#That is dedication right there and it is appreciated

[royalarchivist]

Fit: Admittedly... I have a lot of red flags. A lot of red flags, but– I- [Stammers] I can be- I can– I can change.

Pac: I'm gonna just– I'm gonna ignore all the red flags, you know?

Fit: Yeah, no, you– You have no red flags at all in my eyes, Pac.

Pac: You know, you just said red flags? I think I'm kinda like, colorblind. So... they don't look that red for me. [Laughs]

Fit: Me too! What a coincidence!

Happy 1 Year Anniversary to Fit and Pac's first date (where they both decided to be selectively colorblind). 💕

[ Full Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

—

Pac: All your problems, I'm just gonna brush them away. You know?

Fit: Oh– [Laughs] Yeah, I- I– Admittedly... I have a lot of red flags. Yeah, like– you know, I got PTSD from End Crystal explosions, and I, you know, would kill people and blow up their houses, and– You know, I mean–

Pac: Yeah...

Fit: A lot of red flags, but– I- [Stammers] I can be- I can– I can change.

Pac: I'm gonna just– I'm gonna ignore all the red flags, you know? It's all under the... Oh my god, under the...

Fit: The- the bus. Yes. [Laughs]

Pac: Under the bus, yes, under the bus. [Laughs]

Fit: Yeah, no, you– You have no red flags at all in my eyes, Pac. You have no red flags.

Pac: And- and- and at the same time Fit, you know, you- you just said red flags? I think I'm kinda like, colorblind.

Fit: [Laughs]

Pac: So... they don't look that red for me. [Laughs]

Fit: Me too! What a coincidence! I also- I- I mean– Like, what color is this flower on my- on my chest? I don't even know what color this is! Yeah.

Pac: I don't know! It looks grey. [Laughs]

Fit: I don't even know what color that is! Yeah.

[thepersonperson]

Little Details in JJK

I've decided to put a couple of minor details I noticed and thought were neat in one place to keep track of them. They're all basically like this:

They never patched that hole up but they removed all the talismans lmao. Planning how to kill Sukuna in the room Yuji was almost executed with the finger that made that hole goes hard though.

Notes before we start.

1) This features Miguel Oduol, Yorozu, and Sukuna.

2) I will be mainly using the TCB scans for the manga because of their accessibility. 

3) Raws are from mangareader(.)to.

(Click images for captions/citations.)

Miguel Oduol

We all know Miguel Oduol is from Kenya, however what you might not know is that he appears to be from the Maasai tribe specifically! I'm going to link a lot of resources about this, so keep in mind that sometimes they can be incidentally racist. (Aka a minority is tribe is discussed like an alien species.)

Cursed Technique Origins

I know a lot of people criticized Miguel's Cursed Technique (CT) for being a dance, however, it is directly related to him being Maasai. Adumu is the Maasai jumping dance practiced by warriors to show off their strength and agility. This is the dance Miguel appears to be doing when he first activates his CT against Sukuna.

(Read more on the Maasai Jumping Dance here!)

If you noticed, Miguel's baldness also appears to be based it being a common hairstyle for the Maasai regardless of gender. It should also be noted that his CT, Hakuna Laana, is Swahili for No Curses. Swahili is an official language of Kenya and is spoken by the Maasai even though they have their own language (also called Maasai or Maa).

Other Details

Since the Maasai are nomadic and move around based on the weather, their dwellings reflect that lifestyle. This appears to be why Miguel is drawn outside of a hut in that one flashback—it's just how Maasai homes look.

Another thing done right was the local flora. It's super easy for creators to mistakenly apply foreign flora to the wrong region. (Take for instance, the iconic Saguaro cactus being included in settings based on Chihuahuan Desert in Texas, when this cactus exclusively grows in the Sonoran Desert, which is basically just Arizona and Baja California.)

The trees in the background are called Baobab trees and they do in fact grow in Kenya.

Why Maasai?

I think Gege picked the Maasai tribe in particular for Miguel because of their belief in curses. See from the following sources:

"While generational curses are normal within the Maasai worldview..."

"For the Maasai people, death does not traditionally hold any secrets of the afterlife. Once an individual has passed, their journey has ended. All of their possessions and any of their sins are transferred to the loved ones who survive them."

"Social control among the Maasai rests ultimately on the general belief in the power of elders to bless and to curse..."

(Please note that the word they use for curse (engooki) appears to be sometimes translated as sin.)

So when Miguel threatens to curse Geto in JJK0 if he dies?

He really fudging means it. (Could also explain why he's so particular about not dying. He doesn't believe he'll be reincarnated later, that's just it for him!)

The only thing about Miguel that didn't seem to fit with Maasai practices is the black rope. This is a stretch, but it might be based on their well-known bead work:

"Black– Symbolizes unity and solidarity. It also denotes the struggles the Maasai endure, which bring them together as a people."

Miguel certainly struggled when using that on Gojo.

Yorozu

This is mostly me complaining about what got lost in translation. Yorozu is basically a bug and I cannot wait for her weird insect shtick to get animated.

Best Bug

The first instance of her speech being bug-coded I noticed is when Yorozu yells 斬って (Kitte) 7 times total (7.5 if you count the modified 斬 (ki) at the end.

The Japanese is objectively funnier because Yorozu is screaming "CUT ME!!" over and over like cicada. The English translation gave her a poetic flair she doesn't have.

This also happens with her Domain Expansion 三重疾苦 (Shikkushikku Shikku) where 三重 (Shikkushikku) means triple and 疾苦 (Shikku) means suffering.

Additional context shamelessly stolen from the JJK wiki:

"The kanji shikku (疾苦 (しっく) ) refers to the suffering brought on by illness, affliction, or simply hardship in life. Akutami uses the pronunciation shikku as a pun of the borrowed English word "sick" (シック shikku).

Given Yorozu's excessive love for Sukuna, it is likely that the domain's name references "lovesickness", and specifically a song by Japanese VOCALOID producer PinocchioP (sung by Hatsune Miku) called "Sick Sick Sick" (シックシックシック), which is about how love can be a sickness."

(Btw シックis read as Shikku.)

My best attempt to carry forward the puns and repetition for this domain would be Triply Tristful Tribulations. (Someone please come up with something better.)

Yorozu's death is also bug-coded. Mahoraga literally swats her like a roach.

There's also something to be said about Sukuna refusing to touch her in battle and using anything but his actual body to kill her. That's kind of how most people are when it comes to killing bugs.

Not Bug Related

The thing Yorozu is lounging on in the Heian flashback is a "pillow" called a takamakura. It's a special headrest that was slept on to keep fancy hairstyles intact since they would take hours to prepare.

Since Yorozu's hair is down and she just kind of runs around pussy out while ignoring all the social rules, it speaks to her non-noble heritage. (Remember she was recruited by the Fujiwaras and is from Aizu.) She also has a bad habit of biting her fingernails when she's concentrating.

Another fun detail is that when she declares that she's going to be the one at Sukuna's side. Yorozu directly points at Uraume who is already standing there. This of course, is called back to in the epilogue where Uraume remains at Sukuna's side.

What I really like about this is that Yorozu seems to believe that only a romantic relationship will ease Sukuna's loneliness, and she's proven wrong. The platonic/familial bond with Uraume winds up being the one Sukuna chooses and it's good enough for him. I may be biased, but I appreciate when non-romantic relationships are considered just as satisfying as romantic ones.

I also have to shout out Yorozu for not seeing Uraume as competition. She still wants them around even if she marries Sukuna. It's so easy to have an obsessive character like her be irrationally jealous, but she's basically willing to adopt Uraume which is adorable. (This also goes for Hana, who in a worse manga, would see Tsumiki as competition for Megumi.)

Sukuna

This is just a compilation of my favorite Sukuna girlfailure moments.

Self-Depreciation

"The bough that bear most hang lowest." comes from a proverb that means "those who have the most to offer are often the least boastful, much like tree branches that bend under the weight of their fruit."

When Sukuna tells Jogo that his "head doesn't bear much" he's warning him about his lack of humility (aka not bowing enough) and calling him worthless at the same time. Pretty clever, right?

What makes this a girlfailure moment is that by this logic, Sukuna is inadvertently declaring that he's worth less than the ones he's looking down on and that his arrogance is a sign of posturing. If you pointed this out to him, he'd probably kill you, but it's kind of funny he overlooked the implication.

Manji Kick

When Yuji tries to throw hands with Sukuna after being killed, he tries to kick his gruncle in the face and misses.

This doesn't stop Yuji! Eventually he pulls off a successful Manji Kick against Mahito.

This means that even though Sukuna has dodged this move before, even though he has witnessed Yuji landing this move...

...he somehow managed to get with it in his "strongest" original form.

He Might Be Autistic

I promise I'll elaborate more on Sukuna's autism in a different post, but he's on par with Yuji in taking things at face value sometimes. Here is my favorite example.

He really took his nephew at his word and got punched in the face for it...

The Knives

When Sukuna's technique is first properly introduced, 2 knives represent it. The one on the left is a sujihiki (associated with Dismantle) while the one on the right is a burja (associated with Cleave). Uraume winds up using a burja when cutting the curses for a bath.

The thing about the sujihiki is that it's primarily used for scaling and filleting fish. You know, like for Gojo Satoru, the fish he scaled then bisected with Dismantle. The burja is used for percision cutting which is probably why Uraume uses it for the special preparation of curses. (Burjas also aren't that big, so I'd like to believe that's Sukuna's knife they're using.)

Anyways, I leave you with a panel comparison of Gojo punching Uraume like he did Hakari and Yuta. (Sukuna dodging their flying body will never not be funny.)

Gojo and Sukuna have really questionable ideas about guardianship.

[artisticmoki]

Studying Bjørn for Aske-Bjorn week 💪

[skitskatdacat63]

2011 Japan Post-Qualifying

[silentsialia]

There are a lot of flaws in F1 Academy but people are so focused on "a women's only series doesn't help them in the long run" that I doubt any meaningful discussion can actually take place. Which is sad, these women definitely deserve much better than the cards they're being dealt.

