#spray putty

[cheeriochat]

How ebony and ivory are coming along!! I already did another pass of putty and some more sanding so I'm just finalising the base before I prime and paint!

[stood-onthecliffside]

besties helppp,,,i want elf (is it worth it tho) rip rare beauty i can’t have her rn.

[hag-o-hags]

today was the day I was gonna do the last of my spray painting for Project Closet.

it's snowing.

I'm gonna flip my lid.

[rumisgf]

“waterworks”

“shitt- hear her talkin’ to me, ma?”

connie is a messy man. he’ll fuck you for hours cause he’s not satisfied until you make a mess of his sheets to the point he has to wash them and yall sit on the couch in his living room or on the floor until they’re done.

“f-uck conn~! too much…!”

“uh-uh, take this shit.”

he fucks you deeper, guttural moans escaping out your throat as you become putty in his hands, your slick dripping down between your asscheeks.

“there you go…yeahhhhh..”

the sound of his dick sliding in and out of your sopping cunny is pornographic at this point. he bends your legs to your ears, pressing down on your lower stomach as he tries to coax an orgasm out of you.

“conn-nie…waitt~…”

he smiles in response to your plea, smacking his hips against your skin with more force. your moans turn into squeals, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“oh shit..damn..”

clear juices fly out of your hole and spray onto yourself and his stomach. a shit eating grin forms on his face, pulling back a bit so he can get a better view.

“there you go mama, let that shit out. let it out”

you continue squirting on him as he fucks you through it, grunting heavily as he feels your wall spasm around him and your wetness. his thumb finds your clit, added an extra sensation of pleasure.

“messy little slut…ion know what imma do with you..”

he absolutely loves it.

©𝑹𝑼𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑮𝑭

[bakurapika]

im worried that meds = motivated = unexpectedly spending money. i've made a purchase literally every day since i bought it

but like, my wild hedonistic splurge today was (checks notes) a toilet seat, mounting putty, and some anti-rust sprays

i think it's just the fact that they were impulse purchases. as in, i haven't had the impulse to getting around to replacing them until now 😂

[deadghosy]

⋆˚🐾˖°

𝐏𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲!𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨 𝐗 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Puppy!Mattheo whose eyes dilate so much when you give him head scratches. He gets so whiny when your hand leaves his head.

Puppy!Mattheo who follows you like the lost puppy he is. He hates leaving your side. He might as well have an attachment issues.

Puppy!Mattheo who obeys you like the good boy he is. Please give him his award or else he would be bitchy to others.

Puppy!Mattheo who will mark your body up in places people can’t see, or can see. He’s territorial over you.

Puppy!Mattheo who tugs on your skirt, pants, shirt, anything to get his hands on so he can take your attention from the person you’re talking to. He wants it all.

Puppy!Mattheo who is like a guard dog but a puppy to you. He’s soft towards you only.

Puppy!Mattheo who sometimes just buries his head in your neck. Taking up all the perfume/cologne you had put on you that day. He wants to smell just like you.

Puppy!Mattheo who literally will make sure you smell just like him too. If he smells like you, you smell like I’m him in return.

Puppy!Mattheo whose body immediately turns into putty when you cup his face. It makes him feel loved a lot. Keep doing it and you may keep him forever.

Puppy!Mattheo who literally has perfume/cologne bottles you usually put on in his room. He sprays it in his room whenever he doesn’t see you.

Puppy!Mattheo who rubs his head against your arm if going aren’t giving him attention. Of course he does this in private. He’s tough guy persona but be kept up.

Puppy!Mattheo who’s a whore for scalp scratches. I mean, who isn’t. But this boy? He literally would put your hand back to his head and make you scratch his scalp.

[sweetheartsaku]

(BHNA) CAN MACHINES FALL IN LOVE?

𝜗𝜚 SHOTO TODOROKI: 𝓐LSTROEMERIA.

a/n: [fem!reader] thank you so much for all the support on pt 1!!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ hopefully we like the new layout huhu

shoto is for the girls who brush their hair really rough. shoto who gently works his way down the strands, through every knot and tangle till the brush comes off the ends. he uses a wooden brush, because he knows plastic ones are hard on your head. he doesn’t rush, combing through every damp section as you melt into his touch, especially from the warm shower to his warm hands. only for him to tangle his fingers through your scalp again as your face is snuggled against his chest later that night, or braid your hair the following afternoon, vividly trying to visualise the way his mother taught him while she was in the hospital on his rare days off, and by his sister who would braid baby shoto’s hair as he slept ‎(''-ࡇ-)💤

one time as a kid he had overheard his sister, fuyumi, humming a lullaby before bed. sho' as kid walks in on her brushing her hair for what seems to be a while and asks what she's been doing. when little fuyumi said she has to brush her hair 100 times before bed to become a princess, little shoto has never let go and does it with you almost every night 🥹💗

along the lines of warm showers, he loves when you come out of the bathroom not for the imagery, but for the aromatic fragrance that radiates off your body as you dry your hair (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ. when he politely and cluelessly asks if he can dry it, he is so gentle with rubbing the strands between the small towel. sometimes he gets distracted when he smells the shampoo and conditioner. he’ll say, “you smell nice” with a monotone expression, yet so many thoughts behind his crystal turquoise and steel eyes (that he just expects you to know). he loves fruity and flowery scents because they remind him of his mother (·•᷄∩•᷅ ).

shoto is for the girls that get overwhelmed or overstimulated easily. has never been a fan of pda, but there's something about the way he places his hand on top of your knee when he notices the bouncing becomes a lot faster and rougher, the way he squeezes back a bit tighter when you squeeze his palm as a plead to go home, the way that he looks at you so endearingly unknowingly when you fiddle with the hem of his shirt, or the way he lets you fidget with the silver metal on his ring finger.

when he’s out or visiting another place, he always sends you the most adorable letters. there's a wax seal, a stamp and your name in his neat cursive handwriting just the way you like it. your favourite colours, the cologne you said you like on him once suddenly became half empty because he sprayed on every letter. sometimes you’ll get a dried flower stuck with it, or a small packet of your favourite snack on the front!! sometimes he attempts to decorate the letters with stickers, but then ends up only using two, afraid of wasting it HAHA ♡

gets quietly clingy. or lowkey just in general, is always craving your touch ( ≧ᗜ≦)! will never say it though, he expects you to be able to read his telepathic thoughts that he sends through his softened eyes and dimple pout. he likes being held; he likes the way he feels like putty in your arms. his favourite is when his face is buried in the crook of your neck, listening to your hands soothe under his shirt on his bare back. he likes the way his breath hitches before slowly exhaling when he can smell the flowery scent of your dried-damp hair on your nape. a little spoon i fear your honour

loves the way necklaces look on you!! especially the dainty simple ones. doesn't mind using his dad's black card on you LMAO 😭. you defo have a collection of them all prettily displayed on a little necklace stand each on a hook, and they all have little stories behind them (some of them are just ones he bought on a whim too hehe). one has his initial, he's matching with your initial (obviously), which is one that you both wear on special occasions. one has a butterfly because he said it reminded him of your beauty, you usually wear that on dates. the ones with rhinestones or your birthstone are the ones he purchases when he's away from you and you wear them interchangeably. he loves the silver ones btw!! idk there's just something that happens to his heart whenever he sees the charm dangling off your neck when you reach over to him, or the way the chain bumps along your collarbone ♡

he reminds you of cotton candy skies, especially the ones in blue and pink hehe.. he looks at the text and sky you sent him, and he stares at the screen thinking to himself: can machines fall in love?

[3lyvshiro]

𐙚 ⋆₊˚ 2:53 ..ᐟ

Suna Rintaro affectionately and unironically calls his grumpy, cold (,and apparently bitchy) girlfriend "sunshine". Even when she's the most standoffish, difficult person you'd ever interact with. he wholeheartedly believes that she is a little bundle of joy, and talks about her like shes an absolute angel to whoever asks.

for instance.

"Theres my girl. shes a little ball of sunshine, isnt she?" rin would say, talking about his girlfriend to a friend of his, with a finger pointed to her by the distance. said girl looking like a feral cat trying to keep a civilized conversation with one of his fangirls.

"morning, sunshine." rin would mutter, approaching his girlfriends desk as the scowl that was etched on her face immediately faded into a soft smile, only ever directed at rin. as she comes up to him and tightly hugs his torso, she nuzzled her face on his neck and catches a smell of his uniforms collar. freshly sprayed cologne. it was that masculine smelling brand that he knew was her favorite on him. she got on her tip toes to kiss her boyfriend on the cheek as he smiled down at her, a big hand on her waist as he patted her head gently.

"hey sunshine" rin would greet, leaning his weight on his girlfriends locker beside his while kissing her head and slipping his hand on her waist, despite her crossed arms and the massive scowl on her features prior to when he approached. he could only assume that something or someone pissed her off...again. upon seeing the look on her face and her obvious frustration, he'd cradle her cheeks with his two big hands to guide her to look at him. and, with the softest voice ever, only for her, he'd coo, "bad day, sweetheart?" while kissing away the heavy scrunch on her brow and caressing her cheek. he could tell from the way she would visibly soften, that she's turned to putty on his hands, once again. he was the only person who could have such an effect on her. at her lack of resistance when it came to him, rin couldn't control the upper quirk of his lips as he smiled softly at her. but before he could bask in the joy of a happy girlfriend once more(happy girlfriend =happy life), said girlfriend furrowed her brows once again. with a red face, she pulled away from rin only to pull on his bicep to keep him close to her as she walked them onto the other side of the hallway, to the cafeteria. She would never admit it, but rin always knew how to calm her down and make her go all soft for him. Yeah, she could be a grump sometimes, but he liked that about her, despite his friends teasing him for his dynamic with his grumpy girlfriend, always commenting about the contrast in how she treats everyone else compared to how she treats him.

something about how he gets special treatment from 'the ice queen' just because he's her boyfriend. in fact, whenever rins friends would catch a girl confessing to him. they always barge in and invite themselves in the conversation only to comment how "you have ta be as cold as y/n to even catch sunarins interest".

later in practice, rin finds himself bringing up how "n/n isnt cold." with the most serious face ever. and with almost everyone strongly disagreeing, he would add, "she can be a grump sometimes, but she isnt an ice queen." i mean, he knew she wasnt exactly the nicest person alive, or the easiest to get along with, but saying she was an ice queen was a bit of a stretch. atleast to him. thats why when atsumu shudders and weakly shares his own encounters and past interactions with the girl, of how difficult it was to get along with her, rin could only scoff in disbelief. "how is she difficult to approach? that must be a you problem because she's literally a ray of sunshine." rin would defend, not catching the sudden dull and stiff tension in the air that enveloped the club room. glancing at his teammates, who all suddenly looked gravely pale, he turned to osamu, who only let out a low whistle as he turned his head to the side. "if y/n's a ray of sunshine, kitas the laziest person in this room." atsumu would speak for everyone, since no one had the guts to say a word, too afraid it would reach sunarins icy girlfriends ears. his statement followed up through by a series of "yup"s, "yeah"s, and overall agreements. rin raises a brow, genuinely confused.

