desc tamsy has a habit of starting his mornings specifically noisy and chaotic. you just want five more minutes of sleep — but somehow end up staying awake anyway.
a/n based on one of my fav tamsy panels, hes so silly i love him ♡. thinking about making this into a series... potentially. ( YIPPIE FIRST SERIES ).
wc 476
tamsy's mornings have always started the same way. he woke up already wrapped in baggy clothes — an oversized shirt almost slipping off one shoulder, sleeves hanging past his hands. his hair was down, loose and slightly tangled, clearly untouched by anything resembling effort.
the radio came on next. loudly. he twisted the dial without hesitation, static crackling for half a second before the music burst through the speakers at full volume. no easing into it. no warning. just immediate noise, like the morning had personally offended him.
he stretched as the song built, rolling his shoulders, nodding along. when he moved, it was slow and fluid, almost absentminded — like he followed the rhythm without thinking too hard about it. and when the chorus hit, all restraint disappeared. full head banging. hair flying everywhere as he threw himself into it like the song had challenged him to some sort of dance battle.
that's when the door flew open.
"why. the hell. are you blasting music this early!?"
tamsy startled, spinning around so fast his hair whipped across his face. he stared at you standing in the doorway — wrapped in a blanket, hair a mess, eyes barely open and expression murderous. he reached over and turned the radio down a notch. not off. just… lower.
"it's not that early," he said smugly.
you squinted at him. "it's seven."
"seven is basically afternoon."
you stared at him for a second, then shuffled fully into the room and flopped onto his bed without asking. you turned onto your stomach, face buried straight into the blankets, your voice instantly muffled. "do you have to do it at concert volume?" you muttered, the words swallowed by the blankets.
he snorted, leaning back against the desk as he glanced over at you. "you know i can't hear you like that, right?"
you lifted your head just enough to glare at him, then let it fall back into the blankets. "good."
he laughed at that and turned the radio down just a little more, letting it fade into the background.
you peeked up at him through half-lidded eyes. "were you just violently attacking the air?"
the realization came a moment late, dulled by sleep.
he raised a brow. "do you normally barge into peoples rooms?"
pausing for a moment. "because i was. yeah."
you rolled your eyes and burrowed deeper into the blankets, with every intention of going back to sleep. "you're unbearable," you mumbled.
"you love it."
"debatable."
he moved past the bed toward the door, nudging your knee lightly with his as he went. "you want coffee?"
your reply came muffled again. "you're making it."
"figured."
he headed for the kitchen, music trailing after him, softer now. you stayed where you were, curled into his bed, stealing his warmth like it was yours.
annoying as he was, the morning felt… fine. somehow.
Summary: Your ex could never get you off, but Daryl can.
Warnings/Tags: smut with no plot, young adult!daryl, best friend!daryl, female reader (she/her) with female anatomy, smoking weed, mention of healed implied SH scars, use of the term 'atta girl', daryl comes in his pants, oral (fem receiving), trailer park!au, undetermined relationship, no use of Y/N
Word count: 1.6k words
A/N: Disclaimer about the scars: they are a part of the reader’s body that is not fetishized, mentioned more than once or discussed in dialogue. They are completely healed. I have these kinds of scars and I wanted to represent them in this fic. If that’s still triggering to you, skip this piece. I chose to do a trailer park!au because I’ve been looking for an excuse to write it. Also, when I say young adult!daryl, I’m thinking around the age of 21.
This is for Bee's Fourteen Days of Love - day 11: Change.
Masterlist | D.D. smut masterlist
The air in the Dixon’s trailer was stale and reeked of marijuana. You and Daryl had skipped another day’s worth of classes at the local community college and were now passing a bong back and forth. Sprawled across his couch while he sat on the floor, you were rambling about your ex-boyfriend. Your hands moved wildly as you spoke and Daryl struggled to follow your train of thought.
“The guy was a total asshole, Daryl. He was so fuckin’ full of himself. You won’t believe what he told me.”
“What did he tell you?”
Daryl couldn’t care less about your ex, but he loved seeing how animated you were when you spoke. He took another deep inhale from the bong and watched as you sat up. Jesus, you were going on and on about the bastard. He blew smoke and nodded in encouragement.
“He looked me in my face and told me that he was gonna be the next George Strait.”
“The next George Strait?”
“Yeah, that country singer that your daddy was always listenin’ to.”
“No, I know who that is. I’m just confused as to why that dipshit thought he was gonna be him.”
“Pure delusion.”
Your comment made Daryl laugh so hard that he nearly dropped the glass. Reaching over, you grabbed it from him and took a hit. You blew smoke and smiled at your best friend’s reaction. The man was in stitches. Bless skunk for making him all giggly. You watched him for a moment before speaking again.
“I ain’t even told you the worst part.”
“It gets worse?”
“Yeah. The whole three months that we were together, he never made me orgasm.”
Not expecting that, Daryl’s laughter came to an abrupt halt and his mouth hung open. It was comical. You guys had talked about sex before, but this was different. The idea of you being denied that pleasure was oddly infuriating to him. He cleared his throat before asking for clarification.
“Hold on. He never made you come? Not once?”
“Nope. He wouldn’t eat me out, neither.”
“God, what a piece of shit.”
The way that Daryl was upset on your behalf was amusing, and it was your turn to burst out laughing. He wasn’t trying to be funny, though. His expression had shifted to one of pure frustration.
“Seriously, darlin’. That’s shitty. You deserved better than that.”
“I mean, it ain’t that big of a deal.”
“I could fuck you twice as good as he did.”
Now, you were the one who was shocked. Your eyes widened, and you didn’t respond for a moment. It’s not like that wasn’t something that you’d thought about before, but this was your best friend. Other than the occasional drunk kiss, the two of you had never been anything other than platonic. The look in Daryl’s eyes showed that he was serious, though. You finally found your voice and raised an eyebrow.
“You fuckin’ with me?”
“No, I’m dead serious. Can I try?”
To his surprise, you didn’t look offended, and you actually nodded in agreement. Daryl had always been pining for you, but he never knew how to show it. Those “drunk kisses” played in his mind every night before he fell asleep. Sometimes, he could still feel your lips on his. Now, you were giving him permission to get you off.
He wasted no time shifting closer to the couch and pulling you forward by the knees. Daryl had you part way off of the cushions and his hands settled on your hips. He had to double-check that you’d set the bong on the coffee table and out of the way. It belonged to Merle, but he’d insisted that he thoroughly cleaned it before sharing with you. His brother would kill him if that got broken. Looking up at you through dark lashes, he took a deep breath and spoke up again.
“Can I take your shorts off?”
“Yeah. I ain’t wearin’ underwear, neither.”
“You were expectin’ this?”
“I wish. I was just too lazy to do my damn laundry.”
“Of course. Lift your hips for me.”
Once you’d done as you were told, his fingers moved to your waistband, and he slipped off your denim shorts. Sure enough, he was met with the sight of your bare pussy. He was painfully hard now, and he shifted to conceal the growing tent in his jeans. You suddenly felt self-conscious at his staring, and you broke the tense silence.
“Is somethin’ wrong?”
“Oh, no. You’re just fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart.”
“You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause my whole vagina is out.”
“No. I mean it.”
The conviction in your best friend’s voice surprised you, and you quickly stopped with the self-deprecating comments. If Daryl said that you were beautiful, you were. He wasn’t one for flattery, so he spoke with his full chest. Your cheeks flushed and you mumbled.
