A/N: Written for @mysonesecret's A Thousand Words challenge over on fanprose! Much love for hosting!
Yujin x Male Reader Fluff
1k words
Read it on fanprose, and leave comments on your favourite lines!
Now, today might not be the round five, or the big decade. But today’s three years. You believe that warrants something a little different.
Usually, this is where the morning would go: You feel your hand sliding down her perfect geometry, her hips rolling forward while she’s half-conscious, slit coming into contact with your morning wood. She’d wake up halfway through the first thrust, moan something unintelligible yet hot against your jaw, and you’d both pretend the slow grind toward the hour of lunch counted as being productive.
But it’s as you say: This warrants something slightly different.
She blinks up at you, bleary yet beautiful, and her mouth curves into that little puppy-smile she forces for the crowds, and you force out of her.
“Yujin,” you say to her, quietly.
She mumbles something that isn’t quite words.
“Yujin,” you say again.
One eye cracks open proper. Then the other. “Hi,” she whispers, voice shot to hell from sleep.
“If you’re about to ask me to get on top, the answer is no. I’m still recovering.”
You laugh. “That’s not—”
“Because technically,” she continues, already warming up, “what you did last night counts as a war crime in at least twelve countries. I looked it up.”
You smile, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, let your thumb trace the arc of her cheekbone. “Happy anniversary.”
“Mmm.” She shifts, rolls her hips just enough to make her point, and her smile widens when you inhale sharply. “Happy anniversary to you, too.”
You smile again.
“On second thought—”, she goes to palm your hardness, devious smile to boot, “—maybe I would like to stick to tradition. You get me?”
You do. It’s a good tradition—reliable, mutually beneficial, leaves you both breathless and sweaty and weirdly wanting to hydrate. But this morning, watching her yawn and squint against the light and press her cold feet against your calves, you find yourself hesitating.
“Actually,” you say, and she raises an eyebrow. “Can we—can I just look at you for a second?”
Suspicion flickers across her face. “That’s weird.”
“It’s romantic.”
“It’s suspicious,” she decides, stretching. The sheet slips, and you get an eyeful of everything in your periphery. “What did you do? Did you forget to get me something?
“No.”
“Did you forget to book dinner?”
“No.”
“Did you—” She props herself up on one elbow, and the sheet falls further. You’re a gentleman but you’re not a saint. You’re gonna ogle. “Did you cheat on me with Wonyoung?”
“That was one time,” you deadpan, “and you let me.”
“Okay, then—”
“I love you.”
The words land differently on her than they usually do. Usually they’re punctuation—dropped between gasps as you fuck her, murmured against her cunt while you worship her. This time, though, they’re the whole sentence, standing on its own, and it makes her go oh-so very still.
Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”
You laugh, and she relaxes incrementally. “I just thought maybe we could try something different.” You trace the line of her shoulder, the dip of her waist, the jut of her hip. “I wanted to tell you things. The stuff I don’t say when we’re—”
“Fucking?”
“Being busy,” you amend, and she snorts. “I love the way you laugh at your own shitty jokes. I love that you still get embarrassed when I catch you singing in the kitchen. I love that you leave your books facedown on the nightstand even though it drives me crazy up the wall.”
Yujin stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. Then, slowly, something softens behind her eyes.
“Your turn,” you encourage.
“You’re really good with your mouth.”
You roll your eyes. “Is that your final answer?”
She goes quiet for a long moment. Then, her fingers find yours under the sheet, lace together, squeeze.
“When you pick me up at the airport.”
“The airport?”
“Mhm.” She shifts closer. “Because no matter what time I fly in—whether it’s the afternoon when you’re supposed to be at work or when you’re tired at the dead of night—after a long schedule, an even longer flight, what feels like even longer dealing with paparazzi, cameras blinding me, and all I want to do is go home…” She tilts her chin up, meets your eyes. “The first thing I see when I get out of there is you, waiting for me. And I feel like I’m there already.”
Your throat feels tight. Your chest feels tighter.
She laughs and kisses the corner of your mouth. Then the other corner. Then your nose, jaw, forehead.