[schlattsdoll]

jschlatt headcannons (sfw & nsfw)

minors dni

i have a lot of thoughts about schlatt, here's some of them

sfw ♡

loveslovesloves to snuggle, he's like a giant mean teddy bear

i feel like he loves karaoke, like not even him being secretly good, he just loves doing it with friends

you're most likely smaller than him, so definitely teasing nicknames (pipsqueak, short stack, tiny)

BUT !!!!! if youre a giant like me (im only three inches shorter than him), he loves it. tells you how much he loves your long legs

makes you wear heels so you're taller than him / at his height

i feel like he smells like either some stupid expensive dior cologne or axe body spray

or maybe some bath and body works shit (bourbon maybe??)

loves just driving to oldies nd parking somewhere overlooking a sunset

OK TIME FOR NY SPECIFIC ONES SINCE I'M ALSO FROM NY (and feel like he's from one town over)

will kill someone for a proper baconeggandcheesesaltpepperketchup (iykyk)

misses going to yankees games at the stadium

has his family ship him ny bagels bc texas bagels don't hit the same

has STRONG opinions on his favorite deli

nsfw ♡

big guy is A BIG GUY

calls himself daddy tbh

i feel like he's big into thighs

prolly a tits guy too tbh, but can appreciate a good ass

schlatt's just a horny mf

has a huuuuuge sex drive, mans can go for hours

is a MASTER of dirty talk & how to make you putty in his hands

"what's wrong princess, need daddy's cock fillin' ya up right now?"

"fuck doll, ya feel so tight 'round me. like you're squeezing all the cum outta me."

he loves to just grab your thigh at the worst possible times and squeeze

would love if you send him inappropriate things while he's recording / streaming

i'm not saying schlatt is like you're sugar daddy buuuut....

gives you his credit card to buy yourself lingerie so he can rip it off you

has a playlist of songs he'd fuck you to or would wanna see you give him a strip tease to

hope you enjoyed ! inbox is open <3

[solradguy]

Finished the scythe commission for my buddy. .STLs by 8BitAtelier, everything else by me. Overture PLA Pro, modded Ender 3.

I used a hilarious variety of materials on this thing. Including but not limited to:

Acrylic paints

White spray primer

Nuln Oil by Citadel

At least 3 pencils (internal support)

Super glue

JB Weld

Liquid Nails

Green stuff (epoxy putty)

Bondo

XTC-3D (an epoxy smoothener)

Matte spray fixative

One of those rubber gripper thingies you use to open stuck jar lids (glued to the bottom to give it grip on the floor)

[stevenssacrab]

Green Is Your Color

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: Dressed in green lingerie you have one mission, make Wanda beg.

Rating: 18+ smut (minors, do not interact)

Warnings: Dry humping, swearing, nipple play, oral (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), sex toys (vibrator, dildo), orgasm denial, bratty Wanda, dom reader, squirting.

Word Count: 2.7k

a/n: 2.7k?! Sheeesh never thought I'd do it, Wanda is my weakness ladies and germs, hope y'all enjoy!

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

"You're total today is $60 even," spoke the cashier at Victoria's Secret; you visibly cringed; you usually wouldn't spend this much on an item, but you wanted to surprise Wanda with something a little sexy; you paid with a smile, you can't wait to see the look on her face when she sees you in it. You open your door, anxiety creeping within you. Wanda should be home in a little while, just enough time to shower and dress; the entire shower, your nerves were getting the best of you.

"What if she doesn't like it?" you questioned internally, styling your hair in voluminous, bouncy curls; you sighed anxiously, blending the eyeshadow carefully. You were aiming for sultry bedroom eyes, something that would lure Wanda and turn her into putty before your very eyes; she's always taken the more dominant role in the bedroom. Tonight, your goal was to get her to beg for it, a challenging mission, you know that, and still, you had hope; you had a couple of tricks up your sleeve to achieve your goal; slowly, you massage your vanilla-scented lotion into your skin, sighing contently, inhaling the scent, vanilla always reminded you of your first date with Wanda and how nervous you were, and the feeling of butterflies in your stomach, the way your heart skipped a beat when you saw her for the first time, you've always known that Wanda was beautiful, she handled everything with grace, a force to be reckoned with, part of you was scared that you weren't going to be enough for her, in your opinion you were nothing special just, like every other average human. Still, she never made you feel that way, not even for a second.

You slipped into a mid-thigh length dark green silk dress with high slits that stopped at your waist, no panties, of course; you slipped on stilettos, and you ran your eyes over the whole ensemble one last time; you folded over, fluff up your roots for more volume, spray yourself with your vanilla bean perfume, and run your hands over the dress, smoothing out any imperfections, jingling of keys and dull footsteps fill your ears, "she's home" you uttered to yourself.

"Baby? Are you home?" concern layered in Wanda's voice; your bedroom door creaks open, "Baby?" she asks again.

"I'm here," you call out, trusting your nerves can't be heard through your voice, "I'll be right out, almost finished," quickly trying to straighten up the bathroom. You're stalling, but you don't care.

"Don't worry, baby, take your time," she voiced; you could practically hear the smile on her face; you sighed and attempted to shake off your nerves.

"She's gonna love it, she loves you, it'll be great," you chanted to yourself like a mantra and reached for the door handle and pulled before you could second guess yourself; your eyes land on Wanda sitting on the bed, aimlessly scrolling through her phone, she hasn't noticed you yet, you step forward.

"Hey baby, did you-" Wanda speaks, flicking her head to look at you; she met your eyes first, then flicked down; she widens her eyes slightly, raking her eyes over you slowly, observing and trying to memorize every detail, from the black stilettos that you know she loves, to the sexy eye makeup that puts her in a trance, hypnotized by the way the high slits elongates your legs, watching you intently, chin low, eyes hooded. You walk closer, one foot in front of the other, hips swaying with each step; you stop directly in front of Wanda, gently placing your hands on her shoulders; you smile down at her. Wanda breathes through her mouth, tongue dancing along her bottom lip; you slowly climb into Wanda's lap and groan softly when Wanda's hands grip your waist, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss.

"Mmm, you look so good," Wanda groaned in between feverous kisses, moving her lips to your neck, sucking dark circles into your skin; you moaned softly, tilting your head back, "What's the occasion?" Wanda asked, nibbling gently at the skin; you squeak happily, caressing the back of her head.

"Nothing, I just wanted to surprise you," you spoke breathlessly, lightly grinding your bare pussy against the rough fabric of Wanda's jeans, "do you like it?" you hummed, running your hands under Wanda's jacket, sliding it off.

"You should surprise me more often," she teased, gliding her hands under the dress and squeezing your ass, helping you grind into her slowly; you grip her shoulders, shamelessly grinding into her; Wanda gently traces her fingers up your arm; stopping at the straps of the dress and pulls them down over your shoulders, exposing your tits to the cold air, Wanda doesn't miss how you shiver, she cups them massaging them roughly she brings her head down, flicking her tongue over the bud, you whimper, watching opened mouth, she grins and captures your bud, sucking gently, she looks up at you innocently, you groan, rutting against her quickly you feel your orgasm building up, Wanda moans around your nipple, rolling your free nipple between her fingers, you moan loudly, picking up speed, you're so close.

"Oh god, I'm so close," you plead, eyes screwed shut, rubbing your clit against the denim; Wanda lightly nibbles your nipple, sending you over the edge; you cum hard, hips bucking wildly into her, digging your nails into Wanda's shoulders, when you open your eyes Wanda is looking at you with dark, hungry eyes, if looks could kill you'd be long gone, you gently push her back to the bed, her legs hanging over the edge of the bed, you climbed off her, your dress hanging on by your hips, you sit on the floor, resting on your heels, you unbutton Wanda's pants and lean forward to pull the zipper down with your teeth, looking up to her innocently, Wanda rest on her elbows, watching you closely, licking her lips slowly, you smile up at her mischievously, lazily dragging her pants down, littering kisses all the way down her legs, you slide your hands up her legs to her clothed pussy, you can already see a wet spot, you find her clit even with her panties on and slowly rub circles, watching Wanda's reaction, she sighs contently, giving herself over to you, you lick a hard stripe up her pussy, Wanda groans frustrated, shes over the barrier muffling the sensations, you smile and move her panties to the side exposing her swollen bud, you lean forward and blow cool air onto her wet pussy, Wanda groans, annoyed you won't give her what she wants, you press your tongue against her clit, gently kitten licking, still not delivering fully, she bucks her hips in search for more pressure but you pull back.

"Uh uh," you say with a smirk, slowly leaning back in and licking harder than before. She groans loudly, throwing her head back; she bucks her hips up shamelessly; you grip her hips and hold her still.

"We do this my way, or we don't do this at all," you say confidently, rubbing circles into her skin; she looks up at you in disbelief, under the impression that she would lead like always; she lets out a disgruntled groan and falls back onto the bed in defeat, you kiss her pussy "good girl, behave and maybe I'll let you cum on my tongue" you spoke, your lips capture her clit gently and suck, not nearly enough for her to cum, but enough for her to feel good, Wanda obediently holds her hips still, taking heed of your warning, you reward her good behavior with a particularly hard suckle, she gasps and closes her legs around your head, you moan, satisfied and pry her legs open, still suckling roughly, Wanda buries her hand in your hair and bucks her hips onto your tongue, you groan disapprovingly and smack her hand away, "don't make me tie you down," you say darkly, slapping her sensitive clit lightly, she whimpered loudly.

"I'll behave," she said agitatedly; you hook your fingers in her underwear and pull them down; she picks her feet up onto the bed, opening her legs, displaying her wet pussy for your eyes only; you lick your lips slowly and attach your lips to her clit, sucking roughly, running your teeth along her clit gently, she moans and quivers, trying her absolute hardest to hold still, you look up at her, she has her eyes tightly closed, fists clenched, knuckles turning white, you almost feel bad, she's trying so hard to behave, you reward her by sliding your finger inside, pumping slowly, you groan, it was so easy pushing in, not a hint of resistance, you curl your finger in search for that bundle of nerves, a moan rips from Wanda’s throat, her legs shake violently, you found the spot, you slowly pump your finger hitting it each time, Wanda is a quivering mess at your mercy and she wouldn’t have it any other way, arching her back, she speaks.

“Ugh, fuck, just like that,” Wanda barks through gritted teeth; grinding down onto your finger; the way her walls spasm around your finger, you can tell she's close; suddenly, you cease all movement and watch Wanda greedily try to fuck herself; Wanda moans frustratedly; you smile and reach under the bed and pull out a pink vibrator, Wanda’s face drops, she's in for it, and she knows it, your face twist in an evil grin and climb on the bed, seating yourself next to her, you flick on the toy and part her pussy lips and press the toy directly on her clit, Wanda cries out loudly; she grips your thigh tightly, looking at you, pleading without saying a word, you set the toy higher, she moans, digging her fingernails into your thigh.

"Fuck, don't stop," she pleads; you knew she would have a firm resolve; you had hoped that she crack by now, you set the toy even higher, and Wanda opens her mouth in a silent scream, determined to get her to break, you slide three fingers inside, curling your fingers expertly, hitting that sweet spot you know drives her crazy, she lets out a scream so loud you're sure she's going to lose her voice, bucking her hips, fucking herself onto your fingers, " mmm so close, I'm gonna cum," she grips the sheets braces for impact. Still, you lift the toy and pull your fingers out; Wanda growls loudly, "What the fuck?!" she booms, looking at you angrily.

"Just say the magic word," you tease; she knits her brows, confused for only a second, and then her face twists mischievously.

"No, make me," she bites back, smirking smugly.