“Thank you.”
“Can I taste you now? I- I gotta taste you.”
“Yes, please.”
Without hesitation, he shifted you so that you were pressed against the back of the couch and hooked your legs over his shoulders. His large hands bracketed your hips, and he held you in place. You could feel the rough callouses that he’d sustained from spending hours in the shop on your smooth skin.
One of his hands shifted to rest on your right thigh, and his fingers passed over the faint lines etched into your skin. His eyes drifted to meet yours, and he checked to make sure that you were comfortable. Without lingering any longer, he bent forward and pressed a kiss to your hip. He proceeded to kiss his way down to your cunt. Pulling back for a second, he felt you squirm and murmured more praise.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
“I appreciate that, but you’re killin’ me here, Daryl.”
“Easy, darlin’.”
Not wanting to tease you any further, Daryl used his fingers to carefully spread your folds open and started lapping at your seam. The warmth of your flesh against his mouth made him groan lowly. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you tried to anchor yourself. You were doing your best to not buck your hips. His ministrations were fevered, and he could hardly breathe as he kept going.
You hadn’t been touched like this in months, so the pleasure built up quickly. The heat pooled low in your belly and a soft whimper escaped your throat. The sound only encouraged Daryl, and his mouth moved quicker. He pulled back to check on you.
“You close, pretty girl?”
“Mhm. Keep goin’.”
“Just let go and come on my tongue. I wanna feel you fall apart.”
With that, his mouth was back where it belonged and he resumed his movements. Your thighs squeezed against the sides of his head and they trembled slightly. You were overwhelmed in the best way imaginable. It took a few more seconds before you tumbled over that edge and found your release. He worked you through the orgasm and leaned back on his haunches. Wiping at his beard, he shifted to hide the fact that he’d finished in his pants and spoke gruffly.
“Atta girl. You were incredible.”
You were too breathless to speak, so you just gave him a weak thumbs up. Daryl chuckled softly and got up to go find a rag. He also needed to change his pants. While you waited, you attempted to catch your breath and wrap your head around what had just taken place. Your best friend had made you come so hard that you saw stars.
After putting on a fresh set of trousers, Daryl returned with a warm rag and began wiping you down. The intimacy of this entire experience was almost jarring. Your ex-boyfriend usually just rolled over or left the room when he was finished. The words fell from your lips before you could catch them.
“No one’s ever done that.”
“Ate your pussy?”
“No, cleaned me up after.”
That made Daryl’s chest feel tight and he exhaled harshly. He couldn’t fathom why anyone wouldn’t want to care for you. Reminding himself to loosen his grip on the fabric, he finished cleaning your skin and made eye contact again.
“You deserve nice things. Thank you for lettin’ me do that for you.”
“Are we gonna do that again sometime?”
Daryl could hear the trepidation in your voice, as if you were afraid that he’d reject your statement. He could never say no to you. Trying to keep the mood light, his eyes softened and he nodded.
“Any time that you want, darlin’.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean, you made me finish in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager. It would be a crime to not do that again.”
“You what?”
Your eyes drifted to his pants, and you realized that he had swapped out his shorts to a gray pair of sweatpants. He was still half-hard, and it made you do a double take. You had made me him orgasm without even touching him. Daryl smirked at your reaction and eased you back into your denim shorts.
“Yeah. Don’t get too cocky, though.”
“Nah, I think this gives me braggin’ rights for at least a year.”
“Jesus. I shoulda never told you.”
Your best friend’s face had flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. It was actually kind of endearing. Daryl tried to deflect by rolling his eyes, but it was clear that you were still affecting him. He joined you on the couch and settled your form against his chest. Clearly, getting you off had emboldened him. The two of you stayed like this until Merle’s truck pulled into the front yard.
♡ A/NOTE. of course!! you didn't specify a gender for the reader, so I did my best to keep it gender neutral 🫡 (yes, I know the headers are all mlw... but I can't find anything else) And I'm sorry Ifa's was so short 😔
♡ ORORON
♡ He's a virgin. People haven't really ever wanted to do anything with him — with a soul like that, who would? He doesn't blame anyone. And every time someone outside his tribe has tried, he's never... been good enough with people to do anything.
♡ He has no idea what he's doing. He freezes up, and you'll have to guide him. Kiss his neck, or slide your hand down to his waistband, or guide his hand to your chest and he will combust. His face is so red and he doesn't even breathe. Is this really okay? Are you okay? With this? With him? He's unsure, but he's very eager. It's undeniable how much he wants to do this, even if he's a little hesitant the first couple of times.
♡ He'll need a bunch of reassurance. Which, he does have a praise kink. Say he's making you feel good, how pretty he is, how good he's being. And also, a degradation kink. Fuck, the moan he lets out if you call him anything dirty? A bitch, slut, whore? He's staring at you in shock, and then borderline begging you to say it again. He doesn't want to be called dumb or anything — but mean words he's down for. Call him your good, used whore and he might actually just cum on the spot.
♡ He has a pretty average libido, but he's really sweet and will always prioritize spending time with you above sex, no matter how much he likes it. He also doesn't mind using his hand, if you have a lower libido. And he also absolutely has the stamina to keep up if you're active.
♡ He cums quickly. Like, embarrassingly quickly, but he can go multiple rounds. And he cums a lot. Like, kind of overwhelmingly much. You'll both be covered by the time you're done. If you can keep going longer than him, he will shyly ask if you're okay with letting him go down on you.
♡ Not into anything mean. Anything that's painful, or things like dacryphilia turn him off. Most of it is a very clear hard no. But bondage.
♡ Get him a collar. Get a chain attached to it. Pull him around like he has nothing to do other than be between your legs. Bind his arms together when you ride him, so he can't touch, and yank on the chain when he gets too whiny to make him shut up. It's a crazy turn on.
♡ The only thing that gets him going more is you being bondaged. Especially your legs. It might take him some time to ask — but fuck does he like it. He's nearly cuming at the sight of it alone. Having your legs tied up, apart, so he can see the way they jerk and shake when instinct kicks in. When you try to close your legs and can't? He's moaning like a cheap slut at the sight. Presses into you slowly just so he can see the way your legs shift and flinch.
♡ He is loud. He moans and whimpers and has absolutely no shame in letting you know how good he feels. He's not vocal. I mean, he can barely make out words. Just failed attempts at your name as he desperately ruts into you, moaning loud, tears in his eyes... You can try making him beg, but he won't be able to make out any words.
♡ "Fu– ah! Ah! Ple– ah- se!" before he lets out the filthiest moan. It's a good thing he lives alone, somewhere away from everyone else. If he had any, his neighbors would hate him. His dick is pretty big too, so you're probably not much better.
♡ He's not the best at aftercare. He can barely make himself get up, honestly, his legs are shaky too. But he'll make do and just grab one of his shirts to clean you up enough before laying down and cuddling you. But he does absolutely but all his attention on you, listening to you if you wanna talk or just brushing his fingers over your skin gently if you go to sleep. And he will make you breakfast the next morning.
♡ KINICH
♡ Kinich isn't loud, exactly, but he is noisy. He doesn't make loud noises, but they are frequent. Sometimes he'll bite his lips with a groan, trying to keep quiet, and he'll run a hand through his sweaty hair while he's on top of you, dick twitching, and it is the hottest sight you'll ever see.
