on the bathroom door. A few hours ago you went to go pick up a few pregnancy tests from the store. You can’t help but overthink while you wait for the stick you just peed on to tell you whether or not you’re pregnant. You try to imagine the possibility of becoming a mother, how you would act and how you’d speak. How Namjoon would react when you tell him you’re pregnant. Him as a father.

You’re immediately snapped out of your thoughts when you hear the front door slam.

Namjoon’s home.

Your heart rate immediately increases and you pray that he’ll continue ignoring your existence just like he has the past two weeks.

It seems that god is not on your side because you can clearly hear his footsteps approaching the bathroom. Of course he has to go to the bathroom. You just want to cry but that wouldn’t be much help either.

The door handle to the bathroom turns but doesn’t open. The lock on the door stopping him from entering. After a few seconds, he knocks. You flinch at the sound, looking around the bathroom for a way out. Obviously, at a loss when u realize that you’re trapped inside the four walls.

“_______, open the door I have to use the bathroom.” You hear him say behind the door. You look at the pregnancy test on the sink to see that nothing has changed. You silently curse to yourself. Why the fuck is this piss stick taking so long.

“_______.” You hear your name again, along with a few knocks. “I— I’m using the bathroom.” There’s a sigh on the other side of the door. “Well, can you hurry? I’m about to piss myself.” He adds, impatiently to which you roll your eyes.

“Use the guest bathroom!” You shout defensively. Due to you being on the other side of the door, you can’t see the way Namjoon’s brows furrow together. You two never use the guest bathroom even if someone is taking a shit. It’s like an unspoken rule.

“I swear to god _______, open the door. I’ve seen you shitting like a thousand times already.” It’s true, you really couldn’t care less what Namjoon had to say about your smelly poop. Unlike Namjoon who would beg you to leave. But you’re running out of excuses.

“Namjoon, fucking— ugh! Just go to the other bathroom!” You spaz and Namjoon is left with only one thought.

“Is there someone in there with you?” He asks and when you grow silent he makes up his mind. You honestly didn’t know what to say, you were taken aback. How could he think so lowly of you?

“You brought a man into our house _______?” The sound of his voice is a mixture of hurt and anger. And maybe you would feel bad for the man if you weren’t too busy trying to pick your jaw up off the floor. Because… how dare he?

“What the fuck are you talking about? Why would I bring someone into our house?!” You’re pissed that he would even think you would do some shady shit like that. I mean yes, shaking ass on another man in front of his coworkers is bad but bringing another man into your house while he’s gone… that’s fucking low. Even for you.

“Why?” He mockingly repeats before letting out an unhumorous laugh. “Because you don’t want to be in this marriage, that’s why! I wouldn’t be surprised if you brought someone here just to rub that shit in my face.” You angrily swing the door open, absolutely not giving a shit about the stupid pregnancy test on the bathroom sink. You are livid and now Namjoon is going to hear your mouth. Face to face.

“As much as I don’t want to be in the marriage I still have respect for you and I would never bring anyone into this house.” You shout at him. The man is way taller than you but somehow you’re still all up in his face.

“I don’t even know where you would get that idea from. Unless you had another woman in our house.” You fold your arms over your chest. Okay… you knew Namjoon would never bring another woman into this house. You just had to give him a taste of his own medicine. And the expression on his face is so worth it.

“I would never do that to you.” He says, more reassuring than defensive. “I’m the one who is always desperately trying to make this marriage work. I want this to work.” His voice turns soft and he steps closer to you to grab your hands. You couldn’t even be angry at him. Not when he’s right.

You see how hard he’s trying everyday to get through to you. However, you can’t help but be angry. You didn’t want this marriage and you know it’s not his fault but hell… someone had to be at fault. So you take your anger out on him. Looking up at the man you can’t help but feel bad.

“Look,” he says. “I’m sorry for accusing you of bringing someone here— that was fucked up and I shouldn’t have taken it there. I’m just… a little insecure right now and that’s something that I need to work on.” His explanation makes you want to shower him with kisses and hugs. There’s no way you’ve made this man think lowly of himself. The man is absolutely breathtaking and could have anyone he wanted.

If the circumstances were different you would’ve approached him anyway. He’s exactly the type of man you always wanted in your life.

“Don’t apologize.” You focus your eyes on the ground. “It’s my fault, I’ve been acting really bitchy and giving you a hard time.” Your eyes finally meet his again and there’s nothing but disbelief behind them. He doesn’t even think he’s hearing you correctly. There’s no way you’re apologizing.

“You don’t have to work on anything— you’re perfect, Namjoon. I… have to work on being a better wife.” Namjoon swears he hears fireworks going off somewhere. He doesn’t even think before pulling you into a tight hug. Completely forgetting about the urine that was previously begging to be released. And you forget all about the stupid pregnancy test that rests on the sink.

Until Namjoon see’s it. He hesitantly pulls back from the hug, looking as if he seen a ghost. “Joon, what’s wrong?” You ask, worried that there actually might be ghosts in your house. That’d be a real bummer— this house costed a fortune.

“You’re pregnant?” He mindlessly say, still eyeing the pregnancy test on the sink. Your heart drops at the words, eye widening. “I am?!” In an instant you turn around to check the stick. Picking you up you notice the red line going through it.

Only one red line.

You stare at that line for a moment, feeling disappointed for some reason. You waited for what felt like ages for the test to process. Thinking of the future and what type of mother you’d be, how Namjoon would be an amazing father. And it’s negative.

“It’s negative.” You say and Namjoon can’t make out your emotion. You throw the stick out in the waste bin before spinning around the face Namjoon. “I guess we don’t have to worry about the giving the whole abortion talk.” You lamely say before letting out a strained laugh. Namjoon eyebrows furrow at that.

“You wanted to have an abortion?” He sounds disappointed. He would never stop you from having an abortion— it’s not his place. But the thought of you not wanting to have a child with him did kind of hurt.

You shake your head at Namjoon’s question. “No it’s not that. I just assumed… you know.” You awkwardly fidget with your hands as you try to find your words. “I didn’t think you’d want to have a child so soon.” Shrugging your shoulders, you let out another strained laugh, much to Namjoon’s dismay.

“That’s not funny, _______” His expression is serious. “This is why we need to communicate. I’ve always wanted children— I’d want nothing more than to have a child with you _______” He speaks sincerely and you swear you could burst into tears right now.

You place your hands on his cheeks to pull him down for a kiss. It’s not rough, titillating, or sloppy. It’s a kiss filled with passion and for once there’s a speckle of joy in there. You felt safe and secure in Namjoon’s arms. Your husband. A man you don’t quite love yet but you definitely like him. And you’re willing to love him— to fall in love with him.

Namjoon pulls away to catch his breath. You couldn’t help but smile up at your gorgeous husband. “Thank you… for saying that Namjoon. For everything, honestly.” The blonde haired man is smiling from ear to ear. He couldn’t control the wholehearted happiness he felt— it’s floating along with his aura.

“Mmm, thank you for saying you’ll have my kids.” He says, his smile widens as you let out a little laugh. The dimples in his cheeks so prominent you wanna bite them. “The test is negative, Joon.” You remind him. Just in case he forgot from all of the cheesing and giggling he’s doing.

As if he couldn’t express his euphoric excitement any more than he already has, he picks your body up into his strong arms. His hands resting underneath your thighs as he walks you to the bedroom, his lips on yours.

You pull away, not without letting a goofy little giggle leave your mouth. “What are you doing?” You ask, in complete oblivion. Namjoon smiles at you before quickly pecking your lips.

“We’re gonna TRY AGAIN.”

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[reiderwriter]

can i request for a mean!spencer x bau!reader? like they are not enemies but there's just this really intense sexual tension with prompts 2, 30, 48, and 49? thank you!

#2 "I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last person on earth.” #30 "You're not as hot as you think you are.” #48 "You belonged to me before I even made you mine.” #49 "I'm so fucking obsessed with you.”

A/N: Thank you for requesting! Sorry it took almost an entire season to get it done 😭 I hope it's as good as you expected it would be :D

Warnings: slight BDSM themes, Dom!Spencer, dry humping, choking, thigh riding, finger sucking, cum play, facial, penetrative sex, use of contraception, probably more that I don't remember right now... 18+ Minors DNI

There was no one you wanted to spend the night with less than Spencer Reid.

He was annoying, and frustrating and most importantly never knew when to shut the fuck up.

No one was better at getting under your skin, and no one seemed to relish it quite like he did. It wasn't that you hated the man, just that he had the presence of an unkillable mosquito in your life.

He was irritating.

“Y/N, are you even listening to me?”

“I try not to make a habit of it,” you rolled your eyes, pushing past the man as you both finally made it to your motel room for the night.

You weren't sure if this was divine punishment or Emily's idea of a joke, but you'd ended up with Reid as your roomie for the next week.

As your case location was remote and as back waters as it could get, you'd ended up needing to bring Penelope Garcia along with you physically. And with only four rooms available, the eight members of your team had to all scramble for acceptable roommates and, having gotten off the jet last, you'd drawn the short straw.

Rossi had been quick to pair up with Luke, citing Spencer's snoring habit as reason enough, and the girls had happily fallen into two pairs. It was your lucky day.

With your hands busy with your bags, you tossed the key to Spencer quickly and waited for him to unlock the door, eager to escape the cold chill of the night.

“Hurry up, Spencer, or we'll both turn into popsicles out here.”

“Not only is that physically impossible, but it also isn't that cold out here, Y/N. Don't you think you're being a bit sensitive.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and he let out a sharp chuckle as he finally managed to unlock the door.

Despite your best wishes, stepping over the threshold didn't solve your problems. Instead it seemed to present even more.

“Fuck, how is it colder in here than it is out there?” You said, shivering violently as you stood in the doorway. If you thought that was reason enough to cure though, you thought you'd practically spit fire when you saw the sleeping arrangements for the night.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your body forgot its fight to keep warm, letting your blood run cold as you found yourself face to face with one singular, though large, bed. Another cursory glance around, and the heart motifs on the walls and pink themes cushions on the bed suggested that this was likely the motels joke of a Honeymoon Suite.

“Emily did mention that we booked out their last four rooms.” Spencer said, walking up beside you and frowning deeply as he took in the same scene you did.

“She said nothing about the rooms being igloos though, Spencer. I never thought hypothermia was going to be my cause of death after spending the night with you in the room.”

“You think I'd shoot you.”

“I think I'd shoot myself.”

He scowled a little at that and moved to check the room's thermostat. Although it was presently reading 215° so you didn't know how much good that could do.

“There's no sofa,” you grumbled as you watched Spencer move to the small bathroom.

“And there's no hot water. And according to the sign on that table, there's nothing we can do about it until the morning.” You picked up the sign yourself, just to verify and practically moaned in frustration.

“This is insane, we'll freeze to death.”

“It has to drop below 32° in here for us to even possibly freeze death. There's no wind, rain and we have blankets, so maybe you should focus less on being dramatic and more on what we can be doing to warm up.”

“I'm sorry, Doctor Genius, whatever can I do to warm up? Please impart some of your wonderful knowledge on me, I beg.” His eyes flashed with some annoyance and you quietly enjoyed the expression, happy to have affected him as much as he affected you.

“You can start by stripping.” It was his turn to enjoy the abject look of horror that crossed your face in that moment, and you were convinced that of he let even a hint of a laugh out, you'd throttle the man.

“I'm sure you'd just love that,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well, there's no water, no thermostat and no other source of heat, so if you're so worried about hypothermia, there's only one solution viable to us right now.”

“You're joking. You want us to huddle together for warmth?” You backed yourself into a corner as you tried to distanced yourself from him as he suddenly began divesting himself of clothing.

As soon as he reached the top buttons of his shirt, you let out a quick squeak and turned around.

“Unless you want me to watch you get undressed too, I suggest you hurry up and do it before I get into bed.”

You quietly cursed and started unwrapping each of your layers, fingers fumbling with the cold already seeped into your skin.

“I am not getting naked, Spencer Reid.”

“I didn't ask you to. Just get comfortable.” You turned around to shoot him a glare, but when you noticed his back was turned - and bare - you lost all memory of the purpose of the movement.

You'd never quite realised before how broad his back was. His shoulders looked strong despite his lithe frame, twisting rather attractively as he pulled his nightshirt over his head. You were almost disappointed that he wasn't facing you, suddenly curious about Spencer Reid's happy trail.

You snapped yourself out of it and continued to change, wrapping your coat around your waist to hide your legs as you switched your pants to your sleep shorts. It was an awkward fumble, but at least the lights were low.

When you were finally ready, your steps back to the bed were hurried and near painful as you felt colder than ever.

Spencer was already there, and without a second thought, you pulled the quilts up and plastered yourself to his side. He was the only thing in the entire room offering you a modicum of warmth, and you weren't going to let your personal hot water bottle go just because everything that came out of his mouth was hot air.

“So you're a big fan of this now, huh?” He said, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in. Your back was pressed against his chest as you both laid on your sides, piles of duvet and blankets laid out on top of you. You hated to admit it, but this position was comfortable.

Maybe it was just months of working cases non-stop and perpetual singleness, but the feeling of a man at your back was infinitely pleasing.

“Don't expect anything more Spencer Reid. I wouldn't have sex with you if you were the last man alive.” The words were harsh, and if you were being honest, a little bit untrue. Your small peak at his back earlier had definitely sparked an interest in you that was bubbling up in your throat. Like bile.

“You don't have to worry about that. You're actually not as hot as you think you are.” His words were tinged with the same faux bitterness as yours, but you refused to hear it. Instead all you felt was another unpleasant heat spreading throughout you, quiet anger plotting in your stomach.

You knew you probably shouldn't push it, but you needed Spencer to eat those words. Desperately.

Your mind ticked through a few options before landing on one. If you were so unattractive, then surely there's no way he'd physically react to you.

Scooting your body closer to his, you take advantage of the less than comfortable bed, making each of your movements similar to ones you would make when getting comfortable. Except, of course, with the added bonus of making sure your ass pressed directly up against his crotch, moving up and down and grinding into him.

You felt him slightly stiffen behind you, and decided that a few we'll time groans of frustration could go a long way to spurring him on.

So you began letting little gasps and sighs out, graduating to moans when you thought he wouldn't question it, each small movement rubbing against him deliberately.

What you'd failed to remember though, was his hand on your waist. Although you knew he was awake beside you, despite the now late hour and somewhat comfortable bed, his hand held you firm. Or it did until you risking bounced yourself gently against him, and his now limp hand slipped underneath your shirt.

The moan you released then was genuine, the cool touch of his fingers against your burning skin causing you to flush and shiver at the same time. You cursed your earlier self for valuing your comfort over your general peace of mind, because as Spencer's hand once again settles centimetres away from the edge of your boob, you desperately wished for your bra back.

You stopped moving, hoping that if you just pretended to sleep for a few minutes, his hand would reach higher and he'd prove to you that he did think you were attractive. He didn't though, showing off how gentlemanly he was. It pissed you off. Most of his good qualities pissed you off, and you were sure that said more about you than him .

You tried your best to just give in, to even out your breathing and let the black haze of sleep take over but his hands on you were maddening, and you found your body reacting in much the same ways you'd wished him to react.

It didn't help that he'd casually shifted his lower body away from you slightly in your stillness, letting himself fall onto his back rather than his side. As he made this shift, his hand trailed across the expanse of your body before cutting all contact with you altogether.

So much for huddling for warmth if all he had to do to return you to record heats was stroke you like that.

You needed to feel him again, so, feigning the most realistic sleeplike movements you could muster, you turned your body in his direction, and placed your head over his chest. You weren't finished, just proceeding with caution. Your hands obviously fell over his chest, if slightly lower than you'd expect.

