#i just... love how he smushes more syllables together every time

[infinitedungas]

hellOOOO ONE AND AAAALL welcome to anoghthrthringepsode of DIMENSION TWENTY I am your humbledungeonmaster brennanleemulligan and wisdlkjslkalwaysrour intrepid heroes say HIII INTREPID HEROES

#i just... love how he smushes more syllables together every time #vowels and consonants dropping like flies with each passing episode #though tbf they pointed out in the latest adventuring party that he's said it nearly 200 times now #so it probably doesnt even sound like words to him any more #it wouldn't to me #brennan lee mulligan #dimension 20 #intrepid heroes #dimension twenty #dropout

[lemonsandstrawberries]

I was First

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), MCU

summary: It is Tony's 50th birthday and while Tony doesn't have any expectations, Steve wants to celebrate early.

length: 1 480

a/n:  Happy Birthday, Tony Stark! Endgame, what? Don't know her. And Tony has the best butt in MCU, don’t even get me started on it! Hope you will like the fic and as always, feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated and needed!

——————–

I was First

"Hey, babe... Babe? Tony? Hey, Tony. Babe. Babe. Babebabebabebabebabebabe-"

Tony pulled his eyebrows together, the annoying sound getting to him through his sleep. It was like someone had been relentlessly poking on his skull, every syllable drilling into his mind. Groggily, he forced his eyes to open, blinking in the dim glow of the night lamp.

"Wha - Steve?" Tony croaked out, wrapped in the covers up to his waist and comfortably smushed, belly first, in the soft mattress on his and Steve's marital bed. With some effort, Tony lifted himself on his elbows, turning his head to the side, trying to locate his husband. "Steve, what the heck-" he complained, finally finding his husband, sitting at his side and smiling too brightly for no apparent reason.

Tony didn't know that someone could smile so much, but somehow Steve did it, adding a lot more enthusiasm into his already perky self and looking elated with Tony being awake.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," Steve said in a cheery voice, leaning in closer and pecking Tony's cheek in a tender kiss.

Birthday?

The annoyed feeling from being woken up got replaced by something warmer and fuzzy. Well, that was cute. Annoying to be woken up, but cute to receive birthday wishes from his husband as the first person.

"Aw, thanks, Ste-," Tony didn't finish when he noticed the numbers displayed on the digital clock.

12:01 am. AM. As at midnight. Not noon.

And the annoyed feeling was back.

"Steve!" Tony scolded, not believing that his husband woke him up, barely an hour after Tony managed to fall asleep. That was just cruel. "God! You couldn't wait until morning?!" Tony hissed, wrenching the pillow from underneath his face and covering his head with, wanting to fall back to sleep in comfortable darkness.

"I wanted to be the first to wish you happy birthday," Steve said and Tony didn't need to look to know that his husband jutted his lip forward in a sorry pout, that made him look extra adorable. "I bet your social media is already flooded with wishes!"

Tony groaned from underneath the pillow. Maybe. His birth date was there in the open, for everyone to see and Iron Man had quite a fanbase. It was cute that people cared, but at the same time, it could get a bit overwhelming. This year, Tony didn't plan anything special on his birthday, seeing that he was turning -

"Any ideas what you want to do on your 50th birthday?" Steve asked in a happy voice, the mattress dipping under his weight as he plopped down on his side, next to Tony.

Tony just groaned again, only wanting to sleep. Why his husband couldn't get a hint.

"On my 100th birthday we went to Disneyland for a week, do you remember it, Tony?" Steve continued to chat, not bothered by his husband's attempt to shield himself. "Remember that teacup ride? They should put warnings on those things, I almost puked on your shoes once we were off."

Tony remembered that Disney trip and how happy Steve had been, just grinning and skipping in joy like a child, even if the first ride almost made him vomit. Some pretzels and a cup of water later, Steve had been good to go, choosing more and more daring rides. It was a great trip.

"Sooo... Any wishes for your birthday?" Steve asked in a low whisper, and Tony felt light fingers brushing against his shoulder. It was nice and caused a shiver to travel up his bare back.

"A slide and a ball pit," Tony muttered out, not thinking it through, just hoping that coming up with something ridiculous would make Steve leave him alone and let him sleep.

"That could be arranged," Steve laughed and Tony just groaned. He didn't have the mind power to discuss his birthday. "Alright, I will let you go back to sleep," Steve said generously and shifted on the bed, probably reaching his hand to turn the night lamp off. "Just to be clear - the official version is that I was the first one to wish you a happy birthday, right?"

"Right," Tony croaked out, his body really wanting to get back to sleep.

"Great," Steve said, again in that cheery voice, and for a second Tony had doubts if he would get any sleep if Steve showed that level of enthusiasm, "go back to sleep, babe," he added in a softer voice, pulling the covers up Tony's back, wrapping him in warmth.

"Mhhhm," Tony hummed gratefully, his eyes already closed. Sleep.

Instead of laying still and joining his husband for the night, Steve fidgeted on the bed. "Isn't there a custom that you should get your ass spanked on your birthday, one slap for each year?" Steve asked, and Tony wasn't sure anymore if he was thinking out loud or talking to him. "I think there is. We should do it now. Fifty slaps!"

Tony didn't expect to have his ass swatted, and his body jumped after the first slap, luckily, it was the gentle kind of a swat. More like a pat, really, just with enough force to let him feel it, but not to hurt or leave a bruise. Quite nice.

And that's how Tony fell to sleep, listening to Steve counting the fifty slaps at his ass, and vaguely aware that at some point, Steve played his butt cheeks like bongos, quietly singing 'happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday my husband, happy birthday to you.'