♡ He can go insanely long before ever cumming. Quickies do not work with him. The shortest it's ever taken him to cum has been an hour, and that's pretty quick for him. But if you're really horny and in a hurry, he'll happily use his hands for you. Which, he is great at using his hands. He's strong and flexible with his fingers, and can make you cum insanely fast just using his hands.
♡ He is not willing to do oral. He doesn't have an issue receiving, exactly, but he will not go down on someone and he's feels selfish if someone goes down on him. He doesn't like the taste, and just doesn't like it. If you really want to go down on him, he will make it very clear that he'll happily return the favor in other ways. Oh, and never-mind, you can do quickies!
♡ You'll be the first person to have given him a blow job and he can not handle it. He's never cum so fast before. If you look up at him with his dick still in your mouth you'll get to see the sexiest flush across his cheeks before he throws his head back because he can not handle the sight. Suck on just the head of his cock and he gets loud. The moan he'll release will surprise him, too.
♡ He does have a proper degration kink. Tell him he's no good anywhere but as your personal sex toy. Tell him he's worthless, useless, can't even fuck you right. He's a bit of a masochist, honestly. Tug meanly at his hair until it hurts, flip him over and ride him as you wrap your hands around his throat. He can't even breathe right and he's moaning like crazy.
♡ He wants you to slap him. He doesn't mind you hitting his ass, if that's what you want, but he mostly wants you to slap him across the face. If he's on top of you, fucking you, and he slows down for just a moment, only for you to slap him across the face? You'll be able to feel how hard his dick twitches.
♡ He doesn't like praise. Of course, he'll praise you as much as you want him to — he doesn't want you to return the favor, though. It's not like it's a hard no or anyway, it just makes him feel weird. It's a turn off for him.
♡ He has a daddy kink and a mommy kink. He doesn't want you to call him them, he wants to call you it. Whichever you prefer, he's moaning it like crazy even if he's top of you, desperately grinding his dick inside you.
♡ He wants you to treat him rough, even if he's on top. Hit him, call him names, leave the bedroom after having your fill without letting him cum.... He doesn't care. It's crazy hot. But the way he treats you is the exact opposite. He'll fuck you as hard as you want him to, and he certainly has the strength for it, but he's still very sweet.
♡ He makes sure he isn't gripping you tight enough to bruise you and that his nails aren't at the risk of piercing your skin. He'll wrap whichever hand you don't have pulling at his hair with his own, kissing sweetly at the inside of the wrist. He'll make sure he's consistently checking in to see that you're still entirely into everything happening, too.
♡ He's also very sweet with aftercare. Makes sure he cleans you up, even if you're too tired to shower, and will use a cloth with warm water to wipe you up — and before he even dreams of laying back down to cuddle you he'll make sure you drink some water. He'll get anything else you ask of him, too.
♡ IFA
♡ Ifa is pretty dominant in nature, especially in bed. It's just the role he falls into naturally, and his hands will find your hips and pull you onto his lap without much thinking. While being on top is what he defaults to, he's definitely open to bottoming/being pegged if it's something you want to try.
♡ He loves oral. And he likes giving more than he does receiving. He could spend hours between your legs, and he loves the way your legs try to press against each other when you feel too good. And if you wrap them around his head? He's gone — moaning like a bitch in heat as he hastily pushes his pants down far enough to get a grip on his leaking cock, desperately jerking up and down.
♡ He's also huge on quickies of all sorts. Both of you getting it on during the fifteen minutes he has to wait? Absolutely! You want him to get his mouth on you ten minutes before you're off? Consider it done. There's just something that gets him so hot about the idea of quickies... He almost likes it more than proper sex.
♡ His favorite position is cowgirl. Absolutely loves seeing you on top of him, it's so sexy. He loves giving you the illusion of being on top only to hold you still so he can rut up into you. Likes being able to reach up and flick at your nipples, or grab you by the back of the neck so he can tug you down to suck on your bottom lip.
♡ Huge kisser. Any position where he can't kiss you makes him pouty. Being able to press his tongue against yours, bite at your lips... God, how can he live without that? He's open to whatever position you want to try, but he does make his preference of being able to kiss you clear.
♡ Loves handjobs. He'd rather have that than a blow job, honestly, because he gets to kiss you. Having your hand lazily tug on his dick, at the same time as he gets to press his mouth against yours? Heaven on earth, right there.
♡ He's really into edging you. He loves making you moan out for him to stop teasing. Gives it to you just the way you like it before pulling back right when you're about to fall off that edge. Getting to see you whine about it? Teary eyes after he's refused your organs for the fourth time?
♡ Ain't nothing sexier than that to him. Well, maybe if he gets to see you ride him in nothing but his hat...
♡ CAPITANO
♡ He does not take random lovers. If you've gotten this far with him, it's because he cherishes you deeply and the way he fucks you reflects that. He's crazy strong, and he's overall just a big guy, so he knows he risks hurting you. He's so careful with the way he pushes into you, leaving just the tip inside you for a while to have you adjust... Holding you still by the hips when you try to squirm, shushing you and telling you to be good.
♡ He loves it when you mark him up. Drag your nails down his back, or bite at him, or suck hickeys into his skin. No one will see anyway, so you can go wild. He loves seeing them, and feeling the slight ache of it that reminds him of his time with you.
♡ He has a pretty low libido, so most of the time you're likely to be the person initiating but he outperforms you in terms of stamina by far. He'll have you cumming twice before even considering letting himself cum, and he's capable of going multiple rounds. You can't keep up.
♡ He loves cockwarming. He doesn't except it, but the feeling of you around him is nice — and he loves seeing you squirm as you try to have him move. He doesn't budge. He's plenty capable of ensuing you can't move, either. All it takes is him grabbing your hips and holding you still. He's flexible and strong and very capable of manhandling you into whatever position you want to be in.
♡ Can hold you in the air as he fucks you for hours. You won't hear him complain, shake or so much as slow down at all. The pure physical strength this man has is insane. Could probably hold you up with just one arm the entire time too, honestly, I doubt he even needs both.
♡ He's naturally on the slower side. Capitano prefers fucking you slow and deep, making sure you feel him, all of him. Of course, if you prefer rougher sex he can do that for you. But the entire time he will be making sure you know how much he appreciates you. He'll be rubbing his hands up and down your sides, and he'll be mouthing at your neck and stomach the entire time. The entire time he will be mumbling about how good you make him feel, and how lovely you look beneath him like this.
♡ He doesn't necessarily have too many kinks that drive him crazy, but he's very open to trying just about anything you want. He's very much a service top. Anything that makes you feel good? He's in.
♡ He might hesitate on anything that hurts you, but if you want to use him as your outlet he doesn't mind.
♡ Temperature play is probably his biggest kink. Using his cryo abilities to freeze his dick while he's grinding inside of you? Just to hear you whimper? He's letting out the hottest groaning ever. And things like wax play get him going too, and he might honest to god use wax to spell his name across your torso. He already loves marking you up in any way you'll let him, what's one more?