It was only when your leg finally came up over his that he broke his silence.

“I know you're awake, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear, a solid hand on your thigh holding it down right over his crotch. You felt your prize and grinned in your sleep.

He was hard. You'd won. It was time to play.

You opened your mouth to purr victoriously at him, but he moved so abruptly you were never expecting it.

Shifting his hands to your ass, he hauled your body over him, letting his hands stay on your hips as he began to help you shift them back and forth. You moaned at the friction, even as your head stayed rested on his chest. The movements were shallow, just a teasing but you already felt more aroused than you had in months. Slowly, your hips started moving for themselves and his hands moved onto more important things.

“Am I suddenly the last man on Earth, Y/N?” He smiled, tipping your head up so you could make eye contact with him.

“Go to hell.”

“I think we're already there, don't you?” With that, his large hands sat you up, meeting with no resistance as you let yourself become pliable.

“Show me.” He whispered, hands right on your hips, pushing into your flesh just a touch part forceful.

“Show you what?” You narrowed your eyes, but you knew exactly what it was he wanted and that you weren't going to out up much a resistance before giving it to him.

“Show me how much you want to fuck me. Since your mouth isn't honest, I'm going to have to listen to your body.” You let your hands fall to his chest, pushing lower until you reached the hem of his shirt. He'd pushed the quilts off of your torso, letting the cold air attack your upper body, so you knew your hands were cold, and the hiss he let out at the contact was satisfying enough to shut up and actually start following his directions.

You shifted your body up and down, grinding and dry humping his crotch, wishing for him to stop being a tease and just get it over with.

He wasn't letting you compromise, though. Each small sound that left your body met with a soft smirk from him, each halt in your movements a prod from his hands. You'd tried to still your hips entirely once out of frustration, but he'd delivered a slap to your ass that had you gushing, desperate to reach a release even if he'd only allow you it this way.

“I don't think you're trying hard enough.” His voice was lower than before, something gravelly to it as he began pulling your clothing off one item at a time. Your sweater went first, before he flipped your positions and shimmered your shorts off your body, taking underwear soon after and then you were bare to him and he was rolling you once again.

“That's better. Now, where were we?” He moved your hips for you again, but his eyes stayed focused in the rigid peaks of your nipples, bouncing with each rock of your hips. You weren't sure if it was the cold temperature of the room or your sheer need to cum that had them reacting, but you knew he was seconds away from wrapping his tongue around one and giving into you, so you just accepted it.

His hands stayed put, still on your hips, though the direct contact was heating you slightly more. If you looked down, you were sure you'd see a wet patch against his sweat pants, so you didn't.

You just moaned and whimpered searching for your orgasm on top of him.

“What's wrong, Y/N? Do you need my help to finish?” He noticed your every insecurity, your weakness and exploited it. You were running close to inconsolable, desperate to hit that climax now, more than ever before, so you just nodded at him profusely, desperate for him to touch you in whatever way he could.

It wasn't his hand you felt on your clit, though. It was your own, he wrapped a hand around your fingers and bought them up to the correct stop, showing you exactly what he'd like to see.

“Touch yourself, Y/N. Touch yourself and wish it was me.” With the friction from grinding against him for so long, the satisfaction from the rigid tent underneath you and your hands taking his guidance, it was really not long before your pussy finally twitched familiarly and sighed, soaking his pants underneath you as you shuddered in delight.

He had to ruin your moment of bliss by talking.

“Is that enough, slut? Or do you really need to be filled right now?”

You didn't care if he saw you sticking your tongue down his throat as you collapsed on top of his chest as an answer to that question, or if he saw it as what it was - a desperate attempt to shut him up. All you knew was that he tasted sweet and hot, and that his hand wrapped around your throat was also hot as he pulled you up and off of him.

“Let me be clear. I am in charge.” A simple shift of his legs was enough to flip your positions, landing on top of you ungrateful, but you didn't care.

Using his new high ground, he wedged your legs open and slid a single finger inside you as you moaned. He too found success in silencing you by sticking his tongue down your throat, forcing you to battle him for dominance you knew he'd never allow you.

Having cum only moments before, you truly believed that there was no way he was going to push another one out of you after so little time. The night was full of surprises though.

As you relaxed into his intrusion, he opened you up with a second finger, then a third. You already felt yourself building towards your end goal, but it was his head dropping to tour cold nipples that finally had you cumming around his fingers. His mouth was wet, tongue warm against your skin, and he toyed with you so effectively, you practically forgot your previous qualms.

“See? You belong to me before I've even made you mine.” It irked you that he was right. Had this been any other man, you're sure you'd be bragging about such passionate sex for weeks with your friends. You were resentful that it was him, but you didn't want it to end yet.

Your arms pulled up to hide your face as he traced kisses up and down your chest, fingers coming free to pay attention to your since abandoned nipples.

“I can't wait to fuck you. You're going to feel so good wrapped around my cock,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your arms away from your face, making sure your eyes were focused on him before his next line.

“You have no clue what you started. I'm so fucking obsessed with you.”

His hands fell to your face, where his thumb pushed against your lips, slipping into your mouth where you sucked on it, getting it wet as his cock teased the folds of your pussy, running up and down with each gentle push of his hips. You entertained him for a moment before pushing up slightly, his thumb falling from your mouth as you blindly reached for the bedside table. Pulling it open, you were relieved to find what you were looking for.

“If you're so fucking obsessed with me, Spencer, show me.” Carefully unwrapping the package, you grabbed his dick and gently slid the condom onto him, making sure it was secure before you propped yourself back on the pillows, waiting for him to initiate once again.

“Pillow princess. You're acting like I haven't been dreaming of exactly this for the last 12 months.”

You couldn't waste time processing those words before he again ran his cock through the folds of your pussy, then sank himself deep inside you. And you meant deep.

The sudden impact robbed you of your thoughts, pushing out every miserable thought and leaving you with just Spencer and pleasure. The two concepts soon became synonymous as his hips lazily sent him careening in and out of you.

His strokes gained speed gradually until the only words shared between you were the animalistic pants of pleasure, his voice driving you insane as you tried not to get overstimulated before you could cum for a third time.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, Spencer-” your moans turned to screams as your orgasm rolled over you, his dick hitting just the right spot inside you that forced your nails to bite his skin, and forced your voice to scratch at your throat as it pushed up from your gut.

Noticing your relentless twitching, Spencer immediately pulled out of your cunt, allowing you a moment of reprieve. Pushing up to his knees, he moved to your side, his crotch parallel with your face as he rolled the condom off his dick.

Stroking himself to completion, he came right over your lips, your eyes dripping with lust as you licked them clean, catching the dribbles that fell down your chin with your fingers and popping them into your mouth as well.

After your whorish display of desperation, it took a full ten minutes for your brain function to resume.

In that time, Spencer had cleaned both of you up speedily with a hotel towel, wrapped an arm around you and began spooning you once again, his chest warm and comfortable against your back, his scent intoxicating.

It didn't stop being so when you finally came down from your post-cum bliss.

“You're not allowed to tell anyone what happened tonight,” you said, turning over to look him in the eye.

“Nothing from tonight, got it. What about tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, am I allowed to tell them how I plan to wake you up tomorrow, and how your current state of dress made it possible, if not directly invited it?”

You flushed at his words, tingling already at the mention of tomorrow.

“We're sharing a room, Y/N. If you think I'm not going to be inside you whenever were both free, you're entirely mistaken.” His voice was clear - not even a hint of hesitancy in his voice.

“I'm not letting you go that easily, Y/N.”

[antimonyandthyme]

WHAT IF CARCAR REALLY HAD MAGNETS BETWEEN THEM

/or a stuck together au

“It’s like Eat Pray Love,” Carlos says.

“I’ll be honest,” Guanyu says. “Neither of you remind me of Julia Roberts much.”

“Please just,” Oscar massages the bridge of his nose, “point to a place on the map. Any place.”

“Why China,” Guanyu presses. Of course he’s curious. “Why not Spain or Australia?”

“Neutral ground,” Oscar says quickly.

“Ah I see,” Guanyu says. “You can’t agree on a spot, right?”

“I keep telling him,” Carlos says, always with the over-the-top gesticulating. He tries it with both hands first, then realizes Oscar’s being all sorts of petty and weighing his left arm down on purpose where they’re joined, so he continues gesturing eagerly with his right. “Come to Madrid!” He nearly smacks Oscar in the nose with his hand. Oscar scowls. “We have so much good food. I can show you all the things, but no! Piastri will only agree to get sunburned on Australian sand. We have beaches in Spain, too!”

“Guanyu,” Oscar urges, “a place, now.”

“Here,” Guanyu says, index finger plopping down. Like some cartoon scene, both Oscar and Carlos automatically lean in to squint at the map, and bump their heads against each other.

“I hate you.”

“Hard same.”

“Lijiang is actually a famous honeymoon destination,” Guanyu says.

“I hate you,” Carlos says.

“Hard same,” Oscar says.

“Hey.” Guanyu grins like this entire situation is wildly hilarious. Maybe it is, for everyone else. Oscar kinda wants to jump into the sea, but Carlos will only drag him down, their uncoordinated conjoined limbs tangled and thrashing. “You guys asked me to choose. Look, don’t you want to see pandas?”

Carlos makes some sort of shocked noise. Oh, for the love of—Oscar groans. He knows when someone’s just bought something.

“Carlos wants to see pandas,” Guanyu says, sounding far too delighted. “Chengdu’s like a fourteen-hour drive from Lijiang, that’s totally doable.”

They stare at him blankly.

“Oh my god. Chengdu, you know? Research base for giant panda breeding? Panda capital of China?”

Twiddle-Dum and Twiddle-Dee: “Ohhhhh.”

“Yeah, now you got it. In between, you can hit a dozen other places and never grow bored.” Guanyu taps his finger along the map, tick, tick, tick. “So why not? Complete the journey. Transform into Julia Roberts.”

“And break the curse,” Carlos says solemnly.

“Break the curse,” Oscar repeats miserably, but with his left hand, goes to look up flight tickets on his phone.

--

They discover that the only way they can pull on extra layers is if they yank themselves apart with all their might, creating just a sliver of space between their elbows. It’s painful. Oscar never wants to have to do this again.

“Now,” Carlos yells, and in a flurry of movement Oscar gets his coat on before their elbows snap back together.

Ow, ow. Oscar’s eyes are watering. He suspects Carlos’s is doing just the same.

“Okay, okay,” Oscar says. “Now your turn.”

Carlos waves him off. “I’m not cold.”

Oscar opens his mouth to argue, but Carlos is already dragging them off toward a sign with a car on it. The rental cars are left-hand steering, and it dawns on both of them at the exact time that Oscar will be doing all the driving, with the way they’re stuck to each other.

“No fair,” Carlos moans, as Oscar fist pumps the air. It would be too childish to stick his tongue out at Carlos. So he doesn’t.

A part of Oscar’s a spectator to all of this. Watching with his mouth hanging wide open, some disembodied shade looking from outside in, as his own body purchased tickets, packed a luggage (with Carlos in the same room), and boarded a plane. None of this makes sense. Getting into a car with Carlos, firstly. Then with the added condition that both of them have to clamber in from one side, before Carlos can climb over the middle console into the passenger seat. Fourteen hours of this, huh? He’s going to give Guanyu hell when they get back.

If, they make it back. Oscar guesses it’ll be two hours before they attempt to murder each other. You don’t go road tripping with people you can’t stand. It’s the one and only sacred rule of road tripping.

“I think I saw this in Final Destination.”

Oscar, zoned out staring at the road, manages a stupid, “What?”

“You know that pileup where everyone dies?”

“Everyone always dies in Final Destination.”

Carlos rolls his eyes, shakes their joined elbows for emphasis. “The scene where the logs fall off? A lot of screaming? A lot of swerving? All because they were stuck behind a logging truck?”

“Carlos.” Oscar takes one deep, deep calming breath. “Are you asking me to overtake?”

“If you can, yes,” Carlos says, like Oscar’s the one being thick. “Go on. I’ll help you hold the wheel steady.”

Oscar cranes his neck and glances around the side of the truck. The opposing lane seems clear, not a headlight in sight. What the heck. You can take the driver off a track, but he’ll still want to race.

“Woo!” Carlos yells, as Oscar zooms around the steadily plodding truck. A little clumsy, with Carlos almost overcompensating the steer as they merge back into the right lane, but successful, nonetheless. No one dies.

Mismatched hands on the wheel. Adrenaline spiking for just a few seconds of speed. Oscar finds himself wearing a grin to match Carlos’s. Maybe they’ll cut it down to thirteen and a half hours like this.

--

“Guanyu was right,” Carlos says thoughtfully.

Oscar’s got his nose buried in a helpful English guide. A sense of ambitious adventure appears to have overtaken them. He wants to hit at least three lookout points today. “About?”

“Look,” Carlos points in some vague direction. “All the couples.”

“Huh,” Oscar says. “That is a lot of couples.”

No one pays them any mind. They haven’t been recognized since they stepped foot here. For all intents and purposes, they could just be another one of those peaceful couples, milling about.

Well. Peaceful, would be a bit of a pipe dream.

“YOU CAN PLAY GOLF AT JADE DRAGON SNOW MOUNTAIN.”

“Carlos,” Oscar hisses. “Quiet.”

“You can play golf,” Carlos repeats, softer but no less excited, eyes larger than two sparkling coins, “at Jade Dragon Snow Mountain!”

Oscar snatches the guide back from Carlos’s hand. “I’m pretty sure I just read that the mountain’s considered holy.”

“They let people play golf on a holy mountain,” Carlos says for the third damn time. “I love it here.”

“We’re not playing golf,” Oscar says.

“Oscar,” Carlos says, dismayed.

“You have one hand, remember?” Oscar wriggles their stuck arms, a reminder he didn’t even know Carlos would have needed.

“Riiight,” Carlos says, shoulders drooping.

“We can still see the mountain though,” Oscar says, is alarmed at the tiny skip-hop going on in his chest when Carlos brightens again. Doesn’t take a lot to keep this guy happy. That’s, good for him. That’s good.

They decide the cable cars up are too much hassle, with the queues already stretching out for hours. The mountain’s basically viewable from anywhere, so Oscar steers Carlos toward Old Town. Where he discovers that Carlos is terrible at haggling. Absolute nightmare. He hands over money to anyone who so much as gestures him over. The singular tote bag Oscar brings starts to get filled with random trinkets, from fans to calligraphy pens.

“What’s this,” Oscar says, when Carlos shakes his head as Oscar prepares to pack away two wooden charms in the shape of a very rotund cat.

“Not for keeping,” Carlos explains. “They’re for wishes. We hang them up in the temple.”

“Oh,” Oscar says. Carlos had gotten one for him too. “I didn’t think you believed in these things.”

“I don’t,” Carlos says quickly, before looking away, like he’s afraid Oscar will laugh at him.

Oscar chews at his lip. He didn’t mean to suggest it was silly. It’s a little unfair for Carlos to think so lowly of him. If they could, this is where they’d walk their separate ways and browse different shops, long enough for the awkward tension to diffuse. Come back refreshed and recharged for more time spent in each other’s company. No such grace, here.

The stream whispers as it flows by the stone-paved path. The wooden house clusters look as if they’re linked, hand to hand, a never-ending line all the way to the top. Everything here’s older than Oscar, older by years and years and years.

“I keep an amulet in my helmet,” Carlos says. His eyes wander around like he’s sightseeing. “I don’t know why I lied.”