"With pleasure," cockiness dripping off your voice, setting the toy to its highest, pressing it to her clit brutally, "OH!" she moans deafeningly, arching her back off the mattress; you sneer, rubbing the toy in circles; moans pouring out of her, she watches you abuse her clit cruelly, "fuck, so close," she squeals, you push in 2 fingers aiming straight for the g-spot, forcing her to the edge, viciously, you want her as close as possible so you can deny her, Wanda's moans growing louder and louder, blatantly grinding against the toy desperate to cum, and right when she's about to go over the edge, you pull away, smirking when she throws her head back against the mattress.

"Give up?" you asked, raising your brow. Wanda scoffs, "Never, do your worst," she hisses back.

"Suit yourself," you snarl, pulling out an 8-inch dildo. Wanda's face drops; she looks at you, panicked, her eyes flicking between you and the dildo, shaking her head slightly, "What happened? Cat got your tongue?" you asked egotistically, crawling like a predator stalking their prey; you set the toy to low and apply light pressure to her abused clit, Wanda sighs contently, closing her eyes blissfully, unsatisfied with her peace of mind, you slowly slide the tip of the dildo in, Wanda's eyes snap open, you smile and push the toy in deeper, Wanda groans, the stretch stings deliciously, you both moan as you bottom out, Wanda's chest rises and falls steadily, fully engrossed in all the sensations you're providing her, setting the vibrator higher Wanda reacts instantly, gripping the bedsheets, massaging her tits over her shirt, she mewls lifting her hips off the mattress, that familiar coil tightening, you pick up the pace, fucking her pussy quickly, she frustratedly rips her shirt off and pulls her bra down, exposing her tits, she's desperately pinching at her nipples, lips trapped between her teeth, you angle the toy, masterfully hit her spot, she moans loudly, clenching around the dildo, not slowing down, you ask.

"Ready to beg?" fucking her senselessly, Wanda cries out; she tries to answer, but every time she opens her mouth, you thrust the toy, and all that comes out is grunts and groans of pleasure; you set the toy higher and said "answer me," Wanda whimpers loudly, she's been dancing along the edge for so long, her heartbeat thundering in her ears, "no," she hissed defiantly through clenched teeth, "oh?" you questioned, setting the toy to the highest level, Wanda screams, thrashing about, you stop, "ready now?" you teased, "no," Wanda repeated, you turn the toy back on and fuck her ruthlessly, Wanda sobs loudly, tears in her eyes, she looks at you brows knitted together, "I'm-" she squeaks out, "yes baby?" you ask mockingly, still, you keep thrusting into her pussy mercilessly, she opens her mouth and attempts to say something, but all that comes out is whimpers and whines, she pants and watches mouth ajar as the dick disappears in her, you stop, "ready?"

"N-no," she spoke, voice strained, fists clenched; you scoff, turn the toy back on and ram the dildo back in fucking her mind-numbingly fast; a sob rips through Wanda's throat, all she can do is lay there and take it all, she doesn't have the energy to move, "I- so close," Wanda pants out, you pull back, and Wanda whines loudly "no! please I, please let me cum, I’m sorry, please" Wanda pleaded, eyes filling with tears, her lip quivering, you lean down and kiss her forehead. "It's okay, baby," you whisper affectionately and turn the vibrator on high, "Yes!" Wanda moans loudly; as you pump the dick in and out savagely, Wanda is reduced to a blubbering mess, babbling nonsense; the mascara she had on is running down her cheeks; her mouth hangs open, whines and whimpers spilling out before she can stop them. "Please, I'm so close," she weeps, her face contorted in bliss, her body shaking violently. You change the angle of the toy, and Wanda whines loudly; she cums, mouth open in a silent scream, her vision going white, ringing in her ears, gripping the bedsheets so hard it's coming off the corners; you slowly fuck Wanda through it, ceasing when she whimpers in pain.

"Oh my god," Wanda breathes, scoffing in disbelief; she picks her head up, looking at you, smiling from ear to ear, "that was amazing; I loved it," she laughs, sitting up on her elbows, "green is definitely your color."

"I can tell; look at the mess you made," you chuckle, gesturing to the end of the mattress. Wanda looks at you like you have two heads before looking down; there's a big wet spot between her thighs. Wanda squirted, and she didn't even realize it; a deep shade of red crept along Wanda's cheeks and onto the tips of her ears; she hid her face in her hands, groaning loudly; she wanted the world to swallow her whole. She's so embarrassed; you chuckle lightly and gently grab Wanda's wrists, pulling her hands away from her face. Wanda looks up at you, humiliated.

"It's okay, baby, it's natural; I'm impressed I didn't know you could do that," you chuckled, pulling Wanda in for a tight hug, "I didn't know I could do that either; ugh, I'm so sorry," she said, hiding her face in her hands again.

"Don't even worry about it; I'm not mad or anything; we just change the sheets, and end of story," you said, rubbing her back reassuringly. Wanda lifted her head up.

"Are you sure?" she choked up, hiding her face in your neck and wrapping her arms around your torso, "I'm positive, baby, don't worry," you whispered against her forehead.

"Now, let's get you cleaned up."

[bump1nthen1ght]

On The Leash (M!Reader x M!Werewolf)

Pairing: Male!Power-Bottom!Reader x Male!Sub-Top!Werewolf

Genre: Established relationship, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: Degradation, Name-Calling

Word Count: 1471 words

Summary: Too many people your boyfriend may seem like a big bad werewolf. But for you, he’s just a sweet little puppy.

Request: Hey, I love your works! Can I request power bottom male reader x sub top male werewolf?

Maybe a mix of praise and degradation 👀👀

It’s moments like these that you’re happy you and your boyfriend have your own apartment.

Without roommates, you’re free to lounge in your boxers on the couch anytime of day. Your boyfriend can walk around with a towel slung around his hips, fully shifted and relaxed. You can admire the curve of his ass and smack it the next moment, and he can crawl right over you and slot his lips into yours. The heat and excitement can escalate, your hands wandering and hips grinding as your breathing gets heavy, as your kisses get sloppy.

Like now, for instance.

Ben’s fur smells fresh, the lavender scent of that fur-spray you gave him. His snout is wet against your ciollarbone as he licks and kisses at your chest. A heavy bulge rests against your thigh as he slips in between your legs, your fingers curling through his fur.

“Thinking about me in there?”

“Maybe.” Ben chuckles, peppering your face with kisses. “I saw you and couldn’t contain myself.”

“Hmm, naughty boy.” Your fingers yank on the back of his head, forcing him back and away from your lips. Ben’s tongue lolls out in a pant, the pain only making his cock twitch. “Did you touch yourself?”

Ben’s neck rolls with a heavy breathe.

“M-maybe.”

You pull again, wrapping your leg around one of this thighs to keep his cock pressed against you, choosing to ignore the way he humps against you.

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“Yes! Yes I did.”

You click your teeth, exaggerating your false “disappointment”.

“And yet you didn’t invite me in. That was rude, dear.” Your other hand plants itself on the couch, using it as leverage to push up and kiss his bobbing neck. “I think someone needs to be reminded of his place.”

Ben is large fellow, pushing 6’4 and all muscle and mass. Yet in your hands he’s like putty, weight following easily as you flip yourself over and on top of him. His cock tents his towel, the white fabric falling between his thighs like a sexy loincloth.

“Since you felt selfish enough to jerk off without me, I think I’ll put that cock to good use.” You fish your dick out of your boxers, shucking them down your thighs and off your ankles. Ben growls, his chest rumbling underneath as he watches your head smack against your stomach. But any authority is lost with the keening whine as you grab his own cock, hand gripped tight around the base.

“Uh-uh, I’m setting the pace for this one, dear. If you even try to move without my permission-” Your thumb yanks his cock forward, another whine coming from Ben’s chest. “-You don’t get to cum. Understand?” Ben nods his head, eyes watery and desperate as you slowly shift up your hips, grabbing a spurt of lube from a nearby bottle (another benefit of living without roommates) and coating his cock.

You're slow and controlled as you sink onto Ben’s dick, his head thrown back in a muffle howl when you fit him to the hilt. The burn is only slight, plenty of practice making the motion feel natural.

“Eyes on me, or you’ll regret it.” You bark, hips grinding against his. Ben whines again, but follows you obediently, his pupils wide as he bites his bottom lip.

A jolt shoots up your spine as the head of Ben’s cock grazes your prostate, and you fight the urge to start using him like a sex toy immediately. He needs to earn that privilege.

You set a slow pace, merely rocking your hips back and forth, letting that pressure hit just right deep inside of you. Ben’s tail swings agitated behind you, his thighs shaking as he forces himself to stay still. He’s being awfully good, but to torture him more you make sure to exaggerate your breathy moans, rubbing a hand down your chest as you sway.

“S-shit, you’ve got such a perfect cock.” Bem’s ears perk up, another purr rumbling between your legs. “Always stretching me open so perfectly. Just how I like it.” The hand on your chest moves down to your navel till you reach your dick, rubbing your thumb across your weeping head. Ben’s dark tongue darts across his lips when you spit into your open palm and begin to jerk yourself off. “Fuck~”

You can feel Ben’s cock twitching inside of you, veins throbbing as you tease. But he hasn’t moved or looked away, obediently following your every command, even as you torture him. Those big brown eyes of his look so cute in this position, so eager to please you.

“You’re being an awfully good boy, Ben. I’m impressed.” Your free hand runs down his chest, drawing circles in his lower stomach, admiring the way he twitches and shakes form the smallest of contact. “I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

You splay your fingers onto Ben’s chest, finding grip on his fur as you lean upwards off his cock, pulling out until only the tip remains. Ben’s ears curl forward, his mouth open to beg for more when you throw yourself back onto the hilt, voice catching in his throat.

“Hnggh!”

You set a brutal pace, rocking your couch across the cheap flooring. His heavy, sweaty balls slap against your ass cheeks as you ride him like a prize stallion. Your hand sloppily continues jerking your cock, chasing the knot that tightens with every thrust backwards.

Ben, to his credit, still keeps his eyes on you, the order not rescinded. His long claws dig into the sofa cushion to keep his focus, watching you bounce on his dick. His shaky pupils dart between your face and your cock.

“P-please.”

“Please what? You need to speak up, dummy.” You tease, despite the way your voice shakes from exertion, sweat dripping down your forehead.

“Please, let me fuck you.”

“Hmmm.” You tap your chin, fake contemplating as you swivel your hips. “I’m feeling generous, so I suppose that could work.” Ben’s ears shoot straight up, his tail thumping against the couch as you lean backwards. There’s a wet schlick as you pull his cock out and lay yourself backwards, legs spread wide. You keep a firm grip around your shaft, licking your lips as Ben scrambles to mount you.

Ben’s hands shake as he pushes your thighs up to your chest, tongue lolled out in desperate pants as he lines his aching cock up with your hole. Ben’s a large fella, easily covering up your whole body as his hot head presses against the ring of muscle.

“Holy shit.” Ben’s eyes twitch as he sinks deep into you. With his patience all spent up, he instantly ruts into you like an animal, the sound of slapping skin echoing off the shitty apartment walls. His brow furrows as his breathing gets heavy, all those muscles put into action with his harried thrusts.

“Hey, look at me.” A soft touch to his jaw has Ben focusing back on you, hot breaths flowing across your face. Your thumb brushes across his cheek. “You’re my good boy, aren’t you?”

“I-I’m your good boy.” Ben stutters out, his cock twitching unside you.