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

ty to the people who continuously support me and love me I just. I love yall a lot <3

[chatdae]

love how the older skaters in the senior division give Yurio encouragement and that each time it pisses Yurio off. JJ is intentionally condescending so that makes sense, but with Viktor and Yuuri they're not even being condescending. Yurio's just dialed in on being a hater... and i love that for him <3

[itsbenedict]

Lost in Hearts brief hiatus

I'm realizing that there's a thing that might become relevant in LiH at any moment, which is... not ready, yet. I planned to have it ready by the time we reached this point but it isn't. So I gotta knuckle down and focus on getting that ready for a few days.

If you haven't been keeping up with these mostly-daily posts, now's a good time to catch up! If it looks complicated and hard to follow... well, that's kind of the bit. It's a choose-your-own-adventure quest where your options for what to do next in this weird spooky cyber-world are obfuscated by turning them all into anagrams. Little bit of a word game, little bit of a guessing game.

Starting here, the whole thing's navigable by Continued and Previously links, and shouldn't be more than like 30 pages at time of writing. It's good! I think. I'm biased.

[underestimated-shadow]

Of all the showstoppers Death Rattle Dazzle had to offer on opening night, Oliver Putnam's unexpected, yet epic entrance onstage was the showstopper.

[jonyxtion]

Social Media Profile

Romance: Felix

Finally finished the first social media profile for one of my two mcs for @pavedinashes-if, took way to long(thanks life beeing difficult for that), but alas i am rather happy how it turned out.

Also thanks to sai, who was so kind to send me the profile pics of the ros, so that i could finish the profile. Also hopefully the next one is gonna be ready faster this time.

Anyways, now im gonna wait paitiently for the demo of @dereliction-if and PiA, and if you haven't checked both out, i recommend to do it, it is definetly worth it.

[moe-broey]

WAIT IS IT AUGUST 30TH OR AUGUST 31ST FOR THEIR FANON BDAY???????????????

(Alfonse and Sharena to specify)

[reverend-meat]

I hate fandom drama but:

*Starts fandom drama*

Just saw someone very popular in a fandom that I'm in post this big huge rant about how no one is characterizing their fave character "correctly" in fanfic? And how its clear "Nobody who writes him has played his spinoff game!"

Its like

chill out.

It's fanfiction. Literally the nerdiest fucking thing worldwide. It is so 100% such a completely unserious way to spend our time?

We are all literally grown ass adults playing makebelieve with our favorite characters. We are smashing these fictional characters around like Barbies and making them do dumb stuff for our own amusement.

ITS FINE.

ITS LITERALLY FINE.

YOU DON'T HAVE TO CHARACTERIZE SOMEONE "PERFECTLY".God, you don't even have to write "good" fanfiction? You can literally just write total dogshit and post it and so long as it makes you happy thats fine??

Write bad fanfiction. Write dumb takes. Mischaracterize someone for fun. Make them do dumb shit they wouldn't do in canon. Write 100k words about two characters in different timelines doing shit that is literally impossible in canon. ITS FINE. LITERALLY NO ONE AT ALL IS BEING INJURED BY YOU WRITING MAKE BELIEVE SHIT.

ITS ALL FINE.

YOU'RE NOT BEING PAID TO DO THIS WHY WOULD YOU LISTEN TO SOMEONES SOUR ASS TAKE?? Especially on something you decided to dedicate your own time and effort to and post for free?? Radical self love is the future babes.

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

GYM CRUSH SIMON

sfw + nsfw. unsafe sex. womb fucking. no condom.

you never planned on becoming a late-night gym rat. it just …happened. like most things in your life, it started with good intentions and spiraled into something you weren’t entirely in control of.

you’d made a new year’s resolution to get in shape— because health, discipline, all that crap— and, in a moment of overzealous optimism, you splurged on a gym membership. a pricey one, to add. the kind that made your bank account cry, which meant quitting wasn’t an option.

there was only one problem. you were busy. between classes, assignments, and the absolute joke that was your sleep schedule, the only time you could consistently work out was well past normal human hours.

at first, the idea of hitting the gym at midnight felt… weird. like stepping into a parallel universe where only insomniacs and questionable life choices existed. but then you considered the alternative— going during peak hours and getting judged for your piss-poor form, or worse, waiting in line for machines behind a dude who was live-streaming his workout.

midnight schedule it was.

it grew on you eventually. the routine became second nature. drag yourself in after class, half-asleep, toss your bag into a locker, and start on the treadmill to wake yourself up. a slow warm-up, music blasting through your headphones, then a mostly half-hearted attempt at strength training.

the people who showed up at this hour were predictable. a few other students— dead-eyed, running on caffeine fumes. a handful of older folks, the dedicated ones who treated the gym like a sacred temple.

and then there was him.

tall. broad. built like something out of a military recruitment ad.

the first time you noticed him, you’d nearly tripped on the treadmill. one second, you were zoning out, staring at the clock, and the next— there he was. buzz cut barely visible beneath the hood of his sweatshirt, arms thick with muscle, veins running down his forearms in stark lines. tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, black ink tracing the ridges of his skin.

(the combat boots were what threw you off. who the hell wore combat boots to the gym?)

he moved through his workout with terrifying

efficiency. no wasted movements, no unnecessary pauses. heavyweights. circuits. the kind of training that looked more like preparation for war than casual fitness. he never looked winded either. no gasping for breath, no pausing to rest, just relentless, controlled effort.

you developed a— not a crush— an appreciation for him. admiration. respect. that was it. not the way his hoodie stretched across his shoulders when he adjusted his grip on the barbell. not the way his jaw clenched in concentration. not the way his fingers wrapped around the weights with an ease that made you feel woefully inadequate.

“it’s a crush,” your friend announced one evening, stabbing a straw into his juice box.

you scoffed, flipping through your notes. “it’s not.”

“it is. i’m fit too, but i don’t see you staring at me like you wanna lick salt off my abs.”

you made a disgusted noise. “jesus, shut up.”

he grinned, tipping his juice box back dramatically. “i’m just saying. the fact that you haven’t even talked to him and yet know his entire workout routine is very-"

“i do not know his entire workout routine.”

your friend raised a brow.

you sighed. “…he does back and legs on tuesdays.”

his brow lifted higher.

“…and arms on thursdays.”

silence.

“right.”

“shut up.”

you’d considered talking to him. maybe asking for tips or making some awkward joke about his frankly ridiculous choice of gym footwear. but he didn’t exactly radiate approachable.

the man looked like he’d rather be waterboarded than engage in small talk.

and you? you weren’t some plucky rom-com protagonist who could charm the brooding loner into friendship with a dazzling smile and sheer force of personality. so, you kept your distance. which was fine. totally fine.

What the hell would you even say? “hey, nice pecs, can I bury my face between them?” he’d call the police on you.

so, you stayed quiet..

until the night you made the monumentally stupid decision to start lifting weights.

in your defense, it wasn’t entirely your idea. you were perfectly content with your usual treadmill-and-machines routine. but then your friend had to go and mock you.

“you’re paying for a full gym membership,” he said, flicking a fry at your forehead, “and you’re not even using the weight room?”

“i use it,” you protested.

“you walk through it.”

okay, fine. he had a point. which was how you ended up here, standing in front of a barbell, mentally preparing yourself to lift it like you were about to perform brain surgery.

you’d done your research— watched some youtube tutorials, read some articles. you knew the basics. foot placement. core engagement. not arching your back like a possessed demon.

you took a deep breath, squared your stance, wrapped your hands around the bar, and— nothing.

the bar didn’t budge.

you frowned, adjusted your grip. another deep breath. still nothing.

okay. you could do this. just, more force. maybe a little momentum. you planted your feet, sucked in a breath, and heaved—

"y’need a spotter?"

you startle so hard you nearly fall backward, breath catching as you whip around. close— he’s close, and jesus, he’s even bigger up close. broad shoulders, thick arms crossed over his chest, pale eyes flicking between you and the barbell like he’s already making peace with witnessing an injury. his hoodie is pulled up like always, shadows cutting sharp over the edges of his jaw, but there’s something vaguely unimpressed about his expression. braced for disaster.

you swallow. "uh."

his brow lifts, expectant, as if this is some kind of trick question. "that a yes or a no?"

"i-" your brain short-circuits. every ounce of confidence you had a second ago shrivels up and dies. "i totally got this."

he exhales sharply, something between a scoff and a sigh. he shifts his weight, one foot bracing slightly forward. "sure you do.

your face heats. you turn back to the barbell, fingers tightening around the metal, and pull. it lifts— barely. your arms burn, hands already sweating, but you’re stubborn. you have it. almost.

"you’re about to smash your fucking face in," he mutters.

you falter— just for a second— but that’s all it takes. your grip slips, the weight tilting. shit, shit, shit!

he moves fast. faster than you expect. before you can even panic properly, his hands brace yours, steadying the bar with zero effort. he’s strong, fingers wrapping over yours for a brief moment before smoothly guiding the weight back onto the rack like it weighs nothing. you stumble back, arms trembling from the strain, but he doesn’t step away yet, just watches you catch your breath.

"right," he says after a beat, stepping back. "now that you’ve definitely got it, mind if i give you some actual pointers?"

you blink up at him, still processing the fact that you almost died, and this guy just saved your life like it was nothing. "you train people?"