When morning finally came, Tony stretched in bed, slowly wakening up. He was alone in the bedroom, and rolled on his side, reaching for his phone and smiling when he noticed the hour.

9:30 am.

A much better hour to wake up to.

And seemed that Steve was right, and his phone did blow up with notifications overnight, starting from text messages from Rhodey and Pepper and ending on social media posts from people all over the world. Out of curiosity, Tony opened his twitter and skimmed through his wall, smiling at each message, until he got to that one post, with the highest amount of likes and retweets, already trending.

Post made by SteveSR_CaptainAmerica. Official account.

It was a photo of Tony and Steve. Both were in bed, Tony flat on his stomach, wrapped in covers, Steve grinning at the camera and holding the digital clock they kept on their nightstand. The displayed hour was 12:36 am.

'I was first. Happy Birthday to the love of my life!' A simple caption and a bunch of grinning emojis and birthday related ones. And the hashtags went on and on and the more Tony read, the more mortified he was.

#happybirthdaytonystark, #happybirthdayironman, #happybirthdaytomyhusband, #FIRST, #lookatthatbutt #ONLYLOOK, #canttouchthis, #mine, #bestbuttintheworld, #stillsmokingat50, #captainamericasfavoriteass

Tony felt a lot more awake and paid closer attention to the photo. While Steve was on the foreground and there was no doubt that it was him, there was no real proof that the man wrapped in the covers was Tony. Well, Tony knew it was him, but it couldn't be so obvious to others. Maybe his sleep ruffled hair was a hint, sticking out from underneath the pillow, or the visible wedding ring on his finger for people who would zoom in, but the most obvious indication was right in the middle of the photo, covered with the thin sheets, but still sticking out enough to be recognizable.

#lookatthatduckbutt, #duckybutt, #ducky, #quackquack

Tony felt embarrassed. Somehow humiliated. Just at the same time, it was so damn funny, he started laughing, just to himself, while alone in the bed. So the Happy Birthday concert Steve had played on his butt during the night was just the tip of madness.

"Happy birthday, boss!"

"Thanks, Friday," Tony smiled, laying in bed, happy and content. "Where is Steve?"

"Captain is during a meeting in the conference room. He told me to give you a message that he will be back after 10 am."

"Hmmm, okay," Tony hummed, working his phone with quick fingers. Aaaand retweet. Tony put the phone away and curled underneath the covers, feeling that he could enjoy some peace and quiet in bed, before Steve would come back and Tony would have to start his day for good. "Please make sure that Steve checks his twitter account."

"Sure thing, boss."

"Thanks," Tony yawned and pulled the covers more over himself, imagining the hubbub his and Steve's exchange would cause, but that would be something for the PR team to take care of and Tony didn’t feel like being bothered, especially on his birthday. To his account, Tony retweet Steve's post, adding comments of his own.

'I confirm it, Steve was first. Thank you all for birthday wishes!' #happybdaytome, #stevecalmyoselfgddamit, #nextime, #stickaflaginit, #andclaimitforamerica #loveyouhusbanddontkillme

Somehow, Tony could hear Steve laughing all the way from the conference room.

-------

Tony wanting a slide and ball pit was inspired by the fact that RDJ had a slide and ball pit on his 50th birthday party

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #SUPERHUSBANDS #stevetony #happy birthday tony stark #tony has the best butt in the mcu #fluff #humor #humor and fluff #domestic #domestic fluff #fanfic #fanfiction

[bagels-and-seagulls]

Psst! Can HJ David and BB Matteo come out and play?! PS you’re awesome and we love you, hope things are getting better in your world and you have a great holiday!!

so there’s a line in the last bit i wrote for these guys that i wanted to like expand on so here’s a list about david being sweet to matteo and him just not knowing what to do with it. hope the holiday season is treating you well, anon!

bad boy matteo + hot jock david 

-matteo has never really been in a relationship before when he stops to think about it, not a real one at least. he’s had flings, a weekend in someone else’s bed, a night spent with his chest pressed to other people’s backs that lead to a couple of days of halfhearted text messages back and forth, but never anything that lasted too long, always ending up the epitome of here for a good time, not a long time. so by the time he finally feels like he’s getting in the rhythm of having a boyfriend, being able to text david whenever he wants, asking if david wants to hang out just because he wants to see him, because he misses him, he still isn’t quite used to the way that david treats him like he’s something to care for, something to cherish, something to be proud of. 

-matteo kind of wants to ask david if he like likes him every once in a while, just to check. and he does ask one night when he’s wasted off of some punch he didn’t realize was spiked as much as it was. of course i like you, teo, david asks like he’s amused, like he wants to remember this for later. but do you like, you know, like like me? matteo asks with a slur in his words and a wave of his hand as he stumbles around just a bit, and the alcohol is making him a little bit braver but not any less unsure because the question was still pulling at his chest somewhere. i would say i like you more than that even, david laughs and reaches out to grab his elbow to steady him. i’ve never had anyone like me before, matteo admits, and david thinks that it wasn’t supposed to be out loud. 

-they’ve been dating for for what feels like half of a second, and matteo tries not to think about how this is the longest he’s ever really seen someone like that. and he doesn’t really know if they’re going steady or not, if he should even ask. he knows that he isn’t seeing anyone else, isn’t trying to, and something in the way that david smiles at him from across the room makes him think that he isn’t either, but matteo doesn’t really know what to do when they say hello to each other yet. so he stands there, and mutters, na? quiet and small, and twisting his fingers up in his pockets as he squishes his lips together trying not to do anything embarrassing, and david’s happiness lights up the whole room in a way that has matteo feeling a little bit dazed as he says, you look good today, at the same time he presses a kiss to matteo’s cheek. 