“Good boys get to cum inside.” Your voice falls into purr, your grip soft as you carress Ben’s face. His pupils have blown wide, his thrusts picking up speed as he finally gets to chase his high. You keep talking, knowing he loves the sound of your voice. “You treat me so well, always know how to make me feel fantatsic.” You punctuate your sentence with a breathy moan, feeling yourself get closer and closer.

Ben loses himself in his focus, falling down to his elbows and pressing his chest against yours. Fur and skin stick together in a sweaty tangle, but you don’t care. You press a kiss against the side of his mouth, enjoying the taste of salt.

Your eyes scrunch up tight as you feel your orgasm approaching, your balls tightening with every thrust of Ben’s hips.

“Aah~” Your vowels wobble as your hips and cock jerk, finishing all over Ben’s stomach. Ben digs his muzzle into your neck, his chest heaving against yours.

Time for his reward.

“Cum for me, baby.” You whisper in Ben’s ear, his whole body trembling as he hits his peak, fresh jets of cum filling you up.

“Fuck!”

Ben draws out the last syllable, hips still humping, his semen deep inside you, He collapses on top of you, tail flopped to the side. He’s still cock-drunk, eyes wobbling and bereft of speech. You fall into the heated mess, your boyfriend feeling like a weighted blanket on top of you. A sweaty, stinky weighted blanket.

But he’s all yours and you're all his, and that is what matters at the end of the day.

[dollsahoy]

This is Shep! Shep is a Barbie Extra #2 pet head on a My Scene guy body that was spray painted white to match.

The biggest challenge was getting this head--which only has a big squared-off cavity inside where it was attached without rotation to the original small dog body--attached to the old-style "the head has a flanged knob that goes into the otherwise flat neck" Ken body. I'm sure I could have rigged up something that would allow for tilt, but, since the body was being painted, a rotation-only cut joint was fine (there's less chance for paint rub with that kind of joint.)

Not too long ago, I realized that twisty lip balm tubes could be scavenged to make a cut joint, and this is the first project where I tried that out. I trimmed the tube down close to the base and puttied it into the body neck opening with the cut part down, making sure the end could still rotate freely. I put a small screw into the center of the end, to provide more for the putty to grip; I also put the lip balm cap into the head, open-end-up, to fill some of the space inside. (I'll mention here that I also Dremeled the head opening to be larger and rounder so it would fit without conflict where I wanted it.) Then I put more epoxy putty around the screw and smooshed the head onto it so it was low enough to hide the putty holding the lip balm end in place, then let it cure. The connection is solid and the head rotates freely, but with enough friction to hold a pose. I'm happy it worked!

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

When Are You Gonna Come Down

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Aftercare; implied rough sex, but no sex is shown; implied lack of previous aftercare; nonsexual nudity; fluff; not beta-read

Summary: "Let's get you cleaned up," He urges against your skin. "C'mon."

You hesitate before you nod, scooching toward the edge of the bed. Bradley gets up with you, taking hold of your hand and guiding you down the hall. You follow, blinking a little blearily.

You're usually in your car by now. You're usually pulling over to take a deep breath, to calm yourself down, to settle.

"Slow down."

"I'm fine."

"Just hang on—"

You don't heed his order, already sitting up—and nearly falling back as your head spins. Your gut swoops with panic as you brace your hands on the bed, sucking in a nervous breath.

"Holy crap," You mumble.

"I told you." He's chuckling, but it isn't a mean sound. Bradley scoots closer to you, gathering you back against his chest and easing you to lay down. You sag back against him, head still throbbing as stars crowd your eyes.

"You always in such a hurry afterward?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," You grumble.

"I would, for next time. May tie you down, head it off at the pass."

"I'd like to see you try."

"I'm in the Navy, sweatpea. I can tie a mean knot."

You can't help but smile a little as he gently smooths beads of sweat back from your forehead, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"You alright?" He asks. "You want something to eat or drink?"

"I should go."

"Wait a little bit." His hand slides down, smoothing down the slope of your shoulder. "Just...Come down properly, huh? I'm not gonna send you out all wired."

"I'm used to it."

It falls out of your mouth, and it's chased by harrowing silence. His fingers never waiver in their tender stroking of your skin.

"You shouldn't be," He finally murmurs. "You shouldn't split so fast."

"It's normal."

"It's not right."

"I can handle it."

"...I don't mean to be rude," He hedges, "But you just tried to get off of my bed and nearly dropped back down immediately."

"I'm just a little lightheaded."

"I know. I was rough."

"I wasn't complaining."

"I know." He leans into it. You can't see his eye roll, but you can hear it. You open your mouth to argue again, but he lowers his head, dotting your neck with tender kisses. You let your eyes slide closed, feeling yourself become putty in his arms. He carefully props the two of you up after a few minutes. You draw in a nervous breath, waiting for your head to spin, for the room to tip sideways…But it never comes.

"Feelin' alright?" He murmurs.

"Mhm."

"Let's get you cleaned up," He urges against your skin. "C'mon."

You hesitate before you nod, scooching toward the edge of the bed again. Bradley gets up with you, taking hold of your hand and guiding you down the hall. You follow, blinking a little blearily.

You're usually in your car by now. You're usually pulling over to take a deep breath, to calm yourself down, to settle. You follow Bradley into the bathroom, leaning against the counter as he starts the shower up. He glances at you now and again, seeming to want to check on you before he draws you takes you by the hand, leading you into the stall. You sigh at the feeling of the warm spray, tipping your head under the stream and feeling yourself relax further. Bradley curls up behind you, dropping kisses to your shoulders before he takes hold of the soap. It's a moment before you feel him smoothing your hands over your back. You brace your slightly-shaking arms against the tiled walls, relaxing as Bradley cleans your body reverently.

You reach for the soap, determined to do the same, but—

"Nn-nn," He hums, smoothing his hands along your arms until he's intertwining your fingers. "This is about you."

It makes you shiver. The brush of his lips, and his steady, sweat insistence.

"You took me so well, you know that?" He murmurs against the shell of your ear. "So fucking sweet, baby. You felt so fucking good."

The praise melts over you like warm butter. You whimper softly, fingers against his.

"Took care of me, just like I needed," He adds, giving your hands a squeeze. "Now it's my turn to take care of you."

--

You think that it'll end at the shower—that Bradley will shove some clothes at you and nudge you out to your car with a kiss. But there you are, sitting at the counter, wearing your underwear and one of his old t-shirts, and chowing down on the best damn grilled cheese you've ever had. Before you can completely finish the first one, Bradley's tipping another one onto your plate. You glance up guiltily, but he just smiles, turning back to the stove.

"You can have it," You offer.

"Nu-uh," He waves you off. "That's yours. I'll make another one."

"...You don't have to be this nice, you know."

"This isn't a have to, this is a want to. Although," He glances at you over his shoulder, "If you're that used to taking it and no one taking care of you afterward, that's not okay."

"I don't do it a lot," You shrug, "But when I do, it's just, like...I don't know. It's quick. I don't think about it."

"That why you're so used to running?"

"I guess."

Bradley glances back toward you, and you hurriedly look down, taking up the grilled cheese and stuffing a bite into your mouth.

"Does running feel good?"

"...Not really," You mumble around the food.

"Then don't run next time."

"I didn't run this time."

"You tried to."

He's got you there. You raise your thumb, sucking a few crumbs and melted butter off before you glance at Bradley again. You find him watching you with gentle curiosity.

"...I'll let up once you finish that," He nods to the grilled cheese and the glass of water beside your plate. You consider, looking down at the plate and poking a few crumbs.

"Is it okay if I sleep here?" You ask.

You don't dare meet his eye. You hear turn the stove off, and the sound is chased by the steady padding of his feet. You feel the heat of him at your side, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him place a hand against the counter.

And then—he presses a tender kiss to your cheek. Your eyes slip shut, lips pulling with a smile as he murmurs,

"More than okay with it, sweetpea."

"You're a real romantic, Bradshaw. And you know what," You hold up the rest of the sandwich. "This grilled cheese isn't half-bad."

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Dad!Eddie x Mom!Reader

Summary: it's your daughter's first day of school and Eddie isn't taking it too well.

Warnings: none some suggestive themes. just a small little fic. This is complete and utter fluff. Dad!Eddie has been on my brain all weekend.

Not proofread

Walking through your home with a clothes hamper on your hip. Hunting down various articles of clothing thrown about from your hectic morning. The first day of school is always stressful, but it wasn't too bad with just your son attending now it's your daughter too.

Getting them all up and ready was more than enough stress for you to begin the day with. Your daughter, who is like her father in so many ways, is NOT a morning person. While your son is a very bright, early, and chipper in the morning. After getting them ready for school, allowing Eddie to be the one to send Lily off this time around. You had the pleasure of sending your son James off to his first day of school last year.

Making your way to your kids' shared bedroom, you hear small sniffles emerging from the cracked door. These weren't sniffles of two sad little kids who didn't get their way. These were sniffles of their sad father who is having a tough time letting go. Eddie was the soft parent in your household. Anytime his little ones so much as poked out their little bottom lip, he was putty in their hands. Now, here he was sitting against your daughters bed, hugging her bat squishmallow to his chest.

"Hey Ed, everything okay?" You asked, sitting the laundry basket down on the floor.

"She's not ready yet. she's too small." His voice muffled in her favorite plush toy. Eddie had a very close bond with both of his children. But when Lily was born, it was like this whole other side of him came out. He became more aware of the world around him. Knowing it was going to treat her differently than it would your son. He became way more sensitive and understanding of her feelings, even if it was a small inconvenience.

"Eddie, she's five. I think she's ready." You said, taking a seat next to him on the floor.

He looks up from the plush bat that had stains of various glitter nail polishes. His eyes were red and puffy. His lips chapped and nose slightly runny. He wasn't taking this milestone well at all. His partners in crime were not making a mess in the living room like they usually did. They weren't running around screaming for Daddy to come and play. The house was quiet, and it hasn't been like this in six years.

"Tell me why you think she's not ready. This isn't just because she's small."

His chin wobbles just a bit, and he shakes his head. Clearing his throat, and you can tell he's struggling to get himself together. Now that you think of it, he's probably been a mess since watching her walk off with her kindergarten teacher. You'd never think this intimidating looking metal head you'd met years would be weeping in a stuffed animal.

"B-because no one is gonna protect her, how I can."

"Whose gonna spray the toilet for monsters?" He said, and you couldn't help but smile a little.

"You know how much the sound of a toilet flushing scares her. Who is gonna help her?" His voice sounding more and more frustrated as he spoke. Your daughter did have a hard time going to the bathroom. Anytime she went, either you or Eddie had to be on standby at the door while she went. She hated loud noises. If those noises weren't from your husband's guitar, she hated them.

"She's gonna have a total meltdown."

"Well, if she has a meltdown, I'm sure the school will call us." You reassured him.

He's not listening at this point hes just coming up with excuses to keep them home. Eddie wasn't good with change at all. When your son started school, he called them every fifteen minutes to check on him. Every day, during their nap time, he would call and ask the teachers to check and see if he was still breathing. That's just how he was with them. If they were not in his care hes freaking out. Like he said, no one can protect them the way he can. You couldn't help but fall in love with him more after seeing the way he is with your kids. He's attentive, playful, and a little too overprotective. You can tell the relationship he has with them is something he longed for growing up.

"You should have seen her. She looked so cute." He spoke up, interrupting your train of thought.

"Her backpack is way too big for her it looks like a little turtleshell." He smiled fondly and rested his head on your shoulder. You move your hand up and rub the side of his face. He moves the plush toy away from his chest to hug you close.