“A little belief can’t hurt,” Oscar blurts out, just so Carlos would stop looking so wounded. “That’s what I always say.”

Carlos nudges him. “You never say that.”

Above them, a thousand colorful prayer flags blow gently in the wind. Wooden charms as numerous as the birds adorn the roof of the temple. Wishes for health, prosperity, family. Oscar tries to peek at what Carlos is writing, only for Carlos to shove him away so violently that they both fall over.

Oscar laughs as Carlos strains to keep his charm out of prying reach. No easy task, both of them being joined and all.

May the new year bring surprises and joy. For my family and friends, good health always. For myself—

Oscar wrenches his gaze away. Some things aren’t for anyone else to know.

He watches Carlos hang his charm up carefully. And then Carlos waits, back turned as much as he can, for Oscar to write his own wish. It’s simple. Fast car, many wins. Happiness. Oscar ties his somewhere near Carlos’s. Closes his eyes and listens to them jangle together.

--

For myself, patience.

--

Oscar’s pretty sure he’s dying. He’s pretty sure this is what dying feels like.

“I thought,” he gasps, in between gulps of warm tea that only makes things infinitely worse, “I told her not spicy?”

Carlos is cackling like the unhelpful asshole he is. “This is not spicy.”

When you explore some place new, local recommendations for food are a must. Oscar’s seriously reconsidering Travel Tip 101 when he gets fed hotpot that turns his tongue worryingly numb.

“Well, it is a little spicy,” Carlos concedes. “But nothing I can’t take.”

“Isn’t Spanish food not spicy?”

“It’s not,” Carlos says. “Actually, I wasn’t good at taking spice until after I started driving.” He fans exaggeratedly at Oscar’s overheated mouth, like that could even help an iota. It’s so Carlos it’s endearing. Shit. “I only started putting hot sauce on all my trainer’s meals because everything tasted so bland.”

Oscar coughs, wiping at his leaking nose. “It burns,” he moans.

“There, there,” Carlos says, mock sympathetic. “Don’t cry.”

“Seriously.” Oscar blinks rapidly, is it affecting his eyeballs too? His pulse thuds like the hoofbeat of a runaway horse. “How are you not even sweating?”

Carlos winks at him. “They don’t call me chili for nothing.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Aw,” Carlos says, and finally puts himself to some use by waving down a server, and sweettalking her into bringing a pitcher of iced water over.

Oscar calls first dibs on the shower, claiming the need to wash the spice out of his pores. Carlos rolls his eyes but acquiesces, gallant about it for once. They force themselves not to make it awkward. Pull apart for just long enough to slip their clothes off, eyes everywhere but on each other. Carlos stands outside the curtain as Oscar tries to shampoo and soap himself down in the narrow tub with one hand.

When it's Carlos's turn: “Oh my god,” Oscar says. “Carlos, are you using soap for your hair?”

“I’m trying to be quick,” Carlos says, voice disembodied even though he’s right next to Oscar. Separated by the thinnest sheet of translucent nylon. The shadow of Carlos is unmistakable in the light. The broadness of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist. “So you do not stand outside for forty-five minutes like I did.”

“I didn’t take forty-five minutes!”

Carlos laughs, the cackle now almost familiar. “And how are you knowing I’m using soap? Are you peeking?”

“I hate you,” Oscar says, waits for Carlos to return with a Hard same like they’re in on the same joke. Waits and waits until Carlos emerges from behind the curtain, not fifteen minutes later, lips still sealed together like withholding some secret.

--

As designated shotgunner, with no say in the matter, Carlos is in charge of the GPS and the AUX cord. After the second album of Enrique Iglesias, Oscar relegates him to Captain of Pointing Out Exit Signs Only. Carlos pretends to pout about it, but he reclines his seat, as far back as their joined elbows will allow. Closes his eyes, limbs loose, all relaxed. He looks so good like that, when he’s as easy as easy can be.

Oscar swallows the click in his throat back down.

“I feel bad,” Carlos murmurs, sounding like he’s close to drifting off. “You’re doing all the work.”

“I don’t mind,” Oscar says. He’s getting real good at one-handed maneuvers now. Hah, maybe this will be beneficial on the track. “I hate getting driven. I rather do it myself.”

“Control freak,” Carlos says.

“Yeah,” Oscar admits. “A little bit.”

When Oscar dares to look over at Carlos, there’s a smile curving his lips gently up. They didn’t magically learn how to talk to each other. But it’s a start, trading little morsels of information like passing notes in school.

One of Guanyu’s other suggestions had been Emei Mountain, boasting an altitude of over three-thousand meters and some ridiculous number of stairs.

(Sixty thousand, to be precise. Oscar had opened his mouth to complain, but Guanyu had responded with a report of the monkeys that lived in the mountain. There came that dazed, excited noise from Carlos again, and Oscar knew it was a lost cause.)

Jet-lag’s working in their favour, and they’ve arrived before the tour buses can deposit too many people for them to stomach. Ambitions are dampened when they realize climbing’s harder when surgically joined by some unknown force at the elbow. When Oscar lifts his left leg, his right arm wants to go, which means Carlos’s left arm needs to go, which means Carlos’s right leg needs to lift. They clunk around clumsily for the first chunk of steps, griping and critiquing each other’s technique. The fog rolls in and laps at their ears, and for a while, there’s nothing much to see.

An elderly lady pressures them into an early lunch, and Carlos gives in effortlessly, like always. It ends up being the best thing Oscar’s eaten since coming here. They fight over the last slice of barbecue pork, and Oscar wins, by virtue of being slightly better at using chopsticks.

By the time they’re halfway up, they’ve got climbing down to an art, limbs moving like clockwork around the constriction. Carlos takes advantage of their newfound skill to increase their pace to a march.

“Carlos,” Oscar’s not ashamed to beg. “Please, won’t you stop and look at the monkeys.”

Carlos laughs at him and calls him slow. Because Carlos is crazy, he’s taken off his light sweater even in this weather, and the threadbare white shirt he’s wearing leaves little to imagination. Chest hair, nipples. Oscar looks away before he can be caught staring. The fog’s given way to some amazing views. Rich vegetation, more trees than Oscar’s brain knows what to do with. Beautiful things all around.

Carlos’s face swims into view. “Come on.” The tugging at the elbow doesn’t hurt as much as it did before. “To the top! There are giant golden statues!”

The statues are indeed golden. And they are indeed giant. The largest one weighs six hundred and sixty metric tons, according to the pamphlet. Larger, surely, than the feeling expanding in his lungs.

“Look, Oscar!” Carlos points with their joined arms, all delight.

“Yeah,” Oscar says. Quickened pulse from the strenuous activity, and he wills it to settle. Control freak. “I’m looking.”

--

Designated phone time on the bed is an hour long. Oscar uses it to text his mum, sift through photos from the day. With how close they’re forced to be, it’s hard to get a picture without a body part of Carlos making its way in. Oscar finds he doesn’t quite mind. He’s got one of the cloudless, blue sky, the backdrop for the Leidongping cable car station. Carlos is pointing at something again, his finger situated artistically right in the middle of the lidless eye of the sun.

Guanyu’s the one who got them into this mess, so he probably deserves a photo update. Oscar sends it over WhatsApp and receives an O-M-G!!! in return, along with nine panda emojis.

No pandas, we’re not at Chengdu yet, Oscar types.

Honestly, I’m surprised you even made it this far, Guanyu says.

Wow, thanks

Oscar squints, rereads Guanyu’s message.

Wait, you were the one who gave us this itinerary!

Hahaha, is all Guanyu says, followed by multiple peace sign emojis.

加油!

Oscar has to google translate that, learn that it means to add oil. To go for it. Go for what?

“Teto says he wishes he was here too,” Carlos says sleepily, looking up from his phone.

“Teto’s out of luck,” Oscar says, ignoring the flash of something hot and possessive down his spine.

He plucks Carlos’s phone out of his willing fingers. Reaches over Carlos for the pull chain of the lamp. Beneath him for just a second, Carlos shifts, comfortable, cozy. Oscar gets the ludicrous notion that if he were to collapse down, right now, Carlos’s body would welcome him.

Shit. How long until they come apart?

Click, off go the lights. Meekly, Oscar makes his way back to his designated side of the bed. Carlos mumbles a soft Good night. More intimate than he could ever mean. Oscar mumbles something back, and satisfied, Carlos closes his eyes. He likes sleeping on his side. Coincidences of coincidences, so does Oscar. Carlos falls asleep faster though, and it gives Oscar a lot of time to stare without accusation. Trace the planes and slopes of Carlos’s face before he drifts off himself.

--

At long last. Chengdu panda base.

After jostling with the crowds to watch the pandas tumble around for their food, then tumble around to play, then tumble around to sleep, Oscar turns to Carlos.

“Well?”

“Eh,” Carlos makes a see-saw motion with his hands. “It’s a little anti-climatic.”

Oscar barks out a laugh. A joined body part, three shared showers, thirteen and a half hours in a car together later, and Carlos still surprises him. He really doesn’t do Oscar well on a neurochemical level.

“Isn’t this what you came here for?”

“I thought it was,” Carlos says. It’s no longer only their elbows touching. Now it’s bicep to little pinky, pressed up against each other like puzzle pieces which fit slightly crooked. One long, unbroken line of heat. “I thought—”

Carlos tapers off. Oscar waits.

“Well, it’s the journey that counts, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“They’re very cute, too.”

“Uh huh,” Oscar says. “Pictures or Guanyu’s never going to believe we made it here.”

Oscar takes one of Carlos with a sleeping mama panda in the background. He’s halfway through checking if it’s any good when Carlos grabs the phone.

“Come here,” he says.

It’s not easy arranging themselves together and catching a panda as well, but heck, didn’t they climb sixty-thousand stairs with some careful coordination? Carlos holds out the phone with his right hand, smooshes their cheeks together. The scrap of Carlos’s stubble against his skin—that’s, there’s a new sensation, in every way possible.

“Say panda,” Carlos says.

“Panda,” Oscar says, the same way he would say, Alert, or Danger, or Abort. His cheeks are going to show up pink in the photo. And Carlos will notice and say something completely asinine—

“Hee hee,” Carlos says. “Your eyes are closed, Oscar.”

--

Once they get enough panda souvenirs to shower the grid, the rest of the day passes in the laziest of fashions. They’ve hit their goal now, so there’s no need to rush. Oscar actually bothers to look through Yelp for restaurant options, and after all his hard work, gets yanked by Carlos into some random alleyway with plastic stools to eat hand-pulled noodles.

Meandering like leaves on an easy stream down the folk and culture street, the promise of a hot shower eventually calls to them. Oscar, gentleman that he is, lets Carlos go first.

Oscar stares unblinkingly at a water spot on a tile as Carlos hums and soap himself, as easy and as relaxed as if he weren’t stuck with Oscar listening to the way the water hits his skin. The first time in the shower, when Oscar had unwittingly brushed his hands over his dick, he’d jumped, then stood still for a whole minute, waiting for Carlos to call him out on it. It’d felt forbidden, with Carlos standing not two inches away.

To Carlos’s credit, he doesn’t punch Oscar when the curtain is pulled back, with a force that can only be described as resolution. He only yelps like a little pup, clapping his free hand over his chest, before the hand trails self-consciously down.

“I’ll help you shampoo,” Oscar says. “It’s faster this way.”

“Well,” Carlos says, “if it’s faster.”

They’re staying at the Shang this time, and there’s fancy shampoo smelling like bergamot and orange. Oscar douses Carlos with half a bottle, squeezing too much out by accident. He keeps bumping his hand into Carlos’s while they attempt to scrub. The lather gets into Carlos’s eyes, and Oscar has to try and hide his smile while Carlos whines piteously. It’s not actually faster in any way.

“There, there,” Oscar says, in a similar tone as to when Carlos had observed Oscar leaking copious fluids over hotpot. “Baby.”

Carlos makes a face and pretends to start crying again, and something terribly fond constricts the entirety of Oscar’s ribcage.

Towelling each other dry is a whole new learning curve, just like putting clothes on, and driving one-handed, and climbing stairs. They’re looking at each other this time, too. That’s also new. Huh. Carlos is very, very gentle as he dries the back of Oscar’s ears. The kind of gentle that speaks of someone having done this for him before, resulting in an insistence in getting this right. Oscar gets all warm, even with the water cooling rapidly on his skin.

“Phone time?”

“No need,” Carlos yawns.

It’s Carlos that leans over this time for the light switch, even though Shang’s posh enough to have light switches at both sides for easy access. Carlos hovers over Oscar for a suspended moment, and Oscar sucks in a breath, straining with anticipation. The head pat is unexpected, but enough for now.

Satisfied, Oscar closes his eyes.

--

“Hey!” Carlos exclaims. “Oscar, we’re free!”

“Whuh,” Oscar says blearily. He’ll never acquire Carlos’s habit of waking up at eight.

“Look, look,” Carlos says, all childish delight. He waves his arms in front of Oscar’s face. Both his arms.

“Hey!” Oscar says, shooting up, suddenly awake.

“Yeah!”

“So all we needed was a shower?”

“Oscar,” Carlos says disapprovingly. “It wasn’t just a shower. We wrote this on prayer cards.” Oscar doesn’t point out neither of them wrote this on a prayer card. “We climbed a mountain. We saw pandas!”

“And took a shower,” Oscar says.

Carlos sniffs. “Have it your way.”

“Fine, fine,” Oscar says. It’s too early to be feeling all warm and crumbly, like the center of a freshly baked pie. “It was the journey that counts, yes?”

“Yes,” Carlos nods. “Maybe. Maybe it was something I—we had to learn. In preparation for. For—”

May the new year bring surprises and joy. For myself, patience.

Their hands are no longer joined, but Oscar takes Carlos’s, and presses a quick, dry kiss to the backs of his knuckles. Carlos is so surprised he lets him.

“Ah,” Carlos says, voice trembly and a little hopeful. “What happens now?”

Oscar looks down at their hands. Going through all of this to separate, only to choose to stay touching. There’s something about a journey being full circle, but Oscar doesn’t want to finish that thought for fear of actually transforming into Julia Roberts. And anyway—

“Now we drive back.”

They’re not near done, yet.

[gejo333]

Art credit:@clementinekim_(Instagram)

An Unexpected Match XIII

DBF/DILF Miguel O’Hara x female reader

18+ Warning

Summary: Two week honeymoon with your hubby Miguel🥰

I’m sorry this took so long.😅💕💕💕

Pt. 1 Pt.15

Enjoy!💕

Wc: 5k

————————————————————————

The smell of salt, the sound of the Aegean Sea, and the sun's warmth relaxed your entire body. You happily lay on a sun bed in your bikini at your private pool as you read a romance novel Stephanie has been dying for you to read for months. And you were glad to have finally picked up the book because she was right. It was really good.

However, as you flip the page, your relaxed state dissolves as you feel heat grow between your legs. Your eyes peer right over your book as you look at your husband, who is in the jacuzzi resting. His eyes were closed as his arms lay on each side, showing off his perfectly toned biceps. You said you would join him after you read a chapter or two of your book. But after reading that spicy scene and glancing at your husband, you couldn't resist.

For the past four days since you arrived at this 5-star resort in Greece, you and Miguel hadn't left your private cabana. You couldn't keep your hands off each other. You were only pausing briefly to have some sleep or to eat. This was the first time you two had decided to take a relaxing break from being entangled with each other and take in the beautiful view around you. But of course,  it's barely been an hour, and you want him to touch and kiss you.

You couldn't sit still anymore as you got up and walked to the jacuzzi. Your foot dipped into the water, sending a warm chill up your spine. The water wrapped around your body as you descended the steps before fully submerging until the water was under your collarbone.