"no. just rather not watch someone crush their skull in." which is… fair, you suppose.

you wipe your sweaty palms on your leggings, trying not to look as embarrassed as you feel. "okay. please. teach me."

you and simon— you learn his name by the third day!— slowly fall into a routine, much to his chagrin. he hadn’t expected offering to help you not splatter brain matter across the gym floor would lead to... this. a persistent presence. a shadow in his periphery.

he doesn’t know how it happened, how you managed to wedge yourself into the one place he thought was untouchable, but somehow, you did. and now, you’re there. always. not in an overbearing way. you don’t talk his ear off or force yourself on him. if anything, you’re surprisingly easy to be around. and worse— comfortable. which is fucking dangerous.

a routine starts forming. he hadn’t expected that offering to help you not crush your own skull under a barbell would lead to… this. hadn’t expected that you’d still be here, three days later, four, a week, waving at him when he walks in, bright-eyed and warm despite the ungodly hour. he tries to keep you at arm’s length, really, he does.

but you’re not loud. you don’t force yourself on him. you don’t pry or try to push past his walls— you just exist, alongside him, like it’s a natural thing in the world. you ask him questions, ease him into conversations so seamlessly that sometimes he doesn’t even notice he’s talking until he’s already halfway into answering.

"you ever listen to anything in those headphones?"

he glances at you, then down at his battered over-ear set, blinking like he’d forgotten they were even on. "sometimes."

you hum, stepping up to adjust your weights. "what kinda music?

he hesitates. "depends."

"on?"

"the day."

you narrow your eyes. "that’s not an answer."

"sure it is."

you mutter something under your breath about how “everyone in this gym is allergic to giving a straight answer,” but drop it— he notices that about you. you ask, but you never push. never press. you’re content with whatever he gives, and somehow that makes him want to give you more.

it’s little things at first. small details. he learns that you hate most protein juices but drink it anyway, that you run cold so you always wear a hoodie even when you’re sweating through it, that you hate country music and give him a long, horrified look when you learn that he doesn’t. ("not all of it," he defends, rolling his eyes. "some of it’s alright." you just shake your head at him like he’s beyond saving.)

you learn things too. that his tattoos are actually a full sleeve ("when’d you get these?" "over time." "wow, thanks, that clears so much up."), that he has an endless supply of grey hoodies and sweatpants that he refuses to explain.

"you ever heard of color?" you ask, plucking at his sleeve, and he swats your hand away. "practical," he grunts. "s’not a fuckin’ fashion show."

and then— of course— you fixate on the boots. the combat boots. “okay, but why?” you prod, nudging the toe of his boot with yours. “you know you can wear actual gym shoes, right?”

he gives you a flat look, expression unreadable under the shadow of his hood. “they’re my only pair.”

you freeze. your face twists, and there’s this flicker of genuine horror in your eyes that throws him completely off guard. “simon... are you... homeless?” your voice drops to a whisper, hesitant, like you’re afraid to even ask. his brain short-circuits. he smacks you lightly over the head, more shocked than anything.

"what the fuck- no, i'm not homeless, jesus."

you rub the spot with a pout, still eyeing him like you're not completely convinced. “well, i don’t know,” you mumble.

“you wear the same thing every day, never see you with a bag or a wallet or-”

“drop it.”

“-you don’t even buy pre-workout, simon, who does that-”

“drop it.”

some days, he comes into the gym in a mood. the kind where his head is full of static, his skin prickling with the restless need to exhaust himself into oblivion. those are the days he doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to be seen. and you— you notice. you don’t come up to him, don’t pester him or try to joke around like normal. instead, you just stand off to the side, watching him with this soft, wide-eyed expression like some kind of kicked puppy.

it’s unbearable.

like an itch under his skin that won’t go away. it eats at him, gnaws at the edges of his concentration, and before he can help it, he’s groaning and gesturing you over with a sharp flick of his fingers. “for fuck’s sake, just get over here already.”

you grin like you’ve won something, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you jog over, and he regrets it immediately.

you bring him coffee sometimes. at first, he doesn’t know how to react. he just stares at it when you shove the cup into his hands, blinking down at the little scribbled name on the side like it’s some kind of foreign object. he doesn’t even like sugary coffee, but he drinks it anyway.

the next day, guilt eats at him, so he shoves a protein shake into your hands, unwilling to meet your eyes. "s’only fair."

you squint at it, shake the bottle, listening to the liquid inside slosh around. “what’s in it?”

he scoffs. "fuckin’ cyanide."

you take an exaggerated sniff before grinning. “smells like peanut butter.”

his eye twitches. “just drink it.”

and then, somehow, that becomes a thing, too. a habit. every other day, one of you brings the other something— coffee, protein shakes, the occasional energy drink when you can tell he’s running on fumes.

one night, the gym is nearly empty. just the hum of air conditioning, the occasional clink of metal, the low buzz of some forgotten playlist over the speakers. the late hour has driven most people out, leaving only you and simon.

you’re exhausted, arms shaking, muscles burning with that deep, satisfying ache, but you’re pushing for one more rep. just one.

simon stands behind you, watching through the mirror. arms crossed, weight shifted slightly forward. tracking every movement, every shift in your stance, the way your hands tighten around the bar.

"you're on fumes," he mutters, but steps closer anyway, close enough that the heat of him presses against your back.

you roll your shoulders, shake out your wrists. “i got it.”

he exhales sharp through his nose, scoff and sigh rolled into one, but he doesn’t argue. just moves in, bracketing your sides, his presence steadying.

"alright," he murmurs, watching as you adjust your grip.

you brace yourself, pull, and the weight barely moves. your arms burn immediately, tendons screaming under the strain. your grip shifts, fingers trembling, slipping—

his hands are there. firm and certain, sliding just beneath yours, adjusting your hold without taking over. his chest nearly against your back, his breath warm against the top of your head.

"fix that grip, sweetheart."

you do, fingers locking down harder, shoulders bracing. he doesn’t let go, not fully, his palms ghosting over your forearms, steadying you just enough.

"lock it out," he says, quiet but insistent. his hands shift, one flattening against your stomach, the other hovering at your ribs, like he can feel where the tension is pulling wrong, where you need to engage. "push through. i’ve got you."

your breath stutters, something curling low in your stomach, and you force everything into that last pull, dragging the bar up, arms shaking, until you finally lock it out.

his fingers press in, just briefly, a quick squeeze at your ribs. "good."

you hold it for a second before guiding the weight back down, slow and controlled. the second it racks, your body gives, arms dead, shoulders screaming.

you stumble, just a little, and his hands are already there, catching at your waist. warm. solid. fingers pressing in just enough to steady you. they linger, just a second too long.

and then— "good girl."

barely above a murmur, just breath and heat against your skin, but it slams through you all the same.

your stomach tightens. your pulse jumps. you freeze.

you turn, still breathless, muscles trembling from exertion.

and he’s right there. solid. massive. crowding you. broad chest rising and falling, sweat clinging to the fabric stretched over muscle. too close, heat rolling off him, sinking into your skin, and making your stomach twist. up close, he’s all sharp lines and thick muscle, biceps flexing slightly as he rolls his shoulders back, tilting his head down to look at you.

"don’t-" your voice breaks. you swallow hard. "don’t do that."

simon’s brow lifts, lazy. "don’t do what, sweetheart?"

your fingers twitch at your sides. you gesture vaguely, heat curling up your spine. "that. the- the praise."

his mouth quirks, amusement flickering at the edges. "what, telling you you’re doing good?"

"yes."

he makes a sound low in his throat. "why? thought you liked it."

you try to start a defense, but he steps closer, and fuck, there’s nowhere to go.

"you did so good," he murmurs. his hand lifts, brushing over the curve of your waist. "pushed yourself real hard. took every single rep like a good girl."

your breath catches and oh, does he catch on to that.

"you like hearing that, don’t you?" his fingers curl, pressing into your hip. "knowing i’m right there, watching you, making sure you finish strong."

low, warm, approving—

"bet that’s why you pushed so hard," he continues, like he’s musing to himself. "just to hear me say it. just to make me proud."

simon’s eyes flicker to the vein in your neck. his other hand lifts, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face, slow, almost tender.

"say it, sweetheart," he murmurs. "let me take care of you.”

“please.”

the rest of the gym is a blur. you don’t even register leaving, don’t remember how you end up outside, only that simon’s hand is wrapped tight around your wrist, dragging you through the parking lot with a single-minded purpose. the concrete expanse is empty except for simon’s truck parked just underneath a street lamp.

simon hauls you into the backseat, the door slamming shut behind him. the truck rocks with the force of it, windows already fogging, the stale scent of leather and the last remnants of his cologne in the air. the streetlights outside cast a dim glow that cuts through the darkness in thin streaks, glinting off the sweat at his temples.

his hands are on you before you can think. rough, impatient. he grabs your hips, yanks you into his lap, drags you down until you crash against him. the heat of him burns through every layer between you.

his hips roll up.

you jolt, hands flying to his shoulders, gripping tight as the thick shape of him grinds against your clit. even through the fabric, you feel everything— the ridges, the weight, the solid pressure slotting perfectly against you.

he does it again.

your breath catches, legs tensing where they straddle his thighs. you try to move, to adjust, but his hands flex, fingers digging in, keeping you pinned where he wants you.

"shh," simon hushes, arm against your skin, grip tightening as he forces you down harder, thighs flexing beneath you. "let me feel you."

his hips drag against you and you react before your brain can catch up, instinct driving you forward, grinding down, chasing the pressure.

his breath stutters, shoulders tensing as he watches you move. the friction grows slicker, hotter, the damp fabric sticking between you.

you glance down— and then you see it. his sweats, darkened, soaked where you grind against him, your arousal leaking through, making a mess of him.

"fuck-"

he exhales sharply, hands shifting, one palm smoothing down your thigh before gripping, pulling you into him.

"that’s it." he’s almost slurring his words now, his hips rolling up to meet yours. "so fuckin’ wet..."

your nails bite into his arms, your body working without thought, hips rolling, pressing down harder. the truck shifts with every movement, the worn leather seat creaking beneath you.