“I love that you remember my coffee order,” she kisses back down into your lips. “I love that you let me steal your clothes. I love your little butt that’s just perfect for some therapeutic squeezing.
“I love that you drool in your sleep,” you declare back. “I love that you leave your hair ties everywhere. I love that you trust me enough to fall apart.”
Your hand slides lower, cups the curve of her hip, thumb tracing circles into the bone. She’s so warm. Her thigh hooks over your waist and suddenly her cunt is pressed against you, slick and ready and—God this is perfect.
“I love you,” you say again.
“I love you too,” she says, pressing another kiss to you. “Now, are we done being sentimental? Or are we going to fuck?”
“That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“I’m a romantic person.”
“You’ve called our anniversary a reminder that you tolerate me.”
“I stand by that.”
You roll on top of her in faux anger, settle between her thighs, watch her eyes go dark and focused. Her nails dig into your shoulders. Her hips lift, searching.
“Happy anniversary,” you tell her.
She pulls you by the back of the neck, bites your bottom lip, smiles against your mouth.
.my hands slipped with some nsfw Willmack thoughts.
okay, but my fav, sweet, sweet bottom!Mack sometimes gets in the mood and feels like it, and because he can, he fucks Will, who is so not used to it, and it overwhelms him sooo much in the best ways possible. and Mack absolutely makes the most out of the situation, when finally he is the one who stays a little, really just a tiny bit, more together, and he teases Will being so cock-dumb every time it happens. Will who is so nicely spoken and keeps it together, and can even say sentences when Mack usually unable to even form a though becomes absolutely incoherent, and whatever comes out, that's a little more than a babble, more huffs and puffs and half-words, and takes a very long time to process whatever Mack is saying and even when he does, in the heat of things he can't answer, or just moans "i dunno" or "whatever", because his brain absolutely short circuits. and after he is in Mack's arms, eyes half-lidded and heavy, lips red and a little open, and Mack peppers kisses all over is face, his hair, his shoulders and Will answers "yeah, drink" to the question if he needs something to drink. Mack laughs a little and pulls him closer, nuzzling into his hair. "you get so cock-dumb every time. i love it." Will only makes an indignant noise because he does but it doesn't mean he needs to hear it too, as much as he enjoys becoming one.
bonus 'cock-starved' Mack might make an appearance when i'll have some more time.
Synopsis: You and the band terrorize the local mall. AKA The totally fictional, fucked up origins of the samples from Cake and Sodomy.
Notes: Portrait era! Warning for intentions of assault (not from Manson) and general immature debauchery.
There's nothing left to do in this town.
You, your boyfriend, and a few members of his band that aren't still sleeping, are wandering around the small town they're set to perform tonight. The venue's gonna be tiny, just like the town, but at this point, any gig is a good gig. They're touring their asses off to promote their first studio album, an album nobody thought could possibly get produced. Lots of touring meant a few shitty stops (okay, a fair amount), and it meant days of either doing drugs in hotel rooms, pasting flyers around the city, or trying to do normal things.
"We could vandalize buses," Jeordie suggests.
"There's only one bus that comes by here, once every hour at half past sharp," Pogo replies, staring at the palm of his hand. "I've been watching it."
"What about the mall?" you suggest.
"Does barbie want to go shopping?" Pogo mutters. You throw a crumpled up fast food bag from the ground at him.
Brian finally speaks up. "The mall's not a bad idea, actually. There might be makeup stores there, I can swipe some pancake shit for tonight's show."
Now that their fearless leader had spoken, everyone grunted their own form of agreement, getting up off the park bench.
Making it to the mall, Jeordie runs over to the directory. "I'm going to the candy store." Pogo seems to like that idea, and the two walk off. Brian calls after them.
"Assholes! Meet us back at the doors by six, we've got a show to get to!" He turns to you, taking your hand and rolling his eyes. "As if they don't get enough drugs. Now they need sugar highs too."
The two of you walk toward the drugstore to check out the makeup. Brian immediately heads over to the lip aisle, and starts pocketing some reds and plum colours.
"You know... I wouldn't mind a bit of candy," you tell him, swinging your hand with his, "A nice, big lollipop."
Brian licks his lips. "How would you lick it, baby? Swirl your tongue over the tip?"