♡ Return the favor and write your own name across his chest, and his hand flies to grip the base of his cock just to stop himself from cumming. Anything that marks him as yours, he's into.
synopsis: mark just eating pussy. that’s it.
warnings: SMUT, munch!mark, f!reader, pussy eating, overstimulation, dirty talk, p in v, unprotected sex
wc: 1,903
a/n: GUYS! I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING FOR A WHILE 😭 school got me in a chokehold that i didn’t have any time to write 😞 hopefully this makes it up to u guys!! ^^ and i SWEAR i'll try to post daily! i have another loooong filthy fic for u freaks ;)
You don't know you ended up here again.
Flat on your back, thighs trembling, fingers tangled tight in black hair, and Mark Grayson between your legs like a starved man--like he's trying to memorize your taste with his tongue alone.
Your voice is already hoarse from moaning, whimpering, crying out, "Mark, please--" but he's not listening. Or maybe he is. Maybe that's exactly why he keeps going.
Because he loves the way you taste.
"God, you're so fuckin' sweet..." he groans, breath hot against your soaked core before diving back in, tongue flicking against your clit with dizzying speed. His lips wrap around it just to suck hard, pulling a strangled cry from your throat as your hips jolt.
You've already cum once. Maybe twice. It's hard to keep track. Your legs are shaking. Your brain is fogged over. You're begging him to stop and mean it halfway, but he doesn't. You don't think he can.
His fingers dig into your thighs to keep them open, to anchor himself in place. His arms are locked under your legs like he's afraid you'll try to escape. And you might have if you had any strength left--if it the white-hot pleasure crawling up your spine didn't feel so goddamn good.
But it's Mark. And Mark's never been able to resist you. Not your voice, not your eyes, not your thighs--but especially not your taste.
"Fuck, babe," he moans into you, his lips dragging lower before flattening his tongue all the way up your slit, slow and heavy, just to hear the way your breath catches. "You're dripping like honey. I can't stop--I don't wanna stop--"
You sob, thighs twitching. "Mark, I--fuck--baby, I c-can't--!"
"Yes, you can. One more. Just give me one more, pretty girl." His voice is soaked in praise and desperation. "You're shaking so good for me. You always do. Fuckin' addicted to how you taste, you know that?"
Your back arches when he sucks again, circling his tongue fast and tight and relentless. He moans into you like he's getting off on it, grinding his hips into the mattress just from the taste of your slick on his tongue. Your sounds, your cries, your little gasps when his nose brushes your clit drives him wild.
And he loves the way you beg.
Loves how your hands shake when they claw through his hair. Loves the way your breath stutters every time he flicks his tongue just right. Loves the twitch in your thighs when you try to close them, and he just presses them wider.
"So fuckin' good... You taste like everything I've ever wanted." He kisses your inner thigh, messy and wet and reverent. "Why the hell would I stop now?"
You cry out when he dips back down, fast and unrelenting, tongue thrusting, lips sealed, devouring you.
Your eyes roll back.
Your body arches.
Your mind shatters.
And Mark?
Mark just moans at the flood of you against his tongue like he just won the jackpot.
You whimper, gasping, "Mark--fuck, I can't--too much--too sensitive--!"
But he doesn't stop. He doesn't even hesitate to let his hands slide down to your hips, pinning you still as he keeps fucking you with his tongue--deep and filthy. And you swear your soul tries to leave your body when he moans into your pussy again, like he's chasing your orgasm, hungry for more.
"Shhh," he whispers against you, voice muffled and wrecked. "I know, baby. I know it's too much. You're shaking so bad for me--fuck, that's it--cum again. Give it to me."
Your eyes fill with tears. Your voice breaks. You try to push at his shoulders, but your strength is gone, snapped from the way he devours you like you're his last meal.
You can feel his desperation--how he ruts against the sheets below, humping the mattress just to relieve some of the pressure in his boxers. He's grinding into nothing, hips twitching, just from the taste of you.
And it gets to you.
The thought of him getting off like--like this--with his face buried in your pussy, his tongue deep inside you, drooling all over your folds while your click coats his lips and chin and he's moaning for more?
It makes you clench your pussy around nothing.
"Oh my god--" you gasp, broken and wrecked. "You're--Mark--you're gonna make me cum again--"
"Good," he growls, licking up and flattening his tongue against your clit so hard it sends a shockwave through you. "You taste like fucking heaven. You don't get it, do you? I could do this all night--every fuckin' day--breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You wanna keep begging, baby? Huh? Wanna keep cryin' like that?"
You sob as your body spasms in his mouth, your orgasm hitting you like a truck.
White-hot, all-consuming, overwhelming.
You scream, body writhing, as your thighs close around his head this time --and Mark just lets it happen. Lets you squeeze his head tight, lets your juices spill all over his tongue, lets your body shake and twitch and jolt under him while he moan like he's in fucking bliss. He laps your juices like a desperate, loud slurping sounds filling the room.
When you finally collapse, limp and twitching, he pulls back just enough to look at you. His lips are shiny, his chin's soaked with you. And his voice?
Gone.
And his eyes?
Fucking feral.
"You done?" he asks, voice low and hoarse.
You nod weakly, lips parted, breathing hard--but Mark's already crawling up your body, grinding against your slick folds, hard and soaked through his boxers. He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours, smirking.
"You sure?" he whispers. "Because now I'm hard as fuck--and you've got that wrecked little look I love."
He rolls his hips once, rubbing his hardened cock--separated by cloth--against your swollen clit. You gasp at the feeling, your pussy already overstimulated from the countless times he made you cum all over his tongue. He grins cockily, loving how your thighs are shaking--all because of him. "You taste too good to stop," he murmurs, kissing you. "But now? I want you to feel how good you make me."
He kisses you like a man starved. Like tasting your lips somehow brings him closer to tasting you again.
Your slick coats his mouth, your scent thick on his tongue, and he kisses you filthy--wet, messy, tongue sliding against yours so you can taste yourself on his lips. It makes your stomach twist, makes your thighs twitch again, even though you've cum twice. Maybe three times. You lost count when he started murmuring between licks.
And now?
He's grinding into you like he can't help it, dry humping himself like his cock is aching and he's using your soaked folds as relief. "Feel that?" he pants against your mouth, voice trembling with restraint. "That's what you to me."
You nod weakly, not being able to form a single word, too dazed and wrecked to speak. But your hips shift, needy, your thighs trembling as you roll into him.
"fuck," he hisses, almost pained. "You're still so wet. Still dripping all over me like I didn't just spent twenty minutes making you cum."
He sits back enough to drag his boxers down, letting his cock spring free--hard, flushed, dripping at the tip, twitching from how long he's been grinding against the mattress while eating you out. You barely have time to breathe before he's sliding it between your folds, slow and teasing, getting himself soaked in your slick again.
Mark groans, head thrown back. "Shit, baby. You're fuckin' leaking for me..."
You whimper. "Mark, I--I can't--I'm too sensitive--"
"You can," he cuts you off, voice low and dark and full of need. "You will."
And then he pushes in.
Slow.
Torturous.
You let out a loud cry from the new sensation, your walls clenching around him immediately. He chokes on a gasp, body shuddering as your wet heat swallows him.
"Fuuuuck--" he moans, nearly bending over you. "You're so tight--I can feel every twitch--god, you're still clenching like you're not done."
You aren't.
And he knows it.
He bottoms out with a grunt, hips pressing flush against yours. And he doesn't move. Not yet. He just stays there, breathing hard, buried deep in your soaking cunt, letting your overstimulated body throb around him.
You're shaking.