"fuck, baby." his lips brush your jaw. "so messy. feel that?"

you nod frantically and his cock jumps at your eagerness.

his patience snaps.

one moment you’re grinding down against him, chasing the delicious friction, and the next you're scrambling for purchase as he lifts you.

simon shoves his sweats down, and his cock springs free, slapping up against his stomach. it's thick. throbbing. the flushed tip leaking pre, smearing along the ridges of his abs, catching in the dim of the streetlights.

he’s big. not just in length— though fuck, he’s long enough to make your stomach clench— but thick, too. veins run along the shaft, disappearing beneath the flushed, ruddy skin. the head is a deep, aching red, fat and swollen, leaking so much it dribbles down, streaking along his cock, mixing with the slick mess you’ve already made on him.

the weight of him makes his cock hang low even as it twitches, pulsing with the rush of blood. it looks almost angry, the veins along the base throbbing, his whole cock flexing with each slow pump of his fist as he strokes himself, spreading the mess of precum along his length.

simon watches your expression shift, pleased. "knew you’d like that.”

he's teasing but you barely hear it. your eyes stay locked on him, pulse hammering as you take in the sheer size, the stretch you’re about to take—

he shifts his grip, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other around his cock. your hips twitch, instinct making you reach for him, trying to press forward, but he holds you back, squeezes to get your attention.

"look at that..” simon presses the head of his cock against your stomach, dragging it up, smearing wet along your skin. "gonna take all this, yeah? let me stretch that little cunt open?"

"yes- yes, please-"

"fuck." his breath shudders, his hold on you tightening. "greedy thing."

he yanks you forward, spreads your legs wider, fits himself between your thighs, grinds his cock through your slit.

the first press makes you jolt, your whole body twitching, a choked sound slipping from your throat. he groans, gripping your waist, shoving you down, rubbing your swollen clit against the head, dragging himself through your slick over and over again.

"desperate," he muses, almost cruel. "thought you could take me just like that?"

you try to answer, try to say something, but your brain doesn't work, body too busy chasing relief, hips jerking, cunt aching, a mess of whimpers spilling from your lips.

his cock is heavy against your stomach, his tip leaving a damp streak along your skin as he drags it upward. the grip he has on your waist is firm, fingers pressing deep into your flesh, keeping you still, making sure you see exactly how much of him is about to disappear inside you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, lilted by something dark and pleased. “gonna fit all this inside, yeah? stretch that little cunt open real nice for me?”

your breath shudders in your throat. the weight of him, the sheer size, sends a pulse of heat through you, thighs trembling where he holds them apart. he presses his cock higher, smearing himself over your navel, dragging slow just to watch the way your stomach flexes beneath him.

simon's fingers tighten at your hips, anchoring you in place. his eyes flick up, locking onto yours. “still want it?”

you can’t nod fast enough, hands fisting in the hard muscle of his shoulders, your pulse drumming against your ribs. “yes-”

he huffs a quiet laugh before shaking his head. then he moves, his hands shifting to your waistband. simon doesn’t take his time, doesn’t tease— just yanks your shorts down in one rough motion, shoving them past your thighs, tossing them aside like they’re nothing.

your panties are soaked through, the thin fabric clinging to your skin, darker where arousal has seeped into it. his gaze drops, and he groans, fingers flexing against your thighs.

his eyes practically shine as he reaches down, hooking two fingers into the waistband, pulling the fabric to the side instead of taking it off completely. “how long have you been sittin’ here all wet for me, huh?”

then, without warning, he lifts his cock and slaps it against your cunt. the obscene sound echoes between you.

you jolt, a sharp gasp catching in your throat. the weight of him presses down, drags over your swollen folds, smearing your slick along the length of him, leaving him just as messy as you.

simon's breath hitches, jaw going tight for a moment before he grins. “feel that?” he rocks his hips, slow and deliberate, the ridge of his head catching against your clit with every motion. “soaked for me. filthy girl.”

he keeps at it, rutting through your folds, dragging his cock against you in long, teasing glides. every lazy roll of his hips spreads more wetness between you, slick growing messier, needier, your arousal coating every inch of him.

his voice drops lower, almost awed. “you always this wet?”

you shake your head. you're not even sure why you're this wet. it’s obscene, every slow slide of him making a sticky, wet sound, the kind that makes your face burn with embarrassment.

his grip on your thighs tightens. he presses against you harder, lets his cock drag through the mess, smearing it everywhere, making it worse.

“just for me then?” he asks, watching the way his cock glistens, slick with everything you’ve given him. “i kind of like that.”

he lines himself up, pressing the thick, leaking tip against your aching entrance. he lets it catch there for a second, teasing, before dragging it up one last time, rubbing against your clit, watching you twitch beneath him.

then he settles back down, pressing again, the heavy weight of him poised to sink inside.

his eyes flick back to yours. “gonna let me in now, yeah?”

the first push is a mistake. he realizes it the second you tense up, sucking in a sharp breath, thighs trembling where they’re spread over his lap. his cock barely breaches you— just the tip, barely an inch— and your body locks up, refusing to take more.

simon grits his teeth, hands firm on your waist, trying to ease you down, but you’re too tight, squeezing around him like you’re trying to push him out. the head of his cock throbs where it’s barely inside you, thick and unyielding, stretching you too much, too fast.

he exhales through his nose, slow and measured, and tries again. rocks his hips, nudging deeper, letting you feel the weight of him pressing in. but you whimper, body trembling, nails biting into his skin. your walls clench down hard, resisting, and—

he stops. groans, and drops his head back against the seat.

"jesus christ." his palm drags over his face. "knew you were tight, but- fuck. you’re not gonna take me like this."

your face burns. your throat aches. frustration coils hot in your chest. "i’m sorry-"

"oh, sweetheart." simon's hands slide up your back, rough palms smoothing over your skin before he leans back, head tilting, eyes flicking over you. half amused, half exasperated. "you apologizing for having a cunt this tight?"

you sniffle, shifting in his lap, arousal sticky between your thighs. "but i wanted to-"

"you will." his voice is steady, calm, but his grip on your hips tightens. "just gotta take my time, yeah? don’t want you cryin’ when i finally get this cock in you."

you sniff again, blinking up at him, vision blurred, lips parted. "too late."

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "fuckin’ hell."

then his hands are moving again, trailing lower, fingers slipping between your slick folds, pressing in slow.

you jolt at the touch, a sharp, wrecked little sound catching in your throat. simon groans, watching the way you twitch in his lap.

"fuck, baby. so sensitive. all worked up and nowhere to put it, huh?"

you nod, heat crawling up your neck, hips jerking as he rubs slow, lazy circles over your clit. his fingers are thick, rough, dragging through the mess between your thighs, teasing, pressing just enough to make your breath stutter.

"s’not fair," you mumble.

"life’s not fair, sweetheart." his fingers press in again, pushing deeper. one first, stretching you open, curling inside. then another. then a third. his other hand stays on your thigh, keeping you spread, holding you open so he can watch the way you take him.

"gotta get you nice and open." his voice low and warm. "don’t want you breakin’ on me just yet."

you whimper, rocking into his hand, clenching down around his fingers. your clit throbs under his thumb, swollen and aching, every slow grind of his palm sending another shudder through you.

"shh. just let me do this for you, yeah?"

you do. trembling, gasping, grinding down, taking everything he gives until you’re loose, slick, ready.

when he pulls his fingers out, you whine, walls fluttering around nothing.

then his cock is back, pressing against your entrance, thick and hot, teasing for only a moment before he pushes in—

you take him.

the stretch is unbearable. every inch forces you open, slow and deliberate, the thick drag of him pressing deeper than anything ever has. your breath stutters, body shaking, thighs trembling where they rest over his.

"fuck, sweetheart," he groans, voice tight, hands gripping your hips, keeping you still, keeping you from pulling away. "you feel that? squeezing me so fuckin’ tight."

you do. every ridge, every vein, the slow, impossible push of him splitting you open, inch by inch, pressing deep— then he stops.

breath stuttering, you blink at him, dazed, confused, still so empty. "w-why-"

"baby," his voice is almost pained. "m’pressing right up against your cervix. can’t go any deeper."

but it’s not enough. you whimper, hips twitching, shifting to take more, to sink lower. "but i still feel empty, si.."

his jaw clenches, fingers digging into your thighs, trying to keep you still, stopping you from punching a fucking hole through your guts. "jesus, sweetheart. you don’t know what you’re askin."

"please," you breathe, eyes glassy, desperate. "si, please, want all of you-"

he groans, head dropping back against the seat, restraint hanging by a thread. "fuck."

then his grip tightens, and before you can say another word, he forces you down the rest of the way.

"oh-oh my god-" your whole body shakes, a strangled moan ripping from your throat as the thick head of his cock breaches your cervix, slipping into your womb, stuffing you full.

simon grunts, the squeeze of you making his vision blur for a second. "jesus fuckin’ christ."

the moment he bottoms out, your walls clamp down, fluttering, pulsing around him— the pleasure snaps without warning, white-hot, rolling through you all at once.

"fuck- fuck, baby." he curses, the squeeze of your cunt almost painful. his half-lidded eyes are trained on where the two of you connect, the way you gush around him, soaking his cock. "just from takin’ me all the way? filthy fuckin’ thing-"

he huffs a rough laugh, fingers flexing against your hips, appreciating the extra slick easing the way. "makes it easier, at least," he mutters, then starts to move.

it’s slow at first— just enough to let you feel it, to make you ache through the thick drag of him pulling back, just enough to let you whimper at the sheer pressure of his cock pressing against every swollen, overstimulated inch of your cunt.

but you’re already gone.

your lashes flutter, your lips part around soft, wrecked little sounds, your hips twitching even though he’s holding you down, even though you’re already stuffed so fucking full.

"look at you," he murmurs, dragging a palm up your belly, pressing down right where he’s so deep, groaning when he feels the outline of himself inside you. "fuckin’ cock-drunk already, sweetheart?"

you sob, thighs squeezing around his waist, hands grasping at him, trying to find something to hold onto as your hips jerk, rolling forward mindlessly, instinct driving you to take more, take everything.

he groans, gripping your jaw, tilting your face up so he can see all of it.