"She's growing up, Ed."

He groans when you tell him that. You can tell he's been battling with that realization for a while now. Today is just a reminder and confirmation of that. She's growing up, and soon, she'll be on her own. "My little Lily pad is gonna be all grown up one day."

He hugs you tighter, and you can hear him choke up again. Pulling away to look at him, you kiss the tears that have escaped the corners of his eyes. He's a mess and probably won't be over it until she walks through that front door again.

"That won't be for a while. Ed, don't rush it." You said as you peppered kisses to his face.

"I'm just not ready for that day yet, baby."

"This house is so lonely already without them here." He says as he begins to stand up and pulls you up with him. He tosses his daughters toy on her bed and pulls you in for a tight hug. The way he's holding you feels like if he lets go, you'll be gone, too. Eddie has always been a clingy man. That's something you always found endearingly beautiful about him. Eddie is a wonderful man and an even more wonderful husband. Sometimes, you see him play with your children and think about how lucky you all are to have him in your lives. People are too quick to judge him based on his hobbies and aesthetics. Those people have no idea what kind of person they are missing out on knowing. He's always been a very kind and generous person. Now add two little squealing children yelling for him 24/7, and those qualities are amplified to one hundred.

"Come on, we have two hours left before they are home."

"Ooh, what exactly are we gonna do in these two hours?" He said, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively. You laugh at him and pull away, trying to pick up the clothes basket. He grabs you from behind and pulls you tight against him. "We gonna make another one?"

"Oh no no no we're not." You said giggling as he buried his face in your neck.

"Oh, come on, it's too quiet around here, and I'm sad." He said as he playfully pouts.

Wiggling around, you finally break free of his grasp. Both of you are running around the house, giggling. Eddie finally grabs a hold of you and throws you over his should heading to your shared bedroom. What was supposed to be an intimate afternoon with one another ended up being an afternoon nap for you both. Wrapped in eachothers arms, getting some much needed rest until your kids burst through the front door.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: a fun (long) little something! @making-it-big requested wedding night/honeymoon and i’m giving you guys both! also writing smut is hard (lol) sometimes and i lost track of limbs at a certain point, so like, just go with it. i actually went to greece this past summer so some of the trip details are pulled from my own vacation! 🥰 let me know if you guys want a separate post of the pics that sort of correspond with this fic, including one of the hotels!

word count: 9.1k (!!!!!)

tw: smut smut smut with dirty talking drei and our standard google-translated russian disclaimer 😂

summary: a wedding in raleigh followed by a honeymoon in greece, island hopping with andrei

Everything after the priest declared you husband and wife and Andrei dipped you back in a dramatic kiss is a little bit of a blur.

You’re announced as Mr. and Mrs. Svechnikov at the reception and have your first dance to Madonna’s Crazy for You, which is mildly embarrassing but it’s the song that was playing when you kissed for the first time, so it’s kind of your song. Andrei dances with Elena and you dance with your dad, wiping your tears on the tissue you keep wadded up in your fist.

Dinner is served and the table of hockey players clink their knives against their water glasses every twenty minutes so Andrei will kiss you. He obliges happily every time, cradling your face and kissing you sweetly. You grin against his mouth, the cacophony of cheers from your wedding guests the best soundtracks.

After you cut the cake - vanilla with white chocolate raspberry filling and a spray of flowers that match your bouquet falling down the sides of the tiers - the DJ kicks into high gear and everyone is crowding the dance floor. Andrei’s hands are on your waist while you dance, holding you close, your ass against his groin. You laugh, barely caring that there’s so many of your relatives watching. You can barely feel your feet and your face hurts from smiling.

The first reception carries on until one and by then all the older guests and both sets of parents have gone to bed.

You and Andrei thought ahead and rented out the attached and enclosed patio space for another few hours and while the music is playing, you both rush up to the honeymoon suite, giggling and holding hands.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful?” Andrei asks, kissing a trail down the back of your neck while he unzips your dress.

“Yes, but you can say it again,” you laugh, letting the dress fall to the floor and stepping out of it.

Andrei turns you in his arms and kisses you deeply, his hands warm and broad on your skin. You clutch at the front of his shirt, holding on for dear life. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing you softer.

His hands slide down over your ass, squeezing, and you wriggle in his grip, pressing against his front. “As much as I can’t wait to have wedding night sex,” you grin, twisting your fingers in the untied fabric of his bow tie, “I want to change and get back to our friends!”

Andrei’s hands slip between your thighs and you squirm, his fingers thick and pressing against the seam between your legs. “They won’t miss us,” he murmurs, teasing you, stroking his fingers gently against the fabric of your underwear.

“Oh,” you gasp, knees turning to putty under his touch, “we only get one wedding reception after-party.”

He presses a kiss, chaste considering where his fingers are, to your temple and hums against your skin. “I guess. Just means you’ll be even more ready for me,” his voice is low, husky, and you’re honestly tempted to say fuck the after party and fuck him against the wall.

You shiver and dance away from him, the hot imprints of his fingers still burning your skin. “I’m always ready for you,” you admit shakily, taking your after-party dress off its hanger and slipping into it. The feathers on the miniskirt’s hem tickle at your bare thighs and you do a little twirl to get the skirt flaring out. You fell in love with the dress after seeing it in a little boutique after your bridal shower and thought about wearing it for the rehearsal dinner, but the feathers and thin straps felt more appropriate for the after-party.

Andrei looks over from where he’s hanging up your ceremony dress - you have him trained so well with all this wedding stuff - and his jaw drops. “Solnyshka,” he breathes, “you have to let me take that dress off of you and fuck you. Please.”

“Later, Mr. Svechnikov,” you croon, trailing your fingers over the edge of his jaw. It’s been so many hours since he last shaved, his jaw is lightly stubbled again. Andrei leans into your touch, growling when you giggle and skip to the door. He hurries after you, snagging your hand and lacing your fingers together.

You’re immediately handed a shot when you get back to the party and toss it back, grimacing a little. Andrei accepts a glass from Geno and you’re almost positive it’s full of vodka, but he doesn’t react at all when he takes a drink. The music is loud and you’re immediately dancing, shimmying and jumping to the old-school classics. Andrei, Geno, Brady, and Pyotr jump and shout lyrics at each other, but Andrei’s hands never leave your body. Even when he’s not looking at you, his hand is in yours or touching your back.

Eventually, he loses the bow tie and his shirt gets unbuttoned. Geno has his tie around his head and all the groomsmen are in various states of disheveled. You gravitate to Andrei, looping your arms around his neck and swaying against him, lazily grinding on him. He’s hard behind his tuxedo pants, kissing softly behind your ear. The music doesn’t match the tempo of your dance and all of your friends are jumping and dancing around you. But it’s dark outside the venue and right now, the only thing you’re aware of is Andrei’s fingers tangling in the bun that’s loosening at the nape of your neck and the feeling of his body against yours.

“Party’s winding down, zhena,” Andrei whispers in your ear, warm breath sending a shiver up your spine. And that's a new thing, how he's been calling you wife all night. In Russian or in English, he doesn't care. He's marking you as his.

The loud music and flowing alcohol is telling a different story, but you blink up at Andrei. His hair is mussed, flipped over his forehead, and his face is flushed from dancing and drinking. His lips curl up in a soft smile and you lean up on tiptoes to press your lips to his.

“I don’t think they’ll miss us, muzh,” you murmur against his lips, feeling his smirk when he realizes you called him ‘husband’ in Russian. You'd learned the pronunciation specifically for today. His hands tighten in your hair, angling your head back a little so he can kiss you again, deeper this time.

Your body melts against Andrei’s, warmth rushing through your veins. “Take me to bed, Mr. Svechnikov,” you whisper, giggling. He wraps an arm around your waist and lifts you off your feet. Holding you against his side, Andrei practically runs from the room. You cling to his neck, laughing the entire time.

In the elevator back up to the suite, Andrei pins you against the wall, resting one hand next to your head and sliding the other up and under your skirt. You lean into his touch, kissing him hungrily. His fingers play at the edges of your panties, disappearing beneath the fabric to stroke you gently. The doors slide open before he can really do anything and you’re back in his arms, being carried into the honeymoon suite.

Andrei lays you out on the bed and you kick one foot up. He grabs your ankle with fast reflexes and grins at you. “Yes?”

“I can’t do the buckles from up here,” you pout, batting your eyelashes at him. Andrei laughs, traced his index finger over the arch of your foot and over the top. He taps at the buckle.

“What’s the magic word, zhena?”

“Pozhaluysta, muzh,” you coo, butchering the pronunciation and slurring the words together a little. Even still, Andrei’s grip tightens around your ankle and the front of his pants grow tighter.

He makes quick work of the little buckle, letting your heel fall to the ground. The bow on the toe of the Jimmy Choos is likely to get crumpled, but Andrei kisses your ankle bone and your brain short circuits a bit. He sets your ankle on his shoulder and grabs for your other foot, undoing that buckle equally as quick. Before you know it, both your ankles are draped over Andrei’s shoulders and his hands are roaming up your thighs. You whine his name and he pinches the inside of your thigh gently.

“I want to enjoy this,” he murmurs, hand grasping at the lace of your panties and tugging. You frown at the sound of the fabric ripping, but immediately gasp and arch your back when Andrei buries two fingers in you without warning.

“Drei!” You moan, clenching around his fingers, wiggling at the sensation. Your legs try to snap together, trapping Andrei’s head between your knees.

“Zhena,” he whispers, “moya zhena, I’m going to make you come until the sun comes up.”

You think you make orgasm from his words alone, but then he crooks his fingers and you shout, kicking one heel against his shoulder and twisting the sheet in your fists. He grins, self-satisfied, and leans down to kiss you, the change of angle driving his fingers even deeper. You push at his shirt with your heels, getting it off one arm and leaving it to drape over the mattress, still on the other arm.

“Drei, please, I need,” you babble, sucking in a breath when the pad of his thumb finds your clit and strokes it roughly. “Shit, more, please.”

He adds a third finger and you cry out his name, grinding against his hand, heat coiling and building low in your stomach. His other hand grips at your thigh, massaging the muscle while he encourages you. “Come on, solnyshka, come for your husband, like a good little wife.”

“Andreiiii,” you chant his name, breathless, arching your back and clenching around his fingers. He crooks his fingers and presses down hard on your clit and you’re over the edge, starbursts dancing behind your eyes. He’s talking you through your orgasm, stroking your thigh with one hand, murmuring about what a good girl you are. You gasp and slump back against the mattress, a few feathers drifting around your head from where they’ve basically been fucked off your dress. “Christ,” you mumble, dazed.

Andrei slowly withdraws his fingers, the loss of them making you feel empty. He shakes his shirt off his arm and it flutters to the floor while Andrei sticks his fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean while holding eye contact with you.

You groan, “are you trying to make me come without even touching me?” You wiggle against the sheets, feeling hot and sweaty. Your dress bunches up at your upper thighs and Andrei’s gaze dips down.

“My love,” he grins, kneeling on the bed with one knee so the mattress dips with his weight, “you’ll know when I’m trying to make you come.”

He undoes the buckle of his belt, the clinking of metal on metal when his wedding band slips against the buckle making your gaze trail down. The fly of his tuxedo pants is open and you can see the bulge of his erection against his black boxer-briefs. You sit up a little, angling to lean forward and reach for him, but Andrei shakes his head.