-matteo gets used to hello kisses, and goodbye kisses, and your laugh is super cute kisses, and i’m feeling a little bit bored kisses, and i’m tired kisses, and- eventually, he starts giving them back, going in for something quick and painless and almost too light to even really feel, and each time david pulls him back with with a grin and a hand on the back of his neck. 

-matteo always knew that he liked physical affection, but he never really realized how nice holding hands was until david entangled their fingers as they walked down the block together. 

-david likes using pet names, which is something that matteo notices before they even have their first kiss but not something he’s come to terms with weeks later when david has made it a habit to pepper them into most conversations. babe, david calls. babe, he repeats. he eventually sighs, matteo, with a hint of a whine, and matteo looks up immediately. why aren’t you listening? david asks because he’s feeling a little put out about not getting a constant source of attention he’s usually guaranteed whenever he spends time at matteo’s. i am listening, matteo responds. i called you like three times, david responds, and matteo frowns. i didn’t realize you were talking to me, he admits with a shrug and shifts down in where he was sitting against the wall. sweetheart, david says with that patient little smile he gets when he finds matteo out and smushes himself in close until matteo looks him in the eye, there’s no else i call babe last i checked. 

-matteo thinks that david goes out of his way to call him sugary, little names just to watch the way that matteo always looks away and smiles at it, just to be a little bit annoying and a little bit of a brat, just to poke fun, but then one day when matteo is getting out of bed for a glass of water and david is reaching after him, baby, come back to bed, matteo starts to think that maybe david doesn’t even realize he does it. 

-he starts responding to them a month or two in, and it makes david grin ear to ear. 

-you’re so smart, david mutters with something a bit peaceful on his face after matteo points up to the sky on their walk through the park and tells him the story of andromeda and the pegasus and sews a narrative through the night sky itself. i don’t know about that, matteo responds and pushes david’s face away. you are, teo, david argues, no one knows this stuff like you. 

-david says the sweetest things in passing, like he almost doesn’t even realize that he was saying anything at all, though he meant every word, every single syllable, and each time it always makes matteo’s knees go a little bit weak, a little like jelly and something starts making his stomach a little bit funny feeling. he never really gets used to it, though david gets used to how easy it is to make him blush, likes it even. 

-you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen, baby, david tells him in a hushed whisper when the whole room is a little bit golden, and it casts shadows over the bridge of matteo’s nose. and matteo doesn’t feel at all attractive when he’s waking up at the crack of dawn because david had decided he wanted to roll out of bed and leave matteo feeling a little bit cold. shuddup, matteo whines and shoves his face into david’s stomach as david runs his fingers through his hair. 

#they live! #davenzi #bad boy matteo and hot jock david #my writing #fluff

[kmindset]

Six Months

Pairing: Namjoon x Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 2119

Synopsis:  This is about the vague deterioration of a polyamorous relationship when part of the triad can’t sustain a stable connection. It is about mutual love (or adoration) amongst all parties.

On AO3

Six months without Namjoon was going to be a long time.

Just thinking about it now was making your chest tight.

“Baby?” You looked over to Namjoon. His thoughtful eyes bore into you, knowing full well what was going on in your overactive brain. “Six months will breeze by you know.”

Existential thoughts weighed you down in your seat. “That’s half a year, Joon.”

“Woah, don’t let Jiminie hear you like this. He may be a little offended.” He tilted his head in the direction of the man sleeping soundly on your other side. You looked at his peaceful face. His hands rested against the window in such a way that his lips were adorably smushed. The older man was right, Jimin would most likely feel a little dejected at your strong feelings about Namjoon’s trip. You had voiced your sadness multiple times since he sat you two down to inform you but now that you were on the way to the airport it hit you. In less than 20 minutes, he would be waving until he was out of sight, going to navigate his way through the bustling airport to find the plane that would take him miles away from you.

At this thought, you wrapped your arms around his bicep with your head nestled in the crook of his neck. You could feel the vibrations of his low chuckle as clearly as you could hear it.

20 minutes until you have to say goodbye.

✒

You were crying now.

You hadn’t intended to be emotional but seeing him gather his luggage made a lump rise in your throat. Seeing Jimin’s small frame wrapping so completely by Namjoon’s form didn’t hold it’s usually endearing feeling. As you tried to mentally save the image, you broke down. You were sobbing so much you hadn’t even realized the two men had ended their hug for Namjoon to comfort you. You loved being engulfed by not only his size but his aura. He made everything feel alright and problems seem not so big.

But now he was leaving.

You wouldn’t feel like this for six whole months. In depth of your thoughts, you felt a soft hand gently stroke your hair. The three of you stayed in this manner of existing until Jimin spoke. “Namjoon, your flight is in an hour.”

The taller man sighed, knowing full well that if he wanted to get through check-in and security with time to spare that he needed to say his final goodbyes.

Another wave of sobs felt like they wanted to take over you as Namjoon took a step back but Jimin’s arms were around you in an instant. You hands fisted the material on his shirt in some vain attempt to hold it together. But they both knew better. The two exchanged somber glances before Namjoon put on a brave smile and waved goodbye spilling many goodbyes. Multiple languages, weird faces, almost falling on his own luggage before, just as you had prepared for, he disappeared into the security queue.

That’s when the sobs came full force.

✒

“I swear to god, you are the most frustrating human on the face of the fucking Earth.”

To say things hadn’t been going well would be an understatement. Three and a half weeks in and you felt like you were to snatch every follicle of hair out of your head.

If they didn’t fall out first.

Living without Namjoon was one thing, but dealing with Jimin on your own was another.

Every day was an uphill battle but there had yet to be any payoff. Despite how frustrated you’ve been, this was the first time you expressed it. Jimin was stunned.