Whimpering.
Your fingernails drag down his back as your body pulses--already so full, stretched around his cock, and he hasn't even fucked you yet.
But when he does?
It's deliberate.
He starts to move--slow, deep strokes, dragging his cock out inch by inch just to slide back in and hit your sweet spot with every thrust.
"Feel that?" he breathes, voice strained. "That's how deep I am. Gonna mark you, baby. Gonna fuck you so good you'll feel me for days."
You sob under him, already slow again--too soon--but he's not stopping. Not now. Not when your pussy's clenching around him like you need it. Like you're begging for more.
His pace builds.
Harder.
Faster.
His hands pin your wrists above your head as he pounds into you, sweat dripping down his forehead, his eyes wild.
"You're takin' me so fucking good, baby--so goddamn perfect--look at you, look at this messy little pussy, just swallowing me whole--fuck--"
He slams in deep and stays there, grinding his hips, cock pulsing inside you while your back arches off the bed, another orgasm threatening to tear you apart--
"Cum again," he whispers darkly. "I want you to cum while I'm buried in you. I want you to squeeze the fuck out of me, cry for me, give it to me. Let me feel how wrecked you are."
Your head falls back.
Your lips part in a scream.
Your body breaks.
You cum again, walls clamping around his cock like a vice, body trembling, mind shattering as tears slip down your cheeks from the sheer force of it.
Mark loses it.
"Holy--fuck, that's it--oh my god, baby--fuck--"
He rams into your harder, chasing his own high, hips snapping with wild abandon. You can feel him twitch, feel his pulse, feel every second of him falling apart inside you.
"Gonna fill you up," he groans, voice cracking, desperate. "Gonna pump you so full of cum, you won't be able to walk straight. You want that? Huh? Want me to fill you up, baby?"
"Yes, fuck yes, Mark. Fill me up. Fill this pussy up with your cum. Please--!"
"Oh, fuck--fuckfuck, I'm gonna cum--take it, fucking take it--"
And he slams in deep, cursing loud as he spills inside you, cock throbbing, body shaking as he empties every drop into your overstimulated cunt, still twitching around him like you're trying to milk him dry.
He collapses on top of you, panting heavily, letting the moment hang there--hot, heavy, trembling.
You both stay like that for a while.
Breathless.
Sweaty.
Still connected.
Still pulsing--his cock twitching, your body greedy, neither of you ready to let go.
Then Mark lifts his head up--kissing your shoulder, your cheek, and then your lips, murmuring with a lazy, cock-drunk grin:
Summary: You keep breaking your promise to be quiet during sex, and Frank remedies that.
Warnings/Tags: smut with no plot, 18+ mdni, praise kink, dacryphilia, dom!frank, p in v sex, sex in a public space (bar bathroom), established relationship, female reader (she/her), no use of y/n
Word count: 821 words
A/N: My brain turns to mush every time a Jon Bernthal character shushes someone. Obviously, I had to include dacryphilia in this one.
This is for kinktober day 07 - semi-public sex
Marvel Masterlist
Despite your earlier promise to keep quiet, you couldn't hold back the soft sounds that slipped past your lips. Frank was big in a way that was both overwhelming and pure ecstasy. You were trying your best to stop making noise, but it was no use. Thankfully, you were able to reduce them to small whimpers. The bar bathroom was also empty, and that gave you some peace of mind. It didn't change the fact that anyone could walk in, though. The bathroom stall can only conceal so much.
Even with your efforts, a sharp cry tumbled from your mouth as Frank thrusted again. Within seconds, a large and calloused palm clasped over your mouth. His gruff voice quietly reprimanded you. “Sh, sh, sh. You promised to be quiet, sweetheart.”
Squeezing your eyes shut, hot tears streaked down your cheeks and you took a ragged breath. Frank briefly moved his hand and pressed soft kisses down each cheek. His voice softened slightly, and his eyes met yours. “Does it feel good? Is that why my baby's cryin'?”
Whimpering again, you nodded and took a shaky breath. It's too much, but you love every second of it. “Feels so good.”
The sound of your strained voice, thick with tears, brought a smile to Frank's face. His rough thumb gently stroked your jaw, and he pressed a much softer kiss to your lips.
“You're takin' me so well, baby. Look at you.”
He tenderly tipped your head down so you could look at where your bodies were connected. The sight of Frank slipping in and out, at a slower pace now, was almost mesmerizing. You took another trembling breath and looked back up at your boyfriend. It was clear that you were too overwhelmed to speak, but he knew what you were thinking.
“You were fuckin' made for me, y'know that? I'm gonna move faster again, but you can take it. You need to be quiet, though, sweetheart. Can't have us gettin' caught.”
With that warning, his hand moved back over your mouth and his thrusts picked up in pace. The cold metal wall of the bathroom stall was pressed against your back, and it helped you stay in the present moment. As Frank hit your clit, your eyes widened, and you whined against his hand. Fuck, he always knew how to make you melt.
Feeling your warm breath against his palm and hearing your small whine, Frank increased the intensity of his motions. His body was acting on instinct now, and he was determined to bring you to your peak.
“That's the spot, ain't it? You gonna be a good girl and let go for me?”
Unable to speak, you eagerly nodded and whimpered in response. You were so close, and every stroke was pushing you closer to that edge. It was only a matter of seconds now.
“Easy, sweetheart. Just give in for me.”
His sturdy arm was wrapped around your waist and holding you against him as he rocked in and out of your cunt. One of your legs was propped against Frank's hip while the other attempted to keep you upright. If it weren't for him, you'd be knocked flat on your ass. His gentle words were the only encouragement you needed, and you quickly gave into the pleasure that pooled low in your belly.
Your cry was muffled by Frank's hand, and he held you tighter against him as your body convulsed with satisfaction. His climax quickly followed, and he leaned the two of you up against the bathroom wall. His chest was heaving slightly, and he had a lazy grin on his face.
“You did so good for me, pretty girl. So fuckin' perfect.”
Smiling softly, you nodded and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. Frank always had a way of making you feel valued, and you couldn't get enough of appeasing him. He took a moment to catch his breath before slowly pulling out of you. Your body felt the sudden emptiness, and you sighed in response.
Frank saw your reaction and laughed softly. He gently moved a piece of hair from your face and brushed his thumb against the curve of your cheek.
“Miss me already?”
“Don't be mean, Frankie.”
That earned another gruff chuckle from him and leaned his forehead against yours. You always looked so beautiful coming down from your euphoria, and he couldn't stop staring. How did he get so lucky?
“Sorry, sweetheart. Let's get you cleaned up and then we can go home. I wanna fuck you in our bed.”
With that, Frank grabbed some paper towels from a nearby dispenser and started wiping your thighs. He would've preferred using something a little softer, like a towel, but he had to clean you up somehow. As he dried your skin, he peppered the area with small kisses and kept glancing up at you. God, he was fucking whipped.