"can’t even talk, can you? too fuckin’ dumb to think straight."

"s-simon-"

"what, love? too far gone already?"

his smirk is wicked, his grip tight as he presses his hips up, spearing you open all over again.

you scream, body jerking, back arching, thighs trembling around him. "ohh- oh fuck-"

"there we go." his voice is full of praise, full of something dark and indulgent. "there’s my good girl."

he sets a slow rhythm, dragging his cock out until only the thick head is inside you before slamming all the way back in, spearing you open, making sure you feel it, making sure you take every inch.

"bloody hell," he mutterd, feeling the way your walls squeeze him, the way you shudder, the way you drip around him, slick gushing, soaking his cock, ruining his seats.

"listen to that, sweetheart," he groans, shifting his grip, spreading his knees just a little wider to pin you in place. "fuckin’ mess you’re makin."

he glances down, eyes nearly rolling at the sight— your cunt stretched wide around him, slick dripping down to his balls, pooling beneath you.

"christ, love." he has to gasp for breath. "fuckin’ leaking all over me- ruinin’ my fuckin’ truck-"

"s-simon-" you lose your train of thought, babbling incomprehensible strings of words.

"can't think?" simon's grin sharpens. "good. don’t need you thinkin."

then he fucks you properly.

[leatherbookmark]

"making" "new" "friends" is scary and uncomfortable because yeah let's assume i've met a cool person, we share interests, they laugh at my jokes and i love listening to them talk about their hobbies, the basic level conversation is going fine, but then! the fucking thing.

level a is they hate my favourite character, think the music i listen to is worthless mass-produced garbage and all performers are factory-made dolls with no real skills or talent, or other things that well, i suppose Normal People Who Aren't Me can function together around, or even get married. "i love centipedes, my wife calls it my "gross bus nonsense", but we're happy together and she only rolls her eyes a little when i infodump to her! i'm so happy she's in my life" whatever.

but then there's level b, in which they think trans people are weirdo freaks, make jokes about black people, or think poor people should just stop being poor if it bothers them too much (and whether they think so genuinely or are just being an edgelord, they're still saying it)

aaaand it's like. i want to do something about it but i hesitate to, because as it turns out i'm physically unable to issue a gentle friendly correction without sounding like a snotty noble educating the closed-minded idiot with thinly veiled contempt, no matter how much i try. and also, like, i won't lie, it makes me like that person a bit less and so less inclined to put in effort towards changing their mind, especially when i know they're probably going to ignore me, dislike me right back or think i'm an annoying know-it-all.

friend not made! acquaintance i can talk about the weather but i'm slightly wary of, however,

[nanamisgirly]

feed back and reblogs are always appreciated my girliees <333

part.2 part.3 part.4

virgin!nerdjo who pulled a total certified baddie in college by being…himself.

awkward, dorky, too tall for his own good, always pushing up those stupid glasses with ink-stained fingers— it was him. somehow, you wanted him. he doesn't understand how he got so lucky, but he's not about to question it. 

virgin!nerdjo got one mission : being good to you. especially in bed. because when you kissed him for the first time, straddling his lap, grinding that perfect little body against him, he nearly came in his pants. he gripped your waist a little too tight to keep you from moving too much. it's humiliating how quickly he was about to fold, how his cock throbs desperately just from the heat of you.

virgin!nerdjo isn't completely clueless—he's read about sex, heard about it, he's not that innocent. but knowing and doing are two completely different things. and he realized it the second you grinded on him. he damn near whimpered. bit down hard on his lip to swallow it back.

virgin!nerdjo needs to learn. he thinks porn might help—big mistake. it's all so…aggressive. male-centered. nothing about it feels right. he watches a few clips, cringing the entire time, then slams his laptop shut and scrubs a hand down his face. he should have listened when geto used to go on and on about his exploits. should have paid attention instead of rolling his eyes and tuning him out.

so he does what he does best. he researches. virgin!nerdjo orders a book called ‘The Art of Female Pleasure.’ and the moment it arrives, he's on it. glasses slipping down his nose, hunched over the pages, absorbing every word like it's the most important text he's ever studied. he dedicates days to this. nights. rereads passages, highlights sections. he doesn't just want to be good. he wants to be perfect. because you're a baddie—a pro— and he's so fucking lucky. what if you jump on him any time soon and he's still not ready? that idea terrifies him.

virgin!nerdjo gets so into it that he even starts to scroll through forums. he reads firsthand experiences, studying anatomy diagrams until his face is burning and his cock is achingly hard beneath the sheets. because it's not just learning, it's imagining.

virgin!nerdjo who imagines you underneath him, pretty lips parted in gasps, legs spread as he slides his fingers over you just like the book describes. he imagines how wet you'd get if he did everything right. if he took his time, kissed his way down your body, licked into you like he's read—slow, deep, deliberate. he wonders if you'd tug on his hair, if you'd cry out his name, if you'd shake when you come, thighs squeezing around his head—

fuck. horny thoughts took over him as he bucks up into nothing. he wants it. so bad. 

and the next time you're kissing, you instantly notice how his hands get bolder, slipping under your shirt, trailing fire down your spine. how he suddenly knows excatly where to touch, where to squeeze, when to roll his hips just right—letting you feel the size of him, the hard, thick heat pressing up against you. you break the kiss, breathless. “since when do you do all that?”

virgin!nerdjo swallows thickly, ears burning red. “…i've been studying.”

૮꒰⸝⸝> - <⸝⸝꒱ა☆⋆。

for @miscellaneous-misty

[jayparked]

thank you guys so much for 1k notes in TWO DAYS 😭 i worked really hard on this fic and it makes me so happy to see it being well received. i love reading the feedback and would love to hear more thoughts on it too if anyone wants to share 🥹

traditionally nontraditional | park sunghoon

SYNOPSIS: newly married, you and your husband love creating your own...unique traditions

PAIRING: husband!sunghoon x wife!female reader

GENRE: smut

AU: established relationship, chrithmith ∩(·ω·)∩

RATING: explicit/18+, minors dni

WORD COUNT: 7.2k of pure smut baby

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, creampie, dom/sub dynamics, big dick hoon, cock abuser!hoon, oral (f. receiving), nipple play, nudes, sexy ornaments, dirty talk, slightly bratty y/n and hoon is not having it, impatient insatiable hoon, he's so down bad for his lil wifey, teasing, sex with barely any prep, size kink, mentions of size training, strong language, sunghoon cannot stop praising you for the life of him, implied oral (m. receiving), choking, pet names, begging, body worship, overstimulation, forced orgasm, punishment kink, y/n gets tied up :) they are so grossly in love i was gagging the whole time

SNAIL TRAIL: merry belated christmas! for all my freaky horny down bad sunghoon stans. this one's for you. but mostly to my favorite hoonie girl @sungbeams who not only made this incredible banner, but also beta read for me and continued to throw constant words of encouragement my way when i was struggling to write this. as always, i love you so much and everything i do is for you.

“Sunghoon…what is this?”

You’re sitting in the living room of the home you and your newly wedded husband purchased only a few months ago. Wrapping paper and gift bags are strewn throughout the room, traces of hours of opening presents together for the first time as husband and wife littered in a haphazard mess. The fireplace, which is the only lightsource in the room right now besides the ones decorated on the Christmas tree, is warming the entire room as gentle snow falls outside, colorful lights reflecting off the sparkling white substance. You’re bundled up in your favorite Christmas pajamas on the couch while Sunghoon sits in a plush recliner facing you. A proud sparkle adorns your husband’s eyes as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees while he rubs his hands together with excited anticipation as he watches you closely.

“Do you like it? He can’t help the way his lips pull into a subtle smirk, his eyebrows quirking up on the word ‘like’. Sunghoon feels insanely proud for being able to keep this particular gift a surprise. Normally he gets too excited and has to tell you as soon as possible. There’s been quite a few birthdays and anniversaries in the past where Sunghoon hasn’t even made it out of the department store before FaceTiming you and showing you what he’s in the process of buying you. Getting a view of the department store workers side eyeing your husband as he excitingly gushes at you through the phone always warms your heart. An array of apologies always leaves his lips after telling you what he’s gotten you. If it were anyone else, you’d be slightly annoyed with the ruined surprises. But, in all honesty, you actually adored it from him. Your husband being too excited to keep a secret is just another way of him expressing his love. Plus, even if he can’t hide the larger, more extravagant things, he still finds ways to surprise you.

Like with what you have resting in your palms right now. The plastic squeaks slightly as your thumb rubs against it. Memories flood your mind, your thighs twitch, yearning to rub against one another as you lick your lips. It’s hard to ignore the dark haze in your husband’s gaze and the way his legs are spread so perfectly apart. 

Noticing your staring, Sunghoon lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he looks down at his hands before raising his eyes to meet yours once again. He’s waiting for your response, you know he is, and you also know that he’s patient enough to sit here for hours until you’re able to find your voice and speak just what exactly is pulsing through your mind.

And the longer you make Sunghoon wait, the more pleasure he gets from seeing you squirm beneath him later.

“I-I love it. Wow…” You gulp as you stare at the ornament in your hands, eyes unable to tear away from the polaroid Sunghoon has placed perfectly inside.

But it’s not just any polaroid.

It’s a very explicit photo of the two of you on your wedding night where you’re on your knees, throat stuffed with your newly wedded husband’s deliciously thick cock. Mascara running down your cheeks and a hint of drool dribbling down your chin is visible in the photo along with Sunghoon’s large hand gently pulling your hair back. 

“I remember that night so well,” Sunghoon grumbles as he leans back in his seat, his eyes still trailing over your body.

“I would hope you do!” you laugh, looking up at him, “Our wedding night, it was only a couple months ago after all.”

“And I don’t think I’ll ever forget it,” his gaze darkens, his arms moving to rest behind his head, “Especially the way you moaned once my dick hit the back of your throat. Or when I could see my bulge in your stomach. Or how you could still see my handprint on your ass the next morning. Or-”

“Hoon!” You laugh and toss a throw pillow towards him, which he catches easily, laughing along with you.