He noticed you avoiding kisses here and an eye roll there but this wasn’t a small action, this was a outburst of pent-up rage. He even noticed the moment you realized what you said.

“I-I-”

His loss for words seemed to annoy you further as you grunted and pushed past him to retreat to your room and slam the door. You were fuming and over what?

Jimin not washing his bowl from breakfast.

Yes. That was what set you off. Jimin’s head was spinning. He hesitated at your door on the way his and Namjoon’s shared room but decided against bothering you. Something told him that in your current state just his face would anger you further.

Your thumb hovered over the button to call Namjoon but you decided not to. It hadn’t even been a month without him, alerting him to the turmoil at home would only worry him. You sighed and locked your phone.

✒

This was the last attempt at salvaging this.

“Fuck.”

He released a growl-like sound as you bit into his shoulder. There was so much pent-up rage, so much tension, so much sexual frustration.

He fucked you into the bed, every thrust another word he hadn’t had the courage to tell you in the moment of your anger.

The beginning of the night had filled the man’s head with more doubt than he’d felt in his life. Did you truly love him? Could your relationship survive any longer when it was hanging so helplessly by a thread that only he seemed to be willing to hold?

Now he was releasing.

Every swallowed rebuttal, every feeling of mistreatment, every lonely night; released with a string of dirty words and hard, rhythmic thrusts. Satisfaction growing from your mewls for more.

He relished the sensation of your body pressed against his. He missed it so much, he was eager to give you anything you wanted. All he wanted was for you to be happy.

Happy with him.

He pulled back to look into your eyes...and saw nothing.

You were fucked out and begging for all that he could give you but there was no emotion to be seen behind lust. Those eyes that so delicately sparkled at him and Namjoon in the mornings no longer sparkled.

Most days they held a fire. One that he was sure you would use against him if you could. A year ago if Jimin was in the same position he could look into your eyes and see the reverence to which you always alluded with your shy glances as he danced in the living room or looking up at him from your spot on his chest as he ran his fingers against your scalp.

He hid his face in your neck as the tears pricked his eyes. Your head moved to the side almost as if trying to get away from his intimate touch. He couldn’t handle this rejection.

You had become too lost in distancing your experience from his affections to notice him pulling almost completely out before slamming his hips against yours. You tried to scream in surprise but your mouth hung open in a soundless cry of ecstasy.

He pistoned his hips ruthlessly and soon added the pleasure of his fingers rubbing fiercely at your clit between the almost non-existent space between your bodies.

He was a man possessed. Completely taken over by the rejection piled five months high. You picked up on none of this, too caught in the net of your own pleasure to ponder the change in him.

He clenched his jaw, feeling your body arch into him as you hit your end. “F-Fill me up, J-Jimin.” You egged him on, sounding as fucked out as you looked.

He focused on everything he held in and how he was making you so crazy for him. Right as he was on the edge, he pulled out, releasing a warm load of cum right onto your sweaty stomach. You hoped he would cum inside you like you asked, suddenly feeling the need to be close to him, to feel him everywhere. You barely opened your eyes until you feel something cold swiping across your abdomen.

‘Ever the saint, huh, soft ass pushover.’ he silently chastised himself.

Much to your malaise, by the time you could find the words to question why he ignored your request he was already gone.

It was only, three hours into your sleepless night, you realized you fucked up.

Big time.

✒

‘There is no way this is enough packing tape.’

Many curses spin in your head as you looked around at the mess of a space you called a room. Boxes and clothes were askew in every corner.

A voice in the back of your head, surely the one you were actively repressing, was trying to bring forward your sense of fault and heartache so you settled for melancholy. That was all you allowed yourself to experience.

It was in your moment of rest that you saw a figure. Slightly startled, you fell from your squat back onto your butt.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Are you going to hover in my doorway or will you talk to me?”

Without a word, he turned and ambled away.

Sigh. There was no fixing this.

✒

Hearing his voice broke your heart like nothing else you could imagine.

“W-W-Why?” He sputtered and sobbed, barely able to get the single word out. You held the phone at an angle to keep him from hearing your silent cries that were become more audible with every broken syllable he uttered.

“Hyung...Joonie, breathe.” You could hear Jimin trying to console him from the background. “You have to breathe baby.”

He had only been back in the country an hour but he cried more than he ever had in the course of that hour. Your bedroom was void of any trace of you and Jimin was not the same as he was before.

His strong face was hiding the details of his ordeal without his boyfriend there. It seemed neither were going to give him an answer as to why their happy little home had been thrown off kilter. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle the truth anyway.

✒

Life had become drab and disappointing but what could you do but shuffle on with hope for better days?

The theatre you worked for closed due to low attendance and with few options for work, none permanent, you took a job stocking the shelves in the convenience store by your tiny apartment.

You were mindlessly scanning and stocking when you heard a familiar “Excuse me.”

You looked up to the person cautiously reaching over your shoulder for the candy. The person froze as realization seemed to hit you both simultaneously.

He blinked before standing upright and ducking his head briefly in a lazy bow.

“Jimin.” You spoke his name just to see if the name could still roll off your tongue.

He said your name in response. It was dryer than your mouth in that moment. After a moment of you gawking at him in disbelief, he gave an awkward expression and began to turn away.

“Namjoon’s favorite kimbap was restocked. I’m sure he’d love if you brought some home.”

Jimin stopped. “That won’t be necessary. We’re not together anymore.”

“Why?”

“He said we grew apart but I know he blamed me for you leaving.”

He answered, scratching the nape of his neck. His discomfort was clear.