You swim over to Miguel and sit right next to him, tucked under his right arm. Your head rests on his chest as you gaze at the beautiful ocean-front view. His arm behind you comes down and wraps around your waist, and his hand gently caresses your upper thigh.

"Missed me too much, cariño?" He kissed your head. You rolled your eyes as you didn't have to even look at him to see the smirk on his lips.

You kiss the corner of his mouth, "Mhmm, maybe just a little bit." Your lips move down his face to his neck, finding his sweet spot before straddling his lap. His hands find their way to your waist as he pulls you against him.

His fingers glide up your side to your neck as he lifts your chin. Your lips meet his as you open your mouth to let his tongue wander.

Your hips move against his crotch, making his grip on your waist tighten as he grinds his clothed erection, making you moan against his lips. Your arms feel up his toned tan abs as they go around his neck, and your fingers comb through his dark curls. Miguel's hands grab your ass as he stands up in the jacuzzi, making his way out and back inside your luxury cabana.

Your body hits the soft duvet as Miguel's lips move down your neck, "So beautiful and all mine. Isn't that right, cariño?" His voice rumbled against your skin as his lips continued to your chest, moving your bathing suit as his mouth latched to your nipple, making your grip on his hair stronger as the sensation of his mouth went straight down south to your core.

"Y-yes." You breathed out.

While his mouth and hand worked on your breasts, you felt his other hand feel its way down your stomach to your bottoms as he pulled the bows on one side, which was keeping them from falling off, now thrown across the room, leaving you fully exposed.

You arch your back as you feel his thumb rubbing your clit as he enters, not one but two fingers thrust inside you. Your grip tightens in his curls as you feel his teeth bite your nipple, sending a whirlwind of pleasure through your body. Miguel's lips kissed from the top of your breast to the collarbone and the crook of your neck, leaving marks.

"M-Miguel, please don't give me hickeys. You know I don't like them." Your husband's lips nipped your ear before he smirked at you, kissing your lips.

"No promises cariño." He purred in your ear, which made you send him a glare as you tried to hide your smile, which only made him chuckle as he removed his fingers from you, grabbed your hips, and inserted himself fully inside you, letting a gasp escape you, taking you by surprise.

Miguel grabs your waist as he lifts you onto his lap, making you moan out loud as his cock enters deeper inside you as he bounces you up and down his shaft.

You wrap your arms around his neck as you claw his upper back every time his tip hits your cervix, making you dig your nails deeper, which further ignites his desire to keep fucking you harder, ending up in an erotic cycle you both didn't mind being in.

...

The bed was soaked in sweat, and both of your pleasure as your head hung back, feeling overstimulated. Miguel sucked on your now bruised neck as he continued to thrust up into you. If it weren't for Miguel holding you in place, you would have collapsed to the bed as he fucks you stupid.

You let out a raspy moan, feeling the high from God's know which orgasm you lost count a while ago. Your throat was tired from the amount of screaming you'd done the past couple of hours.

"Last one, mi amor. I promise." Miguel kissed your sweaty temple. Your last orgasm unraveled by him as he spilled deep inside you. He collapsed his back down on the bed with you falling and resting on top of his chest with him still inside you.

"You think you got me pregnant yet?" You chuckled as you looked at him with a loving smile before getting off him. You were too sore to move to the bathroom to clean up, so you decided to wait till tomorrow.

You pushed back the sheets and duvet as you rested your head on your pillow. Miguel sat up from his position and let out a deep chuckle at your comment. He moved towards you and said, "Well, with how many times we have done it these past few days, I wouldn't be surprised, but..."

"But?" Your smile widens as he hovers over you.

"But maybe we should try again just to make sure," Miguel smirked as he took your chin and kissed you before covering you both with the sheets.

...

You lather your arm in soap and gently wash yourself in the tub. After taking a shower to properly clean up all the sweat and other liquids covering you, you took a relaxing bath to soothe your sore body as Miguel was surprisingly still asleep. You smiled; your husband needed the rest. Not just with the amount of fucking you both have been doing or from the slight jet lag, but he works so hard every day as an incredible CEO and a loving father and now husband. So you didn't mind him getting the extra rest.

When the water in the tub grew cold, you got out and wrapped a towel around your body as you looked into the vanity mirror. You huffed out a breath of annoyance as you noticed the trail of hickeys all over your neck and chest. You noticed the trail continued down your body when you slightly moved your towel.

"That man is going to get it for marking me up."

"What am I going to get?" Miguel chuckled as he walked into the master bath only in his boxers. You turned around to face him as he stood right before you. You purse your lips into a pout as you point to the hickies on your neck. Your frown deepens as you only see a smirk on his face, proud of his work.

"Smug bastard." You mumble as you turn around again to face the mirror and figure out how to cover these marks. Miguel's hands were at your hips in an instant as he pressed his crotch against your backside.

"Well, this bastard wants to have a taste of his wife." Miguel kissed up your neck, sending a shiver up your spine.

"I don't think you deserve a taste of me." You cross your arms as you move your face so that his lips miss yours, which sends a curious eyebrow arch and light glare your way from your husband.

"Well, cariño, if my tongue can't have you, then I know something else that can." Miguel lifted your towel and spread your legs as you let a breathy moan as you felt him enter his cock inside your wet folds from behind.

"Miguel." You growled out in warning. "I was hoping we go out...go out...and explore."

Miguel breathed in your hair as he turned your chin to face him. His lips met yours as he began thrusting himself inside you, making you lean over the bathroom counter.

"Of course we can, mi amor. But let's finish this round, and we'll get ready."

You huff in annoyance, knowing this wouldn't be the only session, especially since he just woke up. Of course, you're not complaining about the surge of pleasure coursing through your entire body, but he's going to regret marking up your neck.

Damn, maybe you shouldn't have let him sleep in. The amount of vigor he sends through each thrust hurts slightly as his tip consistently slams against your cervix. But it only added to the overall pleasure. One of his hands went to your lower abdomen as he pressed his palm against you, feeling himself move inside you and making him rougher with his movements.

The doorbell rang, followed by a woman calling behind the main door, "Housekeeping!"

"Puta madre," Miguel growled as he picked up his pace to see to your climax. After hearing your sweet moans come out seconds later, he pulled out and put himself back in his boxers, ready to confront the people at the door. (Son of a Bitch)

Despite your legs feeling like jelly from only one round, you stood up and placed your hand on his chest, stopping his movements. "I think I should go answer the door." You smile as you go on your toes and peck his lips before you leave and grab your robe to cover yourself.

The doorbell goes off again. You quickly get to the door before the housekeeper opens it.

"Hi, sorry for the wait." You brushed your hair behind one of your ears, a nervous habit.

Standing before you was an older woman and a woman near your age. The older woman's eyes widen as she notices the hickey on your neck. You move your hair to cover them as a blush falls on your cheeks.

"Good morning, Mrs. O'Hara. We hope you and Mr. O'Hara have been enjoying your time here. Would you like us to clean the house?" The older woman spoke with a warm smile.

"That would be amazing. We were planning on heading out in 30 minutes. Is it ok to come back around then?"

"Of course, Mrs. O'Hara. Is there anything else you need?" The other woman spoke.

"No, nothing else. Thank you. Have a nice day."

"Thank you. You too."

You smile before closing the door and return to where Miguel sat on the bed, getting rid of his morning wood. You made your way to him as you got on your knees.

You gave him a few strokes from your hand that couldn't even fully wrap around his massive shaft. You dragged your tongue up his member before kissing his leaking tip, your gaze not leaving him once. You open your mouth for him to slide onto your tongue and down your throat.

"Fuck, I love you and that pretty mouth of yours." Miguel moaned out as his hand reached the back of your head. His fingers intertwined into your hair as he gently thrusts into your throat. You hum in approval against his cock, earning another groan from Miguel's lips.

Miguel gently thrusts more of himself into your mouth; being used to his size in your throat, you were able to stop from gagging as you continued to move your tongue along his cock. You make sure your tongue grazes over the vein on the underside of his member, sending a large amount of pleasure through him.

Miguel groaned in pleasure as he gently thrust a few more times before spilling into your throat. You happily swallow every drop before removing him from your mouth. You lick anything remaining on your lips as you stand up and kiss his cheek.

After getting ready, you walk out of the cabana hand in hand. You smile up at him as he looks down at you lovingly, stopping briefly to kiss your lips sweetly. You caress his cheek as you look into his red-brown eyes. His hand is placed on top of yours, showing his wedding band.

"I love you." You breathe out.

"I love you more, mi diosa." (my goddess.) He kisses you again before you go to the resort's main building.

You sat on the lounge sofa as you looked at the scattered hotel experience brochures on the table.

"Mi amor."  You looked up to see a fork with a piece of your favorite fruit in your face. You were so excited looking at all the excursions and activities you forgot to eat. You smile lovingly before you open your mouth for him to feed it to you.

"Thank you, Miggy."

"Have to look out for you sometimes." He smiles happily down at you as he kisses your cheek. You lean against his chest as you open one of the brochures to show him.

"This one is a catamaran that takes you to these gorgeous caves that boats can go through, or we can jump in and swim. Ooo, snorkeling on a reef sounds fun, too! I wonder which one we should choose..."

Miguel lifted your hand, kissed your wedding ring, and then entangled his fingers with yours. "If you can't decide, let's do both. We're here to enjoy our time together. When we get back, we won't have that much relaxing time since your internship will be starting a month from then. We have an endless amount of funds; let's use it to enjoy ourselves to the fullest."

After an enjoyable breakfast by the crystal turquoise waters and booking all the fun excursions with the concierge, you  find the perfect place at the beach to relax under the sun.

You take your sundress off wearing a brand-new white bathing suit. You couldn't help but be a little cheesy. You were on your honeymoon, after all.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, and you felt a toned chest against your backside as lips lightly kissed your neck, making you giggle.

"Miggy, you're tickling my neck."

"If I can hear your beautiful laugh, I might just continue."

You turn your head to kiss his lips. You felt his tongue slip through your lips, surprising you as you gently slap his chest, parting your lips from his.

"Miguel, cálmate." You smile as you give him a playful glare, and he smirks. (Calm down.)

"What can I say, Hermosa? I love you so much and can't help but show it."

You turn around and wrap your arms around his neck as you get on your toes and sweetly kiss his lips. "I love you so much, too."

"How about-" he kisses your lips. " I'll go get us-" he kisses the part between your neck and shoulder. "Some drinks."

"Thank you, honey. Love you."

Miguel kissed you on the lips, squeezing your ass and quickly moving away before you could hit him. He only winked at you with a goofy grin before returning to the bar.

"Fuck, she's hot."

"Hey there, cutie."

You were relaxing on the lounge chair, enjoying the sun, when a shadow appeared before you. Opening your eyes, a frown appeared on your lips as you saw two men around your age, or most likely seniors in college, standing in front of you.

"Um, can I help you? You're blocking the sun."

"We were walking on the beach and saw this smoking hot babe in a white bikini, and we thought we would shoot our shot and buy you a drink."

"I'm a married woman. Even if I weren't, I would still say no. So, have a nice day." You sarcastically wave them away. But, of course, these guys were the extra obnoxious douches.

"Oh, come on now. Just one drink. Plus, how do we know you're married? I don't see your husband any-"

"Mi amor, are these men bothering you?" Towering behind the two men was your pissed-off husband.

"Yes, they were."

The men's faces grew pale as they saw a large, well-built man give them a death glare.

"Uh, s-sorry, man. Our bad. We'll get going."

"I think that's wise. This is a private and very exclusive beach that I highly doubt you two are members of. Please don't make me catch you bothering my wife or anyone else again. Got it?"

"Y-yes."  The two men quickly walked away.

You stood up from your chair, hugged his waist, and kissed his cheek. "My hero."

Miguel smiled lovingly at you as he leaned down to kiss your lips. He sat on his chair, his beer in one hand and another arm around your waist. You sat between his legs, resting your back against his chest, stealing kisses from each other occasionally.

After lounging at the beach all day, you return to the luxury cabana you've been staying in.

When you finally returned, you immediately plopped onto the bed, closing your eyes.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you were startled when you felt arms lift you from the bed bridal style. You headed out to the outdoor terrace, facing the gorgeous view of the ocean. Your gaze landed on the table beautifully set up with food, wine, and candles, giving natural light.

"This is beautiful, Miguel. What's the occasion?" Miguel sat you in one of the chairs before sitting beside you.

"No occasion. I know you wanted to explore more today, but I just wanted to have dinner with the two of us."

You leave your seat and walk to his side of the table. Miguel happily moves his chair out so you can sit on his lap. "I don't mind if it's just you and me. Not one bit."

A giggle leaves your lips as Miguel kisses your neck and the top of your chest. You grabbed a fork, picked up a piece of food, and fed it to him.

"Is it delicious?"

"It is. But I've had more delicious things." Miguel took the fork from your hand and set it on the table. You scrunch your brows, wondering what could be better than a 6-star dish.

"And what could that be?" You chuckle.

Miguel kissed your neck up to your ear as he whispered, " You." Lifting your bridal style in his arms, he kissed your lips in a heated, loving manner as he led you inside towards the bedroom.

———-

After another long night of passionate lovemaking, you wake up to another lovely morning with an ocean view. You turn in bed to find it empty. Frowning slightly from the lack of extra warmth, you leave the bed and head to the walk-in closet. After putting on some panties, pajama shorts, and one of Miguel's T-shirts, you walk towards the living area. However, you find it empty. You then hear your husband's laughter echo outside from the deck.

You smile as you walk outside and see him on FaceTime with your daughter. Walking up to sit next to him on the sofa, he smiles lovingly at you and kisses your cheek, saying, "Good morning, mi amor."

"Mama!"

"Baby bug! I've missed you!!"

"I've missed you too, Mama! When are you and Papa coming home?"

"A little over a week until we come back home," Miguel answered, and Gabi's lips turned into a pout as tears began to form from the corner of her eyes.

"Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. It's going to be ok. We'll be back in a flash." Tears threatened to spill from your own eyes as it broke your heart to see your daughter sad and missing you and Miguel.

"Gabi, remember what I told you?" Gabriel spoke up as he wiped her tears away.

She rubbed her eyes as she shyly shook her head.

"Mama and Papa have to go on a long journey because they need to talk to a magical waterfall to ask for a baby so you can have a brother and sister."

You tried so hard to keep a straight face. Out of all the ways to explain how children are made, he says this? You sighed, and a smile graced your lips. Gabi's pout turned into her adorable smile as she believed her uncle's story.

"Papa! Mama! Can I have a little sister, please!"

"Sadly we can't decide princesa. Only the magical waterfall can." Miguel told her, joining in on the story.

"Oh, ok."

"Baby bug, if you have a little brother or sister, I bet they would love to hang out and play with you no matter what." Your words kept a smile on her face.

"Alright, Gabi. We have to get you to your play date," Gabriel said, to your daughter's disappointment.

"But I want to talk to Mama and Papa more."

"It's ok, princesa. You can talk to us when you finish your play date."

"Promise."

"We promise. We love you, baby bug." You blow her a kiss, which she does back as she says she loves you both before hanging up the phone.

Miguel puts your legs on his lap before pulling you closer to him. He leans over and kisses you, which you happily reciprocate. The kiss leads to a heated make-out session, distracting you both until you hear an alarm from Miguelon 's phone, indicating it is time to head over to the dock for the catamaran.

After getting properly dressed, you head to the pick-up destination. The catamaran wasn't private, as none were available, so you and Miguel would be sharing it with three other couples.