“Sorry. Like I said though, it’s a night I’ll never forget. And when you suggested we try to make our own Christmas traditions, well, what can I say? I was inspired.”

His smile is so genuine with a light sparkle in his eyes being reflected from the firelight. You can’t help but walk towards him, needing to be close and to feel his warmth. You’re about to lean in for a kiss when his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in until you’re sitting on his lap. But that wasn’t good enough for him. Sunghoon repositions you so that you’re cradled in his arms, your head resting beneath his collarbone. He leans down slowly, a smile blooming on his face, until your noses touch. Giggling together, you both close your eyes and move your heads back and forth, noses bumping together repeatedly in the process. The innocent moment doesn’t last long, though. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. You’re about to ask him what he’s thinking about, but before you get the chance, his soft pillowy lips are brushing against yours, his strong arms pulling you closer to his body.

The kiss seems innocent at first, full of love and tenderness as your mouths move together. But one little shift of your hips in his lap has your husband groaning, deepening the urgency of the kiss. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip and you eagerly grant him entry all while one hand cusps your cheek and the other grips your hip tighter. Your own hands can’t stay still as one dips below his shirt and wanders from his stomach up to his chest, marveling at the way his muscles feel against your palms and fingertips.

He quickly repositions you. Now, straddling his lap, his hands are free to roam down your body, exploring every curve he can. As if he hasn’t already familiarized himself with every inch of you. Continuing the kiss, he groans as you naturally grind your hips against his lap. His hands grab at your waist, quickling seating you down on him fully until you’re able to feel his cock hardening beneath you. At the feeling of friction against your clothed clit, you moan into his mouth, head tilting back slightly while you grind on him harder. Sunghoon catches your bottom lip between his teeth, growling slightly as he pulls and sucks.

Once he releases you, his mouth is attached to yours again immediately. The kisses are deep, feverish, and desperate; his tongue sloppily entering your mouth muffling any sigh or moan that was lingering within you.

Only when air is needed do you two break away. You look into his deep brown eyes and easily get lost in how lustful he appears. At the same time though, you see something in his eyes soften, complete love and admiration evident amidst the yearning.

“How about we make our second ornament, hmm?” Sunghoon smirks, nipping at your lips again. All you can do is quickly nod your head as you place your hands on his cheeks, savoring the tender moment before it’s gone. One thing about your husband is that once he gets riled up, it’s almost impossible to satiate the beast that consumes his sweet and romantic side.

“Perfect,” Sunghoon’s voice is husky with desire. Quickly, he stands up effortlessly with you still in his arms, one hand firmly placed on your back while the other holds one of your thighs. You can’t help but giggle as you cling to him, peppering kisses along his jaw and neck. You slow your ministrations down when you hear him groan as you nip at a particular spot under his ear; you slowly open your mouth and let your tongue brush against his skin before biting down gently, careful to not leave any marks (per his unfortunate request, no visible marks can be left on him due to his new position at work. Plus, it’s been harder to cover them up and there’s only so many times he can wear a scarf during the summer without getting weird glances from coworkers. And the amount of turtle necks he’s worn during this winter season in particular is fashionably criminal).

Sunghoon easily carries you to your shared bedroom, not even bothering to close the door as he gently tosses you on the mattress. You quickly sit up, peeling your clothes off of you before Sunghoon even has a chance to get on the bed himself.

“Slow down, let me help you,” he murmurs, placing a hand on your arm to stall you. You let him remove your shirt, although he’s doing it painfully slowly; leaving soft kisses along your collar bones and the base of your neck once they’re properly exposed. Even though his movements are slow and intentional, it feels like time is speeding up between you in the best way possible. It’s something you can’t quite explain. You’ve heard other people talk about how time seems to stop when they’re with their partners. But, for you, time has always sped up with Sunghoon, the entire world spinning by as the two of you live in your own timezone; a cocoon created just for you two to find solace in.

You wouldn’t change it for a thing.

Finally, Sunghoon has you completely naked and laying on your side, supporting your upper body weight by laying on your elbows as you look at him towering over you. He’s already swatted your hand away from him when you tried to lift his shirt up, a wide, goofy smile plastered on his face as he gently encourages you to wait. What you’re waiting for? You have no idea. But your heart is racing with anticipation, your body warm and cheeks flushed already.

All he does is roll up his sleeves slightly, exposing his veiny forearms. Instantly your eyes are drawn to his hands, though, his fingers flexing slightly as they move back down to his sides. 

“You’re staring, darling.”

“Can’t help it,” you sigh, “look at you.”

Sunghoon chuckles softly, an endearing smile back on his face, “Look at me? Look at you. So pretty for me…” he takes a step forward, his gaze primal and hungry, “so pretty for me to ruin, tsk tsk. What am I going to do with you?” 

You feel your face heating up even more, blush surely spreading across your cheeks. You can’t help but wish he would hurry up, though. It feels like your heart is going to beat out of your chest with how fast and hard it’s pounding. Hands craving for a purpose, you keep reaching for your husband, desperate to feel his skin mingle with yours, but he keeps swatting you away. Your body is aching for him like it always does, no matter how many times you’ve had him inside you. You always want more of him- need more of him.

Sunghoon looks towards the closet where you keep your polaroid camera resting safely on the shelf above your hanging clothes, the long neck strap spilling over the ledge. But, he bites his bottom lip and turns back to you, groaning as he places his knees on the edge of the bed. One of his hands comes out to grasp one of your knees, spreading you apart so he can properly look at your glistening cunt. 

“Fuck,” he exhales, “I can see how wet you are for me already. Darling, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

You try to look away from him, but his gaze is too captivating, holding you in place.

“Just looking at you has me like this,” you quip playfully, “my husband is just so sexy.”

“Fuck…say that again,” he groans, massaging your knee with his hand, his eyes glued to yours.

“My…hus…band,” you say slowly, drawing out the syllables with a smirk, clicking your tongue at the end while you bring a foot up to rest on his thigh. 

His free hand instantly grasps your foot, stopping its movements immediately. Sunghoon can’t help but sigh and marvel at you. But only for a moment. Roughly, he tosses your leg to the side and buries his face in your heat, forgoing the slow build up he initially was going for and presses his nose against your clit as he tongues at your hole. 

“Oh!-” You let out a surprised choked yelp, but you’re quickly sputtering as one of your husband’s hands comes up to grasp one of your breasts tightly. His thumb flicks over your perked nipple, massaging your mound harshly as his tongue continues to lick at your arousal. Your back naturally arches, your hands grasping at the sheets near your head as moans easily leave your lips.

“Mmm, so sweet for me,” Sunghoon coos, bringing his free hand up to wipe at his mouth. At first, you think he’s done, but then he has two fingers roaming between your folds collecting your slick. “So wet, all for me,” he says proudly, eyes locked in on your cunt. He’s more so talking to himself. More praises and remarks are made but your head is becoming too foggy, thighs now twitching with the soft contact. You need more, more of him.

Your hands snake down to his head, making him look at you for a moment while you silently plead for him. You know that he knows what you want, but all he does is smile happily at you, continuing the slight touches. His fingers circle the outside of your hole and just far enough outside of your clit to have you clenching. It’s completely unfair for him to do this to you, but unfortunately, it’s not the first or last time he will play with you like this. 

“So needy,” he coos again, “is this what you want?” Sunghoon slowly pushes one digit into your cunt, making sure not to move it around. You try to suck him in further, hips wiggling unintentionally.

“Sunghoon,” you groan, closing your eyes, “please.”

“Please what?” You can hear the smirk in his voice and it’s enough to make you want to throw a bratty tantrum. But, somehow, you’re able to stop yourself. Because this is exactly what you want. And if you give into your bratty dynamics, it’ll only prolong what you need. 

So you’ll give your husband what he wants, for your own selfish agenda of course. “Please touch me more. I need you. No more teasing. Please.” The more you talk, the whinier you sound, but you don’t care anymore. Your hole continues to clench around his digit, desperate for it to move, piston, curl, do anything other than just sit dormant.

Sunghoon chuckles lowly, “Being so good for me today, aren’t you? Fine. I’ll give my wife what she needs since she’s been such a good girl this year.”

Your eyes are still closed as you sigh, waiting to feel more of his fingers inside you or even to feel his lips around your clit.

But that’s too predictable. And Sunghoon doesn’t like being predictable.

Instead, your eyes pop open as you feel Sunghoon’s cock pushing into you. The stretch is painfully delicious, your body shivering as he fills you up more and more. Once he’s completely sheathed inside you, Sunghoon groans and grips your knees tightly. You don’t know how you didn’t hear him slide his pajama pants down his thighs, but it’s a detail you don’t mind missing. Plus, you’re more focused on the way your body stings, urgently trying to adjust to his giant cock. Sunghoon stills for a moment, chest heaving as he adjusts himself inside you. 

“God, you’re so tight,” he hisses.

“That’s what happens when you don’t warm me up properly.”

“Smart fucking mouth,” he tsks but he can’t hide his smile. Sunghoon quickly rips his shirt over his head, tossing it mindlessly to the floor next to him. “I know you can take it, though. Your body was made for me, afterall.” 

He doesn’t even give you a chance to reply before his hips are pulling back, snapping forward back into you just before you feel his tip about to leave your hole. You moan with the force of his thrust, hands reaching out to grip onto his firm biceps. 

“Look at you. You’re so perfect like this, so beautiful,” Sunghoon groans as he thrusts harder and faster into you. “So…beautiful,” he grunts again. You gasp as he leans forward, his cock hitting a new angle. But you don’t have time to fully appreciate it. His hand wraps delicately around your throat, squeezing until a slight gasp leaves your lips.