“How do you know that?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose in obvious annoyance*. “Because I know you two, _____.” He glared at you. “Every lie you told, or hidden emotion. Each and every over baring day that Namjoon tried to keep us from worrying about.” He paused, gaze softening to a tired look of defeat. “Everything you two hid, wasn’t hidden from me.”

There was nothing to say to that. Memories that came to mind confirmed his statement. The memory of the day your design book was ruined and Jimin sang to you was first. You thought you hid it so well. Or when Namjoon was worried he may get demoted for something out of his control and Jimin simply began to dance and dragged Joon up with him. You hadn’t realized anything was wrong until later. The man truly had a second sight for distress.

As if he read your mind he said, “The only thing I couldn’t see was the end of the best thing that has ever happened to me. But I have spent countless nights thinking about it from my makeshift bed on Taehyung’s couch and I came to the conclusion it couldn’t have ended any other way.”

You simply sighed and returned to stocking the shelves you abandoned. “Go home.”

“You were my home.”

You turned back but he was already trudging away.

The words playing in your head over and over again, digging the knife further into the heavy guilt nestled on your heart.

You were my home.

#jimin angst #jimin smut #poly bts #namjoon angst #bts angst #bts smut

[eastasianfeelings]

how not to say oppa: Hyuk

Summary: You call Hyuk “oppa” by accident. He is... very unhappy about it.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: eating out, possessiveness, vaginal intercourse

*

You’re in the middle of being eaten out by Sanghyuk when it slips out.

“Ah, god, oppa—”

His tongue stops moving. Your eyes snap open. Oh, shit.

When you look down, Hyuk’s staring up at you, brows lowered, eyes narrowed. “…Noona.”

You’re in trouble.

“Don’t stop,” you try and urge him. Maybe if you just keep him going he’ll let it pass.

But he lifts his head, your wetness gleaming all over his mouth. Your hips instinctively rise to follow. Firmly, Hyuk places his hand over your sex and presses down—both pinning you in place and providing a sort of maddening in-between friction.

“Noona,” he repeats, tone a little rough. “You just said oppa.”

Wince. How are you going to explain yourself out of this one? Your boyfriend’s not the possessive type, but he is a man in his twenties, and he cares very much about what goes on in bed in your relationship.

“Did I?” you bluff. “But Hyukie…” You lift a hand and reach down to distract him. “You’re not continuing?”

Sanghyuk grabs your hand and flattens it to the mattress at your side. “Why?” The one syllable is loaded with suspicion.

“I don’t know,” you say quickly, semi-truthfully. “It definitely wasn’t on purpose.”

Hyuk frowns at you for a bit longer, then abruptly removes his hands from your body. Flustered, you pull yourself up into a sitting position, and he pushes up the bed to sit by your side. He leans over you and plants his hands on the mattress on either side of your hips, face still dead-serious.

“You don’t know?” he repeats. “You don’t know why you were thinking of someone else instead of me?”

“No, Hyuk-ah, I wasn’t thinking of someone else—I never call anyone oppa anyway, you know that,” you reason, placing your hands on his forearms just in case he underestimates his strength and smushes you right into the headboard. “I swear, I wasn’t thinking about anyone else.

He leans in some more. “You obviously weren’t thinking about me, since I’m not your oppa.”

You twist your head away under his peeved stare. “It’s not that I was not thinking about you—”

“Then what is it? Go on, tell me.”

“It’s not… it’s not anything. It’s nothing.” 

His stare doesn’t let up, and the mixture of guilt and frustrated arousal you’re feeling makes you spill a little.

“I mean, in the past I only dated men older than me, so I, uh, guess I got used to saying oppa when…” You pat his arms awkwardly. “...when this happens.”

In your view, it’s truly an innocuous habit (after all, you’re not actually lusting after any specific oppa). Hyuk doesn’t seem to see it that way.

“You got used to saying it?”

“Just… the feeling in the moment triggers the habit, I guess? And I feel that way when we’re together.” You try to explain it differently, hoping it’ll soothe his ego. Judging by the way his jaw is working, it didn’t help.

“When we sleep together—” He shifts in closer. “—you feel the same way you felt in your past relationships?”

“No, that’s not it,” you say, a bit exasperated now. “What I mean is, I feel good when we’re together, and my past experience made me link that to using the term oppa. That’s it.”

Hyuk considers this for a few moments as his hands gradually curl into fists by your side. You slowly ease back to restore some distance between the two of you; it’s hot when he crowds you, but at this angle you’re going to get a crick in your neck.

All of a sudden, without words, Hyuk moves away and gets off the bed. You push yourself upright, confused, and watch him swiftly remove his remaining clothes. His boxers hit the floor and he lifts his head to meet your eyes. When you see his unsmiling expression, you swallow and instinctively inch backward.

With his erection casually leading the way, he climbs back onto the bed. A yelp escapes you when he hooks his hands behind your knees and spreads you wide without any hesitation, toppling you backwards.

“Hyuk-ah?” You shake your hair out of your face and peer up at him.

“Again.” His gaze drifts up from your exposed sex to your face, and he locks eyes with you again. “Say it.”

The head of his cock brushes your clit, and you twitch in his firm grasp. “What?”

“My name.” Hyuk presses his hips forward, and the wet slick of his cock over your labia nearly makes you whimper. “Are you going to say it, noona?”

“Yeah, yes, it’s you of course,” you say hastily, flattening your sweaty palms into the covers. “You, Sanghyuk-ah.”

Almost by accident, his cock notches into your opening, and your breath hitches. Hyuk’s gaze flies down; he likes watching himself penetrate you, enter you. You just want him to move a little and generate some friction.