"I'd get it all into my mouth, then when it hits the back of my throat, I'd swallow all that sweet sugar." Brian groans, starting to walk toward the candy store with you too, and you shrug. "But I'd settle for some sugar babies."
"You get the sugar babies," he smirks, "I'll get the sugar daddy."
"You are not a sugar daddy," you laugh. He scoffs.
"I could be!" He slides his hand down to feel up your ass. "I could be your daddy, babygirl."
"You're the same fucking age as me, and you've got no money."
He shakes his head. "Just give this record a little more time. Once Interscope pushes it and Portrait sells a billion copies, stadiums all over the world'll want Marilyn Manson to scare the crap out of their upstanding citizens. We'll be in demand! Then I can buy you all sorts of weird relics."
"Special," you smile, "Normal sugar daddies buy their babies diamonds. No, I get prosthetic hands and Eichmann's aluminum dentures."
"You love it."
"I do," you giggle, and his eyes suddenly take on that mischievous glint.
"Photo booth."
"Bri, really?"
"We gotta go in, and do a porno shoot."
"What?!"
"There's nobody around but us. Come on baby, let's take really fucking dirty pictures."
"You know, they probably save these somewhere to print them, right?"
"Good, you can flash your tits, make the mall cop jack off. Here, we can record, and put it on the new single, Cake and Sodomy! It'll be perfect."
You blush, and he pulls you into the little tent in the middle of the pathetically empty strip mall. He sets up the camera, closes the curtain, and you keep giggling.
"You go here," he sets you up on mark like a master movie director, and you check the screen, making sure the star anatomy is properly centered. Then you reach down and pull your top over your head, unhooking your bra. Brian bites his bottom lip.
"Shit, you're gonna make me have to jack off." You knee him lightly in the crotch playfully.
"Focus on the shoot, Spielberg." He puts his hands over your breasts from behind, and you yelp.
"Jesus Christ, Brian!"
"What?!"
"At least warm your hands up a little. God, it's like being fondled by the Grim Reaper!”
“Geez--”
“Boobs are very delicate things, okay, they're not like dicks, you can't just whip them out and expect--"
"Okay, alright, there. There! All warmed up. You happy?"
"Yes," you pout, and he kisses your cheek quickly, before darting forward to press capture and resuming his position. The first flash goes off, with Brian's hands grabbing your breasts. Second one begins to count down.
"What should we do, quick, what should we do?!" you squeal, laughing, and he looks around. He gets on his knees, bringing his face up, and sucks on your nipple for the third shot.
"Get your dick out," you urge, "Hurry, do it!"
He unzips his pants, and gets his dick as close as he can to the camera.
For the fifth shot, you get on your knees this time, holding Brian's dick and licking the tip as the last flash goes off. He presses play on his tape recorder, and you stand up, kissing him and making the sexiest noises you can.
"Alright.... mmm... mmmm!"
The two of you are laughing uncontrollably like children as you exit the booth with the printed strip. "Gorgeous," you nod, inspecting it.
"We're hot. I'd wanna fuck us," he says.
"God, same."
"We should use these as album art."
"Go for it," you shrug, "I'm sure it'd help sell all those billions of copies you promised." You bite your pinkie nail, looking back at the booth. "What if there were cameras that were watching inside, though? Like other cameras?" He massages your shoulders as you walk.
"I told you, there probably were. I already shoplifted, might as well be arrested for public indecency as well. It'll help my, uh... dangerous rock star image."
You groan, hiding your face in Brian's shoulder as you two keep walking.
You meet up with Jeordie and Pogo in front of the candy shop, Brian having shoved the strip down his back pocket. Jeordie has a bag full of sweets.
"What did you get?" you ask, burrowing inside it. He hands you some laffy taffy.
"I know you like this stuff."
"Jeord! I absolutely love you!"
"I know." He grins. "Hehe, Star Wars."
Just then, a big, hairy motherfucker of a security guard approaches you four quickly. He's an imposing figure, even on your 6'1 boyfriend.
"I promise I paid for all these gummy worms," Jeordie begins to tell him, but he looks at you and Brian.
"You the kids from the photo booth?"