When the boat arrives, you stare in awe at its beauty. Feeling Miguel's hand on your lower backside brings you back to reality as you walk on the catamaran.

You both found the perfect place to sit and relax in the sun together.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome! We will be arriving at the caves in 30 minutes. Please feel free to enjoy the open bar while you relax."

"Do you want me to get you a beer?" 

"That would be amazing, Hermosa. Thank you." Miguel pulled you close and quickly kissed your lips before you went to the bar to get the drinks.

As you were waiting for the drinks, your gaze lazily wandered. Suddenly, you noticed a man checking you out. He winked at you, but you scoffed and rolled your eyes. Luckily, his girlfriend saw it, and you smiled when you heard a smack. Thanking the bartender, you walked back to your husband with the drinks.

"Here you go, honey." You pass him his favorite beer.

"Thank you, mi amor." Miguel kissed your cheek before taking a sip of his beer.

"Oh! I want to get a photo of us before we enter the water."

Miguel smiled as he grabbed your waist and brought you to sit between his legs, letting your back rest against his chest. You raised the phone to take a photo, with Miguel stealing a kiss or two between photos, which made you giggle, urging him to stop the PDA. He whispered into your ear, " Then I'll just have to make up for the time showing you how much I love you back in the bedroom." This sent a nice chill up your spine.

"Hey! Would you like me to photograph the two of you?" A redheaded woman around your age with a warm smile approached the two of you.

"That you be amazing. Thank you." You hand her your phone. She happily takes a few photos, which turn out to be amazing. You need to put one in a frame.

"Thank you. Would you like me to take one for you?" You offered.

"That would be amazing. Let me get my fiancé." The woman leaves before returning with a man. Your eyes widen when the familiar, slightly older face awkwardly smiles back at you.

"This is Matt. My fiancé. I'm Chelsea, by the way."

Who would have thought that the guy Miguel stole you away at the bar that night years ago would be right in front of you?

"It's been a while, hasn't it." Matt chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"It has. About that night. Apologies for stealing her." Miguel chuckled as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him.

"No worries, man. All good. Plus, if I didn't leave when I did that morning after bumping into the both of you, I never would have bumped into the love of my life in the elevator." Matt brought Chelsea close and kissed her cheek.

"I could say the same thing about finding my true love." Miguel looked at you with a loving gaze. If he could, he would give you the entire universe.

"What brings you here?" You asked.

"Matt popped the question to me yesterday. So we decided to go on this catamaran to celebrate. What about you?" Chelsea asked.

"It's our honeymoon. We got married last week."

"Congratulations! Hope you've been having fun here."

"We have." Miguel looks at you, your cheeks tinted pink, as you notice the lustful cloud over his eyes.

You talked more with Chelsea as you waited for the boat to reach its destination. As soon as your skin became too warm under the sun, you sighed in relief when the captain announced your arrival.

When you were allowed to get into the water, you didn't hesitate. You went in, followed by Miguel. Since the water was very salty, it was easy to float. You swam up to Miguel, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his lips, and placing his hands on your hips as he brought you closer.

"Ready to explore?" You ask as your lips separate from his.

"You or the caves?" he chuckled. You lightly slapped his chest, trying to hide your smile but failing.

As you swim to one of the caves, the water becomes shallow enough for Miguel to stand. When you arrive at the cave, you pass through a sheet of water flowing over the entrance. You swim in first, followed by Miguel.

Your eyes widen at the cave's beauty, with the blue water and natural light coming into the cave, reflecting a beautiful blue on the walls. As you continued deeper into the cave, you could finally stand.

A breath shuttered out of your chest as you felt Miguel pressed up against you. His fingers brushed against your neck as you pushed your hair to the side as he kissed your neck. You smiled as you leaned into his touch.

"Miguel, we shouldn't. Someone might see." You giggle as his lips lightly tickle your neck.

"Cariño, there are multiple caves. And the couples who decided to go for a swim went to different caves, for what I'm assuming the same reason for what we're about to do."

"You'll say anything to get into my pants." You smiled as you turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Can you blame me?" He chuckled as he grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he kissed your lips.

You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. His tongue is in your mouth as the make-out session grows more heated.

Miguel moved you towards a ledge. As he lies you down on the smooth rock surface, he brings you closer, head between your thighs. His hands go to the side of your thighs as he slides the bottoms of your bathing suit off.

Your slight, worried glance made him chuckle as he wrapped your bottoms around his wrist so they wouldn't get swept away by the water.

"You only have 30 minutes." You chuckle out a breath as he lifts your legs to his shoulders.

"I'll make sure to make it count."

You let a small moan escape from you as his teeth nip your inner thighs before placing his lips on your clit. Your fingers intertwine in his hair as his lips and tongue savored every part of you.

---

Your body was shaking after coming down from your fifth orgasm from your husband's mouth. A warm chill went up your spine as his tongue moved from your clit to your stomach, breasts, and neck, then captured your lips with his.

Another moan escaped from you as you felt him push himself inside you, still able to stretch you no matter how many times he's fucked you.

After having more fun in the cave, you enjoy the rest of your time on the catamaran, drinking and enjoying the ocean view.

It was now nighttime, and after taking a shower to wash off, you decided to cuddle in bed together and watch a show.

Resting your head against his chest, his arm wrapped around you, holding you close as your legs intertwined with his to keep your feet warm.

"I'm sad this honeymoon dream we're in will end in a week. But it also means the start of a new chapter in our lives, which I'm excited for."

Miguel looks at you with a loving smile as he brushes some of your hair behind your ear. "Every day with you is my dream. I love you, cariño."

"I love you more." You lean up and kiss him. He cups your cheek as his thumb grazes over it.

"I love you more than the universe and will for eternity."

————————————————————————

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Two more to go!🥰

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[ivy-loves-chocolate]

hi! i wanted to start this off by saying i love your writing, it's so wonderful!!! could i request the RE men on how they'd act on their wedding/eloping day w fem!reader please? fluff & nsfw are more than welcome :) thank you!!!

୨୧ Note: thank you so much anon for the kind words 🥺 and of course you can request that! You can request anything! This idea is very beautiful and thank you for it. I had a fun time writing it, and I hope you will have a fun time reading it as well 💖

୨୧ Warning: this post contains nsfw scenes.

Also, my commissions are open, so if you are interested visit my ko-fi page. Thank youuuu 🥰

He wants to keep things intimate. While the idea of a big, extravagant wedding appeals to him, he values the thought of spending this special day just with you, where he can truly be himself. In private, he can express his love and admiration without holding back, showing you his soft and gentle side, away from the prying eyes of others.

This means he’ll make your elopement day unforgettable. He'll hire a priest to officiate your union, will book the most luxurious hotel, and he'll also prepare the itinerary for your honeymoon. He wants to spend an entire month with you, where you will be travelling, experiencing new things, and deepening your bond.

He'd spend weeks working on his vows. Don't get me wrong, he makes sure you know how much he loves you. Every day, even if it's a gesture or a small action, by the time you go to sleep, you need to know that you are being worshipped and loved.

His heart will fill with joy, and his eyes will sparkle with pride as he sees you in that white dress. All he can think of is how lovely and elegant you look, and also how beautiful it will look on the floor when you get to your room.

He'd start off slowly, gentle, wanting to take his time with you. He will place kisses all over your body, starting with your lips and neck, going all the way down between your legs. His tongue will move relentlessly over and around your clit, his fingers curling and twisting inside you, pulling out some delicious moans out of you—those kinds that make his shaft twitch.

He will press his body over yours, looking for closure, as he pushes his cock inside of you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, keeping him tight in your embrace. As he keeps stretching you, he kisses your neck and whispers praises in your ear about how well you take him and how good your pussy feels.

He cums inside you multiple times that night, filling you up to the brim. He yearns that one day he can see your belly full with his kids. He doesn't care about the gender; all he wants are a lot of healthy little ones. You can imagine the excitement when you showed him the positive pregnancy test.

He wants an elopement day because he never knows when he'll have to hop on his next mission. So, after you said "yes," he bought two plane tickets to a country with the fastest departure date available.

Before leaving, he helped you out with the list of things that needed to be done, and luckily everything went incredibly smoothly, as if this holy union was meant to happen.

Even if the ceremony was quicker than expected, you managed to feel the magic of the moment, the suspense and emotions after saying "I do," the overwhelming joy while reciting and hearing each other's vows, and the tingling and burning love of the kiss that bound your souls. Even if his life is full of uncertainties, he is happy to know that you are one constant in his life.

After that, you spent the whole day walking around the city. An elderly couple saw your formal attire, and they were so confused after they heard you just got married, but they were so adorable in their uncertainty. "Why do you mean you got married? Just like that? Where are the guests? Where did you hold the ceremony?" They were very open-minded about it, and they began sharing their wedding day.

After that, you ate at a local restaurant. Again, nothing fancy, something you both liked that had a good view and good food.

The hotel was nice too, but none of you got a chance to admire it as you were too drunk and too over each other. Until you reach your room, both of you engaged in a hot make-out session.

Leon undresses you quickly. The cold air didn't have a chance to tickle your hot skin as Leon was fast to roll over you. Skin pressed on skin tightly, he kept whispering a lot of sweet praises that just trickled over your fevered heart, as they felt so much more intense than would normally say them. His lips felt like feathers on your skin, and they couldn't stop as your melodic moans kept fuelling the burning desire he had for you.

He helped you position yourself on top of him and gasped for air as your warm cunt began to engulf his cock. The warm walls kept contracting around him as you went up and down, and your hips didn't take a single break from moving as Leon felt so good inside of you. His curved shaft kept rubbing that spot inside you, and desperate moans kept escaping your mouth as you felt your orgasm coming, each more melodic and louder than the other. You rested your hand on his chest as your legs became tired, but Leon's powerful grip on your hips helped you keep the pace.

Your legs began shaking, and you collapsed on top of him, feeling that pressure fading from your belly. Your pussy contracted around him, beginning to milk him as soon as he came. You could hear his sobs, his sweet and pathetic ones, as he released a couple of hot, thick spurts inside you.

He kept watching his wife with an adoring gaze for the rest of the night and only fell asleep when the first rays of the sun pierced the sky.

He wants an elopement day with a few guests and a small reception. Even if the idea of a secret wedding day pierced his mind, he decided that it's best to spend this important day with those who are closest to you.

Luis often compliments you, his lips being nothing more than a music stave on which words flow, creating an anthem dedicated to your beauty. He is the type of man to cherish everything about you.

He chose a cabin in the woods because he wanted to give you the fairytale wedding you dreamt of. It's very intimate and very secluded from the outside world. The whole evening felt like you were in a bubble stuck in time. Neither of you felt how the time passed; you were too preoccupied to consume and cherish this special moment. His eyes followed you all day, admiration and desire growing with each passing minute.

Since he was very eager to be alone with you, he carried you with a smirk to your room.

"God, I wanted you all night," he'd whisper in a sweet tone as he'd lay you on the bed. "The way this dress fit on your body…" His hands did most of the talking for him, as they moved so gently yet firmly to take off your dress. He took his time with you, wanting to savour every inch of your body. When he pushed the dress past your boobs, he couldn't resist and stopped to give them some attention. Those beautiful hard nipples were just so beautiful that he had to suck them for a brief moment. You began to moan instantly as you felt his skilled tongue going in circles around the sensitive buds, and you grabbed his hair in a firm grip just how he liked it.

"I can't have enough of you…" he said between moans.

"Me neither…undress me, please." You sobbed as you pushed his head down, urging him to continue. Your mouth watered at the simple thought of his cock going inside you. You wanted him so, so bad that it hurt. You could see his chest rising and falling, showing how heavily he was breathing. He was burning up with desire and passion.

He slid the dress across your body with one smooth move and tossed it on the floor. After that, he quickly got rid of his own clothes, and when you noticed his swollen, red cock, your whole body shivered.

He quickly jumped on top of you, and soon he pushed the first inches in your pussy, stretching you nice and easy given how wet you were.

"It's like you were made for me…." he whined, his mind being clouded by euphoria.

Luis kept increasing his pace, being driven by his own arousal and by your delightful moans. Your cunt was so intoxicating for him, as it clouded his judgement, removing every ounce of self-control and making him act on pure instinct, and his instinct at that time was to bury himself inside you over and over and over until he had consumed everything, and then start again.

He kept rubbing that spot inside of you, increasing the pressure in your abdomen until you felt like bursting. Eventually, the orgasm hit you hard, and it hit him too. He filled you up to the brim, hot, thick spurts of his cum flowing inside you.

He watched you the whole night, not wanting to close his eyes because he wanted to remember your beautiful, sleeping face. Eventually, the fatigue was stronger, and he fell asleep, dreaming of your future.

Surprisingly, he wants a wedding day. After everything he'd been through, he wants something beautiful, something bright, something to remind him that this world is worth living in. Besides, he knew how much you wanted a big wedding, so he wants to comply and satisfy every wish that you have.

Krauser also has a bit of an ego that needs to be satisfied, and this wedding is perfect for that. Every detail will stand out, from the reception to your dress. He was fully involved in planning everything, completely committed to you every step of the way.

Everything was well organised and planned by the second, just as he likes. His heart was filled with joy and pride when heads turned to admire you as you walked down the aisle. He was very handsome too, but you took the spotlight, and he couldn't be more happy. Holding your hands, looking into your eyes, and saying "I do," these moments will be imprinted in his brain, and this feeling will live in his heart until the day he will die.

Having arrived in the room, his hands immediately glued themselves to your body. He barely contained himself all night. Slight touches here and there, under the table, on the dance floor, a small make-out session in the wardrobe—he was boiling up with desire and need.

"You are gorgeous, so, so gorgeous," he said amidst the kiss. A lot of tension was between you that needed to be released.

Krauser managed to take off your pompous dress in a skilled way, leaving you bare. Once he saw your naked body, his mind was clouded at once with an urging need to fuck you senseless, so he picked you up and threw you on the soft mattress.

He was insatiable. His tongue kept drawing circles around your swollen clit over and over, and his fingers would fuck you relentlessly until his whole hand was soaked. His cock was throbbing in his pants more frequently as your moans increased in volume.

"You taste delicious, honey," he said between his own moans.

"I know…now can you please fuck me?" You sobbed, being more and more desperate for his cock, and it's normal considering how much he teased you in the evening.

"How can I say no to you, my love?" he said as he stood up, one hand on your face and the other working to remove his pants. "God, you are so beautiful." His big thumb was running over your cheek; his gaze was full of admiration.

He gave you what you wanted, and he made sure that you'd cry out his name on each and every thrust. His cock massaged that spot inside you so well that it made you curl your toes immediately. You hugged him tight because your emotions were all over the place.

Eventually, your orgasm hit you hard, causing your body to tremble a bit. Krauser made sure to empty his load inside you, and that was so easy considering how your wear cunt kept milking him.

After that, he took care of you. He helped you get ready for bed; he ordered some food and put on a good movie. Of course that you went a couple more rounds after and eventually fell asleep exhausted.

[lisired]

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yani, 22, she/they

⤷ 18+ blog primarily for long nct fics. masterlist below. no requests.

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⤷ MARK LEE, 19.9k

Two months ago, you and Mark called it quits and haven’t spoken to each other since. As per tradition, your respective friend groups gather each Christmas eve to keep the peace, but this year somebody has a different plan. And the new chick on Mark’s arm isn’t the worst thing to happen.

PRETTY LITTLE WEAPON

⤷ MARK LEE, 25.7k

A lifetime worth of adversity had brought you to Bloodlust. You joined them to escape your history, but with Mark Lee - an undercover narcotics agent with a secret to keep - comes the threat of being forced to confront your past. Old wounds are opened, but scars heal.