꒰ synopsis. you made satoru gojo feel something he rarely ever did—normal, and undeniably special.
content. not proofread. nsfw. öral. blöwjob. cöwgirl (sorta.) orgasms (kinda?).
wc. 3.8k
an. happy birthday to my satoru pie. i love you forever.
satoru gojo didn’t care much for birthdays.
they weren’t a big deal when he was a kid. in his family, birthdays were less about celebration and more about the clan’s ambitions. they were opportunities to build connections, to showcase the strength of the gojo name. grand dinners with stiff smiles, meticulously chosen gifts meant to impress, and the constant reminder that his life wasn’t just his—it belonged to the clan.
as he got older, birthdays became… stranger. his peers either avoided him out of intimidation or fawned over him out of obligation. a few clumsy celebrations with shoko and suguru had been nice, but even those were fleeting, bittersweet reminders of a time he didn’t let himself dwell on. over the years, he perfected the art of shrugging them off. a careless smirk, a throwaway joke, and people stopped trying to make a big deal of it.
but you weren’t most people.
so when the doorbell to his apartment rang on his birthday evening, he didn’t expect much. maybe yuuji or nobara with some half-baked chaos to drag him into, or shoko dropping off cheap booze alongside a biting remark about his eternal man-child status. what he wasn’t expecting was you.
you stood there, a box of cupcakes balanced in one hand and a single cupcake in the other, topped with a tiny, flickering candle.
“what’s this?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe, his grin lazy but curious. “you come to serenade me?”
“in your dreams,” you retorted, brushing past him and into the warmth of his apartment without waiting for an invitation. “happy birthday, satoru.”
he blinked, caught off guard by your casual entrance and the lack of fanfare. you set the box on the coffee table and placed the lone cupcake beside it, turning to face him with your arms crossed, like you weren’t about to take no for an answer.
“make a wish,” you said, nodding toward the flickering candle.
“a cupcake?” he teased, his voice laced with mock disbelief as he moved closer. “no fireworks? no parade?”
“you get enough attention,” you replied with a shrug. “i figured you could use something normal for once.”
the word hit him unexpectedly. normal. it was such an ordinary thing, so far removed from the fabric of his life, yet the way you said it, like it wasn’t out of reach for him—like you could give it to him—made it feel almost tangible.
his grin softened as he lowered himself onto the couch, his gaze lingering on the candle a beat longer than necessary. he hesitated, the faintest flicker of vulnerability crossing his features, before he leaned forward and blew it out. the flame disappeared in a curl of smoke, and he watched it fade as if expecting something more to happen.
“what’d you wish for?” you asked, settling beside him, your tone light, but your curiosity barely hidden.
he leaned back, draping one arm across the couch’s back, the smirk slipping easily back into place. “if i told you, it wouldn’t come true.”
you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes. “oh, i’ve got it. you wished for the power to finally stop using so much hair gel.”
his laugh was instant, warm and unguarded. “excuse you. this is natural. flawless, even.”
“of course,” you said, rolling your eyes with exaggerated seriousness. “how could i forget? the hair, the face, the attitude—you’re a walking genetic miracle.”
“now you’re catching on,” he replied, leaning slightly closer. “being this amazing isn’t easy.”
“it sounds exhausting,” you said, mirroring his smirk. “you should write a memoir. ‘satoru gojo: the struggles of being too beautiful for this world.’”
he placed a hand over his heart, feigning a dramatic sigh. “you wound me. but let’s be honest—you’d buy a copy.”
“wrong. i’d steal one,” you quipped. “wouldn’t pay a cent.”
his laughter softened as he shook his head, his grin fading into something smaller, quieter as he glanced at the box. he pulled it open and grabbed a cupcake, peeling the wrapper with an almost boyish carelessness. his first bite was deliberate, and the faint hum of approval he let out made your stomach flip, though you didn’t dare show it.
“what?” you asked, catching the subtle shift in his expression.
he shook his head, licking a stray bit of frosting from his thumb. “nothing. just… been a while since i’ve had something like this.”
“a cupcake?” you teased lightly.
“something simple,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “this feels… nice.”
the words lingered, unpolished and unintentional, like he hadn’t meant to say them out loud. you studied him for a moment, the usual bravado softened, the ever-present walls of gojo satoru slipping away to reveal something more vulnerable underneath.
“you deserve nice things,” you said, your voice gentle but firm.
he glanced at you, his smirk faltering for just a moment before creeping back, though it was softer this time. “careful,” he said, his tone playful, “you’re starting to sound like you like me.”
“don’t let it go to your head,” you shot back, bumping his shoulder lightly.
his chuckle was low, and when he leaned back into the couch, his expression was unguarded, his gaze steady. “too late,” he said, his voice quieter now. “you already made my day.”
you rolled your eyes, but the warmth in his tone lingered, settling deep in your chest like an ember refusing to burn out. it was the kind of warmth that reminded you this wasn’t the strongest sorcerer in the world sitting next to you, the untouchable, larger-than-life gojo satoru who wore his arrogance like armor. this was just him—barefoot in his apartment, smirking over a cupcake, his guard down in a way you rarely got to see.
and as the thought settled over you, steady and sure, you realized you wanted to keep him like this—unguarded, real, and yours, if only for tonight.
the two of you fell into an easy rhythm after that. the cupcake led to takeout, and soon the coffee table was littered with empty containers, the sound of your laughter filling the quiet apartment.
you’d known satoru for years now, ever since your paths crossed during a particularly chaotic mission that required his abilities and your steady resourcefulness to pull off. somehow, your friendship had stuck. you weren’t part of his clan, nor a student at his school. you were simply you—a constant in his otherwise turbulent life.
“so, birthdays,” you said at one point, your tone casual. “not your thing?”
he shrugged, popping the last bite of your dumplings into his mouth before replying. “they’re just… another day.”
you raised an eyebrow. “seriously? not even a little excitement?”
he hesitated, his usual cocky demeanor faltering just slightly. “when you’re me, birthdays are… complicated.”
you didn’t push, but the way you looked at him—curious, patient—made something in him unravel.
“when i was a kid, they were more about the clan than me,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “every party, every gift—it was all about connections. alliances. showing off what the gojo name could do.”
your expression softened, the weight of his words settling over you. “that sounds… lonely.”
he gave a half-smile, his gaze flickering to the melted wax still pooled on the cupcake. “yeah,” he said softly. “it was.”
you tilted your head, studying him for a moment before speaking. “what about what you want?”
he blinked, caught off guard by the question. “what i want?”
“yeah,” you said, leaning back against the couch. “what would make your birthday feel special?”
he didn’t respond right away, his gaze drifting to the candle. “this,” he said finally, his voice softer. “this is nice.”
later, as the night wound down, you reached into your bag, pulling out a small, neatly wrapped box. “i got you something,” you said, your voice softer now, your fingers fidgeting slightly as you handed it to him.
he took it with a curious look, tearing into the wrapping with his usual enthusiasm. when he lifted the lid, his expression shifted, surprise flickering across his features.
inside was a sleek, custom-designed blindfold. the material was a soft, matte black with subtle silver detailing at the edges—practical but elegant. as he turned it over in his hands, you could see the faintest flicker of emotion cross his usually carefree expression.
“figured you might like something a little different,” you said, your tone almost shy as you watched him. “still functional, of course, but… you know, something that’s actually yours.”
he ran his thumb over the stitching, his voice quiet. “you had this made?”
“yeah,” you admitted, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks. “i just thought you'd like something that’s just… you.”
his throat tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. he turned the blindfold over in his hands, his usual cocky demeanor softened by something quieter, more vulnerable. “you didn’t have to do this.”