“Me,” he says, and pushes. The word ends in a sharp exhale, and you let out an involuntary sound at the immediate tight fit. “Fuck…”

He slides in the rest of the way and you’re squirming the entire way, trying not to squeak at every movement he makes. It’s difficult; you’re small and he’s thick and the sensation of fullness within you, while not as sparklingly pleasurable as his mouth on your clit, is still incredibly erotic.

Hyuk’s head has fallen forward, his bangs hiding his eyes. He stays unusually still, breath coming audibly as your inner muscles clench around him.

“Hyuk-ah.” You’re not sure exactly what you want to say, if you’re asking him to move or checking how he’s feeling or demanding that he get you off; maybe all of them.

His head lifts and he makes eye contact. Then he drops your legs and stretches down to brace himself on his forearms, face now up close and personal with your breasts.

He lowers his lips to the valley between them and drags his mouth upward, small pursed kisses turning into nibbles and bites the higher he goes. The whole time he’s got his hips completely still, letting your muscles helplessly milk his cock inside you, over and over.

You’re squirming again by the time Hyuk reaches the curve of your neck, your breath coming in restrained pants. “Hyuk — ”

Teeth, suddenly.

“Ouch.” Your hand flies up to grasp his hair. “Hey!”

You tug, but he only lets go after a good two seconds.

“Mm?” he murmurs into your skin, tongue now laving over the bitten area.

“Don’t bite.”

“Why?” He raises his head to take a look at his work, and you shoot him a stern frown.

“You’ll leave a mark—!” You cut yourself off when Hyuk lowers his head again and nibbles at the same spot, almost affectionately this time. “Han Sanghyuk, seriously?” you groan, pulling harder on his hair.

He lifts his head again to half-smile at you, expression changing from brooding to a little pleased. A little too pleased. “So what?” he says guilelessly. “It’s just a mark.”

“That’s what you say.” Your words trail off again as he dips his head and presses an open-mouthed kiss to each of your nipples, sending thick ribbons of pleasure through you.

Your hips are moving by themselves at this point, unused to having Hyuk keep himself still for so long. Finally, he rises back up and focuses downward. With precision, he withdraws almost all the way, and then thrusts straight back in to the hilt.

“Oh my God—” The impact reverberates through your whole body; you fling your arms up to keep from sliding into the headboard.

“Okay?” Hyuk asks low, eyes going up to your face.

You gulp and manage, “As long as I don’t hit my head.”

In response, he drags himself out of you again, slowly, slowly, slower than you’ve ever felt him move. And even though you brace yourself, his hard forward thrust still blows half of your circuits with the near-instantaneous sensation of fullness.

He repeats the movement, eyes still trained on you, and you can’t help another sound from slipping out when he plunges in once more. “God, Hyuk,” you manage, blinking sweat out of your eyes.

“Noona,” he says. “This is me. Got it?” He emphasizes the question with another drive home. “Us.” An agonizing withdrawal. “You and me.” Another filling thrust.

“I got it,” you blurt, “I got it.” You’re hanging onto the headboard for dear life, the sensations within you absolutely scrambling your mind.

“Who?” he asks once more, though his breathing is rough now and he’s speeding up, he can’t help it.

“You, Hyuk-ah, you and us, us!” You’re saying anything at this point, hoping it’s what he wants to hear, hoping he won’t stop until you reach what you’re reaching for.

“That’s right,” Hyuk says on a pant, and slows just enough to put a palm over your clit and press.

There’s no finesse to it, he’s just applying blunt pressure as well as he can while his hips work, but for a wild second you think he might be able to feel himself thrusting into you through your abdomen and the thought is so hot that your orgasm hits.

“Ugh — ” With a stifled groan, you close your eyes and climax.

Hyuk follows almost immediately. He buries himself deep into your clenching heat and presses his entire body against you, clutching you close as he shudders and moans in your ear. And it feels as though the pleasure running through your body is his as well, or his pleasure is yours, the two of you skin-to-skin while lights fire behind your eyes.

His pants are slowing as you come down from your high. Eyes still shut, you reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair, wanting to maintain the feeling of intimacy for a little longer despite his weight.

When he tilts his head and mouths at your neck again, your eyes snap open. You grip his hair and tug.

He comes with the pressure, and for a second you think he actually listened to you for once. But he just takes a moment to look over the bruise on your neck, then swoops back in to lick at you.

“Yah, Sanghyuk-ah.”

“Yes, noona?” he mumbles, and doesn’t budge.

“Stop that before you ruin the mood.”

He pauses, then lifts just high enough to plant his lips onto yours. You lose your breath; his kisses are just as sweet as he is, just as loving, and it fills the rest of the space in your heart.

But he’s still lying on top of you, and quickly you need air. You press a hand to his shoulder and push. He just shifts and finds another angle with a pleased hum.

You twist away, drawing a whine from him, and gasp in the air you need. “Heavy,” you manage, and give him another push.

“Oh, sorry.” Hyuk heaves himself off, causing his soft cock to slip out. You wince as your combined fluids leak from your sensitive opening.

“Do you want a towel?” he asks, even though he looks like he’d rather not move for a while.

You shake your head. “It’s okay, I was going to take a shower after anyway.”

He props himself up on his elbow and peers over at you. “After…”

“After—” You clamp your mouth shut as you remember what you were doing before Hyuk came in and surprised you.

A wide smile spreads across his face. “I didn’t get to finish helping you,” he murmurs, reaching out to trace his fingers over your skin.

You’re pretty sure it defies definition to “help” someone masturbate, but you get what he means. “You helped me plenty,” you assure him, and stretch lazily to prove your point.

“Were you thinking about me?” His smile fades a little. “Or not?” He palms your neck, pressing against the mark he’d bitten. “Maybe one of your oppas?”