(AT THE END OF THE DAY) EVERYBODY DIES

⤷ LEE HAECHAN, 20k, 3/3 of the wanted: dead or alive series.

denial after denial, your step-brother continues to nag you about an upcoming high school reunion, until you finally agree to tag along. it’s awkward seeing your ex-boyfriend, haechan, again for the first time in years, but you have no time to dwell on the past with the threat of undead students banging on the school gates.

CHANGE YOUR MIND YET?

⤷ LEE HAECHAN, 4.6k

You’re going to kill him. You swear, You’re going to kill him. how did Liu Yangyang accidentally tell Lee Donghyuck—your greatest enemy—that you think he’s hot and that you’ve been in a dry spell recently? Now you have to avoid the inevitable confrontation, and worst of all, deal with the most stubborn person alive (who ironically thinks that you’re the most stubborn person alive).

FOREVER YOURS

⤷ LEE HAECHAN, 23k

Thirst for exhilaration and a stupid dare brings you, your boyfriend Haechan, and your friends to the eerie camping grounds of Chimera - the name of a town rumored to be occupied by a number of vengeful, lurking spirits. But nothing is as it seems in this ghost town.

LOVE JONES

⤷ LEE HAECHAN, 25.5k, part one, part two

After breaking off your engagement to your fiance, you move to Los Angeles to pursue a modeling career. There in the fairytale land where stars go to shine you meet Haechan, an aspiring photographer with a penchant for mischief and flirtation.

SMILE FOR THE CAMERA

⤷ LEE HAECHAN, PARK JISUNG, 19.8k

upon accidentally finding a video of you and your boyfriend haechan doing some very sexual things, jisung knows that he shouldn’t watch it. he knows that it would be an extreme invasion of privacy, but he’s unable to control himself when he sees the thumbnail. so he settles for only watching 30 seconds. except, 30 seconds turns into 30 minutes, and by then he’s buried himself too deep into a life-changing situation—or in which jisung’s terrible at keeping secrets.

SUPERMODEL

⤷ LEE HAECHAN, 23k

Five years ago, you left your hometown and ex to recreate your identity in California. Now, you're a staple of the fashion industry and on the front cover of magazines everywhere. Your hard work has paid off, but when you realize that you might be pregnant, you have to decide whether you want to be a full-time model or a full-time mother.

THE DEVIL’S CUP

⤷ LEE HAECHAN, 6.8k

In a world where humans and demons are separated by earth and the unknown, you’re curious about the creatures that most mortal beings are too frightened to investigate. More specifically if they can please you sexually. As they say, curiosity killed the cat.

WHO NEEDS CUPID’S BOW?

⤷ LEE HAECHAN, 11.1k

Cupid is not on your side, it seems. He’s made you fall in love with the worst possible person ever, AKA your best friend, AKA the man who still eats tootsie-pops—willingly. And frankly, it feels like the damn candy has a better chance of dating him than you ever will.

[nilboxes]

Outlining thoughts about a media reference in Penacony that is heavily Aventio implied.

More philosophy of Aventurine and Dr Ratio.

At the very bottom of Dreamflux Reef is a little event where you wait by a train platform, it never comes and you get an achievement afterwards called “Waiting for Godot '' which is a play about two men doing what the title says, along the way one of them consistently insists to perform self-exit. Sound familiar? 

I was curious about the title of the achievement because that seemed like a reference and upon some quick research, “Waiting for Godot” is an allegorical work demonstrating the “Theater of the Absurd” which presents absurdist themes and situations in a play.

A bit of refresher on the philosophy of absurdism– it is the belief and acceptance that the universe is inherently meaningless, but one can find ways to accept it and live with it. This is just a very simplified sentence of the idea, of course, but continuing on…

The play opens with two men, Estragon (Gogo) and Vladimir (Didi) who are waiting for Godot by a tree. Vladimir is the more philosophical, level headed of the two who is always pulling Gogo away from his bursts of worry, while Gogo seems more out of it and neurotic, freaks out, also expresses the desire to sleep or is trying to find a means to get out of waiting for Godot by hanging himself.

They basically do nothing except talk the entire play. The way they talk they are demonstrated to have a close relationship and dependent relationship with each other, able to blather endlessly in circles in order to pass the time, and speak of things like ‘our honeymoon’, how long they have been together and at one point Gogo demands Didi to embrace him, which the other obliges. 

The play continues with the arrival of someone who they mistake for Godot but isn’t. The play ends with them both being told by a boy sent by Godot himself that he will not be arriving that day. Didi asks for descriptions of Godot, as neither Gogo nor Didi have a clue what Godot looks like, but the boy doesn’t provide much, and merely assure the pair Godot will arrive tomorrow. Both Gogo and Didi say they will leave, but stay on the stage. A shorter act two basically has the same ending, with Godot sending the same boy to tell the two men the same news, but the boy denies being the same boy from yesterday and he does not remember either of the men. Didi gets angry and tells the boy to remember so they can avoid repeating this encounter. The boy exits, the two men consider suicide, but they don’t have rope to hang themselves on the tree, so they decide to leave and come back tomorrow but the actors on stage only remain. End of play. 

Some of the more standout scenes to me as I can’t help but feel Gogo asleep alludes to sleep as a rehearsal of death, and the one “left behind” experiences the weight and anxiety of being conscious while bereft of their companion as they wait.

Notable conversations they have I find interesting was how Gogo brings up hanging himself and they both argue about who should be first. Gogo insists Didi go first as Didi is heavy and if the bough breaks as Didi hangs himself, Gogo is afraid to be left alone. 

Another conversation, at one point Gogo falls asleep, Didi lets him, but soon finds the silence unbearable and wakes Gogo up. Gogo complains, and wishes to share his nightmares but Didi vehemently refuses and doesn’t want to hear it. 

The play is effectively a metaphor of the state of living in the absurd. Gogo and Didi spend all the time waiting for Godot, who is ‘meaning’ personified. Gogo and Didi find ways to pass the time (live through life) discussing, reminiscing, needing comfort from each other only to be acutely aware they are still trying to find “meaning”, despair a little and ultimately rinse and repeat to do it again. Godot will never come, the two men make it seem like a big deal, but it is a small part of their day compared to what they do, how much they enjoy each other’s company and what they come to experience while waiting for Godot, and that’s the entire point. 

A lot of the play again, is basically talking, some sense within the nonsense. As HYV references this play at the very “bottom” of the dream we can reach so far, it’s obvious this play was one of the inspirations for the Penacony story and that we as the TB were also living in our own theater of the absurd. 

I also see a bit of Aventurine and Ratio’s relationship in Gogo and Didi. Gogo who is anxious, unsettled and not keen to wait on Godot, very eager to end it all like Aventurine. Didi who is not too better off but trying his best to stay rational and philosophical and to wait. The two also act like a married couple, bicker endlessly but enjoy it and arguably are in distress whenever the other might leave. 

It’s not 1:1 but I do believe this is another supporting tidbit that Aven and Ratio really were written as a pair and meant to complement each other. 

It’s tiny but Aventurine sleeping when we first start the 2.1 quests with him proper to be woken up by Ratio couuuld be a callback to this.

Anyway another fun tidbit that the devs left at the train station, there’s two balloons situated by a bench. One is horizontal on the bench, implied to be sleeping. The other is looking at the sleeping one. That’s Gogo and Didi! 

So, that’s it for that! It’s been on my mind for over a few weeks now why they put that in there. The play was fun to read, there’s a bit about the third person who joins them that isn’t very relevant to the read here. I also was heavily reminded of Spirited Away during the little sequence to get the achievement. There’s a lot packed into this! 

Tl;dr the themes visited in the story of Penacony, and the character dynamics of Aven and Ratio were inspired a little by this play. They are made for each other. They are married. Aventio real. 

I wrote more on the philosophy of Aventurine and Dr Ratio here in another post.

The play is available to read online. The wikipedia entry of this play helped in this research So did this video: Why should you read "Waiting For Godot"? - Iseult Gillespie - YouTube

[sinkovia]

Futile Effort

Simon Riley x GN!Reader

Angst, mention of blood and death.

As you stood by the firing range, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the compound, the distant cracks of gunfire creating a rhythmic backdrop to the conversation you were trying to have with Simon.

Trying.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration building up inside you. Simon was sitting next to you, lost in his own thoughts as he absentmindedly smoked a cigarette. It was a scene you had grown all too familiar with.

"Hey" you began, trying to engage him in conversation about your day. "I was thinking, are you planning to work out tomorrow morning?"

You waited for a response, but it was as if your words had fallen on deaf ears. His eyes were fixed on some distant point, his expression unreadable. This wasn't the first time he'd tuned you out like this, and it was starting to wear on your nerves.

"Simon?" you prodded, your voice tinged with irritation.

Finally, he seemed to snap back to reality, his gaze shifting to you. "Sorry love, what were you saying?"

You couldn't help the frustration that welled up inside you. "I was asking if you're going to work out tomorrow morning," you repeated, your tone a bit sharper now.

He took a drag from his cigarette, his eyes narrowing slightly as he exhaled a plume of smoke. "Yeah, probably," he mumbled, his attention already drifting away again.

It felt like a slap in the face, his indifference and lack of interest in your conversation. You tried to push past the hurt that was creeping in and forced a smile. "Alright, just let me know if you want me to spot you,"

You doubted he'd even heard you.

You turned away, the weight of his inattention heavy on your shoulders. It wasn't the first time you felt like you were talking to a brick wall, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. It wasn't always like this. In the early months of your relationship, Simon had been attentive, hanging on your every word.

After the initial honeymoon phase of your romance, he gradually stopped listening to you. It felt as though the effort he had once put into your relationship had faded away with time, leaving you feeling unimportant and unheard. You had brought up the issue multiple times.

He tells you he'll be more present, more attentive, that he'll make an effort. But every time, it's the same story. Nothing changes, and you're left feeling hurt and ignored. You know it's not entirely his fault. Simon carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and his mind is still at war with his past. Still, that doesn't justify his constant zoning out when you're trying to talk to him.

You wish he would just communicate with you.

This morning, as the mission loomed ahead, you decided to test the waters one more time, asking him a simple question about using the shower first, and he didn't even acknowledge it, not even bothering to ask for clarification. He didn’t even ask where you were going when you left for your equipment check.

It's as if you were dead to him and it stung.

You wondered if he even loved you anymore. You doubt it.

Bullets were whizzing past your face and the explosion of a nearby grenade had made your ears ring. You had called out to Simon who was a few steps ahead of you trying to tell him that you couldn't hear.

But of course he didn't hear you.

If he had then he would have turned around and noticed the man that was creeping up behind you. The enemy operator came up behind you dragging his knife across your throat. Simon who was a couple of steps ahead of you only happened to glance back. 

He turned around his eyes wide at the sight before him. He was quick to put a bullet in the operator's head. As you lay there, choking on your blood, your eyes locked onto his, you desperately attempt to convey your final message. 

It's ironic, really, how he's never truly listened before, how your words have always seemed to fall on deaf ears. But now, in this moment of sheer desperation, he's straining to hear you, hanging onto your every choked breath.

You're struggling to speak, your voice choked by the crimson fluid gushing from your lips. Each word is a struggling effort, each breath is agony. Your hand trembles on your neck as he wraps his own around it, a poor attempt to keep the blood from spilling out. But it's too late. The world around you begins to blur, your vision fading into the distance. Your hand goes limp against his, and your once-stern gaze becomes distant, unseeing. You're gone, and yet Simon doesn't realize it.

He keeps trying, leaning in closer, straining his ears, his heart pounding in his chest. But the words never come, and there's nothing left to say. You were already dead, and no amount of listening could change that. The battle rages on around him, but he remains frozen in that moment, lost in the futile effort to understand your last words.

[writing-for-marvel]

Day 25: Body Worship

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky wants to prove to you how beautiful you are on the anniversary of the first time you met.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, sensual and romantic, oral (fem receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, hints at reader being insecure about her body, mentions a pocket of fat on her inside thigh

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: a special fic on a special day for me ❤️ dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library | Ko-fi

Your hand grasps Bucky’s bulging bicep as he leads you back into your hotel room after having kept you occupied sightseeing throughout the day.

You thought it was suspicious how interested he had been exploring the old city, when you could instead be exploring each other as he usually prefers, but when you see the scene in front of you as you return to your presidential suite, it all suddenly makes sense.

Candles flicker in the middle of a formally set table, luscious red rose petals scatter the white tablecloth and floor, and where the extravagant leather couch had been this morning, now an elaborate blanket fort has been constructed. Soft violin music plays in the background as Bucky leads you around the room, allowing you time to take in everything which has been set up specially for you.

“Do you remember what today is?” He asks in what you assume is in response to a dumbfounded expression on your face.

You wrack your brain for what on earth you’ve forgotten - a birthday, anniversary, special occasion? But you come up completely blank. Slowly shaking your head, the tips of your cheeks heat up, embarrassed that Bucky has organised such a romantic night for something you’ve completely forgotten.

“Three years ago today was the first time I laid eyes on you, the first time we met.” He informs without an ounce of judgement to be perceived in his tone.

It’s hard to believe it was only three years ago you met the man you now refer to as your soulmate, it feels like you’ve known this generous and passionate person an entire lifetime.

Bucky holds out his hand, which you take without question, and pulls you into his broad chest, swaying in time to the orchestral music. You rest your head on his strong pec, feeling his heart beating just for you as his soft lips kiss your hairline.

“Never in my life have I ever wanted anyone more than I wanted you.” His voice sounds shaky, almost as if he’s choked up and trying to get the words out without sounding affected.

You look up at him through your lashes to find your devoted husband with tears in his eyes, gazing at you like his entire world is resting in the palm of his hand.

“My life has not been the same since I met you. I can’t fathom an existence without you; everything is brighter, bolder, more colourful when you're next to me. This night three years ago, I remember going home to an empty bed and thought it was strange how much my mouth was hurting. It was such a weird sensation. Then I realised, it only hurt because I’d been smiling from ear to ear the whole time I was with you.”

“You never told me that.” Tears are now welling in your own eyes, but you fight them back so that you can memorise the smile curving on Bucky’s features and the twinkle in his eye that you’ve only ever noticed when he’s looking at you.

“I knew that night you were someone I wanted in my life, in whatever way you would have me. It was like I could see my entire future laid out in front of me, all encompassed in one strong, stunning woman, with the most gorgeous, sparkling eyes I’ve ever seen and a brilliant smile that makes my heart leap out of my chest every single damn time. And here I am the luckiest man in the entire world that you chose me to be the one you trusted with your heart.”

He takes your hand while still swaying to the inflections of the string instrument, and presses the palm of your hand against his chest. His heartbeat is quicker than the pace you’re used to feeling while he’s resting, but the notion that his thoughts of you are the reason his body is reacting in such a way makes your own heart leap out of your chest.

“I would never give it to anyone else, my love.”

“Te iubesc pentru totdeauna [I love you forever]. I still can’t believe you’re all mine.” His smile is as bright and warm as the setting sun, and right now you’re Icarus flying fatally close.

But James Barnes is worth falling out of the sky for.

The words tasting sweet and sincere on his pillow soft lips when you kiss him. His mouth moves slowly, yet purposefully against yours, trying to convey his love for you in action, rather than just words. His hands cup your jaw, coaxing you to open up to him, his tongue dancing with yours in a display of his yearning need.

“I wanna give you the whole world.”