“No, no,” he murmurs, wrapping a hand around your wrist. “What kind of husband would I be,” he brings your hand to his mouth and kisses your palm, “if I didn’t take care of my wife?”

His voice, deep and warm, fills you with desire and you sigh, pressing your thighs together, already a mess for him. “Andrei, don’t tease,” you whine, wiggling your fingers at him. “I just want to feel you. I want you in me.”

Leaning down and forcing you to lie back again, Andrei braces his hand next to your head and kisses you sweetly. “You will,” he promises, smoothing his other hand over your cheek. “I’m going to make love to my wife,” he murmurs, kissing you again. His hand moves around your back and he plays with the zipper of your dress. You get the hint and scoot into a sitting position so he can work the zipper with one hand and slip the dress off your body, leaving you bare except for your strapless bra. Andrei kisses the swell of each breast and flicks at the clasp, discarding the bra to the floor. You kick a little at the dress and it slips to the floor where it’s joined quickly by Andrei’s pants, leaving you staring at his erection straining behind the black cotton.

“Lie back,” he commands and you do, already slightly breathless. He kneels on the bed again, your legs falling open to make room for him to get in between your thighs. “So beautiful,” he mumbles, absently, almost to himself, while he pulls himself out of his boxer-briefs, stroking his already hard length into a steel rod. His cock juts put in front of him and your mouth waters at the sight. You can’t believe that this gorgeous man is yours, forever.

“Andrei,” you pout, hand sliding between your legs to alleviate some of the growing pressure. He doesn’t make a move to stop you and instead his gaze is laser focused on where your fingers are circling your clit. You gasp. “Please, I need more, I need you,” you whisper, hooking an ankle around his thigh and tugging. You can’t move him on your own, so when he shifts forward, you know he’s going to give you what you want.

He lowers his body over yours, nestled in between your legs, his weight braced on one hand. You grin up at him, tracing his bicep with your free hand and pushing at his boxer-briefs with the other. Your fingers brush his cock and he shivers, hips jolting. “Make love to me, Andrei,” you murmur, lifting your head to kiss him, sucking his bottom lip in between your teeth. He groans into your mouth and your guide him to your entrance, the head of his cock bumping against your clit and sending delicious shocks down to your toes.

Still kissing you, Andrei rolls his hips and enters you. You gasp into his mouth and meet his hips with yours. He sets a slow, leisurely pace, thrusting gently and keeping control. Your legs hook around his waist, deepening the angle. His hips roll and you meet him thrust for thrust.

“Drei,” you gasp his name, raking your nails down his back. “More, please.”

He picks up the pace, but just barely, the tension building low in your stomach. Your hands roam his body, slick with sweat, and tangle in his hair.

He kisses you again and it’s cheesy, because you’ve kissed Andrei hundreds, thousands, hundred thousands of times, but this is different. These kisses are so much more. They’re soft and hungry and lazy and so full of love.

Andrei thrusts again, dipping his hand between your bodies because he knows exactly how to get you to come and your thighs are trembling with the building tension. “Come on, little wife,” he murmurs hoarsely, biting gently at the swell of your breast, flicking his tongue over your nipple. “Show me how beautiful you are when you come.”

You cry his name, clenching around him and then you’re both coming, clutching each other’s bodies. Your nails dig into his arms and Andrei’s face is buried in your neck. He’s breathing heavily, filling you and pumping his hips and it’s overwhelming, just how much you love him. You melt into the mattress, boneless, and encourage Andrei through his orgasm, stroking his neck and murmuring softly to him. He exhaled roughly and drops down from shaky arms, half of his body covering yours.

“I think I like married sex,” you huff a laugh, twisting a piece of Andrei’s hair between your fingers. His thigh is wedged in between yours and you resist the urge to rub your still sensitive clit against the hard, corded muscle.

He kisses your shoulder. “Me too,” he chuckles. His fingers trace a lazy pattern over your side, dragging from your hip bone up to the side of your breast and back down. You yawn, the repetitive motion soothing you and dragging your eyelids shut. You have no idea what time it is, but it has to be late, or early. The blackout curtains are drawn, but you wouldn’t be surprised if the sun is starting to come up.

“Don’t go to sleep,” Andrei says, already rolling off of you. “Let me clean you up.”

He gets out of bed and pads naked to the bathroom. You take the opportunity to roll on your side and ogle his firm, round ass. His entire form is lean muscle and strong, solid thighs. You swipe a hand between your legs and press at your clit, unfairly aroused and overstimulated by his body. Andrei’s back with a damp washcloth before you can really do anything about it, but he catches you and smirks, eyes flashing. He holds the cloth up and crooks a finger at you. “Come here,” he says, even as he’s climbing back into bed and dragging your legs over his lap.

Slowly, torturously, he runs the cloth between your legs and you squirm. The rough fabric is too much for your sensitive nerves and Andrei knows it. He moves even slower and only smiles when you grind your hips over his hand. “Going for the hat trick?” He laughs, everything brought back to hockey with him.

You frown. “It’s not fair that you’re so damn attractive,” you’re breathless, working yourself over the cloth and his hand. He just laughs again, the bastard, and helps you along until you’re coming for the third time, sweaty and completely limp in his arms. Andrei gathers you against his chest and you press your hot, sweaty cheek against his heart.

“I have to get up and pee,” you mumble, “but I don’t think I can walk.”

He kisses the top of your head and carries you into the bathroom, letting you do your business and get cleaned up while he goes back to sit on the edge of the bed. He’s yawning when you come back, still naked, but face clean of the stray makeup smudges. Your hair is tangled and still half in its bun, so you’ve left it to be tomorrow’s problem. Andrei opens his arms and you step in between his legs, resting your forearms on his shoulders. He leans forward and rests his forehead in the valley between your breasts, breathing softly. Another yawn works it’s way through your body and you shift, pushing Andrei back on the bed and climbing up with him. “I really need to sleep,” you sigh, your eyelids getting heavy again.

Andrei nods, looking tired himself. You both climb under the covers on your usual sides of the bed - Andrei closer to the door and you closer to the window - and lie down facing each other. You trace Andrei’s features with your index finger, running over his jaw line, forehead, and the line of his nose. His eyes flutter shut at your touch and his hand reaches for you, landing on your hip and pulling you close. You tuck your head under his chin, trailing your fingers over the column of his neck and feeling the stubble that’s there. “I love you, solnyshka,” he says quietly, his chest vibrating under your body.

“I love you,” you sigh, curling up close to him and falling asleep within minutes.

You wake up late the next morning, sunlight streaming brightly around the cracks of the curtains. Stretching out your entire body, you realize Andrei’s still asleep too. He must be exhausted since usually he’s up well before you. He’s flat on his back, arm thrown over his face, and sheet tented over his lap. Andrei’s mouth is a little open and he’s snoring softly - looking adorable while he’s at it. You reach for your phone, planning on taking a picture - the first picture of your husband (!) that you’ll take on your own phone - but when the screen lights up, you catch sight of the time and wince. It’s nearly noon, which would be late in the day normally, but your parents planned a day-after-the-wedding lunch for the guests staying at the hotel, scheduled to start at one. You both need showers and to change, so you drop your phone in the covers and smooth a hand over Andrei’s stomach, gliding it up over his pecs and curling it around the back of his neck before cupping his cheek, scratching your nails into his stubble.

“Drei, baby, time to get up,” you murmur, leaning down and pressing kisses to his chest and shoulder. “We have lunch in an hour.”

He grumbles - the only time he’s not a bouncing ball of energy and positivity is the few minutes right before he’s fully awake - and turns his head so he can press his cheek fully into your palm. “No,” he mumbles into your skin. “Nyet, do obeda. Ostavat'sya v posteli.”

He does that too, revert to Russian in his sleep. You brush your nose against his cheek. “I don’t know what that means beyond ‘nyet’ so whatever you said isn’t going to stop me,” you laugh a little.

Andrei cracks one eye open and squints at you. His lips curl up in a lazy smile and his hand lands on your waist. “I said,” he sighs, “no to lunch. Let’s stay in bed.”

You let him pull you against his side even as you’re shaking your head, which is a mistake because that seems to trigger your hangover. You press your lips together and wait for a minute before continuing, “we have two and a half weeks in Greece to relax and stay in bed, let’s go see everyone and eat because I’m starving.”

“I’ll order room service,” Andrei jokes, waking up and sitting up to kiss you.

“I want to see how hungover everyone is,” you giggle. “And you know what they say, happy wife, happy life.”

He swats at your ass a little when you roll away from him, laughing, and climb out of bed. You wiggle your ass in his direction playfully, “your wife wants you to join her in the shower, aren’t you going to make me happy?”

“That I can do,” Andrei promises, getting out of bed and wrapping his arms around your waist to carry you into the shower.

Of course, the shower takes twice as long as it should and by the time you get dressed - casually because once you opened the blinds, the afternoon North Carolina sunlight had nearly blinded you and caused a headache to form right between your eyes and nausea to roll your stomach - you’re running late to your own celebratory lunch. Andrei’s fingers play with the tie straps on your sundress as you head downstairs and you lean against him heavily. “I don’t understand how you don’t get hungover,” you mumble. “It’s unconscionable.”

He chuckles, chest vibrating against your back. “I’m bigger and Russian,” he shrugs, all the explanation you’re going to get. Truthfully, you just think he didn’t have as much to drink as you did. Even during the off-season, Andrei isn’t that big of a partier.

Once you get down to the hotel’s dining space, it’s all you can do not to laugh. The room is split into two camps - the older relatives who checked out by the end of the main reception and the friends and younger relatives that had partied with you at the after-party. The adults look tired, but happy, and your friends look like death warmed up.

Brady’s cradling his head in his hands while Gracia nudges toast in front of him. Pyotr has his head pillowed on his arms on the table. Geno has his sunglasses on inside and you spot Elena pointing him out to your mom and laughing, shaking her head at him. Jordan’s nursing a mug of coffee and you spot your best friends taking a carafe of coffee directly from the waiter and setting it on the table in front of them.

“Rough night?” You giggle, pressing your fingers to your temple at the spike of pain. The girls look up at you with bloodshot eyes.

Tia groans, “who challenges Russian hockey players to a drinking contest?”

“A moron, that’s who,” Kate murmurs, her voice nearly gone from scream-singing.

“Who’d you challenge?” Andrei asks, munching on a piece of bacon. You look at his food with a jealous eye and he holds out the half-eaten strip for you. You take a bite gratefully and chew while you wait for Tia’s answer.

She wrinkles her nose. “Who didn’t I challenge is the question, but I finally tapped out against Pyotr and Geno.”

“It was impressive,” Geno mumbles, holding his hand up for Tia to slap in a high-five.

“Party of the year, Svechy,” Brady grins. “But fuck, I’m gonna feel this hangover for a week.”

Andrei smirks at his friend and says, “good thing it’s off-season.”

Your mom calls you both over and you wind your way amongst the tables, leaving your hungover friends to recover. Andrei’s hand is warm against your lower back as you head across the room, his fingers splayed out.

“Honey,” your mom pats your hip when you reach her side, “I think you could use a little make-up, right here.” She waves her hand in the general area of her neck and you flush, knowing she means the hickeys Andrei sucked into your skin the night before.

“I, um, I’ll take that into consideration,” you stammer, even as Andrei sniggers behind your back. You swing your leg back, kicking your heel into his shin, and he just wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder.