You're too shocked to speak, so Brian, ever the antagonist, nods, sizing him up. "Yeah. Is there a problem?"
"You're going to have to come with me," the portly guard says sternly, and Brian shoves him off.
"Like hell, buddy."
The guard starts to take something out of the back of his belt, so before either of you can find out what, you stop him.
"Wait! Wait, it's okay. We'll go." You lean in to Brian pleadingly. "The most he can do is give us a warning. Don't get your show banned here over some stupid, bloated mall guy with a bone to pick."
"Fine." You and Brian turn, noticing Jeordie and Pogo had fled the scene. "Great friends," Brian mutters, and the two of you start walking.
The guard leads you into a dark, grimy room down some steps under the mall's CVS, where you see a bunch of security camera feeds, and... your topless photos displayed on one of them. It smells strange down here, like spoiled chicken and vaseline. The guard sits down.
"So. You think creating pornography in public is funny, do you?"
Brian lets loose a stream of vitriol you knew had been simmering. "I do. In fact, I think it's the most goddamn hilarious thing I've ever done, you stuffy old dickhead!"
"Brian..."
"You wouldn't know much about that though, since you're probably so miserable working overtime for a mall who sees the local crackhead walk through maybe once every month or so and that's it--"
"Brian."
"--Getting paid to sit behind a desk in the dark, eat donuts and creep on people like a glorified cam-stalker--"
"Brian!"
"I bet you liked looking at my girlfriend's tits, huh? You like em, you fucking pervert? Why don't you--"
The guard finally has enough, and gets up out of his chair, walking behind Brian and tying a gag around his mouth. You go to stop him, but he grabs some duct tape, and sits you down, tying your wrists behind the chair. He does the same to Brian, restraining him. Shaking in fear, you sit still, paralyzed, as the guard sits back down in front of you two.
"You kids now and your alternative lifestyles. Think that acting outlandish and wearing black, Satanic clothing that never would've flown in my day is the way to give us civilized folk here in this good, god fearing little town the middle finger, huh?"
He sneers down at your leather miniskirt, and then to Brian's thick platform boots, looking him up and down. He's not really helping disprove the man's point about outlandish clothes, with his lipstick and shaved eyebrows. You think you see Brian fiddle with something in his back pocket, but your attention is directed back to the guard.
"Performing sexual acts in my mall. You won't get away with that."
"What are you gonna do?" you whimper.
"Put on a little show of my own," he starts to smile sadistically. You start to feel cold all over. He doesn't mean...
Brian's eyes close. Of course the two of you had found the Buffalo Bill of mall cops. Fucking lucky. Well. It'd be a story for the show.
The man sits back. "Smile."
Brian watches the guy closely. "You touch her..." your boyfriend warns. You struggle to pull your restraints free.
"Smile for me," the guard repeats, growing impatient.
You swallow. "Just let us go. We're really sorry about the photos!"
He finally stands up, cracking a fist. "Go on smile, you cunt!"
Brian jumps up, and though his wrists are still bound like yours, he turns around to grab you, pulling you both to the door. He spits the gag out. "Run."
The two of you dash out the side entrance to the mall, and keep running until you can't hear the guard yelling anymore.
Jeordie and Pogo come out of the woodwork, quickly gathering around you.
"Fuckin' redneck tyrant!" Brian shouts back, grabbing and tossing Jeordie's milkshake at the building. Jeordie stares in longing at the destroyed strawberry goop on the ground, debating if the 5 second rule worked for drinks too. Pogo takes a switchblade out to cut you two loose.
"I got the perfect sound bites on tape we can sample for Cake and Sodomy, of you moaning like a whore and that guy being a general asshole," Brian tells you, and you roll your eyes.
"After nearly being killed by a psychotic mall cop, that's all you have to say? Typical."
"What did you guys even do?!" Jeordie asks.
You dig out the photo strip from Brian's back pocket, and pass it to the other guys. Pogo nods, stroking his goatee like a critic.
•Lives with three humans, who his is good friends with
•humans come with weird icky emotions
•why is he doing this?
•starts to fall for Roman, the eccentric drama nerd
•tells his friend DC it's purely lustful
•he doesn't have human emotions
•right?