It feels like your body is levitating; every inch of your skin prickles with a rush of adrenaline as your husband continues to abuse your hole. The way his hips snap against your thighs has you feeling bruised already. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Some might feel embarrassed for how quickly they get to their orgasm, but not you. You feel a sense of pride swell in your chest knowing that your husband knows your body so well and is always determined to have you come before he does. It’s a law he’s written for himself. And, ever since the first time you’ve been together, he’s held true to it. The rare times he comes before you do is if you’re sucking him off quickly somewhere outside of your home, which is usually taking place in a restaurant bathroom or a dressing room in a random department store. Being the man Sunghoon is, though, that same night he makes sure to spend hours with your thighs cushioned against his head. No matter how much you beg for his cock, he always insists on using his tongue or hands to fully appreciate your body as a reward for taking care of him at the random moments when he needs to use you.

Ever the selfless, Sunghoon lessens his grip on your throat and leans down, kissing you softly while his pace doesn’t relent. It’s drowning the way his lips naturally mold with yours, all the words you want to say get poured into the way you receive his touch, wrapping your arms around his neck and bucking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

“Don’t come yet,” he commands, a harsh bite in his voice as he pushes your hips down, “I want our next ornament to be a picture of you right as your orgasm hits. Can you do that for me? Can you hang on just a little bit longer, baby? I just want to have a little more fun with you before I grab the camera.”

You shake your head, biting down hard on your bottom lip to try to keep yourself from orgasming. Tears prick your eyes as you feel your body start to betray you despite your best efforts.

“C’mon, baby, please? Fuck, I don’t think I can stop. You just feel so good,” he groans loudly, both hands gripping your breasts tightly as he continues pounding you into the mattress. “If you can’t hold it I’ll just have to make you come again and again until I get the picture I want.”

“Please let me, Hoon. I-I can’t-” a choked moan interrupts you when Sunghoon presses his thumb firmly on your clit, rubbing harshly at a steady pace while his cock continues to piston in and out of you. You don’t even have a second to enjoy the dual stimulation. Your orgasm hits you like a train, exploding from the bottom of your body and rippling upward. Eyes rolling back so harshly, it feels like you’re going to pass out as your body starts to tremble violently underneath Sunghoon.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, slowing his pace down only slightly, “look at you, my pretty doll. Can’t even let me fuck you for more than two minutes before you’re losing your mind on my cock. You did so well taking me without any prep. Always so good for me.” He’s kissing up your chest between sentences, arms holding you tightly in place. You focus on the sound of his voice, letting the low familiar tone guide your soul back to your body.

Sunghoon pets your hair comfortingly, leaving gentle kisses along your face while his cock still sits snugly in your heat, unmoving. “You back with me?” he whispers, seeing the light returning back to your eyes and your body shaking less. You nod your head in response, a soft smile spreading on your face as you blink slowly at him.

“Good. Now that you’ve had your moment to catch your breath I can punish you properly.” Sunghoon removes himself from your body and the bed, now walking towards the closet.

“W-what?” You sit up on your elbows and watch him, confused with the way his jaw clenches and his back muscles tense.

“I thought you were gonna be a good girl for me, but I guess I was mistaken.” He’s digging around in the closet, nowhere near where the camera is.

“But I have been good!” You pout shamelessly, your tone whiny and full of attitude.

Finding what he was looking for, Sunghoon straightens himself and grabs the polaroid camera without a second glance. When he turns around, you gulp, seeing the four fuzzy cuffs in his hands alongside the camera.

“I told you not to come,” he flicks his hooded gaze at you, his face cold and annoyed, “so you don’t get to touch me since you wanted to be so greedy.”

Silently, Sunghoon walks back towards the bed and quickly fastens your feet into two of the cuffs, securing them snuggly and pulling out the fabric straps from under the mattress to hook the cuffs to. His jaw is still clenched while he moves impatiently, huffing at himself when his fingers fail to get them secure the first time. Only when he moves to your last free wrist does he finally look at you. Trying to appear sorrowful, you jut out your bottom lip and lower your head to look at him through your eyelashes. Sunghoon groans, always falling into this trap when it comes to you.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know what you did was wrong. And I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. You disobeyed so you’ll be punished. I know how handsy you get so it only seems fitting.”

You tug playfully at your wrist constraints, eliciting a stern scowl from your husband. Sighing and shaking his head, he takes out the camera and sets it down next to your body.

“But it’s Christmas…” You try again, but he doesn’t acknowledge you this time.

Sunghoon patiently looks over your body, his eyes slowly combing over every curve of your body, biting at his bottom lip as if it’s the first time he’s seeing you like this. You desperately want to rub your thighs together, missing the feeling of his cock stretching you out. It doesn’t go unnoticed by your husband, the way your legs tug at the cuffs or the way your hips buck up slightly. It’s almost worse that he won’t acknowledge you, even slowing down his gaze. And it’s killing you that he’s not even saying anything so all you’re left with is the cold air settling against your skin and feeling like a frog about to be dissected with the way you’re displayed before him. 

You let out a low moan, a huff really, while you furrow your brows and desperately try to meet Sunghoon’s gaze. He trails a finger from your thigh down to your ankle, your body twitching under his touch.

“Hoon-”

“No.”

One of his hands falls to his aching cock, still erect and glistening from your arousal. He slowly moves up and down his length, wincing slightly while looking hungrily at your exposed pussy. Flashbacks of your first night together flood your mind, the way Sunghoon practically drooled over your naked heat while your body trembled with a surge of adrenaline. The look on his face now is the same as it was all those years ago. 

Finally, his eyes trail up your body, resting into your gaze. That soft smile is back and you wonder if he’s reminiscing like you are, if he’s feeling the same overwhelming swell in his chest, wishing this moment wouldn’t have to pass and you could stay like this together forever.

As romantic as that sounds, you’re both over it. Smirks blooming on both of your faces as the yearning and needing for one another takes over your bodies. You use another wasted attempt at your constraints, whining for your husband in a near tantrum state. It only fuels his ego, loving how desperate you are for him. His erect cock visibly twitches, pulling Sunghoon towards you like a magnet. Placing a knee inches away from your dripping cunt, he leans down and groans as he kisses you, putting so much pressure against your lips that your head pushes deeper into the pillows until your neck starts to ache. His tongue doesn’t wait for your permission, forcefully pushing past your lips until he’s able to collide the muscle against your own. You moan into him, bucking your hips up once again to try to feel his body against your own, but he’s hovering a teasing length away, just enough for you to not be able to reach him.

In compensation, one of his large hands moves to grip your waist tightly, nails digging into your skin while he continues to attack your mouth. You desperately want to reach your hands out and wrap them around his neck, to tug on the ends of his hair and move his head to the side to nip and pull at the skin beneath his ear. 

The tension building up in your body is reaching a boiling point and you’re afraid you might actually lose your mind. Sunghoon loves to hear you beg, that’s nothing new to you, but the type of begging you’re on the verge of doing will only become a regret shortly after. You want to keep your composure, you really do, want to be the patient perfect wife Sunghoon married months ago. How could you possibly behave in a time like this? With a man like this?

You’re about to let loose when Sunghoon breaks away from your lips, moving his own along your jawline and dipping down to nip at your collarbones. In doing so, Sunghoon’s body lowers and you feel the tip of his cock bump against your swollen lower lips. Gasping, no, moaning, no-, whining, fuck, maybe all of the above sounds leave your lips simultaneously. Arching your back, your body desperately needs to be closer to him, to feel him against every inch of your skin. You feel dizzy, high even from the lack of contact and he has the nerve to sit there and watch you, chuckling as if you did something cutely amusing.

“You think this is funny?” You finally manage to pant out, wrists getting sore from tugging too harshly against the cuffs.

“Very.” Fangs beaming through his smile and sparkling eyes, Sunghoon gives you a moment before reaching for the camera. Quickly his fingers work until a bright light flashes in your face making you blink quickly.

“Sorry, love. Just couldn’t resist that pouty face of yours. Definitely one for the books. Now,” he grunts, looking down where your bodies are almost connected, “you ready for me? Gonna listen this time?” 

You nod your head earnestly, clenching around nothing, aching to be filled again.

“Take a breath,” he instructs, lining himself up to your hole, “because I’m not warming you up again. And I don’t plan on going slow.”

Instinctively, you do as you're told and inhale slowly. Sunghoon watches and waits until you’re exhaling to shove the head of his throbbing cock past your walls. Only getting halfway in, Sunghoon winces, letting out a low groan as his brows furrow while he looks at you, gritting his teeth as his eyes darken. Moving back onto his knees, Sunghoon tears his gaze from you and pushes his hair out of his eyes, his brows furrowed while he lets out another impatient huff. A failed experimental thrust getting him nowhere deeper inside you only elicits more huffs and a few muttered swear words. He leans down and lets a wad of spit string down from his mouth, landing directly where his cock and your pussy meet. Sunghoon brings one hand down and smothers the spit along his digit, moving it along his cock and up to your clit where he rubs annoyed circles frantically. He knows it doesn’t feel that good for you to be instantly met with harsh pressure and fast speeds, but he’s not trying to make you feel good right now exactly. No, he wants your body to react faster, to adjust to him before he completely loses his patience.

“After all this time I’m still too big for this little pussy? Thought I trained you better.” He’s shaking his head in disapproval and all you want is to get on your hands and knees and beg for his forgiveness; to beg for him to show you how to take his monster cock properly. But you’re left to just lay here like a starfish, whimpering as you try to relax your body. It feels impossible with all the anticipation building up. Your body is tense, heart rate increasing with every passing second. Your walls pulse around his thick member, sucking him in further and further with each subtle rock of his hips. Sunghoon’s brows are furrowed so deeply and his jaw clenched so tightly makes you clench around him even harder. Fuck, he’s so hot like this. Normally so patient and unbothered, it’s moments like this that really excite you. Because an impatient and bothered Sunghoon just means more fun for you.

“Sorry,” Sunghoon grumbles and grabs your hips firmly, backing out slowly only to ram himself completely into you. Gasping as his tip hits your cervix, your hips stutter against his pelvis. Sunghoon exhales a slow chuckle, biting his tongue between his fanged teeth with a smirk.