“i wanted to,” you replied simply.
he looked up at you then, his usually mischievous eyes holding something deeper. “this might be the best gift i’ve ever gotten,” he said softly.
you laughed lightly, trying to shake off the sudden weight of the moment. “well, don’t get used to it. next year, it’s back to birthday cards.”
he chuckled, slipping the blindfold into his pocket with a small, genuine smile. “thank you,” he said again, his voice low and sincere.
the quiet shifted, the weight of the day settling in as the distance between you felt like it had shrunk into nothing. it wasn’t just the laughter, or the teasing, or even the gift. it was the way he looked at you now, unguarded and steady, like you’d managed to slip past the walls he kept so carefully built.
“satoru,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. the sound of his name made him shift closer, his hand moving to your waist, his touch light but deliberate.
“hmm?” he hummed, his gaze dropping to your lips.
“happy birthday,” you said softly, and then his lips were on yours.
his lips moved against yours with a mix of urgency and reverence, like he couldn’t get enough but wanted to savor every second. his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, his body warm and solid against yours. every touch, every kiss, felt like it carried the weight of all the things he wasn’t saying aloud.
“you’re full of surprises tonight,” he murmured against your lips, his breath warm as his nose brushed yours.
“you haven’t seen anything yet,” you teased, though your voice came out softer than you intended. he chuckled, the sound low and rich, vibrating through you as he kissed along the line of your jaw.
his hands found the hem of your shirt, tugging it up with maddening slowness, his fingertips grazing your sides and sending shivers down your spine. the shirt joined the growing pile of forgotten items on the floor, leaving you in just your bra. his eyes flicked over you, his smirk fading into something darker, more intent.
“beautiful,” he murmured, his voice soft but heavy with meaning. the way his gaze lingered on you, like he was committing every detail to memory, made your cheeks flush.
you opened your mouth to say something, but then he was reaching for the cupcake you’d brought. his grin returned, wide and mischievous as he scooped a dollop of frosting onto his finger.
“satoru,” you started, already suspicious. “don’t—”
but he was already leaning forward, smearing the frosting just above your collarbone, the coolness of it making you shiver.
“you’re impossible,” you muttered, half-laughing, half-exasperated.
“i’m creative,” he corrected, his grin widening as his mouth followed, his tongue warm and deliberate as he licked the frosting away. the contrast of cold and heat sent a jolt through you, your fingers tightening against his shoulders.
he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his breath brushing your skin as he whispered, “want to know what i wished for?”
your heart stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “what?”
his lips curved into a softer smile—less playful, more genuine. “this,” he murmured. “you.”
the words landed heavy in the space between you, sinking into your chest and stealing the air from your lungs. the teasing glint in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something raw and unguarded that made your chest ache.
“satoru,” you murmured, his name slipping from your lips before you could stop it. it felt more vulnerable than you meant it to, but the way his expression softened in response made you glad you’d said it.
“say it again,” he whispered, his hand reaching for more frosting. this time, he smeared it just above the curve of your breast, his grin turning wicked as he leaned down, his tongue following the sugary trail. the warmth of his mouth, paired with the way his hand slid behind you to unclasp your bra, had your breath hitching.
“satoru,” you gasped, your back arching instinctively as his lips lingered against your skin.
“good girl,” he growled softly, the praise sending heat straight to your core. he tossed your bra aside, his gaze dropping to take in the sight of you fully. “god, you’re perfect.”
his hands framed your ribs, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch again. “best birthday ever,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he pressed a kiss between your breasts.
his cerulean eyes glinted mischievously as he suddenly shifted, his hands gripping your hips as he turned, placing you back on the couch with a smooth motion. the world tilted, and before you could register what was happening, he was on his knees in front of you, his broad hands parting your thighs gently, reverently.
“satoru,” you murmured, your voice shaky as he pressed kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his breath warm against you.
“shh,” he whispered, his tone full of appreciation. “let me take my time with you.”
his lips moved slowly, trailing kisses over your thighs before dipping closer to your center, his tongue flicking out to taste you again. you gasped as he found your clit, his tongue pressing firm and wet against it, sending a shock of pleasure through your body. his hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you open as he worked you with a precision that made your toes curl.
“you’re so perfect,” he muttered against you, his voice thick with praise. “taste so sweet—so good for me.”
your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as the heat built low in your stomach. every swipe of his tongue, every low hum he let out, sent sparks through your body, but when your hips bucked into his mouth, you couldn’t stop yourself from tugging harder, yanking him back.
he groaned softly at the sharp pull, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, dazed and hungry. “what are you—”
before he could finish, you pushed him back, your hands firm on his shoulders as you guided him down to the floor. his surprise melted into delight, his grin wide and playful as he propped himself up on his elbows, watching you with open curiosity.
“my turn,” you said, grabbing another cupcake from the table with a smirk.
his brow lifted in amusement, but the playful look in his eyes didn’t waver, even as you smeared the frosting across his sharp jawline. the sticky sweetness painted his pale skin, and you leaned down, your tongue darting out to clean the frosting in slow, deliberate strokes. his breathing hitched as you kissed the trail from his cheek to the corner of his lips, the sugary taste mingling with the salt of his skin.
“another present?” he teased, his voice low and velvety, laced with intrigue.
you didn’t answer, your lips brushing against his jawline, tracing a path to his throat. his breath caught as your tongue flicked against the hollow of his neck, your hands moving to unbutton his shirt with deliberate slowness. the fabric fell away, revealing the smooth planes of his chest, the faint sheen of sweat making his skin glisten in the dim light.
“you’re a menace,” he muttered, his voice dropping as his hands came up to your waist.
“consider it a gift,” you replied, your tone light but teasing as your hands roamed his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your palms.
“some gift,” he murmured, his tone roughening as his fingers brushed against the hem of your shirt. his gaze locked onto yours, the heat in his expression making your stomach tighten.
“you’re welcome,” you quipped, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his collarbone. your lips moved lower, trailing kisses down the sharp lines of his torso, leaving a path of heat in your wake. he let out a low groan, his fingers flexing against your hips as you reached the waistband of his pants.
“you’re full of surprises tonight,” he muttered, his voice thick with anticipation as you unfastened his belt and tugged the fabric down.
your gaze drifted lower, taking in the sight of him fully. his cock was already hard, flushed at the tip and glistening with precum. the sight made your thighs press together instinctively, a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your stomach.
“what’s the matter?” he teased, his voice a bit uneven as he propped himself up on his elbows to watch you. “you look like you’ve seen something you like.”
“you could say that,” you replied, your voice breathy as your hand wrapped around his length, stroking slowly. the weight of him in your hand was intoxicating, the heat of his skin sending a shiver through you. his breath hitched, and his head fell back, exposing the column of his throat as he groaned softly.
“fuck,” he muttered, his hands tightening on your hips. “you’re gonna ruin me.”
“that’s the plan,” you replied with a grin, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his cock, your tongue darting out to taste him.
his reaction was immediate—a sharp inhale, his hands flexing against the floor as he fought to keep still. “shit,” he rasped, his voice rough as his gaze dropped to meet yours. “don’t stop.”
you didn’t. your tongue flicked against him, teasing before you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you worked him slowly. his breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling with each deliberate stroke of your tongue.
“look at me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. your eyes flicked up, meeting his gaze. his blue eyes were darker now, clouded with desire, and the sight of him—his chest heaving, his jaw tight, his lips parted—made your thighs clench with need.