•heat cycle's coming up
•Virgil and Patton are leaving for the week (thank goodness) and Roman has theater practice (he'll barely be home)
•Logan locks himself in his room to deal with his heat peace
•day 4 (one of the worst days in Logan's mind) rehearsal gets canceled because the set breaks, falling on three actors (Roman is fine, just a bit shaken)
•he comes home early to a weird smell in the air and noises coming from Logan's room
•oh shit did he just come home to Logan masturbating? Oops
•makes a loud noise to alert Logan he's home
•noises stop
•hears Logan's door open
•Logan comes downstairs looking like a mess
•no glasses, messy hair, no clothes, wait since when has he had eyes that blue? Or sharp teeth? Or...
(I feel like writing this part)
"Lo-logan? Why are you...um...what's going on?" Roman stammered, looking at his friend/crush is shock. Logan was completely naked, looking like he's been through three rounds at an orgy,(yes Roman knows what that's like). "You don't look..." Human was was Roman was implying. And he didn't. His eyes were too bright, his teeth too sharp, and his body. Oh god his body. He was muscular and his skin seeming to be dusted blue. Roman blinked, aware that his pants were growing tight. "I...um..."
Logan smiled, stepping closer to Roman, and almost, like he was in a daze said, "Why are you home so soon?" His words seemed like honey, and Roman nearly moaned. This was too much. "Did something happen at rehearsal?" He reached out, his hand gently touching Roman's chin, tilting the actor's head up slightly.
"T-the set...um..." Maybe he hit his head. That would be a logical explanation for this...right? Maybe he was in a coma, having a vivid dream about his crush, "it, uh, collapsed...we were sent home. Lo...what's going on, why are you...?"
"I'm in heat my dear Prince. If you don't want to...help~...let me know now. You're more than welcome to go at anytime, but...if you're willing....just say the words~" He looked at Roman with lustful eyes, "so what'll it be?~"
Roman bit his lip, he wanted this so badly, but...what was Logan? Is this safe? "On one condition. We talk about this after. This can't be a one-time thing."
Logan smiled, "Agreed." He pushed Roman against the wall with surprising force. "Don't worry my prince, I promise to take care of you." He kissed Roman deeply, working to unbutton and unzip his pants. He wouldn't need those. He probably wouldn't need his shirt or boxers either. So Logan pulled those off too. "So pretty all exposed like that~ and all for me. My pretty little prince."
Roman moaned softly, he really did like the praise. "Log-" his words were cut off when Logan started to stroke his cock, "Ohh~"
"Sh, talk later. The only words I want to hear you say are 'sir,' 'yes,' or 'more,' unless you need me to stop or I ask you to beg. Can you do that?" He smirked at Roman.
Roman nodded, "yes sir~" he bit his lip, he was really into this.
Logan ran his hand through Roman's hair, noting how the other reacted. Perfect. "Let's go back to my room. I would love to wreck you on my bed.~"
Roman nods and lets Logan drag him, by the hair, back to the bedroom.
IM SORRY IM LATE BUT hc on first time with roger???
you’re not late! i’ll be on for …. hours. though i did just take a nap because i got bored XD
in any case. because i’ve technically already written about this (see: exhibit A) i’m not gonna go all-out.
if you’re both inexperienced, i feel like he would be so adorable: nervous and fumbling even though he tries to act cool up until that point. he’s eager to please but at the same time probably really needy. he definitely won’t last long, which really embarrasses him, but you think his reaction is adorable.
if you’re the one with experience and he has none: you have to slow him down because you know how things will end if you keep at his pace. (they’ll end in 2 minutes, lol). he’s annoyed, definitely, but trusts you anyways. lots of edging, because if not it’ll end poorly. also, lots of you giving him specific instructions, which he takes careful note of for the future
if you’re the one with no experience, but he’s got it: he’ll throw his rough and eager ways out the window. he’s always checking on you, making sure you’re ok with what he’s doing. he’s slow and gentle- very sweet. lots of kisses all over your body, in fact, i’m inclined to think he’d be practically worshipping it. would definitely make sure you were satisfied because he’d feel like an asshole if he didn’t.
i hope this fulfilled your sinful needs, dearest!!