“God, you’re clenching me so tight I feel dizzy.” 

Moaning out a haggard, “‘M sorry” is all you can muster. Not that he gives you more time to form a proper sentence. Sunghoon is already moving before you can even adequately appreciate the full feeling he’s giving you. Your chest bounces with each harsh thrust, every muscle in Sunghoon’s body is flexed and strained as he finally delves into his own pleasure. His biceps and pecs are bulging right in front of your face, almost mocking you for not being able to touch or gnaw on them. 

“My pretty wife taking me so well,” grunting, his pace quickens, “you’re doing so, so good for me.”

Your body is desperately fighting against the restraints, feeling so good and overstimulated all at once. The pleasure building up inside your body is looking for any sort of relief. Not being able to rake your fingernails against the skin of his muscled back, not being able to leave open mouthed kisses along the side of his face and neck, it’s all driving you crazy. To just sit here and take this continual cock abuse is driving you so quickly over the edge you’re afraid of coming too quickly again. 

“Sunghoon,” you gesture your head to the side where he placed the camera minutes ago, “the camera.”

“Already?” The innocent and shocked expression on his face has your cheeks feeling hot, biting down on your bottom lip to keep you as grounded as you can. But that knot is winding tighter and tighter, he’s hitting all the right spots and one more low whine out of that pretty mouth of his is all it will take to have you coming undone.

Sunghoon stares at your face, the way your nose is scrunched and your eyes are closed, and hurries to grab the camera. His thrusts slow only slightly, the intensity lessening as he moves his body to grab the device. From fast and deep, he changes to slow and intentional; languidly dragging his cock against your walls.

Sunghoon raises the camera up to his eyes but stops, his body completely stilling, the camera lowering to his side.

You open your eyes and blink slowly at him,“What’s wrong?”

“I have a crazy idea.” There’s a far away look in his eyes mixed with a little sparkle, a look you’re not completely unfamiliar with.

“What is it?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” you say confidently, without any hesitation. What a silly question for him to even have to ask. Curiosity is starting to overwhelm the back of your mind when you see Sunghoon turn the camera over in his hands, the long black neck strap slipping between his fingers, wondering what the hell he has planned in that quiet mind of his.

Sunghoon is inspecting the camera strap carefully, then glancing back at you. 

“I’m gonna choke you with this.”

“What?”

A proud smile adorns his face as he guides your head up and slips the camera around your neck. You gulp as you feel the scratchy material against your esophagus, Sunghoon’s grip already tight while he adjusts everything until it’s in the perfect spot with the extra fabric wrapped around his fist. The camera itself is in his hand in a ready position just in case he decides he needs to take a picture quickly. He gives some experimental tugs, relishing in the way your eyes flutter with the constriction. Twitching, his cock that’s still buried deep inside you pulls his focus back. 

Sunghoon’s body now fully envelopes you, resting his body weight on his free arm while the other angles the camera near the side of your face.

“Why didn’t I think of this before?” He chuckles with satisfaction, taking a quick experimental photo of your chest. He tosses the expelled polaroid on the other side of the bed, making sure the photo lands faced down.

You couldn’t answer even if you wanted to; same old dance, different song really. Because your husband has started up his rhythmic thrusts again, going back to his original pace and pulling at the camera strap attached to your neck. You don’t miss the way he slips one of his fingers underneath the material though, the digit resting lightly against your skin.

Again, you desperately wish you could touch him. There’s no way to properly convey the yearning you have to feel his skin against your fingertips. To make up for the lack of physical action you can show him, you compensate with an array of moans with his name and swear words, you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore. Anything that will convey to him just what he’s doing to you exactly and how well he’s doing it too. 

“Oh my-, fuck, Hoon! There- right-, yeah! I’m-, hmmm.” It feels like your body is levitating with how deeply your back is arching, brain getting dizzy, your eyes are rolling back so hard. You can feel your thighs starting to shake more and more with each thrust Sunghoon pounds into you. Has he ever been this deep before? There’s no way he hasn’t. He could be pushing your uterus further into your body for all you know with the way he’s going absolutely crazy on you.

Sweat blooming like 4am dewdrops on Sunghoon’s forehead glisten, some drops falling down against your own brow. He’s muttering something back to you in between kisses along your skin, but you can’t make out the words with how fast and quietly he’s talking.

Not that it matters anyways. Your release is building up so quickly again you’ve become a sputtering mess yourself. 

“My god, you’re doing so well for me, baby,” Sunghoon winces, voice louder and understandable once more, “You’re gripping me so tight. Are you close again already?”

“T-take the picture!” You squeal through a gasp, grinding your hips against him.

Moving fast, Sunghoon loosens his grip on the camera strap, positioning his fingers on the button and tries to angle the lens to a spot that fits his liking. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he watches your expressions. He almost can’t believe that he’s the reason your eyes are rolling back so hard, that he’s the one making your entire body shake without barely having to do anything at all. 

“Oh!” You gasp as your husband’s cock twitches inside you mid thrust, hitting your g-spot easily. Your mouth falls open, back still arching and your eyes roll back yet again. The bright flash from the camera goes off while Sunghoon spews an array of swear words, tossing the camera to the side quickly. He grabs your hips and thrusts in and out of you at a rapid pace, fucking you through your orgasm while he chases his own high.

“You’re so fucking hot for letting me tie you up and take pictures of you, holy fuck. I have the best little wife,” he growls, “letting me do whatever I want with your body. You’re perfect, perfect for me.” A guttural groan leaves his lips as he ruts his hips against yours, muscles stuttering as he shoots hot ropes of cum as far into your cunt as he possibly can. Finally, you let out a loud sigh as you let your orgasm wash over your body. Electricity shoots throughout your veins as you ride out your high, Sunghoon slowly moving back and forth as he fucks his cum deeper into you. Even after you’re both panting and coming back to reality, he’s milking out every drop he possibly has left, making sure it’s well seated in you before pulling out fully.

With shaky legs, Sunghoon stands and stretches his arms over his head, returning to give you a shaking, soft kiss to your trembling lips.

“I love you,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your cheek before giving a swift peck to your nose. He moves to undo the cuffs from your wrists, massaging your skin lightly for a moment before moving onto the next ones.

You whine as he moves away from you, wanting to kiss his lips over and over again until you physically can’t anymore. Brain spinning from your high and body buzzing, you’re not ready to have any sort of space away from him just yet.

When Sunghoon finally gets the last cuff off your ankle, you sit up and grab his arm, pulling him back down to the bed and enveloping his body in your arms. He laughs as he falls on top of you, wasting no time to reciprocate the embrace, littering your face with rapid kisses that leave you giggling.

“I love you too, by the way.” You giggle, squishing your cheek against his while squeezing your arms around him tighter.

“I know,” he says softly. “Hey, we should see how the pictures turned out!”

“Oh god,” you groan, completely unprepared to see what you look like in a total fucked out dazed state. Sunghoon moves to the side, resting his head against your shoulder and reaching over your body for the photos, hiding them from your curious eyes so he can get a peak first.

“Daaammmnn,” he whistles with a side glance towards you, “I just felt myself twitch again. These are too good. Can we do this every time we have sex?”

“Lemme see.” You laugh and reach for his hand. He hands over the photos willingly, watching your face intently while you take in the photos. “That’s me? I look like that when I-”

“Yep,” Sunghoon sighs dreamily, “I never get tired of seeing it.” He tilts his head to the side to give you that rare goofy grin that you love so much.

“Should we put it in an ornament now?”

“Nah,” Sunghoon takes the polaroids from your hand and sets it on the nightstand, pulling you closer so now it’s your head that’s resting on his chest, “Let’s stay here a bit longer.”

Closing your eyes and breathing in his scent, you sigh happily, arms wrapped securely around his waist while he murmurs soft words into your hair. An array of “so pretty”’s and “my baby did so well”’s tumbling from his kiss swollen lips.

It only takes you a moment to realize what he’s doing. And you get your confirmation when you open your eyes.

“You want to go again…don’t you…”

Sunghoon exhales with a low chuckle, his head falling back while he continues to play with your hair. “What gave it away?”

“Well…you’re being very affectionate right now. And I have eyes.” You giggle and gesture towards his naked bottom half, with his (once again) fully erect cock on display.

“Oh…that.” Sunghoon shyly replies. “Can you blame me?” 

Without waiting for your response, yet again (does he ever wait for you to properly reply to him?) Sunghoon moves quickly and is hovering over you once again, lowering his bottom half until his cock is nestling between your folds. Teasingly his tip nudges against your clit, your body already weeping to have him inside you again.

Thinking he’s about to put himself back in, you brace your body to feel the stretch. Instead, Sunghoon gives you a mischievous grin and grabs your waist. He flips you around, pulling your hips back until your ass is in the air and flush against his pelvis.

You feel the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance again, but he pauses. And you groan because he seems to always be doing this; somehow always getting lost in thought just when you’re ready to let everything go and be fully consumed by him. But nothing can ever be that simple to Sunghoon. Every minute, every second, every detail is thought out in ways that only Sunghoon could do. But the more he gets lost in thought, the more pleasure you’ll feel later. If only your patience could keep up.

“Fuck, I wanna tie you up again.”

You let out a surprised laugh, somehow, at the same time, you’re not completely surprised by this at all. His words are so simple, yet they send an excited chill throughout your body. You know better than to move when you feel his presence leave you, most likely heading back to the closet to rummage through your shared box of fun. 

You hear his feet shuffling back, followed by the bed dipping under his body weight shortly after. “Mmm. Love you like this,” he sighs, massaging the swell of your ass with his hands before landing a playful smack to it. He grabs your arms and places your wrists on top of each other. The feeling of what’s most likely one of his ties wraps around, tightening deliciously around your skin until you can’t move your arms at all. 

“We’re going to make so many ornaments tonight, baby.”

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