“You already have. You are my whole world.” This time it’s him who kisses you, with much more ardour and intensity, sweeping his tongue in your mouth. His hands slide down the length of your back and pull you flush with him, a moan escaping his lips as your hands tangle in his hair. He hasn’t had it cut since before the wedding, and the additional length allows you to tug on the ends nicely. “Let’s skip dinner and go straight to dessert, shall we?”

“You’re the only thing I’m craving tonight.” The hunger in his eyes certainly indicates he could devour you like a five course meal if he were so inclined, so who are you to stop him?

His large hands on your hips slowly turn you around so your ass is pressed against his front. They trace the curves of your figure gradually, taking his time, paying attention to every swell and dip of your shape which he has helped you learn to love.

Bucky zips down your dress, the material coming loose over your shoulders, and with a little shimmy, you’re almost naked before him.

“God, you’re so gorgeous. Let me show you how beautiful you are to me.”

Boys you dated in the past were only interested in one thing: seeing you naked. Though Bucky loves you bare and writhing for him, he first and foremost loves who you are; loves your soul. Being able to strip you off your clothes has always been a privilege to him, not a right.

His lips press gentle, feather light kisses along your shoulder as he rids you of your underwear, and all of a sudden you feel very exposed standing in the middle of the room, even though Bucky’s seen you naked a thousand times.

As soon as he turns you around again to face him, eyes brimming with nothing other than pure adoration and devotion, that nagging feeling of being on display evaporates. He loves you, has vowed to spend the rest of his life worshipping you, there is not a single inch of your body that Bucky Barnes does not love.

“Lay back for me baby.” Bucky requests, his powerful hands assisting you as you fall back into the blanket fort. “I got you.” He promises, ensuring you don’t collapse in a way that will result in you being hurt. The care in his touch, how gentle this burly, tattooed man is, as if he is handling a precious artefact he cannot afford to damage.

Though Bucky looks ready to take you right then and there, he starts out slowly, trailing kisses down your neck, covering your chest and breasts, tongue swirling around your nipples and sucking on both of them until they form stiff peaks, all the while whispering sweet praises against your hot skin.

“My beautiful wife. So fucking gorgeous. My Queen. These perfect tits. God, these hips, these fucking hips. And your thighs, they drive me insane. Just wanna be buried between them. Wanna give you everything, all of me. Gonna make love to you, darling. Make you feel so good.” His breath is hot against your skin, words of devotion whispered just for your ears as he places sweet kisses on the inside of your thighs, staring at your knee, and making his was towards your core, paying particular attention to the pocket of fat you’d forever disliked about your legs, but Bucky has always adored.

A moan escapes your mouth and your eyes roll back as Bucky’s strong arms hold your thighs apart and his lips close around your clit. It’s almost unexpected, with how he had been taking his time treasuring all other parts of you, but you feel a flood of wetness gush out of you at the intimate contact.

There’s a sense of power having a man as important as James Barnes lying between your legs, treating you like a queen, obsessed with bringing you to orgasm. But when Bucky looks up at you through his lashes as he suckles on your clit, you feel nothing but a rush of palpable love.

His tongue is experienced in those little lapping movements that have you throwing your head back, his strong hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you completely open for him. Bucky’s hips rut into the pillows and blankets below him as you grind your hips on his face.

You can’t even control the obscene sounds falling from your lips as Bucky continues to abuse your pussy, your hands flying to his hair as he leads you closer and closer to the edge of the ultimate high.

“You look so beautiful when you cum - show me.” The lower half of Bucky’s face glistens with your juices before he dives back into your folds, as hungry as ever.

You oblige, as you do every time your dangerously gorgeous husband requests this from you, it’s like his words themselves compel you to satisfy his order. Your back arches off the pillows, your whole body trembling as a devastating pleasure rips through you, it feels like burning sunshine radiates in your veins, surging with every pulse.

Bucky’s lips don’t let up their suction until your thighs stop shaking, only to switch his attention to your stomach, showering every inch of your soft skin with kisses as his hands knead your breasts.

You feel cold and empty for a moment as Bucky focuses on stripping off his clothes, but as soon as he looks back at you, completely bare and ready to finish what he started, warmth blooms in your chest.

“I’m so fucking hard for you, darling.” Bucky sits on his heels, thick cock in hand as he rubs his leaking tip through your soaking folds, humming at the sensation. A whine falls from your lips, desperate for him to fill you up, for you to feel so utterly full and satiated by him that you’re almost on the brink of insanity.

“Need to feel you Buck, please, I need you so fucking bad.”

He mumbles something in Romanian you don’t understand in response as he pushes his swollen tip inside you. You let out simultaneous groans as he slowly fills you up. As he bottoms out, he rests his forehead against yours. You finally feel complete with him buried to the hilt.

“Fuuuccckkk… a lifetime of that feeling will never be enough.”

You moan against his mouth as his hands intertwine with yours, pinning them above your head as his eyes brim with pure love. He starts off slowly, almost agonisingly so, pulling all the way out of you before thrusting himself inside to where it feels like he’s in your stomach, watching your face intently to your reactions as his cock kisses your cervix.

His bare chest presses to yours, caging you in, hearts thundering against each other as you move together to a relentless rhythm, an intoxicating tide of intimacy and pleasure. His gaze and touch are full of love, a contrast to the harshness of the underworld he was carved out of, but you know it’s you who makes him tender.

“That’s my girl, taking me so well aren’t you?” Your nails rake down his back as you feel your walls clench down on his member. The rhythm of his cock stroking your velvety walls doesn't let up as his lips attach to your neck, sucking your skin in a way that makes you see stars.

He understands your wants and needs better than anyone else, learning the formula for your gratification in a way that none of your previous partners ever tried to.

“Oh God, you’re so deep, Buck. Feels so good.” His hips roll into yours fluidly, hips circling and rubbing against your g-spot so effortlessly with every thrust. The pressure in your lower belly threatens to engulf you, drown you in a sea of pleasure, but it’s a demise you’ll embrace when Bucky’s making you feel like you’re floating on a cloud of pure bliss.

Your orgasm approaches fast, the look of complete desperation in Bucky’s eyes only bringing you closer to the edge. All it takes is Bucky whispering a phrase in his native language and another deep thrust for you to come apart on his cock.

You can barely breathe with the ferocity of your high, it feels like an entire waterfall of pleasure washing over you at once, overwhelming, brutal, but oh so good.

“I’m gonna cum so hard for you baby.” Bucky moans as your walls flutter around him. He looks the picture of utter sexiness, jaw hanging open, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and that contrasting warm fondness in his blown out pupils.

Your chest squeezes when it’s your name that his lips enunciate as he spills his large load inside you.

You’re the one making him feel this good. You’re the only person who he will ever share this intimate side of himself with again. The only one who gets to see his face as he comes undone, steel blue eyes boring into yours as if he wants to remember each and every detail of your face as you cum together.

Bucky collapses next to you, arm slung around your waist as you both catch your breath. You smile at him and he beams right back as you sweep a strand of hair from his eyes.

“God, I’m so in love with you. Can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.” There’s a moment where he simply looks at you, as if trying to convince himself you laid beside him is in fact his reality, before he kisses the tip of your nose.

“You don’t have to imagine, Buck, I’m all yours, for the rest of forever.” You snake your arms around his torso and pull yourself flush against his broad chest, feeling him place a kiss to your hairline. “I love you.”

Bucky pulls a blanket over your intertwined bodies as you close your eyes, feeling completely content falling asleep beside the love of your life in a blanket fort.

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Mob!Bucky’s Kinktober Honeymoon Taglist: @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @kandis-mom @buggy14 @opheliastark @auntiegigi @alovecraft @cinnxbunny @zincxxx @cultofcarter @rose-alyssa @kaitlin013106 @wandas-gurlfri3nd @beautifulrare4leafclover @queenyamimarrero @littlerya @noobzandboobzandhooz @wanda2themax @lonelywolfheart @Kbananaclip14 @depressed-gays-of-marvel @ur--mommy @jollyfirebattrash @lauratang @casa-boiardi @raging-panda @nicoline1998enilocin @melsunshine @stinkerbelle007 @mememe7147 @happycat547 @matchat3a @Sirmeowertheruthless7 @Inlovewithficnalmen @katiemarsblog @irienanicole @buckyisveryhot @littleravengirl @whyamireadingthis @vase-of-lilies @Mrsrogers77 @saltyshluts @Wwhitewolff @buckysdogtagss @mylastnamesyuh @alexandria-fandom @andth3ywereroommates @avalongreene-09 @sargentbarnxes @keira324 @cherryschaos @missusbarnes-rogers @cherriesnwinee @Ellieangelbee @Shirayukiuzukaze @goldylions @elacinnamoon @buckysdollx @mrsmischief209 @capsbestgirl77 @its-just-smut-haha @ironmansson29 @Slutforderekhale @otome-loves-what @jacesswifey @winterslove1917 @black-mistress-of-evil @buckyscumwhore @purple-vegan

[sailoryooons]

BOONGI REQUEST THE SEQUEL !!! honeymooning with yoongi and your trip is a little too richly scheduled considering how horny you both are.... leads to fucking in some interesting places 🙈

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: Your tropical honeymoon is planned down to the very minute to get the most out of your trip but it seems that Yoongi has plans of throwing off your itinerary every time his hands touch you. 

❀ Word Count: 4,355

❀ Genre: Established relationship, pwp

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Absolutely self-indulgent and gratuitous smut, literally this is the most porn without plot I have ever done, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex, fucking from behind, semi-public fucking, light degredation, oral (m. and f. receiving), riding Yoongi, fucking from behind, face sitting, throat fucking, a lot of cum and spit and holes, Yoongi and reader fuck in public spaces where they cannot be seen a lot, temperature place, use of ice (please do not ever take ice from a random ice bucket and put it in your partners vagina, this is fiction and it was handy but do not do that lmao), cum swallowing and cum eating when you squint. 

❀ Published: August 9, 2023

❀ A/N: This is sort of a part two? You do not have to read the first request to read this one, they are easily read separately. Thanks for giving me an excuse to just write porn. There literally is nothing here but porn, I don’t even know if they have chemistry, but they fucking. Honestly I had to cut scenes out of this because I also imagined the infinity pool moment and so many other moments because M and I are fucking insane and ruminate on this shit, but at one point it was just… getting longer and I was RUNNING OUT OF WORDS FOR DICK AND COCK AND I HATE THE WORD DICK IN SMUT IF FEELS NOT VERY SEXY. Okay. Here is my ode to the love of my life, M. This somehow made me more insane.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Part One | Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust | Listen Along |

“Come on,” You murmur, lips pressed against Yoongi’s warm forehead. “We have a breakfast reservation at that place we talked about.” 

A deep groan rumbles through Yoongi’s chest. It’s dark in the bedroom of your resort, the lights still off and the sliding glass door window still shuttered. Your newly wed is tangled in white sheets, face pressed against the pillow and swollen with sleep. You bite your bottom lip to hide your smile as he buries his face deeper into the pillow.

It’s tropical warm in the room, your skin still heated from the sun the day before. Yoongi’s cheeks are sun-kissed blossom, bottom lip jutted out as he pouts. You think about the night before, biting that bottom lip hard as you came around him in the shower, cold water pebbling on hot skin. 

Sighing, you climb onto him, knees on either side of his waist as you sit. His chest is flushed and warm as you lean down, dress riding up your thighs as you press your forehead to the side of his head. His hair is messy, an inky halo around him as he lets out a sound again, very close to whining. 

Yoongi smells like coconut shampoo and palm breeze. It makes your stomach flip having him this close to you, flashes of the night before making your already sore thighs twitch. Ignoring your more carnal urges, you nudge him with your nose, huffing. Sliding your hands around to the back of his neck, you thread your fingers through his silky hair, holding him there. 

“Don’t you want breakfast?” you ask, hoping the promise of food will lure him from bed.

Yoongi is fully awake now. “Mhmm.” 

Yoongi frees his hands from the sheets and places them on your thighs, squeezing. His hands are warm and callused, sparking a curl of pleasure in you as he rubs them up and down your legs. It’s an innocent touch, but your thoughts turn devious. 

When Yoongi’s hands trace to the round curve of your ass to grab a handful of flesh, you let out a breathy sound and tighten your grip on his hair. He hisses in appreciation, hips twitching off the bed as you growl, “What are you doing?”

Yoongi turns his head to face you, your foreheads pressed together as he bumps your nose with his. “I don’t need to leave for breakfast,” he murmurs, breath hot against your lips as he talks. His right hand gives you a playful crack on the ass, making you squeak as the sweet sting riles you up, your knees squeezing his waist. “I can eat right here.”

His hands are firm, fingers dimpling your rear end as he pulls you against his stomach and rolls your hips. Your eyes flutter shut at the barely-there friction, Yoongi lifting himself up a little to help you grind against him. 

“Yoongi.” 

The chastisement is nothing more than half of a breath, already feeling arousal curl in your stomach. Your thighs stretch painfully from the night before, a feel-good burn that makes you spread your legs a little wider to feel the pleasurable strain. 

“Come on,” Yoongi grunts. “Girl breakfast.”

“That’s not what that meme means.”

“Who gives a fuck. Sit on my face.”

Ignoring him is impossible. Yoongi’s hands palm your ass, pulling you forward. On unsteady knees, you shuffle up from his waist to his face, lifting the hem of your dress as you go. Yoongi hums appreciatively, slipping a hand between your legs to press his fingers against your clothed pussy. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, the stimulation jolting. “We have an itinerary.”

“Fuck the itinerary. You were going to go to breakfast like this?” he asks, slipping a finger under your underwear, swiping through your dripping folds. “All wet and sticky?” 

You whine, fists tightening in the fabric of your dress. He drags a curled knuckle up and down your pussy, pressing into your clit purposefully as he does, making your hips swivel a little. Yoongi laughs underneath you, mouth hot on your thighs as he leaves sloppy kisses, air cooling his spit on your skin as he goes.

There’s no escaping this. Any desire you had to go to breakfast with a view of the beach is gone as Yoongi nips at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, your legs trembling in anticipation. Yoongi is so good at this, making you bend to his will with just a few words and guiding hands. 

Yoongi’s breath is hot on your center as he peels your underwear to the side. You look down at him, pressing your dress flat to give you the perfect view. His dark eyes are focused on your cunt, his lips bubble gum pink, tongue darting out to wet them. His hair is fanned out around him, some pressed to his forehead. 

Smirking, Yoongi uses one hand to pull you forward, lowering you to his mouth. You hold your breath as he drags his tongue slowly from your leaking entrance to just below your clit before rolling licking back down, ignoring your bundle of nerves entirely. Your toes curl, immediately going white hot at the slow feeling of his tongue dragging through your folds. 

“Oh,” you sigh, eyes shutting as Yoongi hums and repeats the motion, determined to take his time. 

With one hand wrapped in your dress, you lean forward, pressing the other hand against the wall to keep you upright. You hang your head down, heady-heavy, eyes falling shut as you heave shuddering breaths.

Yoongi’s tongue is wicked, laving up and down experimentally as you shake on top of him. He hums appreciatively, pulling you down to his mouth further by your ass. A sharp moan escapes you when he fastens his mouth to you, sucking your clit gently. The suction makes your head spin, your skin over warm and tingling, feeling faint in the dark room.

“Shit,” you pant, listening to him make a mess of you, all wet smacks and happy hums. “Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Mhmm,” he agrees. “Girl breakfast. Or is it wife breakfast?”

You’re too busy rolling your hips gently against Yoongi’s face to shoot something smart back, lost in the rough drag of his tongue against your cunt, the buzz of his mouth when he hums. You feel the way your stomach tightens, the way that pressure in your core builds, the tensing thighs. 