“fuck, baby,” he muttered, his voice a mix of awe and desperation. “you’re too good at this.”
you hummed softly in response, the vibration pulling a low groan from him. your hand joined your mouth, stroking the base of his cock in time with your movements, and the combination had his head falling back again, his hips twitching beneath you.
just as he seemed on the verge of losing control, you pulled back, your lips leaving him with a soft pop. his eyes flew open, wild and questioning, as he looked down at you.
“another present,” you said, your voice teasing as you climbed back up his body, your lips pressing to his jaw, his neck, his collarbone.
“you’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you settled over him, the slick heat of your core brushing against him.
“only a little,” you replied, your grin wicked as your hands braced against his chest, your hips rolling against his in a slow, deliberate grind.
his hands slid to your thighs, gripping them firmly as you moved together, his cock buried deep inside you. the wet, slick sounds of your bodies meeting filled the room, mingling with the soft gasps and ragged breaths you couldn’t contain. his gaze locked on yours, heavy-lidded and full of heat, and it made every nerve in your body ignite.
“you’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. his hands gripped your hips tighter, guiding your movements as his hips rolled up to meet you, each thrust deeper and more deliberate than the last.
your hands braced against his chest, your nails scraping lightly over the hard planes of muscle as you rode him. the drag of his cock against your walls, the way he filled you completely, sent waves of pleasure through you. his jaw was tight, his head tipped back slightly as he watched you through half-lidded eyes.
“satoru,” you gasped, your voice breaking on the syllables as he thrust up into you harder, hitting the perfect spot that made your vision blur.
“say it again,” he growled, his voice commanding. his hands slid up your back, pulling you closer as his hips snapped up into you. “say my name.”
“satoru,” you whimpered, your breath hitching as your body trembled against his. your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as you kissed him, your lips brushing against his in a frantic, heated rhythm.
his movements grew faster, more desperate, as he chased his release. his hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles that made you cry out, your head falling to his shoulder as your body arched into his touch.
“come for me, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and full of praise. “let me feel you.”
the coil in your stomach tightened, the heat building until it was unbearable. and then it snapped, your orgasm crashing over you in waves that left you trembling in his arms. your walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper, and the sound he let out—a low, guttural groan—made your head spin.
“fuck,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips as he thrust into you one last time. his cock pulsed inside you, his release warm and overwhelming as he buried himself deep, his head falling to your shoulder as his breathing turned ragged.
you stayed like that for a moment, tangled together, your bodies pressed so close it was impossible to tell where you ended and he began. his hands slid up your back, his touch gentle now, almost reverent, as he held you close.
“you’re amazing,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. the words were quiet, but they carried a weight that made your chest ache in the best way.
“happy birthday,” you murmured, your voice soft as your fingers traced the lines of his jaw, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release.
he chuckled softly, the sound warm and full of something you couldn’t quite name. “best birthday ever,” he said, his voice rough but sincere.
you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “you’re welcome.”
his arms tightened around you, pulling you down against his chest, his body warm and solid beneath you. the world outside faded, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of his heartbeat against yours, steady and grounding.
“stay,” he murmured, his voice barely audible as his eyes began to close.
“always,” you whispered, your hand sliding to rest against his chest as your own eyes drifted shut.
for the first time in years, satoru gojo didn’t just feel celebrated. he felt loved.
DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!
♡ Teddy Grahams - You've helped out the 'troubled minded' before, so Yelena thinks it'd be perfect if you helped Bob out with his 'other side' (Multiple part series, unfinished!)
♡ Privilege of Flight - you can fly. valentina needs a flying avenger. after a too good to be true deal, you end up an avenger. because you don’t want 5 people riding you into the sun, you make it a priority to teach bob how to fly so he can share the burden.
♡ The Lighthouse - you’ve always been drawn to bob. at first you think it means something, but then you remember that yelena’s also always been drawn to bob. and its obvious that he prefers her over you.
♡ Curiosity Killed the Cat, but Satisfaction Brought it Back - almost every customer you see is the same. when you finally meet someone that’s different, you can’t help but let your curiosity pique. you shouldn’t have though, new doesn't always mean good or better. sometimes new can ruin you.
♡ Blessing in Disguise - things have been great. bob’s been learning to control his powers, you’ve been able to stay above the rough waters that are college. you didn’t think that him being an avenger would be a problem, he’s barely seen on missions and rarely mingles at galas. unfortunately you were wrong.
Joaquin Torres
♡ The Cut that Always Bleeds - Joaquin was your sunshine boy, you were his starlit girl. he would do anything for you, and even though you were stronger than him, you’d gladly accept his help. when your mission is compromised, leaving you with amnesia he couldn’t help but wish he was there.
Bucky Barnes
♡ Father!Bucky Request - Bucky took you under his wing pre-blip, but after he got dusted and you didn’t, he just couldn’t accept the fact that you’ve grown. His refusal to adapt eventually pushed you away.
DC
Damian Wayne
♡ Misled..? Pt.2 Pt.3
♡ Simp!Damian Pt.2
Avatar
Neteyam
♡ tsan'ul - You'd think Neteyams deathly injury would drag the two of you closer together than ever. but you grow ever more distant in the aftermath
♡ yayayr - Neteyam and you had grown up together, had sharpened each other like two arrowheads. You thought that meant everything, until you see Ka'vina has taken your place.
♡ Parul - Jake always put an unnecessary amount of stress on neteyam and it left a bad taste in your mouth. now quaritch is telling you that neteyam died as a result of his fathers incompetence? (pt 2 below!)
♡ Syawn - Months ago, you had lost Neteyam because of the war dragging him away. Now the shoes on the other foot and he loses you, not to distance, but the enemy. (pt 1 above!)
♡ ketstun -> sang - instead of heading to the reef clans, jake sully takes his family to search for the herwìslär clan, the snow people. despite her cold demeanor that rivals that of the weather outside, neteyam cannot help himself upon falling for the olo'eyktans daughter. only you seem to not want him, and he cannot understand why.
♡ syewe - you reminisce of the first time your mate tried the fatty flesh of the creatures that reside in the cold waters of the Herwìslär territory. (directly related to the fic above!)
content warning: strong language, explicit sexual content, car sex (obviously), oral sex (f + m receiving), subby!jungwon, angst, emotional tension, power dynamic themes, suggestive dialogue, light dom/sub, dirty talk, car innuendos
teaser:
Yang Jungwon is NASCAR’s youngest rising star—flown in from Seoul and already Toyota’s most ambitious project. He’s cocky, impulsive, and reckless—on the racetrack and in your bed.
But he’s not just here to win the circuit. He has something else to prove. And so do you.
You were hired to change car oil and rotate tires, not soak the backseat of his car with evidence of how much you want him. Not listening to the rookie whine beneath you as you give him the ride of his life.
Soon, he’s not just chasing the finish line of the Daytona 500—
He’s chasing you.
And he's giving it everything he's got on and off the track.
FIC IS NOW LIVE!! CLICK HERE
note: My next fic is in progress! I have been dying to write for Jungwon and i'm sure we've all seen that one edit...yeah. ALSO Sports Car has been ON REPEAT OMGGG. This is like super unrealistic for nascar BUT its all for funsies so if you would like to be added to the taglist just leave a comment below or slide into my inbox.
Thank you guys for all the support on second chances! It literally means the world to me, you have no idea. ❤️❤️❤️