Shooting the parents a wide and innocent, but sincere, smile, he says, “thank you, all of you, for helping us have the best wedding yesterday. We appreciate it very much.”

Your mother’s attention is now on her new son-in-law and not the marks on your neck. She smiles at him, “it was more than our pleasure. You two deserve it.”

“And especially the vacation,” Elena chimes in. “It’s well-earned.”

It definitely is. Andrei’s fresh off a Stanley Cup victory and you’re fresh off the stress of planning a wedding around the playoffs. You can’t wait to soak up the Mediterranean sun and have sex with your husband in between delicious meals. Your flight leaves the next afternoon and you’re more than ready to get going.

The parents release you back to your friends and lunch becomes a fun, lazy affair, a continuation of the after-party, where it’s revealed that Kate and Pyotr had hooked up in the hotel’s garden and half the team had lost money on that bet.

Eventually, you’re gently kicked out of the dining hall and your parents come up to the honeymoon suite to take both of your dresses to be cleaned and preserved for you while you’re in Greece. Elena and Igor take Andrei’s tux and put it in their car along with the three other tuxes belonging to your dad, Igor, and Geno. They’ve kindly volunteered to return them so it’s one less thing for Andrei to worry about when you get back.

Geno unloads Andrei’s honeymoon suitcase from his car, setting it next to yours in the back corner of the suite where it’s been since the morning of the wedding. You’re getting another night in the hotel before you leave for Greece, so all the luggage had to be brought with you. Not that it matters really, you’ve been packed for a week, beyond excited for the trip, and you’d packed most of Andrei’s stuff too. “What do you have in here?” Geno asks, teasing. “All of your hair products?”

Andrei raises an eyebrow at his brother and deadpans, “sex toys.”

You giggle while Geno processes for a few silent seconds before cracking into his trademark missing-toothed grin. He laughs loudly and cups Andrei’s face in his hands, squeezing his little brother’s cheek’s together. “You’re a little shit,” he shakes his head affectionately, “you know that?”

“Learned from the best,” Andrei mumbles, trying to smile while Geno is squishing his face.

The rest of the day and the next morning passes in a blur of last minute preparation, couples massages, and sex on every surface of the honeymoon suite. You put the shower bench to particularly good use.

Finally, after a quick lunch, you’re on the way to the airport, vibrating with excitement in the back seat. “I can’t believe we’re going to be completely and totally off the grid,” you sigh, closing your eyes and thinking about it. You’d decided against an international plan and are keeping your phones on airplane mode the entire trip, save for a few minutes at the end of the day when you’ll connect to hotel WiFi to check in with your parents. “It’s going to be so nice.”

“I’m just looking forward to spending time with you,” Andrei says sweetly, kissing your cheek.

Your flight ends up delayed for two hours, meaning more time to people-watch in the airport. Andrei gets bored sitting around and does laps, reporting back that he found no less than four Auntie Anne’s pretzel shops. “And you didn’t bring me cinnamon sugar pretzel nuggets?” You shake your head. “Bad start to the marriage.”

He does another lap and brings you the nuggets along with a lemonade, stealing a few pretzels from the cup before he hands them over.

Once you’re on the plane - first class(!) - Andrei takes both of your carry-ons and stows them away, letting you have the first shift in the window seat. You’ve learned over the past few years of dating that you both love the window seat, but Andrei would rather sit there during touchdown and you like it during takeoff, which makes it easy to switch off.

After takeoff, you get comfortable in your seat, kicking off your sneakers and folding your legs up on the seat. Andrei stretches out his legs and crosses them at the ankle, grinning when he sees you aiming your phone at him for a picture and throwing up a thumbs-up. Picture taking and documenting memories in scrapbooks is one of your love languages and Andrei learned early on how to be an Instagram husband, to pose for shots, and to always be aware that you’re taking candids.

“Make sure you save your boarding pass,” you say. “It’s going in the honeymoon scrapbook.”

He holds the slip of paper up in between his index and middle fingers, smirking, “whatever you say, wife.”

“Excellent,” you lean over the armrest and kiss him softly.

The flight attendant comes by with drinks and catches you kissing Andrei. “Aren’t you two adorable?” She comments, handing Andrei a water and you a ginger ale (it just tastes different on a plane).

You can’t help yourself and burst out, “we’re on our way to Greece for our honeymoon!”

“Well!” She beams, clapping her hands. “That’s so exciting! I wish you both a long and happy marriage.”

You thank her, Andrei chiming in at the same time.

The flight is uneventful. Andrei falls asleep almost immediately, since he’s so used to plane travel, and you know to wake him up for snacks and meal service. You’ve never been able to sleep on a plane, too excited and eager to enjoy the experience, so you find a movie to watch. Over the seven hours, you watch Top Gun and cry when Goose dies, Ghostbusters: Afterlife and cry when Harold Ramis’s character appears as a ghost or vision or whatever at the end, and The Parent Trap. You don’t cry during that one, but that’s mostly because you’ve seen it so many times and you’re desensitised.

Andrei stirs a little, waking up for dinner and to tease you about crying over old movies. You wrinkle your nose at him and he holds your hand when he falls back asleep.

You booked the trip through a Greek travel company, which means literally everything was taken care of including all transfers to and from the airport and the different hotels and islands, so all you have to do when you land, is gather your luggage and find the man holding up the SVECHNIKOV placard. Andrei drags the one large checked suitcase and his carry-on behind him, his backpack secure on his back. You’re left with your rolling carry-on and the old Jansport you’re using as a personal item for travel purposes.

“Mr and Mrs Svechnikov?” The man smiles at them. “I am James, I will drive you to the hotel.” He takes the suitcase from you and tries to take one from Andrei, but your husband is firm that he’ll pull his own suitcase. You traipse along behind both men, still taking in the sights and sounds of the Athens airport.

The heat hits you the second you step foot outside, a warm wall that has you sweating witching a few feet. The sun is bright and the air feels thick. You slide your sunglasses over your face and push up the sleeves of your travel sweatshirt, grinning like a fool at Andrei. He shares your smile, looking around at the mountainous surroundings.

It’s about a half-hour drive to the hotel and you find yourself dozing, leaning against Andrei’s arm, as you drive. The time difference and lack of sleep over the past few days are catching up to you. The warm of Andrei’s body next to yours isn’t helping. But after your little nap, you feel refreshed when you get to the hotel. So refreshed that you immediately drop the bags off and start exploring the neighborhood. Andrei holds your hand as you walk, taking in the vibrant surroundings and the smells of amazing food. You bounce on the balls of your feet every time you spot a stray cat and squeal when you stumble on the Acropolis.

“Oh my god, Drei!” You grin. “We’re actually here. Like we’re actually, really in Greece on our honeymoon.”

He laughs and kisses you. “I know, solnyshka. It feels like a dream.”

The entire trip is a dream. You get up early the next morning and hike up the slope of the Parthenon to see the Acropolis. It’s hot, but beautiful. You looks around in awe, overwhelmed by the history and architectural work. Andrei asks a couple if they’ll take a photo of the two of you and he pulls you into his arms, holding you against his side and smiling widely for the picture. You lean up to kiss his cheek for another photo.

By the time you start the walk back down, it’s even hotter and the crowds are getting out of control. Andrei is at your back, keeping a watch as you go down the marble steps. Once you get to the bottom, you get two frozen lemonades, plain for Andrei and strawberry for you, and lean against a nearby wall to suck them down and cool off.

“There’s so much history here,” you say, looking around. “It’s just so cool! I mean, to think that the Acropolis was built so many hundreds of years ago and it’s still standing.”

“Nerd,” he teases you affectionately.

After a few days in Athens, you’re shuffled off to the ferry via car service early in the morning. It’s still dark when you get in line to board and you’re wrapped in a sweatshirt while you lean on the big suitcase. Andrei’s hand is warm on your back and your legs tingle a little, still sore from the marathon sex you’ve been having. You sip at your coffee, enjoying just how strong the Greek coffee is. “We definitely need to bring some of this coffee back home,” you say, holding your cup up for Andrei to have a sip.

“A cup of this before a game and I’m flying,” he agrees.

“You could use that, old man,” you tease him, nudging his foot with yours and he smacks at your ass a little.

“Brat.”

You smirk at him. “Guess you’ll have to punish me, then.”

Andrei’s eyes darken in the dim light, but before he gets the chance to say anything, the line starts moving and there’s an announcement that boarding is happening. You shuffle along, Andrei’s hand reaching out to pinch your ass, making you yelp. When you look back at him, he just smiles innocently.

The ferry ride to Naxos from Athens isn’t very long, just about four hours, but it’s long enough for you both to get in quick naps once you find your seats. Andrei has his legs propped up on the suitcase, keeping it close, and your lips tilt up at the sight of him with his head back and his baseball cap over his face. You snap a picture.

Naxos is gorgeous, but your hotel is smack in the middle of nowhere and has an outdated 70s vibe that makes you think of murder motels. It’s an uncharitable thought because everyone is so nice and polite, especially when they find out you’re celebrating your honeymoon. The beach is a thirty minute walk in one direction and the town is more than an hour’s walk in the other. You manage to figure out the bus system and are on the beach, laying on side-by-side lounge chairs in under an hour. The water is too gorgeous to be real and it’s warm enough that you don’t have to tentatively step in and get used to it.

The days pass by in a blur of sun and sand, picnics packed for lunch, and in one memorable afternoon, a stumble on a nude beach.

“Oh my god!” You yelp, eyes going wide. “We have to turn around.”

Andrei’s laughing so hard he can’t speak, averting his eyes from looking directly at all the old people baring it all. You cover your eyes on the side like you’re wearing blinders and speed walk back in the direction of your chairs. “Solnyshka,” Andrei calls after you, still laughing, “it’s natural! What if I decided to strip down? Would you run away from me?”

“No!” You smother a horrified laugh. “But you’re my husband and your balls don’t hang down to your ankles. It’s not exactly a hardship to look at your naked body, Andrei!”

“Well that’s good to hear,” he deadpans. A smirk cracks his facade and he starts to giggle again. “You just looked so horrified.”

“They’re old! And wrinkled! And their skin is like leather - has no one heard of moisturiser?” You shake your head, planning on rubbing in another layer of sunscreen when you’re back at your chairs.

Dinner is usually a relaxed affair, sitting at some taverna by the water, plates of appetizers covering the table. You have a Greek salad with every meal, thoroughly enjoying the feta and fresh tomatoes. Naxos is known for their cheese, so you order a cheese platter one night and share approximately two pieces with Andrei, fighting each other with your forks. He distracts you, pointing over your shoulder and exclaiming that he sees dolphins, and when you look over to see nothing, he pulls the cheese plate to himself and protectively encircles his arms around it, laughing when you start tugging at his hands. There’s this amazingly bright beet dip - a perfect magenta pink and so addictive with the grilled pita bread.

“I could marry this dip,” you moan.

Andrei raises an eyebrow. “I could be okay with polygamy.”

After Naxos, you take the ferry to Paros - just an hour on the boat and you’re in a completely different location. It’s amazing how efficient the ferries are and how civilized the whole process is. You get to keep your luggage the whole time and since seats are assigned on your ticket, no one fights for a seat.

Paros is a gorgeous island. Similar in size to Naxos, but more built up. Your hotel is magical - a true five star - with palm trees by the pool and perfectly manicured grounds. There are hot pink flowers everywhere and you breathe in the fresh air, feeling like a different person.