Author's Notes: Short and smutty RobStar Teen Tryant request by ObeliskX on FF.net. Hope you like it!
Red Robin of the Teen Tyrants marched angrily down the hall of the Tyrant Tower.
"Stupid bitch! She just has to have that stupid gem necklace. She's putting us all in danger from a stupid freaking necklace! And does anyone else question it? No! Because they are all a bunch of butt-kissing wussies that gravel at her stupid feet!" The young villain grumbled to himself as he stomped away from the common room. He walked straight into his room, the door sliding open, then closing behind him. He began to strip himself of his uniform.
"She wants to willing walk into a trap, so be it, but I'm not getting my ass fried for a stupid piece of jewelry!" He declared to himself as he unfastened his belt and roughly pulled off his shirt. He made a motion to pull down his pants when a female voice stopped him.
"Well someone is pretty heated."
Robin turned around to see a dark figure sitting cross-legged on his bed. "How'd you get in my room, Blackfire?" He said with mild annoyance.
"Oh, just checking out the view." She said in a sultry voice and blatantly ogling his naked torso.
Robin blushed at her words and turned back around. He walked over to his dresser and pulled out an old t-shirt, but before he could put it on, Blackfire had already floated over to him. She grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop what he was doing and look up at her, their faces just inches apart.
"Don't." Was all she said as she moved her hand from his arm to his chest and began tracing his toned muscles with her slim fingers. Her actions suddenly made all the heat in his face go down to other parts of his body.
"You know, you really shouldn't let her talk to you like that." She told him as she started nibbling on his ear. A moan escaped the boy's mouth and the girl giggled in response.
"What else can I do? If I challenge her enough, she'll either kill me or worse, she'll get in my head." He managed to say as she continued to do sinful things to his neck.
"Well, at least that slut doesn't get to sleep with you anymore." She concluded as she reached down and began sliding down her pants.
"No, that's what her new pet is for." He agreed as he pulled her crop-top over her head.
"Mm…stop talking." She said flatly and crashed her lips onto his.
He opens me with his fingers first, waiting and wanting and hungry, and pushes me back into myself so hard I fall out of my own body and curl up with my clothes on the floor. He wants me to forget everything but what his hands can pull from my body, what he can take from me and fill me with. Over-willingness breaks me as I get opened and torn from myself. He opens me like bags of groceries or cans of beer. With a sort of gentleness that isn't gentleness but hunger for life. My back arches into the bedframe. He takes his nails like needles and pulls them in and out until I can't breathe in a way that makes sense. Everything, even violence, can sound beautiful. And what's pleasure if you can do it sober, if you don't have to bleed for it.
I tell him I love him. He tells me I love him. He tells me I love him. He tells me he loves me and the world stops. He looks at his reflection in the bites over my chest and in the slope of my shoulders into my neck and in the hollow of my collarbones.
He asks me to come in the bath with him. I am afraid. He tells me I'm the only one. I am afraid. He tells me he's the moon and I'm the sun and his light is just my reflection and I tell him he doesn't mean that. He asks why baby, why? Why what? Why don't I know what I want from him? He only looks in my eyes to see his reflection. That's why he can't bear it for too long. Why he turns away and grimaces. He hates himself and I taste like I hate myself. Like cheap beer and watered down blood and smoke and semen. I kiss him with my hatred covered tongue because he's already caught it.
What are we if not friends nor lovers. I suppose we don't really know each other.
Why do you still want to care for me? We can't love each other in a meaningful way. And you can't live with a grave. And you hate it and you yell and you burn and your embers spit onto me. But in the morning, gazing upon your sleeping body, the corpse in the bed next to me, I don't see your hatred or the way you drill me open or the way you drill yourself open. I see a pale naked sliver of your back your shirt rode up the reveal, I see the sunlight that's worked its way through the slits in the blinds lay over your hair and face, turned to the side and calm, mouth closed, for once, happy. You look soft like that, baby. Can I stay in your bed tonight. Can I stay in your body. Can I leave my imprint on the mattress and the smell of my shampoo and cigarettes on the sheets for a year or two. I'll become them.