Sigh. “Hyuk-ah, I told you, I wasn’t thinking of anyone at all.” You grip his wrist and stroke your thumb against his skin. “I promise I’m going to break that habit, okay?”

He grumbles a bit, then demands, “How did you even form a habit like that? You don’t call anyone oppa.”

“I think that’s probably why my exes liked it,” you admit. “Because it was… different, I guess, from how I usually was.”

Hyuk considers this, then grimaces in distaste and pulls you closer. “So perverted.”

You snuggle into his arms and hide your smile. “You’re one to talk.”

“Me?” he says in self-righteous outrage. “None of the things I like are based on degrading the other person!”

“Hmm.” You peer up at him. “So, you don’t like being called oppa in bed?”

“No, because why would you call me oppa.” Hyuk leans back and frowns at you.

“Right.” You lower your gaze and gently touch one of his nipples. He tenses, then relaxes. “But…” You walk your fingers up his chest, over his Adam’s apple, and up his neck until you reach his lips. When you meet his eyes, he’s watching you intently. “Are you sure you don’t like it… oppa?” you whisper.

He swallows, eyes on your mouth. He licks his lips. Tries to find his words.

With your other hand, you reach down and, yep, he’s getting hard again. You barely contain your chuckle. “No. You like it.”

“No, that’s—” Hyuk reaches down and takes your hand away from his dick. “That’s…”

“Because other girls have called you that during sex?”

“No!” he denies vehemently, and you have to laugh at this point. “No, noona—”

“I’m teasing,” you tell him, interlacing your fingers together. “It’s fine to be turned on by it, I don’t consider it degrading.”

He continues to squirm. “But… I still don’t want you to say it.”

“I won’t.” You kiss the back of his fingers. “You’re not my oppa, anyway.”

“Exactly. So just think of me,” Hyuk says firmly, then revises his statement. “Only think of me.”

“I got it,” you soothe him, and pat him on the chest. “Ah, so insecure.”

“Don’t make me jealous, then,” he shoots back, palming one of your breasts in return.

“Deal.” Now, shower time. You push away and move to sit upright.

But Hyuk rolls over and, in one swift movement, pins you under him with his weight over your legs. “Wait, noona.”

You look at him curiously. “What?”

He shifts downward on the bed. “I want to finish helping you,” he says into your skin as he kisses down your stomach.

“Wha—wait, you don’t have to.” You squeak as he presses a kiss to your clit, his fingers sliding further down through the wetness that’s spilled out of you. “Hang on, Hyuk-ah—”

“That’s right,” he breathes against you, “say it.”

“Hyuk-ah…!”

You barely know your own name by the time he’s done with you.

*

Author’s note: I’m?? not even Hyuk’s noona??? Vixx is a 2012 group and all the 2012 groups are older than me... I have no idea where this came from... anyway enjoy some random Hyuk smut OTL

follow-up: an oppa vs. your boyfriend

#hyuk #hyuk/reader #vixx #vixx fic #vixx imagines #vixx hyuk #hyuk x reader #han sanghyuk #hyuk fic #hyuk imagines #kpop imagines #eaf original #eaf writes vixx

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Fourth Christmas

the series is as follows so far:

First … Second … Third … Fourth … Fifth … Fifth Christmas, Part 2 … Sixth … Seventh … Eighth … Ninth … Tenth … Eleventh … Twelfth … Thirteenth … Fourteenth … Fifteenth … Sixteenth … Seventeenth … Eighteenth … Nineteenth … Twentieth … Twenty-first … Twenty-second … Twenty-third

———————–

She hadn’t decorated that year. She’d flown out to California with her mother several days before Christmas and wasn’t supposed to return until just before New Year’s so she made the executive decision to leave her decorations in the closet.

Mulder had also refrained from decking her place out in her absence.

It was fairly difficult for him.

But then he got the phone call, had to fly out to her and all manner of holiday cheer was forgotten, shoved to the wayside in the wake of news he never expected to turn out anything but bad.

Now, they were just leaving the airport, January 3rd and the world depressed around them. They rang in the New Year piecing together a funeral, Scully holding him at arms’ length while she pushed her mother away completely, choosing to sit idly in his hotel room rather than face champagne, fireworks and Dick Clark. He’d cracked open the mini-bar in the room and paid an exorbitant amount to help Scully drink her sorrows down, drowning them for a few precious minutes in cheap whiskey and off-brand gin.

They’d left for their plane right from the church, Scully having once again told her mother that she was fine traveling home without her. Maggie had been not-so-subtly hinting about staying a few extra days with her new grandson and given Scully couldn’t picture being trapped on a plane beside her mother for six hours minimum, she paid extra, informed her mother she was leaving with Mulder and walked away, trying not to think about the funeral they would have to attend first.

The flight was quiet but not awkward, surprising given the last two weeks of their lives. Mulder, to his astonishment, felt a small, cold hand slide over his arm, her fingers fitting between his like they were meant to be there, as they took off. He didn’t react, thought, except to twist his hand upside-down, palm to palm, weaving knuckles, warming bone.

Disembarking the plane, they entered the insanity of National Airport and Mulder all but curled himself around her, blocking her from running passengers, shopping bags, backpacks, rogue rolling luggage, that mumbling guy that seems to be in every airport they’ve ever been in, just wearing a different hat. Guiding her to baggage claim, he grabbed their bags, clearing a path she trailed close behind in as they aimed towards his car.

Finally, eventually, they were on the road, Scully small in her seat, Mulder quiet in his, until, “is it strange that it feels like it was never Christmas?”

Worrying his cheek between his teeth, he shook his head, “not really. I mean, you got out there and the world went weird, then surprising then completely terrible and now you’re back home in January and you never had time to stop and realize it was Christmas.”