“I love this place,” you sigh, stretching out on a lounger next to the pool. Andrei toasts you with his drink, something in a coconut that he’d never normally order at home.

“Top hotel so far,” he says, tucking one hand behind his head, making his bicep pop. He’s been running in the mornings, to counterbalance the food you’ve been eating. But he’s also been so relaxed, which is something you’re glad to see. The last few years have been a lot on him - his ACL injury that had led to a shortened season when he returned followed by the deep playoff run leading to the eventual Stanley Cup. He needed a minute to unwind.

He reaches out over the distance between your chairs and wiggles his fingers at you. You reach your own hand out and let him lace your fingers together. Unfairly, he’s tanner than you are, his skin turning a nice golden brown under the Greek sun. Andrei’s thumb traces over your knuckles.

Neither of you say anything, just enjoying the company and quiet.

The beach is a two minute walk from your hotel, so in the afternoons, you make your way over there with just your towels to swim in the sea. You’re actually addicted to the Mediterranean now and have no idea how you’re going to go back to swimming in the Atlantic. There’s some cliffs around the beach and Andrei eggs you on to climb them and jump off.

You’re a chicken when it comes to stuff like that, but with Andrei encouraging you, and screaming all the way down, you jump from a decently high cliff. The adrenaline rush is unparalleled and Andrei enthusiastically responds when you jump into his arms, kissing him hungrily. With the buoyancy from the salt water helping, Andrei carries you into a secluded cove, shadowed by the cliffs you had just jumped off of. He presses you against the rocks, scraping your back, and twists his fingers in the ties of your bikini bottoms.

His fingers edge under the fabric and you squirm, wanting him to touch you. “Come on, Drei,” you urge him. “Touch me, please.”

“Anyone could swim by, zhena,” he murmurs against your neck, licking at the drying salt.

“Not if,” you gasp, letting your head fall back as Andrei licks and bites your neck. “Not if you’re fast.”

He hums against your skin, still toying with the fabric of your bottoms. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and you can feel the hard heat of his cock pressing into you. You grind down against him and he bites your shoulder in a little warning. “You like this?” He asks, slipping his index finger under your bathing suit and letting the tip of it tease at your swollen folds. The cool water laps around you, keeping your temperature down. “You want people to see you, my love? You want them to see me give you my fingers, see how many of them you can take?”

“I…yes…Andrei, please,” you whine, heels kicking against his back while you clench around the tip of his finger. “I…more… pozhaluysta.”

It’s a dirty trick, using your limited Russian, because you know he finds nothing hotter. Andrei slips two fingers inside of you and crooks them, forcing a cry from your throat. You press one hand against your lips to muffle your noises as he fucks you with his fingers, adding a third after only a few seconds. “You wanted this, my love,” he rasps, “don’t be quiet.”

“Andrei,” you whine his name, toes curling. Your hand fists in his hair and he hisses a little when you tug. His fingers are thick and rough inside of you and it doesn’t take too much longer before you’re clenching around then and coming on his hand. “Fuck,” you mutter, going boneless in his arms.

“Good girl,” Andrei praises you, kisses your shoulder. “I think it’s time for a nap.”

Your eyelids flutter and he carries you through the water back to your towels. Your legs are jelly underneath you, but you wrap yourself in your towel, pressing against his body to feel his erection press into your lower stomach. “You know,” you murmur, “there’s a hammock on the patio of our room.”

Andrei raises an eyebrow at you. “We have a good time in hammocks,” he says slowly.

Agreeing, you continue, “and the bathtub in the room is very, very big. Probably big enough for, say a 6’2” Russian and his brand new wife.”

“We should test that out,” he says, seriously, nudging you through the sand and back to the road leading to your hotel.

Turns out the tub isn’t quite big enough for the both of you and more water splashes over the sides than stays in, but you giggle your way through a bath that’s more groping than anything. The olive oil soap is a nice amenity, getting you both extra slick and slippery - which does eventually result in you banging your knee against the side of the tub, but it’s worth it when Andrei kisses the spot, working his way up your inner thigh.

After the bath, you dry each other off and roll around on the bed, making out and touching each other, but not really doing much more. It’s been a long trip and you’d like to be able to walk at the end of it. You order loukoumades - Greek doughnuts soaked in honey syrup and dusted with cinnamon - from room service and curl up on Andrei’s lap out on the patio to enjoy the warm night and the sweet treat.

Andrei feeds you a doughnut and you purposefully suck his fingers into your mouth when you take a bite. He raises an eyebrow at you and you giggle. “You know,” you say quietly, enjoying the peaceful evening, “one day, I’d like to bring our kids back here. Be the annoying parents that talk about their honeymoon and show their kids all the amazing sights and restaurants.”

“That would be nice,” Andrei replies, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Rent a villa and let them run around in the sun. We should have them learn Greek too, that way someone can translate.”

“Can you imagine?” You grin, leaning back against his chest. “Little babies running around switching between English, Russian, and Greek? They’ll be the smartest kids is Raleigh.”

“And the cutest too, probably.” He nuzzles his nose against the side of your neck. “As long as they look like you.”

Warmth floods your stomach, thinking about a little gang of Svechnikov babies. In your imagination, they look like Andrei, his warm brown eyes and that dimple. You curl closer against him, daydreaming about that future.

Your last island is Santorini and you’re actually spending the least amount of time here, just four and a half days before you fly back to Athens for an overnight stay before leaving for home again. Santorini is gorgeous, but it’s definitely the most crowded of the islands and the most touristy. The blue domes against the white washed buildings are beautiful and the sunsets are as gorgeous as promised. But, after the slower paced Naxos and Paros, you find yourself getting a little cranky with the crowds of Santorini.

“I think you need an ice cream,” Andrei says, guiding you towards one of the many ice cream shops. “You’re getting that hangry look in your eyes.”

“These people just don’t move!” You grumble, following him. “It’s so crowded and if they all stop in the middle of the path…” You throw your hands up in exasperation.

“She’ll have the kataifi,” Andrei says to the woman behind the counter, ignoring you, “and I’ll have the chocolate hazelnut.”

Your ice cream order’s been fairly standard over the past few days in Santorini - the kataifi ice cream is cinnamon-y and sweet and has chunks of the crunchy kataifi phyllo and nuts mixed it. You take the cone and happily tear into it, already feeling a little better as you cool off. Andrei takes his cone and pays, joining you against the wall of the shop. You’re busy keeping your ice cream from melting all over your hands and so when Andrei leans over and licks from the edge of your jaw to your earlobe, you’re so startled you nearly drop the cone entirely.

“Andrei!” You yelp, turning on him with wide eyes. “What the —“

He smirks at you and points at the opposite wall where a blue neon sign proclaims ‘it’s not going to lick itself.’ You blink at the sign briefly and then start giggling. “Just doing what the sign tells me,” he says innocently.

“I don’t think that’s what it means,” you murmur, flicking your gaze down to the front of his shorts.

“You can lick that later,” Andrei promises, grinning. He licks his ice cream scoop very deliberately, flattening his tongue around the scoop and swirling it. Your cheeks flush and you bump his hip with yours. He captures your hand and squeezes, tugging you out of the shop and back into the packed streets.

You wander a little more, popping into a jewelry store where you immediately spot two puppies playing and squat down to play with them. Andrei disappears for a minute, but you’re too distracted to realize he even left until he’s back, hovering over you, asking, “ready to get going?”

“Where’d you go?” You ask, giving the dogs one more pet each before standing up and taking Andrei’s hand.

He waves his other hand, “just around. Looking at souvenirs.”

“Okay,” you squint at him a little suspiciously, but don’t question it. “I think we’ve covered everyone actually, unless you want to get anything else for your parents.” The entirety of one of your carry-on suitcases is dedicated to souvenirs, and there’s spill over into the big suitcase, so you’re kind of hoping Andrei’s done with gifts.

He shakes his head, “I think I’m good.” He smirks at you, “besides, we don’t have any more luggage room, right?”

“You do listen to me!” You laugh.

“Of course,” he kisses your knuckles. “Happy wife, happy life, right?”

Your last day on Satorini is spent on the volcanic black sand beach, relaxing and fooling around in the sea. “I’m going to miss this,” you say, toes skimming the sand while you float in the deep water.

“Let’s come back next year,” Andrei suggests, tipping his face back to the sun. “Another two weeks, there’s hundreds of islands we haven’t seen.”

You find yourself getting a little emotional. “Yeah,” you whisper, emotion clogging your throat, “that would be nice. But it would just be a vacation, it wouldn’t be another honeymoon.”

“No,” Andrei floats over to you and kisses you softly, “it won’t be. But it’ll be a good first anniversary trip.” He kisses your cheek. “Or maybe a trip to celebrate a pregnancy.”

“I love you,” you whisper, wiping at your face. “This has been the best trip, Drei. Honestly. I can’t wait to take a million more.” You loop your arms around his neck and his arms come around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“You made it the best trip,” he says, dimple popping. “There’s no one else I’d rather spend two and a half weeks island hopping with or getting lost on the way to the beach with. I wouldn’t stop whenever someone else pointed out a stray cat or dog, just you, solnyshka.”

You snort a laugh, “you’re really angling for me to lick something, aren’t you?”

“Well,” Andrei smirks, the sun glinting off of his tanned skin and his brown eyes twinkling, “I wouldn’t say no to a little licking.”

There’s a lot of licking on your last night in Santorini and you both sleep in the next morning, enjoying a lazy start to the day and getting breakfast delivered to your room so you can pack and eat on your own time. The flight back to Athens is only an hour - you spent longer going through security and waiting to board than actually in the air.

You’re only in Athens overnight before you have to leave for the airport at 11, so you make the most of it, wandering around and getting a little bit lost before having a final dinner in a romantic little taverna. Andrei passes a little jewelry box across the table to you while you wait for dessert.

“What’s this?” You trace a finger over the box.

“A present,” he smiles.

“You already gave me a pretty good present,” you hold up your left hand, flashing your engagement ring and wedding band.

He laughs a little. “I know. But this one is to remember Greece.”

You look at him, shaking your head a bit, and pop open the box to find a cross that looks exactly like his, but smaller. “Andrei,” you look back up at him, “this is - it’s just like yours.”

You know Greek and Russian Orthodox are under the same umbrella and Andrei had poked his head into a few churches, doing the cross and dropping a few euros to light candles. You’d gotten married Russian Orthodox and even though it’s your own background, your family was far enough removed from being in Russia that religion wasn’t a major aspect of your life growing up.

“I saw it the other day,” he says. “And you don’t have to wear it, but I thought it might be nice. For us to have matching crosses.” He pauses. “For yours to be a memory of the honeymoon.”

You’re halfway to tears as you’re pulling the chain from the box and clasping it around your neck. “Why are you the most thoughtful, sentimental man in the world?” You lean over the table, the cross around your neck swaying and bumping your chest, and cup his face in your hands to kiss him deeply. “I love it and I love you.”

Andrei’s cheeks are a little pink when you sit back down. He shrugs one shoulder. “I wanted you to have a little piece of me too, when I’m traveling.”

“I’m not taking it off, Drei,” you murmur, tracing your fingers over the cool metal. His own chain is just barely visible under the collar of his shirt and you eye it. “We’re clearly going to have to come back and get more for the future Svechnikov babies.”

He laughs and catches your hand, kissing your palm. “Whatever you want, zhena. Whatever you want.”

A warm breeze carries through the street and it’s the perfect night to end your honeymoon.