The sweet, saturated sound of Yoongi’s mouth backtracks your whines, your fist pressed against the wall, knuckles popping with the force. Sweat slicks down the back of your neck and your thighs tremble as you fuck his mouth in earnest, hips flexing.

It feels hot in the room, your dress sticking to your skin, panties stretched to the side as Yoongi has his way with you. The strap of your dress falls down, abandoned as you quiver, your shoes and purse long forgotten by the door as you start to come undone.

“Come on,” Yoongi pants against your pussy, tongue prodding your throbbing hole. You squirm at the feeling, wanting more. “Breakfast is supposed to have juice too.”

Your laugh sounds hysteric, closer to a high-pitched cry than anything. Yoongi is vicious, pressing his nose to your clit as his tongue fucks your entrance, drinking you in. You’re dizzy, ears ringing as your orgasm mounts. You start to tense up, teeth clenched, fingers pressed numb against the wall.

Eyes shut, head back, balmy skin, you come hard in his mouth, Yoongi’s tongue pressed against you, not missing a drop. You feel fuzzy drunk, letting Yoongi control your hips. He moves you against his mouth, bobbing his lead as he slurps, dropping staccato mhmms as he goes. 

When you’re falling into his lap, skin sweaty and panting, Yoongi sits up, the lower half of his face shining with your slick. He licks his lips, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. “Thanks for the meal,” he teases. “I want more.”

-

A high-pitched zing whines through the air, drawing your attention to look at the fishing rod on the back of the boat. The reel spins out of control as the line runs wild, handle circling as the fish on the hooked fish runs wild with the line. 

“Yoongi,” you gasp, turning back to him. 

“Fuck the reel,” he growls, fingertips pressing into your hips hard enough throb.

The vinyl cover of the boat seat is slippery with sunscreen, sweat and a little cum. Sun heats your bare back. The burn on your shoulders is nothing to the fiery arousal spooling in your stomach as Yoongi pulls you up by the hips, dragging you along his slick cock.

It’s a calm day on the water, the only motion coming from the way you roll your hips, fucking Yoongi in earnest on the bow of the boat. Blue water glitters around you, reflecting the sun back up toward a cloudless, azure sky.

Salty wind cools the back of your neck as you throw your head back, gasping when Yoongi presses a thumb to your clit, circling slowly. The gentle lapping of the water against the hull is drowned out by the wet slap of your ass on Yoongi’s pelvis, already soaked from your first orgasm.

Your second high blazes through you hotter than the beaming sun. Yoongi growls between gritted teeth, his grip savage as he helps you fuck him. Up down, up down, up down. His chest is flushed and raked with angry red nail marks.

Fishing plans long forgotten, you continue to ride him, the feel of Yoongi’s cock stomach-deep, your walls gripping him tight as you race toward another orgasm. It feels so good, your knees slipping as the boat bobs under you, the up and down motion aiding the way you glide on his dick. 

“Just like that,” Yoongi moans, head tossed back, hair damp and sweaty. He’s worked up, a beat of sweat dripping down his tan neck, jaw flexing as he tries to stop himself from coming. “Use me just like that, baby.” 

And you do, the tip of his dick brushing your g-spot every time you slide down, working your closer and closer until you’re seated in his lap, cock pushed to the deepest parts of you while you come hard around him.

Yoongi waits for you to come down for your high, post-orgasm twitching and panting before he pins you to his chest and holds you while fucking up into you a few more times before he clenches his teeth and comes.

Hot and spent, you both melt into one another, skin sliding against skin as you lay on his chest. He softens inside of you and you become hyper aware of the slide of your mixed juices dripping from your folds and running down your leg. You don’t care, closing your eyes as you inhale deeply.

Eventually, Yoongi lifts his head to peer over your shoulder. You turn around to see that the line has broken on the road and Yoongi laughs, sounding exhausted.

“Fuck it,” he sighs, laying his head back down and tightening his hold on you. “I don’t care.”

-

“My wife is such a little slut,” Yoongi grins, leaning against the sink as you take him further into your mouth. “You love having a mouthful of cock, don’t you?”

Looking up at Yoongi with wide, teary eyes, you hum the affirmative. Dark blush creeps up his neck, his skin visible where the top button of his white shirt is undone. He looks to die for tonight, with his long, dark hair slicked back and just touching his shoulders, a white short-sleeved button up, and dark pants. 

And you? You looked nice earlier, but now your dress is messy with sand from the bathroom floor, mascara running down you face as you swallow around your husbands cock, feeling your throat tighten as you force yourself to the limits. 

You’d at least manage to pay the bill before dragging him into the palm-textured bathroom and dropping to your knees, ignoring the way stray grains of sand from the beachside restaurant burn your knees in favor of taking him into your mouth.

Yoongi slouches against the sink, his shoulders pressed into the mirror as he closes his eyes and angles his head back. You take him further into your mouth, letting spit escape the sides and run down your chin, working what you can’t fit with your hand. Your wedding ring flashes in the low light and drives you mad, loving the way the diamond looks on your hand while it’s wrapped around him. 

You’re ravenous tonight, staring up at him with clenching thighs, watching the way Yoongi unravels. Pulling back, you pop off of him, strings of spit and precum connecting the brown tip of his cock to your lips. You break it, leaning forward to run your tongue along the frenulum of his cock, earning a whine from him.

Grinning, you continue your assault, dragging your tongue down the thick vein on the underside of his cock until you reach his balls, giving a teasing lick that makes his hips cant off the sink.

“Don’t fucking tease me,” he warns. “I fucked you the way you asked for three times today, baby. Don’t I deserve to cum in that pretty little mouth?”

“Yeah?” you ask, pumping him with your hand as you come back up. “Want to come in my mouth?”

Yoongi’s hand shoots to the back of your head, fingers squeezing your skull. It’s not painful, but it’s firm, making you grin up at him, delighted. “Okay then,” you agree, tightening your fist on him a little more, pumping him a little fast. “Fuck my throat.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. Yoongi’s grip on the back of your head stays solid, a comforting feeling as you get a little dizzy from the way he looks down at you, eyes fathomless. Starving. He uses his other hand to prop himself against the sink before he drives his cock into your mouth.

The slide is rough and messy. You flatten your tongue and open up the back of your throat, the sound of you choking wetly around him drowning out the hiss of air between his teeth. You breathe through your nose, your hands gripping his thighs and digging your nails in hard into his flexing thighs.

Absently, you wonder if anyone walking by can hear the gurgle of your mouth, the stilted grunts as he flexes his hips.

Throat burning, eyes stinging and dripping tears, you let Yoongi go wild until he’s coming deep down your throat, a hot and thick mess. He pulls out gently, letting you gasp for air, mouth swollen and sticky as you pant.

Yoongi pulls you up from your knees, holding you tight as you lose your balance. His grip is crushing and he smashes his lips to yours, licking into your mouth to taste the mix of cum and spit, hungry for it.

When he pulls away, his lips are pink and slick and his chest is heaving.

“We’re going to miss that concert I bought tickets for,” you complain, giving him a pout.

“Fuck that concert, we’re going back to the hotel room and I’m going to fuck you for the next three hours, baby.”

-

Admittedly, hiking wasn’t the best event on your itinerary. When you’d planned the adventure originally, you hadn’t accounted for the fact that your legs would be near unusable from days of Yoongi folding you in half to drill into you, or the fact that the jungle is, in fact, hot and humid.

Yoongi walks next to you, his thumbs tucked into the straps of his backpack as he goes. His hair is pulled up into a bun, a few loose strands sticking to his sweaty forehead. He hasn’t complained once since starting the uphill trek through the trees and sifting sand, though you can tell he’s also spent from his inability to stop touching you this entire trip.

But you really want to attempt to get to a single thing on your itinerary for this trip, and the ruins will be out of the question tomorrow when it rains. So, you persist, legs wobbling as you high up the path, shirt sticking to you and scent of sunscreen following you like a coconut cloud.

“You’re sure we’re going the right way?” Yoongi askes, looking up at the gleaming sun filtering between branches. “We haven’t seen a single person.”

“There’s steps, aren’t there?” you ask, gesturing to the path. “There’s ruins that aren’t as much of a climb that everyone prefers. Plus, it’s hot as shit. I wanted to see the good ones though.”

“Anything for you.” 

A few more minutes pass before Yoongi sees you lagging a little. The burn in your thighs is real, remembering acutely the way Yoongi had pressed them to your chest last night as he fucked you slow and deep. The memory makes you shiver, a post-orgasm twitch still haunting you an entire day later.

“Come on,” Yoongi urges. “It’s flat up here, we can step off the path and take a break.”

Yoongi finds some broken trees that have fallen sideways to sit on. You’re grateful, taking deep gulps of water. It immediately cools you down and you close your eyes, rolling your shoulders. Yoongi guzzles down water next to you, his arm pressed up against your.

After a few minutes sitting, you get up and turn to face the fallen tree, bending over at the waist to lean against it in a deep lunge, stretching your hamstrings. It’s a soothing sort of pain, the extension of muscle a relief. 

Yoongi looks at maps on his phone behind you, waiting as you you switch legs and arch your spine, feeling a few joints pop in release. It feels good and you sigh, letting the tension bleed out of you.

Hands find your ass, gentle and curious. You look over your shoulder to find Yoongi looking at you with his brows raised and head tilted. A question. You know he’ll back off immediately if you shoo him away. Instead, You burst into laughter and shake your head, “Seriously?”

“What?” 

You stare at him. He looks delicious, sweat dripping down his Adam’s apple, hair pulled back. He’s dressed simply and yet, looking at him looking at you, wanting you the way that he does makes you vibrate. It doesn’t matter how many times you have him, you always want him more. And again.

You married Yoongi for a myriad of reasons. Because he is gentle and kind, because you like the way he takes his coffee and reads the paper in the morning, because you like that he uses mint shampoo, because you like that he has to line his shoes up perfectly next to the door. 

Everything about him enchants you, and you’re over the moon to have someone who doesn’t shame you for your carnal desires, that you have someone who matches the energy, who can take it and give it to you anywhere you want. 

Yoongi is the perfect balance, always knowing when to initiate, always knowing when it's a good time.

“I know that look,” he smiles. “Now you’re thinking about it.”

“Can you be quick? I don’t want someone to stumble on us.”

“Fuck yeah I can,” he promises, dropping his backpack and popping the zipper on his pants. You let out a pathetic sound at the sight, earning a smug look from Yoongi. 

Yoongi peels your legs and underwear down to your knees, just enough to get access to you but also safe enough to pull them up quickly if you need. His clothed chest presses against your back as he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your middle in what seems like an innocent hug.

You gasp as the tip of his cock breaches your entrance, the stretch a little painful with no prep. It doesn’t matter, though. He pushes in slowly, letting you get used to it until he’s pressed in to the hilt, your pussy fluttering around him. 

“I love you,” Yoongi whispers, pressing butterfly soft kisses to your cheek and temple. He starts thrusting shallowly, stealing your breath away. “You are my perfect, beautiful, wonderful wife.”

“Fuuuck,” you whisper. Yoongi isn’t fucking around, making his thrust precision perfect, pressing that soft spot inside of you. Your thighs are pressed together, making the fit even tighter, feeling him even more. “You’re just saying that cause I’m letting you fuck me against a tree.”

“Untrue, I say this all the time.”

That’s fair. Yoongi does tell you that he loves you. More often now than he used to, more verbal than his little utterances of love by readying your coffee long before you were awake in the morning or picking up the things you were missing from your pantry on the way home. 

“You’re right,” you pant, head lolling to the side as his mouth seeks the heat of your throat. “I love you too”

The tree bark bites into your hand as you take him fully. With the way your legs are pressed together and the angle that you’re standing, it feels like Yoongi is punching to the very core of you, making the world spin. You think you might collapse over the tree if he weren’t holding you up. 

“You’re just saying that cause I’m fucking you against a tree.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the fact that Yoongi picks up the pace, fucking you hard and with purpose. His hand slips between your legs, finding your clit and pinching it lightly, making you squeal and twitch. He laughs, choosing to circle it instead, working you faster toward an orgasm as he pounds into you, punching the breath from your lungs. 

Sex with him is different every time. You don’t know how you manage to never get tired of it, but it never feels the same. Not with him. Every time feels like you’re discovering something new, 

When you do come, you suddenly feel like you can run the rest of the way up to the ruins, energized on the endorphins alone. 

“I’ve heard of post nut clarity,” Yoongi jokes, tucking his cock back into his pants. “But never post nut energy.”

“It’s like a second wind.”

“Dickened wind.” 

You glare at him, tossing his backpack to him. “Stick to writing songs, not jokes.”

-

“You’re so fucking swollen,” Yoongi groans, thumbs peeling apart your folds. “Cute.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your face pressed down into the pillows of the daybed, ass up in the air with Yoongi behind you. The sound of the pool and anyone beyond the closed curtains of the banana are muted by the tropical music of the DJ. All the better to drown out the sound of your husband spitting onto your exposed heat. 

“Cause you’ve been fucking me insane all week,” you protest, body vibrating. Yoongi hums thoughtfully but doesn’t say anything, letting his spin trail slowly down your slit. You’re already wet from the way his greedy mouth sucked at your chest. “Baby, please. I want your mouth.”

“Yeah? You all hot and bothered?”

“Yes.”

“Let me cool you off.” 

Yoongi’s hands leave your ass for a moment. You’re too overheated from days in the sun and the rising tropical temperature to look at what he’s doing. You’re in a slow daze, a little buzzed from sweet drinks and Yoongi’s mouth, from sloppy kisses that taste like strawberry and Yoongi’s cute little sunburn on his ass from falling asleep after letting you drive him insane with your mouth on the private balcony the day before. 

Now, you hear the clicking of something moving around the ice bucket. Your brows furrow and you’re about to turn your head to look at what Yoongi is doing when you feel ice cold water slow drip onto your ass. 

“Shit,” you hiss, grabbing the edge of the daybed and arching your spin. The water is a cool burn, a relief that drives you mad as he makes a pleased sound. “Ohhh fuck, again.”

“More?”

“Fuck yeah.”

There’s the sound of more ice and Yoongi is dripping the cold water on your ass again, making your lower spine tingle and toes curl. The cold drips move closer to your cunt until he’s directly over your clenching hole. The shock of cold against hot sends you into a frenzy. You wiggle your ass back and forth, asking for more, eager for it. 

Yoongi has never been one to deny you. This time, you feel his lips around an ice cube, dragging his cold kiss over the swells of your ass, letting the ice melt on his tongue before lapping at your pussy, tongue cold against your dripping heat. 

It drives you mad. Your fingers ache with the way you clutch the pillows, pressing your face hard into the daybed as Yoongi does this a few times, bringing his cold lips to mouth hungrily at you until it’s all he’s focused on, forgetting the ice in favor of sucking greedily at your clit. 

Your spine feels like it might crack, bowed dangerously as you press back into his face. He moans at your eagerness, tongue twisting between your folds as eats you out in earnest. If it weren’t for the privacy curtains and the DJ booth, you’d never get away with this. Yoongi is not quiet, smacking his lips like a glutton. 

Air escapes you. You squeeze your eyes shut as an orgasm bears down on you. Your face is pressed so far in the cushions that you don’t think you can breathe, your lungs contracting and your chest squeezing as you come on his tongue without warning, a silent scream raging through you.

Stars burst behind your eyes. Yoongi takes it in stride, licking you long and slow as you remain rigid for the duration of your high. When it finally begins to subside, you fall to the side, sprawling boneless and feeling drunk.

“Holy shit,” you croak, voice gone. “You were right. Fuck the itinerary. This is so much better.”