Head back against the seat, she let her face fall towards the window, away from her partner, “I don’t want to go home, Mulder.”

“Then we won’t.” Instead, he took them to his apartment, opening her door for her, taking her hand as she stepped up the curb. Soon, they were in his place, door safely locked behind them, Mulder gently guiding her towards the bedroom, “go take a nap. I’ll go back out and get some food for this place and when I get back, we’ll have dinner and watched Christmas movies until March.”

She had a protest crawling up her throat but it never saw the light of day as she nodded, defeated by the world and uncomfortable in her own skin. Walking first out of her shoes, then pulling off her sweater to reveal Mulder’s Care Bear t-shirt she had stolen, loaned back and commandeered once again, she made it under the covers before she began to cry. Watching her from the doorframe, he gave her a minute while he pulled his own shoes off, relinquished his overhead, closed the blinds to the falling twilight as well as the soon-to-be-glowing streetlights. Finding the box of Kleenex in the living room, he set it beside her on the nightstand, then leaned into her, hand on the mattress, “do you want some company or would you like me to go find some food?”

Her non-committal, soggy, shoulder shrug gave him his answer and without another syllable, he climbed up and crawled right over her, jostling her, accidently-on-purpose rolling her onto her back, t-shirt chest smushing her nose, blankets all bunched by the time he went horizontal beside her. She was still crying but her lips were curled up instead of down and that was progress in his book.

Once he’d gotten under the covers, straightened them, made sure they were tucked around her opposite shoulder tightly, he manhandled her lightly, rolling her the rest of the way towards him, tucking her head against his shoulder, “hit me if you want me to go away.”

Then he cried with her.

&&&&&&&&&&&

It seemed hours until she finally fell asleep, the last bottled up 11 days pouring forth in an ugly catharsis of Kleenex, sobbing hiccups and soaking wet cotton until she finally passed out, mouth open, nose congested, eyes so puffy he’d be surprised if she could see anything the next morning.

He wouldn’t trade her for a damn thing.

Inching out of the bed, he got his shoes back on and disappeared out the door, food and other things on his to-do list.

&&&&&&&&&&

It was well after midnight before he fell asleep on the couch and after 3am before he felt the softest of kisses on his cheek, then the heavier of kisses on his mouth. The quiet ‘thank you’ made him open his eyes, deciding he would be a terrible person if he followed her mouth for another kiss but the debate was there, the contemplation, then, her lips on his again, just the corner of his mouth but it held warmth and promise and tasted a little like Almond Chicken sauce.

“You found dinner.”

“I did find dinner.” Sitting on the coffee table, she leaned forward, elbows on knees, “and I found Christmas.”

Smiling so wide his eyes disappeared in crinkles, “I couldn’t let you not have Christmas.”

Scully pointed over her shoulder, “you broke into my house again. That is not the reason you have a key.”

Behind her, her tree was twinkling beside Mulder’s desk, lights, ornaments, stockings, candy canes all stolen from her hall closet and apparently transferred, while she was dead asleep, from her place to his and set up, spewing forth Christmas joy where there hadn’t been any when she went to sleep.

“I do that.”

“I see you added garland. Where in the world did you get garland after Christmas?”

“Magical elves and post-holiday blow-out sales. I could have also bought 1.2 miles of Christmas lights for $.60.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Where the hell would I hang 1.2 miles of Christmas lights?”

“We could have made it work.”

Sitting up, he patted the couch beside him, “come here.” She scooted to him before he continued, “how’s your head?”

“Throbbing. How do my eyes look?”

“Squinty.”

Her barriers were still down, as they tended to be more and more around him and without pretense, she shifted her legs over his lap and leaned into his upper arm, “I found the new ornament.”

It was a glittery snow globe of Santa on a beach, feet up, reindeer lolling on his back in the sand.

“Bought it a few weeks back and was just gonna slip it in your box when I was over next and then, well, this seemed better.”

Hugging his arm next, “I love it. Thank you very much.”

Once his arm started moving, he wasn’t about to stop it and soon, it was around her shoulders, his feet on the coffee table, his other hand on her knee. Giving it a small squeeze, “I think we should pretend that we are couch potatoes whose world extends no further than this apartment.”

“Can it extend into tomorrow maybe?” Looking at her watch, “we only have 3 hours until we are supposed to leave for work.”

“Are you suggesting Christmas hooky?” Simply nodding her ‘yes’, he ‘hmm’d’ his agreement in his throat, then rested his head against the top of hers, “any of that Chinese food left?”

Muscles tightening to stand, he held her in place instead, “that wasn’t a hint to go get me food. I’ll get something later. Right now, I like you here and me here and … I like us … right here.”

&&&&&&&&&

He was almost back asleep, head heavy on hers, when he heard her say something. Not opening his eyes, “what?”

“How can I miss her? I knew her for less than two weeks.”

“But she was your daughter. Doesn’t matter how long you knew her.”

“How do I know if I miss her as a person or as an idea?” He could hear the waver in her voice, “what am I supposed to do now?”

“Right now,” turning her in a twisty, contorted, shifting, sliding kind of way, he managed to get them both lying on the couch without either falling on the floor, “I think you should stop thinking and close your eyes,” gripping her and turning her a few degrees until her hip wasn’t digging in his parts, “and listen to my voice while I tell you,” now running his finger lightly over her eyebrows and forehead, “a story,” moving his finger over her cheek and chin, “about how Santa is really an alien.”

“Mulder.

“Yeah?”

“I really wanted to keep her.”

Squeezing her tightly to him, he mumbled into her hair, “I know you did.”

#emily #my writing #christmas series #msr #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic