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mangostarjam · 3 months

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declarations (alternate version) — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x f!reader, use of foods as nicknames, childhood best friends dynamic, reader wears a dress and heels, oral (f!receiving), 3k words — the first bit is the same as the original but it does deviate

"Why do I need to wear a dress?"

Hoshina Soshiro glances up from where he's lounging on your bed. You've already pulled on the dress, of course, and he watches with probably way too much interest as you tug and adjust the way it drapes along your body. It's pretty. It fits perfectly, though you have no idea when Soshiro learned your measurements enough to show up at your door with such a gorgeous dress hanging from his fingers. Maybe he got them from Okonogi-chan?

"You'll be walking 'round with me and the Captain, egg tart, so you've gotta look the part," he says idly, though you can feel the burn of his stare along the newly exposed skin of your back. "And don't forget the heels!"

You glance at the cute, strappy heels he left by your mirror and frown. "If I wear those, I'll be taller than you, Soshiro-kun."

"Aw, that doesn't matter," Soshiro says. He sits up and you look away from the flex of his incredibly defined abdominal muscles beneath his compression shirt, which he apparently wears all the time, even under his formal dress uniform with all its tassels and buttons.

God. Embarrassing. You really need to get your staring issue under control.

"I can fight whoever looks at ya."

"Wha— ?" Heat sears across your face as you splutter and spin around to face him. The skirt of your dress twirls with the movement and you catch his gaze snapping down to your thighs. "Why would you need to fight anyone?"

"Hm?" You take a step back as he gets up and stalks over to you, holding your breath subconsciously as he kneels at your feet and takes one of the heels in hand. Your room suddenly feels warmer, the air hushed, as if the two of you are the only ones who exist in the entire universe. Soshiro chuckles quietly and shoots you a grin that makes your knees feel wobbly.

"Soshiro-kun?"

"Well, 'course I'm gonna fight for ya, apricot," Soshiro says. You flinch as he reaches out to grip your calf, the rough callouses on his fingers scraping lightly as he lifts your leg and slides your foot into the shoe. "You're my best friend, yeah?"

And I'm just a simple man in love goes unspoken as he carefully ties the silk around your ankle to keep the shoe in place. You wobble a bit at the balance and he glances up from beneath his violet bangs. "Hold onto my shoulders," he says quietly, reaching for your other leg. "Don't worry, I've got you."

"S-Soshiro-kun, I can put these on myself," you mumble, heat flaring up your spine at the careful pressure of his fingers on your ankle. He lifts your leg and you grab abruptly at his shoulders, fingers digging into the thick muscle there as you regain your footing with his support.

Soshiro lets out a breath. "I know," he says simply. "But I wanna do it."

Is this what men do when they're in love? You wouldn't know — the only man in your life you've ever cared about is right in front of you, and he's refused to elaborate on his strange statement no matter how many times you've asked. You have a feeling he means it, though.

Like, really means it. You love Soshiro — of course you do. You've always loved him. But lately it's felt… different.

Still comfortable. He's still your biggest supporter and vice versa, and he still knows exactly how to cheer you up and make you laugh. You know all his ticks and tells, and you take great pride in taking care of him while he's looking out for everyone else.

But at the same time… it's uncomfortable.

These little touches — they're new. The way his gaze lingers on your body is also new. Or… maybe you've just never noticed before. It's not a bad thing. But it makes you feel strange and fluttery inside and you catch yourself daydreaming about what it'd be like to actually get a hickey from Soshiro. Your best friend.

You stare down at the top of his head and try to repress a shiver as he skims up your legs to where your skirt rests against your thighs. His touch leaves behind a trail of warmth that burrows deep. "Um— ?"

"Ya look real pretty like this," he says. You're still holding onto his shoulders as he rises from his crouch, your entire body hot and hyperaware of how close he's standing once he straightens. "I could really just eat ya up." The smirk on his face makes your heart thump painfully in your chest, but he doesn't give you a chance to question it before he's grabbing your hands and spinning you around in a little twirl.

"S-Soshiro!"

You let out a little yelp as the room suddenly turns sideways, your center of gravity abruptly gone as Soshiro scoops you off your feet with one strong arm behind your back and the other beneath your knees. You throw your arms around his neck in a desperate move to keep from falling, though you know he'd never drop you.

Soshiro looks down at you with a glint in his eye. "Maybe I will."

"You'll… what?" you ask, breathless. He looks… hungry. Something about that look makes your stomach clench. "Soshiro-kun?"

"As your best friend, I think I've gotta do a lil inspection," Soshiro says brightly. He carries you over to your bed effortlessly, laying you down with a care that makes you burn up in a mixture of embarrassment and want.

You want… something. Soshiro gently detangles your hands from behind his neck and brings them up above your shoulders, gripping both wrists in one of his hands. His other hand is planted by your shoulder to keep from squishing you, though he keeps his balance with a knee between your thighs. "What…?"

"Just checking," he murmurs, leaning down to brush his nose against yours. You can feel his breaths on your lips and you strain a little against his hold, wondering if he can feel your pulse beating rabbit-fast in your wrists. His hand is trembling, though you can't imagine it's from the strain of holding himself up. "Can I?"

What… what is he asking?

Does it matter? It's Soshiro —

"Yeah," you breathe. "Go ahead."

His lips brush yours in a whisper, an exhaled sigh, a pressure as light as a butterfly. You make a funny sound and he grins as he skips down to your neck, pressing a firmer kiss there at your pulse.

"You do taste good, chestnut," he mumbles, just before you feel the sharp nip of his canines pinching your skin. You yelp in surprise and he chuckles, brushing his lips across the spot in apology.

"What did I say about food nicknames," you manage to gasp out, blinking blearily as he rises back up to face you. The tops of his ears and the arch of his cheekbones are painted a charming pink, but his eyes are serious as he meets your gaze.

"Are you good?" Soshiro asks.

Are you? You do feel good — better than good. The way your heart is racing would probably raise some eyebrows in a medical ward and your brain feels like mush, but. You've had your share of meaningless crushes — puppy love, infatuation — but none of it ever really mattered because you've always had Soshiro.

None of it ever felt like this.

Oh.

"I'm good," you whisper.

"And this is okay?" he asks. "I'm not — I told ya I don't mess around when it comes to you."

"I'm not messing around either," you grin up at him, feeling suddenly buoyant as the pieces click into place. "I'm yours, Soshiro."

Your best friend looks at you for a moment, but whatever he sees in your expression makes him laugh — a rough burst of sound punched out of his chest — before he leans down to kiss you again.

You can feel him smiling into the kiss.

It's a little awkward — he bumps your nose and you can't keep from grinning, either, so the kiss turns into several kisses, the smooth press of his lips against yours sending heat curling through your veins as his kisses get deeper, hungrier. He tilts his head and finally lets go of your wrists to grasp your chin, moving you to get the angle just right, though his careful intentions go up in smoke when you reach up to tangle your fingers into his hair and tug.

He pulls back with a gasp, eyes wide and pupils blown, panting as if he's just finished fighting off a kaiju. His voice cracks as he murmurs your name.

"Yeah?" you lean up to brush your lips against his jaw, admiring the strain of his neck as he huffs. "You're so pretty, Soshiro-kun."

It takes a second, but Soshiro's next breath is a sharp inhale as he presses his body against yours, pinning you to the mattress.

Then he whines.

Oh, god.

The sound seems to startle both of you, but he recovers first, dipping down to kiss you senseless as the ache in your core intensifies. He's solid and warm and heavy on top of you, his hands burning along your arms and sides and skimming over the neckline of your dress before he seems to settle on gripping your hips as he bullies his way between your thighs. The gasp you let out is loud in the thick air of your room, but the groan he lets out when you squirm against the solid, unyielding length of him is even louder.

Soshiro moves back to pressing hard kisses to your neck and exposed shoulders, panting hard as you whimper with every stinging nip of his teeth. "You're gorgeous," he murmurs, "you're so fucking perfect, I can't —"

"S-Soshiro," you whine, wiggling your hips in an effort to chase the electric sparks of pleasure rising with every sharp, aborted thrust of his hips. "What's — why're you —"

"I'm tryin' not to cum in my pants," he grunts, fingers digging hard into your waist to still you. You sob at the loss of friction and Soshiro huffs. "Fuckin' hell — you're so — but I can't be walking 'round the party all dirty."

Your eyes snap open at the reminder and you shove at the shoulders you were clinging to for dear life a moment ago. "The party!"

"Yeah, the party," Soshiro laughs, grabbing one of your hands. He presses a kiss to the leaping pulse in your wrist. "Didja forget, pumpkin?"

The tender affection somehow makes you warm, even as his hips grind slowly against your core to make you burn. Your legs, which you hadn't even registered moving, drop to the sides, sending your dress to pool further up your thighs and exposing the thin fabric of your panties. Soshiro glances down at the movement, but you can only see the way his lashes flutter at the sight before he's grinding his clothed cock against you again.

A muscle in his sharp jaw ticks as he glances back up at you. "Ya look real good," he says, "and I'm tryin' to do this right, but —"

One thing about being best friends for your whole lives means you can tell when he's holding something back.

One thing about becoming lovers with your best friend is that now you can see he's been holding back from this.

"You can't go into the party like this," you point out. Soshiro laughs, a strangled sound.

"We're not havin' a quickie as our first time," he says firmly. His expression lights up. "But I did promise an inspection, didn't I?"

"What're you — Soshiro!"

He moves too quickly for you to react, pressing another hard kiss to your lips — his tongue dipping in to draw out a startled moan — before he's suddenly kneeling at the edge of the bed, yanking you closer by your legs spread on either side of him. "The heels look nice," he says conversationally, dragging his hands up your calves.

You suddenly feel over-sensitive, your nerve endings straining into his touch as he leans forward to drag his nose along the inside of your thigh. "Ah— Soshiro, that tickles!"

"They make your legs look good," he continues, as if you hadn't spoken. You raise up on your elbows to glare down at him as he brushes his lips featherlight against your thigh. Soshiro smirks and turns his head to nip the skin there, kissing and sucking along your thigh as he slings your leg over his shoulder for easier access.

Oh, shit.

The whine you let out would be embarrassing except that Soshiro mutters a curse and shoots you a look that makes your core clench tight. You reach for his hands, desperate for some leverage or an anchor, and he lets you take one of his hands but uses the other to hike your other leg over his shoulder.

"This is cute," Soshiro remarks, looking intently at your panties and the damp spot clearly evident even in the dim light. "Were they expensive?"

What is he asking? Why would it matter when the only thing you can focus on is the incessant ache in your core, inches away from his touch, heartbreakingly empty and wet and hot —

Soshiro rips your panties with one hand and tosses the flimsy scraps of cloth aside, exposing your fluttering core to his hungry gaze. You shift desperately, torn between wanting and wanting to hide, but before you can voice a request Soshiro dips in and licks you.

"Oh, fuck —" you moan, collapsing back on the bed as your hips buck up into the friction. Soshiro licks at you sloppily, digging his tongue into every inch and fold of you as he groans.

"All this for me?" he murmurs, catching your eye as you clutch desperately at the blankets. "Only for me, right, melon drop?"

You nod shakily as he gently kisses the throbbing bundle of nerves at your core. "I'm yours, Soshiro," you gasp. The waves of pleasure building in your body are frightening, your heart pounding hard, but you can't help tilting your hips closer to him. "Please, Soshiro — I… I can't —"

"Hah — fuck you," Soshiro groans. "Hold on to me."

You barely get a moment to register his command before he dives back in, targeting your clit and sucking on it as you sob with pleasure. White hot electricity races through your veins as you scrabble desperately for something to hold on to, grabbing at the purple strands of his hair and rocking your hips as he devours you.

You feel the burning touch of his finger as he drags it along your lower lips, making you suddenly hyper aware of how empty you feel. Your insides clench futilely, your fingers twisting into his hair painfully as you moan and beg. "Soshiro, Soshiro please —"

You can hear the squelch of your wetness as he finally slides his finger inside you, poking and prodding your walls until he presses against something that makes you see stars. Your back bows off the bed as you pant and squirm.

"There ya go," he grunts, pulling back to fix you with a burning red stare. "Let go for me, honey. I've got you."

You clench around his finger as he adds another, the intrusion unfamiliar but welcome, pleasure spiraling and spiking through you as he flicks his thumb over your clit and presses against that spot just right. It's — it's too much — too overwhelming —

Soshiro sucks your clit between his lips again and you shoot over the edge with a shout.

"Good fucking girl," Soshiro murmurs. You can barely hear him beyond the fuzzy aftershocks, but the words bleed warmth into your face as you melt into the mattress. He carefully licks you clean, chuckling when you whine at the overstimulation.

"Soshiro?"

"Yeah?" He climbs back over you, the lower half of his face shiny with wetness. It should be gross, but you're so boneless you can't even bring yourself to care as he leans down to kiss you, tongue tangling with yours as you moan at the taste of yourself.

"Where'd you… where'd you learn how to do that?" you mumble tiredly.

"In my dreams," Soshiro says, laughing when you pout at him. "I've been dreaming 'bout you for ages, y'know. But most of the technical stuff was from locker talk with the guys."

You nod and glance down, but the angle is awkward and you can't quite see —

"Ah, don't worry 'bout me," Soshiro ducks his head and you stare at the pink flush rising up his neck. "I'm gonna hafta meet you at the ballroom, hazelnut. I need a change of pants."

"Oh," you nod, wide eyed and blushing as he snorts. "Sorry?"

"Don't apologize for bein' a dream come true," he says. "But we should really go soon, or the captain'll have both our heads."

Soshiro helps you stand on wobbly legs as you regain your balance on heels, kneeling to smooth your dress back down your thighs. "Wait — what about my panties?"

He tilts his head thoughtfully. "Right, I'll help ya with that."

Soshiro's touch is warm this time, not burning hot, and the kisses he presses along your thighs are more ticklish than anything. He grins up at you as you giggle. "Will we tell Captain Ashiro after the party tonight?"

He rises and his gaze goes to your neck and shoulders, exposed by the straps of your dress. Something sharp and pleased settles in his smile. "I don't think we'll need to worry 'bout it. Any fool who gets close to ya when you're marked up all pretty for me is askin' for trouble."

… What?

You look past him to the mirror and gasp. All those little bites from earlier are blooming pink and purple beneath your skin. Soshiro laughs, swoops forward to kiss your scolding right out of your mouth, and pulls away only after you've melted back into his arms, pliant and breathless.

"You passed inspection, by the way," Soshiro adds, smiling a little lopsided and fond. "Congratulations on becoming the Third Division Vice Captain's fiancée."

Your eyes widen. "Fiancée?"

"Oh, too soon? We can start off with 'girlfriend' first."

"Soshiro…"

"What? A guy's got dreams, alright?"

You laugh. "You didn't even propose!"

"Alright, fine," he kisses you again and you beam, delight and happiness swooping through you at how easy it all feels. "Keep that third finger on your left hand empty for me, apricot."

"It's a promise."

#hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #kn8 x reader #kn8 fic #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kn8 smut #hoshina smut #hoshina soshiro #fuji writes fic #UNEDITED and written while elbow to elbow with people at anime expo lmao #sorry to those fans if they were reading over my shoulder or something #while we waited in line or for panels to start #i'm still on hiatus bye again #hope you enjoy this alternate version #and yeah. i did give hoshina a praise kink. it makes sense to me

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fanaticsnail · 6 months

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"Good Boy"

Masterlist here

Word count: 3,200+

Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Themes: mutual pining, kid x gn!reader, fluffy, praise kink Kid, he just wants to be a good boy, no kisses just praise.

Notes: it's past 1am where I am, and I physically couldn't get to sleep until I got this request by @remisloves out of my mind. It's all about praise and softening rough characters lately with me. Good night everyone! Sweet blorbo dreams

Tag list: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine

A shudder erupted from the base of Eustass Kid's spine to the top of his cranium. Downturning his chin, he attempted to disguise how wide his smile had risen to his lips beneath the shadow of his blast goggles.

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Captain Kid pushed himself to the absolute limit to best his latest opponent. Blood dripping from his body, his bones bent to the point of nearly breaking. The weight of his metal arm overencumbered his body, his brute strength no longer enough to propel his legs forward.

Successful at last, he claimed their loot in their vast treasury, selecting a few key pieces that caught his eye to present back to you: a former thief, his ships’ appraiser, and now his curator of chronological dialogue, items and routines.

What would possess this hulking captain to risk his body and his crew to collect this small piece of art to present to you? Why would he ever risk such a heavy physical toll for a mere trinket?

Because he was a good boy.

And you always informed him as such.

While Kid saw no need for a chronicler initially, he very quickly warmed to the idea of maintaining one on his payroll. When Massacre Soldier Killer suggested a small snippet of their adventures be cataloged in journals, Kid never knew that reading the words back would prompt a rapid boil beneath his skin. A craving. A need.

Seeing those words scribed on paper held him hostage. Those doting, praising, uplifting words that held such passionate composition regarding his exploits; they pushed him to go further, drive harder, propell longer in his adventures. This was all in an attempt to dream of seeing more of those beautiful words describing him articulated upon paper.

Well, his exploits at least.

Most of all, he craved to hear them depart from your lips. You managed to slip a single verbalized expression of praise once upon his return from doing a menial task. Since then, he was hooked on the rush it brought him.

“Oh, wow! Captain, you've done so well! So unbelievably well!” was that first door opening to the praise he needed.

That small snippet from you, was all well and good in his opinion. He did enjoy your recognition of his talent, but it was not what he craved the most.

And what he wanted the most, was to be told he was, “a good boy.”

He couldn't explain it, but the thought of hearing those words flee from your lips had his eyelids half-hooded, eyes glazed, pupils blackened and blown, and a droopy smile lazily draw itself up onto his lips.

You had only ever come close one time to praising him personally, rather than the talent of his exploits. He felt the flutter of his heart rapidly igniting his veins with adrenaline, screaming with his eyes for you to utter the words he so desperately craved.

And you said it.

You finally said it today.

His feet thumped upon the wooden deck, after he hoisted himself over the small opening on the side of the ship. The ‘away team' had finally assembled together and began greeting those who remained behind.

Rushing to greet your Captain, he shot you a reciprocated, triumphant and winning smile, while happily presenting a small object up to you in the center of his right, flesh hand.

“You found it? You actually found it?” your eyes widened, reaching your hand out to Kid's extended right palm. His body was still dripping with the blood of his enemies, a visible shake in his fingertips as he elevated the trinket up to you.

“It nearly cost me my other arm,” he winced through the words, his forearm beginning to twitch beneath the strain of his exhaustion, “But I brought it back for you-...” he halted his words, pondering whether it was now time to make his affections known or not “...-to add to the collection.”

“For me?” your eyes widened, looking at the shiny and ornate gold filigree design. In the center of the flattened piece lay a single garnet: small, something one would cast aside should more items be presented. But to you, a prized piece in an antique collection you had been dedicating your life to find.

“It's the missing piece, yeah?” Kid smirked, huffing through his words as the rest of the crew assembled atop the Victoria Punk, “The one you told us about last Friday?”

“Honestly, Captain, I don't remember half of what happened last Friday,” you confessed sheepishly, up turning your brows as your fingers brushed against his palm, “You'd think my liver would be able to tolerate being aboard your ship, drinking that slosh alongside the crew by now.”

He barked a cracked cackle at your confession, prompting your own to rise in your chest. His laugh was contagious, a laugh that could be felt through his whole body springing and vibrating up within your own.

“Thank you, captain,” you expressed your deepest gratitude to the taller man, your head nodding in praise, “You don't know what this means to me.”

After a moment's pause, he looked down at the object before bringing his whisky-coloured eyes back up to meet with your own. He inhaled a shaken breath, baited and waiting within his lungs while anticipating his next words.

“S-So,” he stuttered over his words, scolding himself under his own anxiety, “Did I do good? Is this the one you needed? Am I a-...” he didn't want to lead you into giving him the praise he desperately sought, but didn't want to not hear it either.

With all the patience you could muster upon such a triumphant moment in your life, you prompted him with your eyes to have him complete his sentence.

“...Am I a good-...” trying so, so hard to say the final word, he physically couldn't have them pass his lips, “...-Captain?” He mentally slapped himself, knowing that those were not the words he craved and how stupid that must've made him sound.

You took a moment to carefully think about your next words, noticing how bruised he was, how bloody his knuckles were, how a lot of the crew that went with him on this private ‘away mission' were faring upon return.

“Of course you are. You captain us extremely well, sir,” you uttered with a soft smile, “I'll adjust my findings accordingly in the journals, if I may be excused?”

A small puff of air flew from his lips, defeat almost tangibly thick as it shrouded his shoulders with its presence. He looked away after giving his nod of dismissal, his gaze fixed on the wood of the deck below his feet.

Your smile widened, claiming the object from his palm and holding your hand within his for a moment longer, before withdrawing completely. Fluttering your eyes over each fixed point of concern on his features, you searched for what his body seemed to be screaming for.

Thanking him with a curt nod, you turned on your heel and abruptly halted your next step.

At this moment, it fully dawned on you exactly the words your Captain wanted to hear. Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid pirates, champion and leader of the Victoria punk, devil-fruit user and wielder of Haki… had a praise kink. And he wanted you to praise him.

A playful smile spread like warm honey up your cheeks, a scrunch in your nose as you rolled your next words over your tongue. You turned your head over your shoulder, guarding your intentions close to your chest as you spoke two words that almost had your Captain fall on his knees in gratitude.

“Good boy.”

From that moment on, he was simply smitten. No matter what he did, whether it was aiding his crew with carrying supplies, carrying out great acts of violence, defending his Nakama from their enemies, or simply finishing his vegetables at meal time - he would look to you in anticipation, that anticipation being met with those two simple words.

“Good boy.”

They echoed within his mind, swirling around within the chasms of his brain as slumber eluded him. He did not mind in the slightest having his lack of rest consumed with praises departing from your lips.

Your voice plagued him, haunted him as a spectral ghost would hunt down their unfinished business. He did not mind such a haunting, in fact: he wanted more. He wanted to have more praise, more compliments, more of your verbal, beautiful words crying out from your perfect lips.

He was smitten, completely smitten, by your compliments. The way your talented tongue made his name sound, the way your lips curved up in a knowing smirk each time you told him he was a ‘good boy.’

Until the day you didn't.

Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, one that nobody knew the cause nor the cure for such a horrid, stampeding mess of a captain. Food, ales, meads, even gold - nothing appeared to pry him from his raging temper. Breaking tankards, tipping over tables, scattering documents on his captains’ desk, nothing was safe from the wrath he was wreaking on the furniture.

Hunched over your desk, you continued cataloging and appraising the latest haul of trinkets and treasures thrust into your office. It was overwhelming for you, the sheer number of items scattered around your room. You attempted to alphabetize them, sort them accordingly and lump them into itemized piles.

The toll the elevation of work raised onto your shoulders had you dismiss all those who presented you with various finds, including your Captain. He rocked on the ball and heels of his feet, eagerly awaiting and anticipating his sought-after praise - but found nothing but an anxious sigh and scratch of your neck in response to his hard labor.

This was the reason for his intense rage.

After leaving your office, and selfishly paying no mind to your exhausted expression, he began to spiral.

“He was so good. Why didn't you tell him he was? Was there something he could've done better? Something he could've pushed harder to strive for?” all circled within his mind as he tore piece after piece of his office apart.

Several hours had passed, and you carved a hefty chunk of your work apart and managed to get a fair bit done. It was nowhere near complete, but it had you feeling a sense of anxious accomplishment.

A knock at the door prompted you to raise your chin, eyes panicked and overwhelmed with the amount of work still required to be completed before mealtime.

“Need help?” The light flickered off the cerulean and pearl colored mask of the first mate, who peeked his head around the doorframe.

“Please,” you sighed, gesturing to your position kneeling on the ground beside you. Killer promptly entered your office, crouching beside you and sifting through the uncharted treasures still needing to be sorted.

“What we up to?” he elevated his hand, gesturing out to the various piles in front of you both, “I think I see where they need to go. You written down them all?”

“All recorded in the book, down to the last drooped earpiece,” you confirmed, nodding to the mess in the center of the room, “They just need to be put in the right piles, locked in the treasury, and then we can call it a night. Maybe have an ale, if you're up for it, Kil?”

After a moment's pause, both of you rolling the items in your fingertips and placing them within the according: gold, silver, platinum, gemstone, raw material, ceramic, wearable materials, and weaponry piles.

“Leave this with me,” Killer uttered, placing a throwing knife within the weaponry stack, “And you go and perform your other job.”

“What other job?” your brows knit with confusion, “I've already done the journalling of the exploits, the timetabling of the crew shift-changes, notarizing the stock we need within the kitchen-.”

“-Oh, no, buckaroo,” you could audibly hear the smirk behind Killer's mask as he teased you, “the other one. The one nobody pays you to do.”

“Which is, champ?” you taunted in return, nudging him with your shoulder roughly against his, “Be specific.”

“The one where you-...” he took this brief pause as an opportunity to sigh in huffed frustration, “...-where you tell our captain he's a good boy. Although, in his current state,” Killer rotated his neck to relieve the tension on his shoulders, “I might even go so far as to suggest you call him a bad one, considering that's exactly how he's behaving.”

Your confusion knit your brow down in the center of your face, your mind focussing on when the last time you praised the puppy you had turned your Captain into.

“Oh, fuck! I didn't praise him when he brought in the loot!” your eyes widened in shock, promptly rising to your feet and brushing over your pants, “I just got so overwhelmed by the sheer bloody number, I couldn't think of anything else. Oh, I'm an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” Killer interrupted you, rising to his own feet and cupping your shoulders in an attempt to halt the rise in your anxiety, “Hell, you're not even dating him. It shouldn't be your job-,” he brushed over your shirt, adjusting the crumpled material to make it more appealing to the eye.

“-Yet here you are,” he concluded, nodding at you before glancing down at the piles of treasure, “And here I am: the first-mate, the best friend, the confidant. The one who is unable to tear him away from his absolutely shit-house mood, because all he wants is you.”

You attempted to stifle the warm flush that drew itself up to your cheeks. Captain Kid was a tall, broad and intimidating man - those were the three assessments you initially made when you were hired to serve aboard the Victoria Punk. Then you got to know him, and were made privy to truly see who he was beneath the surface.

The twinkle behind the feral rage, the purity in his unbridled emotions, the lack of restraint in all his advances: you adored him. When he began to seek out your praises, you were immediately swooning at his attention.

He wanted your words, not just due to the fact words were your job, but because he wanted you to speak them. Just to speak his praises to be granted the luxury of a light tingle in his ears, a blush rise to his cheeks and a smile decorating his lips with such beautiful words.

Now within the doorframe of your captain's office, you arched your brow and crossed your arms. Leaning on the wooden panel, you continued to watch his chest rise and fall with each exasperated and berzerk breath. Your eyes never left his body, each arch of his back and ripple of his muscles straining under the taut fabrics atop his shoulders.

“All this because I didn't call you a good boy?” you addressed him in a low and dangerous tone. His feral eyes snapped over to you, widening as he truly witnessed the devastation in the destruction in his office.

“You've been a bad boy, I see,” you continued in your dark tone, promptly stepping into his office and closing the door behind you, “Look at all this mess. Tsk, naughty.”

The click of your tongue had Kid arching his back, straightening his spine as he bit back a soft whimper. His brows triangulated in the center of his face, bottom lip now quivering under the weight of your disciplinary tone.

Circling his body, fingers brushing against his large right hand beside his hip as you leaned into him. You shook your head, stooping down and beginning to collect the paper, stationary, tankards, and paperweights that had been flung against the floor.

Before you could say a following, disciplinary word, Kid immediately fell onto his knees and began hurriedly picking up the items he threw onto the ground beside you.

“I-I’ll pick it all up,” he nodded his head as to confirm his words further, “I'll tidy up all this shit. Please, I-I’m sorry. I just-.”

“-Just wanted to be praised, hm?” you hummed at him. He hid his head from view, his painted lips pouting while his eyes held their attention firmly against the mess.

He nodded, the weight of finally admitting his craving lifting off his chest and shoulders as he received the items you were holding atop the stack he was forming.

“Tidy up your mess, handsome,” you smiled, elevating your right hand to capture his pointed chin within your thumb and index finger, “I'll watch every step you take, and let you know how good you're being, if you do it properly.”

Kid’s breath caught in his lungs, a pink dust settled against his cheeks and ears. He hurriedly rose to his feet, up-turning his askew desk and dusting off his captains’ chair. He extended it outwards, wordlessly and politely gesturing for you to take a seat.

“My, my,” you commented, rising to your feet and accepting his invitation, “Such a gentleman, you're being. But, you've gotta’ work a little bit harder to earn that title you crave.”

Captain Eustass Kid was a dutiful, whimpering puppy under your watchful eyes. He was, almost, happily rearranging all of the objects he had thrown askew. He even took the time to appropriately categorize the pages he didn't complete prior to his little tantrum.

“Hm, very good. Well done picking up after yourself.” He blushed further at your words, but craved so much more.

“Oh, look at how much time you're taking on that bookshelf. I can even see how clean you're making each of the panels. Look at you go, big boy.” That praise had him whimpering, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to clean in silence.

“So strong, picking up that heavy weight all by yourself. So proud of you.” He could not stop the audible gasp, nor the rush of blood seeping to places they had no business in flooding to at that moment.

He completed all this while glancing over his shoulder and thriving beneath the giddy feeling rushing to his chest upon being the center of your unwavering gaze.

Upon the last paperweight being placed and straightened atop his desk, he knelt between your knees and glanced up into your eyes. He looked innocent of all wrongdoing, all prior anger and malice fleeing from within his silent pleading.

He was desperate for those words, those two simple little words that he so yearned for. Noseying up further between your knees, his shuddering metal and flesh hands cautiously placed themselves gently on your calves.

Soft and slow circles were traced against your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as they began twinkling with hope. All his mind was screaming, silently and internally, was a simple repetition of: “Please, please, please. Say it, say it, say it.”

And you obliged him by leaning down, caressing his left, scarred cheek and drawing your lips close enough to taste the tingle of his breath upon your skin. Hovering before contact was made, you floated your gaze between his whisky-hued orbs and his parted lips with a soft smile.

“Good boy.”

#one piece #x reader #Eustass Kid #eustass kid x reader #op kid #one piece eustass kid #kid x reader #kid x gn!reader #gn!reader #one piece x reader #kid has a praise kink #he just wants to be a good boy #fic request #ask snail #snail answers #snail needs sleep

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kevinsbitch · 1 year

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aftg fandom arguing about characters' personalities / kevin day has a praise kink

#kevin day has a praise kink #i mean... it's literally in every fic I've read #and this is also true #kevin day #aftg #all for the game #kandreil #kevneil #kevaaron #kandrew

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littlemissmanga · 5 months

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The Slow Stretch

Pairing: Wrecker x f!Reader

Warnings: This is all spice. Rated E for explicit. There's no plot. Barely a framing device. Size kink, like really that's 90% of it, praise kink is also strong in this one. 18+ only please, if you don't like smut please don't interact but do not put a label on this!

Also, lazy writing but Tumblr wouldn't let me use bullets so I apologize this isn't as smooth as some of my other stuff. It is still pretty delicious, if I do say so myself.

W/C: 1,713

Summary: I had a very vivid thought about what a session with Wrecker would look like if you had a harder time taking him. Guys this thot consumed me and then I imagined how he'd encourage you through that and what soft praise would sound like coming from him ... and I became so unwell I had to get this written. It's pure filth. Enjoy.

Imagine sitting on Wrecker’s lap, three of his fingers buried in your cunt. He doesn’t move them, doesn’t curl them to make you see stars. He’s learned that’s how you get too overstimulated too quick.

But he has to prepare you, to make you come just enough that your tight walls can relax enough to accept his much larger size.

So he just holds you close on his lap, knuckles deep in your pussy as he coos at you to relax.

“I got ya, pretty girl,” he says, his large, warm hand rubbing soothingly on your lower stomach, pressing down just a little. It wasn’t much at all, but it was enough to force you further down on his fingers, the calloused tips now brushing mind numbingly against a spot that makes your vision blur. “Don’t clench, baby. Keep them muscles nice an’ relaxed for me. You can do it, I know you can.”

You don’t want to disappoint him, so you focus as hard as you can, concentration cutting through the fuzzy pleasure vibrating through your core as you force yourself to unclench your muscles and melt into his warm, broad chest behind you.

“Tha’s it. That’s perfect, sweetheart.” His other hand comes down to draw gentle yet firm circles directly on your clit, forcing bolts of electricity through you. “One more. Just gotta give me one more an’ I think I can fit.”

You shiver on him, around him as his relentless assault on your clit gives you no other choice than to surrender to the pleasure as he rips it from your body … leaving you perfectly boneless and ready for him.

“Please, Wreck, please. Wanna feel full.”

With a deftness you’ve come to expect from Wrecker, he presses his fingers deeper, pushing against that tantalizing spot just once more before replacing them with his cock. He pushes in slowly, pulling you back so your head rests on his shoulder. He can see your face now, his eyes never leaving it, alert for any hint of discomfort even as he groans deep at the incredible way your walls constrict around him as he lowers you onto him.

Your back arches off him, your legs curling instinctively to give him more room, to spread yourself further to ease his progress. You vaguely remember you need to relax, but the stretch of him everywhere inside you, pressing not just against one pleasurable spot but all of them at once … It’s involuntary the way you convulse around him, the pleasure from one area flaring up before the pleasure from another can even fade.

Never before have you understood what it meant to be so deliciously full. You lose coherent thought, your entire being focused on experiencing the sensations coursing through your nerves.

Wrecker pauses as he all but bottoms out, just a few inches unable to sit inside you comfortably. Doesn’t matter. All he can focus on is breathing. The way your walls undulate around him, the way he can feel the intense pleasure ricochet through your body and into his threatens to push him over the edge.

“Shhh, pretty girl … need you to relax. I don’t wanna end this too soon, d’you?”

You whimper and shake your head back and forth dramatically. Still trapped in a hazy fog, forming words is beyond you but you need to make your immense displeasure at the idea of him leaving you empty and wanting after pushing you over the edge of heaven known.

“Tha’s good. So take a deep breath for me.” Again, his hands came to rub soothingly against you, this time trailing along your sides from your knee to your ribs and back again. You could feel Wrecker’s chest expand with each deep breath, a warm encouragement for you to do the same. So you did. Over, and over, until the tension slowly leeches from your muscles.

Soon, the desperation fades as well. But the pleasurable haze does not. It leaves you pliant and dazed on Wrecker’s lap. You remain draped back over him, but now your limbs hang limp. You trust him to keep you upright.

He moves your legs outside his own, spreading you wide around him. Looking down, he can see how wet and puffy your lips are, so red and swollen around him. He groans into your shoulder and feels his cock twitch inside you. You cry out instantly, but don’t tense beyond a quick pulse he could tell you couldn’t control.

“Take me so good, sweetheart. Knew you’d be able ta do it.”

You hum in contentment. This is what you were craving when you approached Wrecker earlier. It wasn’t just to make the most out of your precious alone time. But a bone-deep need to be consumed by him. And now you were.

“You okay? Don’ go quiet on me now.”

A gentle press of his knuckles — still a little wet from your juices — turns your head to face Wrecker, a gentle smile trying to hide the glimmer of concern in his eyes.

“M’fine,” you manage to mumble. You decide actions are easier, so you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, lips brushing his sensitive skin there and curling into a smile at the choked sound he makes in response. “So fine. So full. ‘T’s perfect.”

“Good.” He pushes your legs together, mindful of the strain he must have put on you keeping you spread open. The movement draws a prolonged moan from you, but it’s gentle enough to keep you from getting desperate again. His thumbs run firm strokes against the top insides of your thighs before circling around your middle and holding you to him.

He knows it won’t be long before the pressure that’s blissing you out now will turn to pain soon. The constant stimulation wears you out quickly. That’s why he loves when you get like this — needy not for how he can take you, but just for him. He craves getting to hold you close and feel you surround him just as much as he sees you crave him filling you to your breaking point. A small thrill runs through him, knowing only he can make you feel this full, this good.

Eventually, once your cunt has completely relaxed around him, when your eyes have closed and even your pleasant little hums have quieted, Wrecker brings his hand once again to your clit. This time, he keeps his strokes gentle, coaxing your next orgasm from you. “Doin’ so good for me. Lettin’ me play with ya an’ stretch you out like this.”

For once Wrecker’s voice is subdued. He’s not whispering, but his gentle rasp is the softest you’ve ever heard him before. It rumbles through you, waking you slowly from the foggy, trance-like state you fell into. Without thinking, you shift your hips, trying to catch that slight tickle that made your sensitive flesh tingle.

And then you do. His rough thumb catches on the hood of your clit, making you clench all at once around him. Your hands fly to his forearms that are caging you in on either side of your hips, squeezing at the intensity you’re feeling.

“Hold on to me all ya need. I got ya.” Wrecker’s free hand flexes under your thigh as his other continues its almost painfully gentle ministrations.

“R-right there,” you breathe, knowing Wrecker is out of patience and you are out of time. With a hum, Wrecker focuses his attention repeating the motion to your exact request. But he keeps his pace smooth and controlled. He knows this is gonna be intense for you. So he’s gonna be as gentle as he can.

The slow, steady push combined with how deliciously Wrecker fills you guides you to the edge of what you know will be an intense orgasm. His steady strokes leaving no question to the exact moment your body will be pushed over. Even so, you’re still unprepared when it happens.

“Let me feel you, sweetheart.”

Every since inch of your body tenses as you seize in pleasure. The walls of your cunt spasm harshly, simultaneously pulling Wrecker ever deeper and pushing him out all at once.

You can barely feel your body. All you know is the bliss that wraps every inch of you in its embrace.

But Wrecker can definitely feel your body. Can feel the way your walls threaten to strangle him and he would happily welcome it at this rate. His hips begin finally thrusting into you as his thumb continues its assault on your clit, noticing the way you jump at each pass.

“WRECK” The cry is ripped from your throat as a wall hits you.

But Wrecker’s attention is pulled by the feel of water hitting his legs. He curses when he looks down to see he’s soaked. “Kark I love when you squirt all over me.”

You can only moan as he fucks you hard now, seeking his release as your body finally offers absolutely no resistance. Absently, you can feel the way you drip around him. Delight zings the edges of your consciousness as you realize to yourself, I was able to take him.

The indulgent satisfaction only intensifies, melting into a lava that crawls through your veins as Wrecker grunts once more into your neck and after two more thrusts, presses himself as deep as he can get to come inside you.

Neither of you move for a moment, too overstimulated and sore. Soon, though, Wrecker wraps you in his arms and, as slowly as he can, pulls himself from you, earning several shivers and whimpers. He coos and presses kisses to the side of your face and forehead at each one to soothe the sting.

Finally, when he’s completely out, you both groan in unison. You can feel the surge of his cum leaking out of you, cooling the abused flesh of your hole. And based on the angle of his eyes, he’s watching it drip out of you on to the floor below.

“I’ll get ya cleaned up,” he offers in a hoarse voice.

You tighten your grip on his arms. “Just … just hold me a little more?”

You can feel his lips stretch against the top of your head. “’Course. Long as you need.”

Taglist: @dreamie411 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @wolffegirlsunite

@secondaryrealm @idontgetanysleep @multi-fan-dom-madness @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations

@sunshinesdaydream @wizardofrozz @anxiouspineapple99 @dhawerdaverd @mythical_illustrator

Divider art by @pinkiemme, divider by @freesia-writes

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb wrecker #wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x you #wrecker x reader #wrecker x you #spicy fic #clone thirsting #size kink go brrr #praise kink go brrr

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goodomensao3tagoftheday · 3 months

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littlemousejelly · 3 months

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you make me wanna (make me wanna give it all to you)

relationship: Kara Zor-El/Lena Luthor

rating: E

word count: 7.2k

Summary:

She slips her hand between Lena’s legs—still at a publicly appropriate height—and gently draws an aimless pattern along the inside of her thigh.

The hitch of Lena’s breath sounds like a thunderclap to Kara and she stiffens, fingers stilling as her ears heat up.

She thinks maybe she shouldn’t keep touching her while they’re in a room full of other people.

Kara's maybe more than a little obsessed with Lena in thigh-high stockings.

(read on ao3)

Kara really doesn’t think she’s super obsessed with how Lena dresses or anything.

Okay, sure, sometimes Lena will wear something that makes this molten-hot feeling pool in her belly, filling her up with such a sweet, melty ache that she wants nothing more than to rush home and fill Lena up until she falls apart just as sweet and melty.

But it's not like she's got an obsession.

It's just that Lena’s so ridiculously pretty that Kara has a revelatory, earth-shaking, breath-taking moment of that can’t be right every time she sees her. Which, again, has nothing to do with being obsessed with the clothes Lena wears, no. It's all because Lena is that pretty.

Case in point, the fact that just the other day, Lena opens the door for her—

(And this is an aside, but relevant: It’s the door to Kara’s own apartment, and more importantly, she opens the door from the inside. Because Kara had given her a key the month before, since Lena’s welcome whenever! And they haven’t talked about taking the next step and living together yet, but sometimes it feels like they already are?)

—wearing black leggings and Kara’s well-loved, gray National City University sweater (her favorite thing to steal and wear, and not-so-secretly Kara’s favorite thing to see her in). The thick glasses she trades her contacts for once she’s in for the night are perched on her nose, her hair is in a messy bun, and her lower lip is caught between her perfect teeth before she smiles a million-watt smile, even though it’s just Kara.

The hamster in Kara’s brain stalls out and gets flung around its wheel. Kara loses all brain function and just stares at Lena because, well, that can't be right. How does someone just look like that?

“Baby,” Lena says, an amused twinkle in her eye. "You’re gonna catch flies if you don’t pick your jaw up off the floor.”

It takes a couple long seconds before Kara’s brain hamster starts running again, but once it does, she nods quickly, shuts her mouth, and steps into their apartment.

And then she doesn’t really stop moving in, barely pausing to take her shoes off. She just toes off one shoe and then the other as she continues forward to wrap Lena up in her arms and press her into the couch cushions.

And maybe that isn’t the best defense for Kara not obsessing over Lena’s clothes since Kara really likes seeing Lena in that sweater, but it’s- it’s not about the sweater. It’s about the fact that it’s Lena wearing it, looking soft and warm and pretty.

It’s always about how unbelievably pretty Lena is.

So when Kara picks Lena up for a movie date on a rare occasion where she isn't already at Kara’s apartment and the penthouse elevator doors open to reveal Lena wearing a dark gray, off-the-shoulder sweater French-tucked into denim cut-offs and black thigh-high stockings, she crushes her phone to dust.

Not because of the way the stocking fabric seems to cling like spidersilk to Lena’s thighs. Not because of the sliver of skin that's visible in the gap between stocking and shorts and how it makes Kara want to run her tongue along Lena's legs and slowly peel them off.

It's none of those things, honest. She could be wearing a potato sack and Kara would still lose her mind because she’s just that devastatingly gorgeous.

“Buhhh,” Kara says, before she starts to step off the elevator, intent on pressing Lena against the nearest surface to touch her lovely thighs—and maybe some other things too—but Lena stops her with a hand on her chest.

She tuts, then says, “I know that look, Kara, and you are not getting off this elevator. Movie, remember? At the theater you love because it’s got reclining seats and actual food you can order?”

Kara frowns because Lena’s thighs are right there and the couch and kitchen counter are also right there, and they've got a half hour of previews before the movie starts so they might manage to not be (too) late… but then she sighs because, damn it, she does love that theater. And she actually enjoys watching previews.

Lena smiles when she sees the result of her internal debate settle on her face.

“That’s what I thought," she says, stepping into the elevator. “Come on, you horndog, take me to the movies.”

And before Kara can even open her mouth to let out an affronted noise at being called a horndog, Lena leans up to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth and Kara forgets why she was feeling affronted in the first place.

“We also need to get you a new phone, I see,” Lena says, staring at the phone guts on the floor.

Kara flushes and wipes the remnants of shattered phone dust off her hand before reaching out to intertwine their fingers.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, squeezing her hand and nodding at Lena's socks. “I wasn’t expecting those.”

"My legs?"

"Wh— No. Your, uh. Those, thigh... sock… things," Kara finishes weakly before noticing the twinkle of laughter in Lena's eyes. "Oh. You're pulling my leg."

"Just a bit, sorry," Lena says, sounding absolutely not-sorry.

"You!" Kara pivots and wraps her arms around Lena's waist to pull her close, blowing a raspberry into her neck just as she digs her fingers into her sides and starts tickling her.

Lena shrieks with laughter and attempts to squirm away but Kara holds her fast, keeping her revenge-tickle up for a little longer before granting her reprieve. She drops her hands to mold them to Lena's hips and nuzzles affectionately at her neck with a contented hum.

"Love you," she says, muffled by the way she's got her nose and mouth squished against Lena's skin.

"Love you," Lena returns softly, reaching up to scratch lightly at her scalp.

Kara leans into her hand, enjoying the feeling of her fingers in her hair, but then Lena's shoulders start shaking with laughter.

"What?" Kara asks, pulling her head back to look at Lena. "What's so funny?"

"We didn't push the button," she says, gently rapping her knuckles against Kara's head and reaching out to press the button for the lobby. "We've been standing in a stationary elevator."

Kara barks out a short laugh as the elevator finally starts its descent. "Okay, well I was distracted. What's your excuse?"

"I was distracted by you being distracted!"

"You can't play that card, that's the one I played. You're just copying my answer!"

Lena sticks her tongue out at her and the swell of affection Kara feels is so strong that she has no choice but to dip forward to kiss her cheek, grinning so hard that the kiss is more teeth than lip. She pulls away after and throws an arm around her shoulders.

"You excited for the movie? I've heard good things. Lots of arm, which I'm sure you'll enjoy," Kara says, bumping her hip against Lena's.

Lena doesn't rise to the bait, however, and leans into her harder, wrapping her arms around Kara's waist.

"I'm just happy we get to go out together today," she says after a moment in one of her softest, sweetest voices. "It feels like we've both been so busy lately and I've missed you."

And that's just—

"Not fair," Kara blurts, before she can stop it from slipping out.

Lena can't just admit that while she’s wearing what she's wearing and expect Kara to not be incredibly affected by it, to not want to just say to hell with the movie and stay in and cuddle and kiss and touch a lot. Kara's only alien.

"What's not fair?" Lena asks, brow furrowed.

"It's— You can't say something that sweet, looking that good. It's not fair. I'm trying to take you on a date but you're making it hard for me to not push you up against the nearest surface," Kara pouts.

Lena hums in thought.

"Is that so… Thigh-highs, huh?” she muses quietly.

And maybe Kara should have recognized the tone of her voice. It's the one she uses when she's happened across something incredibly interesting and is secreting the knowledge away for later, the one usually accompanied by a cat-that-got-the-cream glitter in her eye, but Kara doesn't notice it because she's subtly trying to admire Lena’s legs.

In fact, she doesn't notice a lot of things.

Like how Lena adjusts her thigh-highs deliberately slowly when she gets out of the car, slipping her thumbs just under the elastic to smooth out the band, fingers splaying and brushing across soft fabric as she drags her thumbs until they meet behind her thigh and then back around again. (Which ultimately brings Kara's attention back to the way they cling, and her hands twitch involuntarily as she imagines slipping her own thumbs under the elastic to tease the skin underneath.)

Like how Lena keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs when they lean back in their reclined seat. (And it’s not even that big a deal, but her thighs keep squishing together and they look so soft.)

Like how Lena pillows her head on Kara’s shoulder and slings her stockinged legs across Kara's lap when they inevitably cuddle up together, an open invitation for Kara to touch them. (So touch she does, trailing her fingers indulgently over and over along the tempting sliver of skin that had captivated her before.)

Needless to say, Kara is distracted during the movie. Distracted to the point she doesn't even order food. Lena’s soft noises and the slightly elevated rate of her pulse as Kara touches her thighs are much more interesting to listen to than whatever’s being said on-screen, her thighs much more interesting to touch than theater food.

She does her best to keep the touching family-friendly, never veering too high and mostly keeping her fingers to the top and outside of her thighs, but can’t help but stray a little towards the end of the movie. She slips her hand between Lena’s legs—still at a publicly appropriate height—and gently draws an aimless pattern along the inside of her thigh.

The hitch of Lena’s breath sounds like a thunderclap to Kara and she stiffens, fingers stilling as her ears heat up.

She thinks maybe she shouldn’t keep touching her while they’re in a room full of other people.

But then Lena shuffles and squeezes her thighs together, effectively trapping Kara’s hand where it is, with the added bonus of providing a little pressure between her legs. At least, that’s what Kara presumes since she lets out a quiet whine and leans into her harder. And she’s not about to be inappropriate with Lena in a movie theater, but… there’s nothing wrong with a little teasing, right?

Clearly not, as Lena squirms again and reaches out to stroke at the skin of Kara’s forearm, relaxing her thighs so Kara can move her hand again.

“Keep going,” she murmurs, voice quiet even though the loud movie theater audio makes her inaudible to anyone else.

Kara hears her loud and clear.

She starts tracing little swirls along Lena's inner thigh again, hyperfocused on the way each stroke coaxes out a slightly different noise. After a while, she grows bold, slipping her fingers just under the elastic of Lena's thigh-highs then dragging them up until she can slide them beneath the hem of her shorts.

Lena makes a sound low in her throat and her fingers press into Kara's forearm, not painfully, but with enough pressure to spur her on.

And, here’s the thing: Kara really isn’t touching Lena with sexual intent. She’s just a tactile person and loves the feel of Lena’s skin under her fingertips, and Lena has stated on more than one occasion how she doesn’t mind it, that she actually finds it incredibly comforting when Kara touches her absent-mindedly. So this isn’t— Kara isn’t running her fingers all over Lena’s thighs because she’s trying to turn either of them on.

(Especially not in a movie theater.)

But she can’t deny that that’s exactly what’s happening to her right now. She feels restless. Tingly, sparking heat lances through her body as Lena squirms and sighs against her, all because she's lightly trailing her fingers over the skin of her thighs.

Lena squeezes her legs together again briefly, and bites at her lower lip.

“Is the movie over yet?” she mutters, before subtly rolling her hips up as much as she can with the way her legs are angled over Kara’s thighs, causing Kara’s fingers to slip the slightest bit higher.

"Yeah," Kara says, not even looking at the movie screen. She hasn't paid attention to the movie at all, really, not since Lena put her legs in Kara's lap and let her touch them.

"It totally isn't," Lena says breathily, mouth quirking up. She shifts again, sitting up slightly so she can comfortably nuzzle into Kara's neck, and the press of Lena's soft lips against the skin of her neck has her jerking her hips up with a stifled groan.

"It isn't," she agrees, voice strained as she grips at Lena's thigh and struggles to keep from bucking again. "But it should be. Are movies usually this long? They shouldn't be this long. The movie should be over. It's illegal to keep us here like this."

And apparently that's funny, because Lena muffles her laugh into her neck, sort of. That's what Kara thinks she does? It's like she was gonna lick up her neck but got sidetracked when Kara said something amazingly witty, because what she does instead is open her mouth and press her tongue against her, slippery wet, and laugh just like that. Her breath gusts out in warm little puffs around her tongue and a shiver runs up Kara's back. An insistent throb starts up between her legs, and Lena knows that her neck is a weak spot, so the fact that she's doing that is very illegal.

Lena takes pity on her when she whines unhappily and pulls her tongue back into her mouth before rubbing her smile against her neck apologetically.

"There's… nothing actually keeping us here, you know," Lena says. "We can go anytime we want, if we so choose."

Kara’s hand twitches where she’s resting it against Lena’s thigh.

“We could, couldn’t we?” she says, but then she shakes her head because, Nope, no. She refuses to be the couple that walks out of what's probably a really good movie because they couldn't go two hours without touching each other.

Lena tilts her head up to kiss just under her jaw, sensing her resolve.

“But we’re not going to,” she supplies.

“Nah,” Kara says, turning to press her lips gently to Lena’s forehead. “This is a date, and I’m a gentleman."

The irony of that statement is not lost on them, what with the hand she still has between Lena's thighs, but Kara keeps her hand still and they manage to behave for the rest of the movie.

—

"Wow, what a movie!" Kara says, swinging Lena's hand exuberantly as they exit the theater half an hour later.

"I have absolutely no clue what happened," Lena admits.

"Neither do I!" Kara says happily, taking the opportunity granted by the upswing of their joined hands to press a kiss to Lena’s thumb. “I’m starving, let’s get something to eat.”

Lena rolls her eyes good-naturedly and allows herself to be led back to the car.

—

"I thought- I thought we were going to stop somewhere to eat?" Lena asks breathlessly, back arching.

"Mm, yeah," Kara says, popping her head up from where she'd been sucking a hickey to the side of Lena's breast. She continues plucking at the hard nipple of her other breast, tugging lightly at her piercing as she admires how attractive Lena looks with her bra and sweater rucked high on her chest, ribs expanding with every gasping breath she takes, dark red hickeys splotching across her flushed skin. Beautiful.

She dips her head to lick out against one of the purpling bruises, almost forgetting herself in the taste and feel of Lena's skin again before she tears herself away and pats her on the nipple.

"Chop chop!" she says lightly, patting the other nipple for symmetry's sake. "Put your clothes on, baby. I'm hungry."

"Oh my god…" Lena says, wrestling her bra and sweater back down as she sits up and nudges Kara upright. "Did you just pat my nipples?"

"Sure did! They’re my favorite. The absolute loveliest."

Lena sighs a long-suffering sigh and puts her hands on the shoulders of the front seats to haul herself into the passenger seat. Kara lets out a pleased noise, enjoying the way Lena’s thighs look flexing against her stockings as she moves back into the front of the car, then follows suit, giving Lena a quick peck on the lips before relocating her car keys and starting the ignition.

“Okay, food for realsies this time,” she says brightly, placing her hand high on Lena’s thigh.

Lena’s breath hitches and Kara decides that they’re getting fast food.

—

Lena smacks Kara’s hands away and Kara whines unhappily.

“No,” Lena says. "You’re not touching me with burger hands. Wash those first.”

Kara frowns bigly. She can feel how big and frowny it is, the corners of her mouth dragging down towards the ground like they’re physically weighed down by her disappointment and sadness, and she hopes Lena feels at least a little sorry for putting such a big frown on her face.

“But Lenaaa,” she tries.

“No ‘buts’, Kara,” Lena retorts, batting Kara’s wandering hands away again.

“I would've behaved,” Kara grumbles, pouting as she gets up off the couch to go wash her hands and throw their wrappers away. “Just wanted to kiss you a little.”

She can hear Lena snort from the living room, even over the sound of running water and her furious hand-scrubbing.

“It’s never just ‘kissing a little’, baby. We both know that.”

Kara grins. It’s not her fault Lena is so sensitive and makes the absolute sweetest noises for her.

She dries her hands and zips back out, plopping down on the couch with her hands out for Lena to inspect.

“I’m clean, I’m clean I’m clean I’m clean, can I please kiss you now?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.

Lena pretends to consider, but Kara can see the twinkle in her eye that means she’s already won. Even still, she turns Kara’s hands this way and that, taking her fingers between her own and stroking up and down their length with an appreciative sound, rubbing at the delicate webbing between them, trying and failing to bite back a smile as Kara goes quiet quiet at her indulgent ministrations.

“Okay, yeah,” she eventually breathes, when Kara swears Lena must be able to feel her pulse in her fingertips. “You can kiss me.”

Kara surges forward, linking their fingers together and pulling Lena’s arms above her head as she pushes her back into the couch cushions.

Lena lets out a surprised squeak, but Kara can see her pupils dilating as she licks wet wet wet at her red lips.

Kara leans in, stopping just before they touch. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” she whispers, feeling the phantom brush of Lena’s lips against hers.

“Mhm,” Lena breathes, thighs squeezing together. "Yes, please."

Kara smiles and closes the last bit of distance between them, sighing happily when she finally feels Lena's lips under hers, feels the tiny, shuddering breath she lets out as she sweetly parts her lips for Kara to lick in.

It always makes Kara feel like a million fireflies are lighting up inside her when she kisses Lena, like all the love she's got amalgamates and brightens her up from the inside out, until she feels like all that giddy, loving light is escaping from her pores. Even sitting out in the sun for a couple hours doesn’t make her feel as brilliant as one kiss from Lena does.

Kara slides her tongue slowly, wetly, against Lena's and her answering throaty moan makes Kara's head spin so hard her hips shudder helplessly downwards. But that only makes Lena jerk against the way Kara’s hands are keeping hers pinned to the cushions and roll her hips up and suck at Kara’s tongue like a lollipop.

Kara groans and humps into her again, and again, trying to keep her head from flying off, trying to not be really, embarrassingly close already even though they’re both still fully dressed and all Lena’s doing is sucking on her tongue.

But the pressure and wet suction of Lena’s mouth; the slick slide of her tongue; the little, hungry noises she makes as she tugs and tugs and tugs like she’s trying to take Kara as deep as she can to show how devoted she is, how ready she is, how good she is—

It all drives Kara absolutely wild because she's just so perfect.

Kara pulls away with a gasp, pressing their foreheads together, breath mingling hot and damp in the space between them, hips still mindlessly rocking down to meet Lena’s as she pants.

“H- hold on, sorry,” she says, flushing when it comes out way more breathless than she intends.

Lena nods patiently, turning her head and nuzzling at Kara’s cheek while she waits for her to calm down.

“You’re not even the one who got felt up at the theater, baby,” she muses quietly.

Kara nods, because, yeah, she’s not wrong about that. But, god.

She breathes in through her nose and holds it for three beats, attempting to Calm Down even as she makes no effort to actually stop the way she's grinding into Lena.

Eventually, once she can think past the pleasure slinging low in her hips, she tilts her head to fit their lips together again in a soft brush of lip against lip. It's a chaste kiss, but Kara still sinks into it, releasing one of Lena's hands to palm at her breast.

Lena eagerly arches under her and Kara swallows the breathy sound she makes, resolving to get her act together. Lena's been so, so good—so patient even with Kara's hands all over her—and she deserves to feel good twenty minutes ago. So, she brushes her thumb across Lena's breast, feeling for her nipple through her sweater and bra and humming happily when she finds the ball bearings of her piercing.

Lena lets out a desperate little noise, legs falling open as much as the couch allows. Kara smiles against her lips, sliding her hand further down until she can press the heel of her palm up between her legs.

Lena's foot drops to the floor with a soft thump and she uses the leverage to roll her hips into Kara's hand with a quiet whimper.

"Please," she whispers and Kara feels her neck grow hot.

"Okay, baby."

She unbuttons Lena's shorts and slowly drags the zipper down, listening for the hitch in her breathing.

Lena doesn't disappoint—she never disappoints—breath stuttering out when Kara eases her hand down the front of her shorts and presses two fingers up against the damp fabric of her underwear.

"Cute," Kara murmurs, and Lena squirms beneath her, cheeks flushed, back arching to push her breast more fully into Kara's palm. It's so lovely—Lena's so lovely—that Kara has no choice but to stroke along the patch of wet for a while longer, just to draw it out, before finally pulling away to slip her hand back down past the waistband of her underwear and rub the pads of her fingers directly over Lena's swollen clit.

Lena whines, teeth sinking into a kiss-bruised lip, pleading eyes flitting over Kara's face, searching, entreating.

Kara circles Lena's clit a couple more times before pushing lower, fingertips nudging at her entrance and drenching in her excitement, lifting her other hand to cup her cheek.

Lena releases her lower lip with a shaky sigh and Kara skims her thumb over it.

"Kara," Lena says, all air, lips brushing at her thumb, hips jogging up into her other hand, and Kara just grins because she knows. Slips her thumb past parted lips, rocks in in in until she's filled Lena up with two fingers in her cunt and a thumb in her mouth, until Lena's eyes are rolling back as she shudders and clenches and sucks.

"Fuck, you're good," Kara rasps, and Lena tightens around the fingers inside her, whimpering around the thumb pressing at her tongue.

Kara leans in to pepper Lena's face with tiny kisses. "Let me know when you're ready," she mumbles, nosing at a warm cheek.

Lena immediately lifts her hips to meet her hand, tongue slicking wet and greedy against her thumb, letting Kara know she's ready ready.

The breath gusts right out of her when Kara pulls her fingers out and thrusts back in again, a shuddering gasp tearing from her throat as she eagerly takes the stretch. She's hot and eager, and the insistent tug of her cunt every time Kara presses in and bumps at her throbbing clit reveals just how close she is already, just how long she's been patiently waiting on the razor's edge for Kara to take care of her.

"You've been so good, haven't you?" Kara asks.

Lena clenches hard, teeth closing around Kara's thumb. "Please," she whimpers, although it sounds more like 'leazhe with her mouth filled as it is.

"You've been such a good girl for me, haven't you?" Kara says again, punctuating her words by thrusting with extra force.

"Kara—"

"I want to hear it from your lips, baby." Kara leans in to kiss the corner of her mouth, then speaks her next words into her flushed cheek. "I want you to tell me how good you've been while I'm filling you up."

"Fuck," Lena gasps, eyes glassy, back arching higher with every hint of pressure against her clit. "'ve been so good for you. Please, please— I've been a good girl. Been good. I—"

She chokes off with a whine when Kara curls her fingers on a particularly heavy thrust, palm mashing against her clit.

"Yeah, you have," Kara agrees. "You're always so sweet."

A sympathetic shiver ripples through her when Lena recklessly jerks her hips up again, trying to get closer, to take her fingers deeper.

“Bet you'll sound extra sweet when you come for me."

Lena lets out a desperate, hiccuping moan. Then, with her tongue dragging against the thumb in her mouth, it only takes a few more deep strokes for her to fall apart on Kara's fingers, thighs clamping tight and cunt clenching rhythmically as her teeth dig into Kara's thumb.

"There you go, baby. You did so well," Kara murmurs, leaning in and pressing her smile to Lena's sweat-damp temple when she tightens around her fingers. "You're perfect."

She waits for Lena's breathing to even out and for the clenching of her body to slow to light flutters before she frees her thumb and eases her fingers out, prompting a quiet hitching breath. She wipes them on her underwear as best she can with the awkward angle then pulls her hand out of her shorts.

Lena's cheeks are flushed, her hair's all over the place, her nose and forehead are shiny with exertion, and she's beautiful.

"I love you," Kara says, kissing the tip of Lena's sweaty nose.

"Mm," Lena hums drowsily. "Love you, too."

"Gonna fall asleep on me?" Kara asks, nudging her smile against the apple of her cheek.

"Under you, yeah."

Kara laughs and snags a blanket off the arm of the couch behind Lena's head. She throws it over them, then carefully drapes herself over Lena, smiling when she snakes her arms up to wrap low around her waist.

"Who needs a weighted blankie when you've got Supergirl," Kara says.

Lena huffs out a quiet laugh and squeezes her tight.

---

Kara sort of forgets about how much she loves seeing Lena in thigh-high stockings.

Lena looks good in anything—and in absolutely nothing, of course—so after that first time, Kara doesn't think about the thigh-highs. It's always lingering there in the back of her mind, but it's just not something she actually, truly, really stops to think about.

It isn't, until it is.

She walks into her bedroom after work on an otherwise ordinary Thursday evening and finds Lena surrounded by lit candles, lying prone in the middle of her bed. Her legs are bent at the knee with her feet up in the air and she's completely naked except for the candy apple-red of her thigh-high stockings.

Kara almost walks right out again, half-convinced she's just walked into the wrong apartment, half-convinced she's fallen asleep at the office and is now having a sex dream.

"Uh, hello?" she says around a dry throat, as good a greeting as any.

Lena smirks at her and licks her lips.

"Hello," she returns. "I've been waiting for you to get back."

"Yeah?"

Lena rolls her eyes, propping her chin up on her palm.

"Yes, baby. I'm lying in bed naked for you. Are you gonna come do something about it?"

Kara stumbles a step further into the bedroom.

"What… what's the occasion?"

Lena pauses, pretending to consider, then drops her hand down on top of the other and presses her cheek to her flat arms.

"Nothing," she says simply, a girlish giggle hiding in her voice. "Just wanted to do something fun on a— What day is it?"

Kara swallows hard and lifts her wrist to look down at her very-analog watch.

"It's…"

Her watch face only tells her it's some time after six so she racks her brain and tries to remember which day the little green marker on her calendar had been under.

"Thursday?" she mostly-guesses.

"Just wanted to do something fun on a Thursday," Lena amends, eyes sparkling with laughter.

Kara drops her messenger bag on the ground and takes another couple of steps until she's standing right next to the bed. She reaches down to tug her button-up out of its tuck. "What did you have in mind?"

"Thought maybe you could put your cock on and I could ride you," Lena says.

Kara goes stock still, fingers going limp around the handful of cotton-blend fabric bunched in her hand, shirt still mostly tucked. The sound of Lena’s voice—lilting and lovely as she says something so filthy that the tips of her ears heat up—makes her shiver with preemptive excitement.

"Okay, yeah," she breathes, redirecting her attention towards undoing her belt.

"Great," Lena says, sitting up and revealing the harness lying next to her, already fitted with a sizable dick. Kara bites the inside of her cheek to hide her smile.

Her wonderful, gorgeous, brilliant, ever-prepared girlfriend.

"C'mere, baby," Lena murmurs, and Kara realizes that her fingers have stalled out again, the extra leather length of her belt looping goofily out of her pants where it's still tucked into her belt loops.

She lets her hands drop limply to her sides, then chews at her lower lip as she watches Lena slowly undo her belt, feeling each tug and yank as Lena nimbly loosens her belt like a teasing stroke against her clit. By the time Lena's fingering the button of her pants with one hand and sliding the zipper down with the other, Kara's already breathing hard, nostrils flaring as she tries to keep her hips from swaying forward into her hands.

Lena only smiles, red lips curling dangerously.

Kara shivers, suddenly noticing just how close her mouth is to her—

"What’re you thinking about, Kara?" Lena asks suddenly, and Kara snaps her eyes up to meet hers, blinking quickly.

"Nothing!"

Lena slides a warm palm up the inside of her thigh until her thumb is nudging lightly between Kara's legs.

"So, not thinking about fucking my mouth?" she asks, voice innocent. It's a direct contrast to the way she rubs her knuckle up against her and Kara almost doubles over.

"Jesus, Lena," she wheezes, and Lena laughs and pulls her hand away.

"I'll behave," Lena says, though they both know she won't. "Now hurry up and take your pants off so I can make you feel good."

Kara stops dallying. She undoes the button on her chinos, shoves them down, and steps out of them. She's about to push her underwear down too when Lena lets out an appreciative sound. She lifts Kara's button-up and has her hold it out of the way, hands finding their way back to her hips and smoothing over her dinosaur-print boxer briefs.

"These're cute," she murmurs. "Soft."

And then she leans forward and nuzzles indulgently at the front of them, hands squeezing at Kara's ass.

Kara's hips shudder reflexively and she bites back a groan, almost certain she can feel the way Lena's rubbing her smile against the front of her boxer briefs.

"H-hey," she doesn't stutter. "Baby…"

Lena simply hums, hands squeezing one last time before sliding up so her fingers can slip just below the band of her underwear. She moves dangerously from nuzzling to hot, open-mouthed kisses and Kara whines, hips pressing forward, blinking hard.

"Hhhey," she tries again, fist clenching around her shirt.

"Hi, hello, hey," Lena says sweetly, smiling up at her. And then she yanks her boxer briefs down and dips in to take her into her mouth, tongue hot and slick against Kara's twitching clit.

"Fuck," Kara gasps, free hand twisting into Lena's soft hair. "Oh fuck."

Lena slides her hands up to cup the back of Kara's thighs and keep her close.

"You’re so hard for me," she mumbles before she goes right back to sucking at her, and Kara feels her soul trying to escape.

She lets her indulge for as long as she can handle it, but the moment the ball of heat in her belly goes from gooey and pliable to a stiff, tensing thing, she has to pull away from Lena's mouth, hips shuddering.

"Sorry," she says, sifting her fingers through the hair at Lena's temple as she tries to ignore the throbbing between her legs. "Sorry, I'm sensitive. Close."

Lena looks up at her with eyes swallowed by pupil, lips and chin and cheeks smeared with wetness. She licks her lips with a pleased noise.

"You wanna come?" she asks, and the sound of her voice, scratchy with want, sends heat dancing up Kara's spine. She barely stifles a needy whine.

"Yeah," she manages. "Yeah, I really wanna. But not like this."

Lena's pretty gray-green eyes flick up to meet hers again and she nods, backing off. She reaches for the harness and passes it to her before leaning back on her hands to watch her step out of the boxers bunched at her ankles and into the harness, eyes flashing appreciatively as she tightens the straps.

The base nudges against her ever so slightly, but more than anything, the solid weight of her cock bobbing between her legs feeling comfortable and sexy and right has Kara swallowing hard.

"All good?" Lena asks, reaching out and gently running a finger along her length.

Kara bites her lip, not quite managing to muffle her moan when she feels that light touch, a shock of pleasure sparking through her. Her hips sway forward, instinctively chasing it, but it’s almost too good fucking into the air like that and she has to suck in a sharp breath and straighten up again.

After another deep bracing breath, Kara nods and crawls onto the bed. She immediately attempts to push Lena down and straddle her, but Lena gently stops her with a hand to her shoulder.

She smiles, red lips curving up.

"I'm on top," she says, voice low as she urges Kara down instead. "I'm riding, remember?"

Kara flops back against the pillows and remembers all right.

Lena straddles her easily, doesn't give her time to breathe, or think, just wraps her fingers around her cock and guides it until the tip of it is sliding between her legs to nudge at her clit.

"Fuck," Lena breathes, and Kara nods in agreement, trying not to buck.

And then Lena drags it back, fits the head to her entrance, and slowly drops onto her.

The first few inches sink in and Kara nearly breaks from the sound of Lena's breath catching high and fluttery in her throat. She forcibly tears her eyes away from the way Lena's thighs are trembling—the way her quads are subtly tensing and relaxing against red fabric as she works to take her—and stares instead at the way her lower lip glistens as she gasps, at the way her pretty eyes go glassy as she pants and slides her hands up under Kara's shirt to brace against her abs.

"Take your time, baby," Kara mumbles. "As slow as you n—"

Lena abruptly rolls her hips down, taking Kara’s entire cock and her breath away with it. She's hot, silken, wanting, and Kara doesn't know if she's ever been more in love.

Lena whimpers, fingers spasming against Kara's abs. She rolls her hips again, slow and shuddery, clit peeking out red and already swollen and begging to be touched.

Kara muffles a groan, ignoring the tension building in her stomach to settle her thumb over it and rub.

Lena jerks with a hitching gasp, pressing down harder into her lap, and Kara almost laughs at her eagerness. She slides her other hand up over the near-sheer fabric of Lena’s stockings, thumbing encouragingly at her inner thigh.

“Good?” she asks, knowing full well what the answer is and wanting to hear it anyway.

Lena whines, flushed all down her chest, which draws Kara’s attention to how adorably hard her nipples are. She lets her gaze linger, admiring the simple beauty of the silver ball bearings nestled to either side of stiff dusky nipples.

“It’s good,” Lena chokes out, thighs flexing as she lifts up and slides back down with a sound so wet it makes Kara’s ears hot. It’s all she can do to keep her thumb working over her clit. “You feel so fucking good like this.”

And then she starts to ride, thigh-highs red as sin and clinging to her soft thighs as she bounces on Kara’s lap, fingers splayed on her stomach for balance as she arches her back and drops her hips harder and harder with every stroke, breath escaping in tiny mewling gasps. She only sounds like that when she’s close, when she feels so good the noises slip right out of her.

Kara groans, the sound of Lena enjoying herself heightening the pleasure she feels.

“Oh god,” she grunts, eyelids fluttering shut when Lena drops and swivels her hips in a figure-eight that almost makes her lose control.

Blunt nails suddenly dig into the skin of her stomach and Lena lets out a disapproving noise, slowing down. “Open your eyes,” she says, voice low but demanding.

Kara forces her eyes open.

“Watch me,” Lena says. “Watch how I take you.”

"Fuck,” Kara whispers, goosebumps rushing to cover her arms.

Lena’s lips curl up dangerously and she picks up the pace again. She doesn’t give Kara a chance to rest, to pull herself together, to back up from the edge she’s so close to tumbling over. Just settles right back into a steady groove.

So Kara watches—dangerously close to coming—as Lena circles her hips in more figure-eights, as she pulls up and leaves a slick, wet trail on her cock before pushing down, cunt lewdly spreading to accommodate her girth.

It's dizzying, mind-melting, to hear and feel and watch Lena fucking herself.

"You're so— you're so pretty, baby," Kara says hoarsely.

Lena drops into her lap with a whine and this time it's too much and too good. The pressure between her legs finally tips over the edge of manageable.

"Fuck," Kara grits out behind clenched teeth, vision blurring, hot pleasure beginning to spill from the full reservoir in her belly. "Gonna come."

Lena moans, clit twitching against Kara's thumb, which has somehow, magically, more-or-less stayed put this whole time.

"Want you to come," she gasps, rocking in Kara's lap now, keeping her fully inside as she eagerly presses her clit to Kara's thumb. "Feels so good, want you to come."

She's so sweet, so perfect as she grinds down. Kara barely manages to nod before she spasms, body shuddering, back arching so hard she lifts Lena up a few inches as she bucks.

The way she drives her hips up to chase that blissful pressure seems to be enough for Lena, too. She lets out a breathy whimper and comes shortly after Kara does, clenching so tight around her cock that she doesn't budge from her lap even as Kara's hips jerk up.

It's euphoric—addicting—and it takes several shaky moments for Kara to regain all her senses, though she keeps slowly and mindlessly fucking into her just to prolong their pleasure.

Lena's arms give out and she collapses onto Kara with a small moan, languidly rolling her hips down as the change in angle shifts the way Kara rests inside her.

"God," Lena rasps where she's tucking her sweaty face to Kara's neck. "Oh my god."

Kara manages to let out a concurring sound, stroking her fingers up and down Lena's sides and enjoying the feeling of her soft warmth permeating her shirt. Her button-up and bra will have to come off eventually, but for now she just wants to lie here, floppy and weak post-orgasm, with her beautiful girlfriend breathing hard on top of her.

"You really like me in these, huh?" Lena pants.

"Sure do. Happy fucking Thursday to me," Kara mumbles, sliding one hand down to squeeze at Lena's ass.

"Mm, god, yeah," Lena says, bringing her own hand up to scratch gently at Kara's scalp.

They lay in contented silence for several minutes, long enough for Kara to start fading into a sated half-doze even with underwire digging into her skin, before she shakes off the sleepy and kisses Lena's head.

"I should shower," she says when Lena lets out a disgruntled noise to tell her she's moving too much.

Lena huffs a sigh but pushes herself upright as Kara sits up with her, causing her dick to shift inside of her again. Lena's breath catches and she bites at her lower lip.

Suddenly, separating for a shower sounds like a very not-good idea to Kara. In a maneuver that she's proud of herself for pulling off, Kara scoots towards the end of the bed with Lena on her lap and stands up. Lena squeaks, wrapping her legs around her waist as Kara smiles gleefully.

"What are you doing?" Lena asks breathlessly, eyes glittering.

"Like I said, need to shower," Kara says, heading off to the bathroom with her cock still buried inside Lena, already thinking about how nicely her moans will echo.

"Wanna see how good these thigh-highs will look on you when they’re wet, pretty baby."

—

Turns out the thigh-highs, like Lena, look absolutely delectable when wet.

—

It doesn't come as a surprise when Lena finally, officially moves into Kara's apartment with a whole drawer full of thigh-high socks.

#mouse writes a little jelly #supercorp #kara zor-el #lena luthor #full fic's here if you don't want to go to ao3 (understandable)#tags: teasing; strapping; praise kink; but like gently forceful recognition of the self; you get it;#some zettai ryouiki (the sliver of skin between thigh-high stockings and skirts) appreciation;#gender exploration; cock and dick mention if that jams your berries; but if you're a long-time reader you know how it is

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themeraldee · 1 day

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I feel like Homelander would be caught off guard by southern mannerisms in the way that nicknames and pet names are given out very easily. Like reader is a new stylist or something and Homelander doles out a rare compliment and she just beams. "Well aren't you just a sweet thing, thank you Hun"

"Well aren't you just a sweet thing, thank you hun."

Homelander is caught off guard by your earnest words, a genuine sparkling smile on your face while you spritz his hair with a bit of hairspray.

He's used to saying similar words condescendingly. So to have you say it so genuinely and with such honest politeness totally throws him off.

People who work for him are usually annoying, either spewing out fake pleasantries or they're jittery, all scared and walking on eggshells. Either way you're different.

In his eyes this gives you good motherly qualities he's very much drawn towards. The kind of southern hospitality and attitude that just makes him want to please you just so you praise him and tell him what a sweetheart he's being all over again.

It becomes a routine anytime he sits in the dressing chair. He stares at you through the mirror in front of him already giving you a beaming smile.

And there you go again.

"Well ain't you just a ray of sunshine today. What got you all happy?"

"Just having a good day." He shrugs, melting into your hands gliding through his hair, separating the strands to see what you're working with.

Or another day you hit him with a "Well, don’t you look like a million bucks today!"

And already he's puffing his chest out, squaring his shoulders so you see him in the best of lights. And does he purr under your care... You may just be touching up his hair a bit or styling it either softly or more professionally, depending on the event Vought brought you in to style him for. However, to him it's pure self-indulgent pampering as you softly run your fingers through his hair, giving him killer scalp massages. You always take care to make him comfortable and happy.

And you're not blind. He's being painfully obvious in his growing attraction towards you.

That's why you dare to stop him before he heads out to the stage. And you pull him in placing a soft kiss on his cheek, careful not to disturb the make-up he's had put on for the camera.

"Go get ‘em, sugar, I know you’ll do great."

And he's flustered. Looking away, the-tips-of-his-ears-red kind of flustered. It's an event like any other. Like he's done thousands of times yet now it feels like his entire life depends on it.

"You betcha." He gives you a salute and a little wink and with that he's off to, for once, give the next public appearance his all. Juuust in case you're watching.

#just a lil something someting for u #my boy has the fattest praise kink #so give him a few sweet words and he's eating out of your hands #homelander x reader #fic request #asks!

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pretentiouswreckingball · 6 months

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I want James to fucking buckle at the mere idea of Regulus riding him. I want James squirming under Regulus and Regulus soothing him, peppering gentle kisses all over his face, telling him he's being such a good boy to him, that he's doing so good, that he's fucking him so well while James cries and moans at the sight of this man on top of him, taking whatever he wants

#who wrote this???? not me #im being such a menace today im sorry but omg the Visions are plaguing me #i mean just imagine how hard the praise kink will hit James.#and i also want them to be husbands on this one because i like my fluff #anyway don't mind me *runs and hides*#i blame that one drarry fic for this brainrot

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cuubism · 9 months

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been wanting to write a sort of grey-ace character first time for a while now, so here it is with dream and hob from the silly cafe universe. tackling grey-asexuality can be a tricky prospect as it has the possibility of falling into a "you just haven't met the right person yet" asexual erasure stereotype, but uninformed black and white judgements will exist in the world anyway regardless of whether we explore shades of grey. so here it is anyway, grey-ace dream. [rated E]

Dream thought he would wait, be more patient, but it only took a few dates before he was following Hob home. Perhaps that already counted as waiting. He never knew what the timeline of these things was "supposed" to be.

But he knew he liked being with Hob. He liked when Hob held his hand, or hugged him. He discovered that Hob could easily tolerate his silent spells, often so annoying to others, by filling them with his own chatter. It was soothing to listen to him talk. He discovered that as easygoing as he usually seemed, Hob could be quite intense, too. On their third date, someone had hit on Dream rather aggressively at a bar—an unusual occurrence he'd had no idea how to react to—and Hob had told them not quite politely to shove off. This had made Dream feel all sorts of things.

Perhaps that was why he went home with Hob after their next date. He expected they would just fall into bed, wasn't that how these things usually went, at least in stories? But instead Hob cooked him dinner. And Dream learned that Hob was an excellent cook; truly, it seemed, his only weakness was coffee. Which called into question why he worked at a cafe of all places, but Dream wasn't about to complain when it was what had brought them together.

Hob fed him dinner, and a glass of very good wine, thus proving that his sommelier abilities were also up to par, and Dream might have been planning the rest of their lives in his mind. It was fine if Hob couldn’t make coffee, Dream could make the coffee, if only Hob would keep making dinner for him, and letting him stay in his cozy apartment, and holding his hand on top of the table.

He watched Hob’s hands as he poured more wine. Hob had very nice hands; Dream knew what they felt like, now, holding his, and cradling his jaw, and carding through his hair as they kissed. Hob’s shirt looked very soft, and clung appealingly to his shoulders. Dream found his gaze drawn to Hob’s forearms, where he’d rolled up his sleeves.

It was hard to focus on the conversation, but he managed. Afterwards they wound up on the couch, sitting just close enough to be touching, and Dream was not sure what he was supposed to do. He had figured Hob had brought them back to his home because he wanted to have sex. That was a common expectation, was it not? Dream was not very good at predicting these things. Perhaps he was meant to initiate?

This was often the point where his past attempts at dating had gone sideways. Trying to intuit what he was meant to do usually did not go well for Dream. Normally whatever he did was, somehow, wrong.

“Dream?”

Dream shook himself back to the present. Hob was looking at him, head tilted, a slanted smile on his face. “You looked like you were thinking about something very deeply,” Hob said, a question in it.

He had draped his arm across the back of the couch behind Dream’s shoulders, and started trailing his fingertips up and down the back of Dream’s neck. It made Dream’s skin prickle pleasantly. Perhaps… it didn’t matter what he was ‘meant’ to do? And only whether he wanted to do it?

He was not sure he had ever truly wanted to before. Not the way that he did with Hob.

He leaned into Hob’s side, into the circle of his hold, and kissed him.

Hob made a low sound of surprise, but kissed him back, wrapping his arm around Dream’s shoulders to pull him closer. As always, it was so lovely to kiss him. There was something comforting about it, which Dream had never felt when kissing before, and more than that, it sparked something in him. That feeling, it was new. When Hob kissed him, when Hob ran a hand through his hair, when Hob pulled him close with a hand around his waist—it made something in him go hot, something he hadn’t felt before. And... he wanted. Even if it was new, and unfamiliar.

He took a deep breath, and slid into Hob’s lap.

Hob took a sharp breath and braced him by the hips. Dream settled into his lap, resting his hands on Hob’s shoulders, a little shiver running through him. It was good, though, it felt good. He didn’t know exactly where it was going to go, but he wanted to find out.

“Well, hi, darling,” said Hob, a pleased smile growing on his face. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You are horrible,” Dream told him, and Hob’s smile only deepened.

“You like me, though,” he said, ducking his head almost bashfully, and Dream kissed him, right above one eyebrow, overcome with fondness for him.

“I do,” he said. So much. So much that he felt things that were unruly and strange—but he wanted to feel them.

He tipped Hob’s face back up, thumbs hooked under his jaw, and kissed him. Hob hummed happily, sinking into the kiss. He slipped his hands under Dream’s shirt, fingertips pressing into his bare back, and Dream shuddered.

“Did you want to move things into the bedroom?” Hob murmured, lips brushing Dream’s. “Is that what that meant?”

Dream nodded, breathless, and then Hob was wrapping his arms around his thighs and picking him up. Dream squeaked as Hob stood up, holding on tight to the back of Hob’s neck, and Hob grinned at him. “You seemed to like it when I caught you.”

Dream had. Dream very much had. And he liked it now, Hob’s strong arms under his thighs, and how tightly they were pressed together. He felt all warm inside, like his body might set itself on fire in a flurry of a thousand sparks, and it was… scary. He hadn’t felt that way before, but he didn’t want it to stop. He wanted more.

“I did. I. Had wondered before if you would be able to pick me up,” he admitted, blushing, and Hob’s smile turned mischievous.

“Oh, yeah? I can do a lot more than that, love.”

“Like what?”

So Hob carried him into the bedroom. It didn’t seem very difficult for him, which made Dream’s stomach flip. When they reached his room, Hob tossed him on the bed. Dream landed with a gasp in the pillows.

“Like that,” Hob said, grinning. He tugged Dream’s shoes and socks off, and then his own, and Dream made grabby hands at him. Hob crawled up the bed after him, settling between his legs. His weight over Dream made him shiver pleasantly. He ran his hands up and down Hob’s arms, over his shirt, surprised by how much he truly wanted to touch him. And to have Hob touch him.

Hob kissed him deeply, then gazed down at him, his gaze heavy. Dream swallowed, throat dry. Hob stroked Dream’s hair. “You’re so pretty, you know.”

“Thank you,” said Dream, and Hob laughed. He kissed the corner of Dream’s mouth, then his cheek, little pecking kisses. He played with the hem of Dream’s shirt.

“Can I take your shirt off?”

Dream nodded, breathless, and Hob sat up enough that he could pull Dream’s shirt up and off over his head. He trailed his hands down Dream’s chest, over his stomach. Dream followed his touch, everything else fading to the background. He wished Hob would touch him all over. What a strange, scary, delightful feeling.

He tugged on Hob’s shirt, and Hob let him pull it off over his head. His chest was broad, and far hairier than Dream’s, and Dream stared, then laid his hands on Hob’s body, mesmerized.

“This is very flattering,” Hob said, humor in his voice, as Dream kept touching him. “What do you want, darling? Because I’d love to get my mouth on you.”

Dream’s attention was suddenly wrenched away from his examination of Hob’s chest by the fact that he was painfully hard. That Hob’s voice and words alone could do that—he hadn’t thought it was possible.

“Okay,” he said, voice tight.

Hob unbuttoned his jeans, and Dream lifted his hips so he could pull them off. Dream felt very exposed then, but Hob’s gaze on him was kind, and hot, as he looked Dream up and down. Dream reached for the waistband of Hob’s jeans—it suddenly felt very important that Hob be naked, too, if Dream was going to be. “Can you—?”

“Of course.” Hob slipped out of his own jeans, then sat before Dream on the bed again, only in his boxers, their legs brushing. Dream studied him, the strength of his thighs, of his hands, the weight of his arousal in his underwear. He had never gone this far with someone, wanted to go this far. He felt like he might combust. This was all so new, but he trusted Hob. He wanted to see where it would go.

Hob ran his hands up Dream’s legs, from his ankles, over his knees, up his thighs, thumbs brushing the crease where his thigh met his hip, and Dream shuddered, feeling heavy and warm and so very aware of everything around him. Hob was like a beacon, everything about him drew Dream’s eye, his presence so strong that everything in Dream wanted to go to him. Touch him, kiss him, lean on him, have Hob touch him. It was an overwhelming fire within him, consuming all sense.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hob said, voice a low rumble that Dream felt in his belly. “Tell me what you like, sweetheart?”

“I—” Dream didn’t know. He had rarely wanted any of it enough to consider it. He knew that he wanted Hob to touch him, but not much more detail than that.

“Wait, have you ever…?” Hob asked, suddenly unsure of himself, pulling his hands back. Dream did not want him to take his hands back, and briefly considered lying, saying, of course, of course I have, who hasn’t? But he didn’t want to lie to Hob. He shook his head.

“Shit.” Guilt settled on Hob’s features. He had nothing to feel bad for, nothing, Dream thought. “I didn’t mean to assume.”

“It is alright.” Dream huffed a laugh, but there was little humor in it. “It is a reasonable assumption, at our age, is it not?”

“Still. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

His mouth twisted in disappointment, and Dream took his hands, placed them back on his own legs. “You didn’t. I want to. If you’ll forgive my inexperience.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Dream.” Hob stroked his thumbs lightly over Dream’s legs, more a soothing motion now. “Nothing. You want to?”

“I do,” Dream said, still a bit shaken by the realization. “I never have because… I never wanted anybody. Not the way that I want you.”

“Oh.” Hob’s lips tipped back up into a half-smile. “Never fell for anybody else, then?”

“Mean,” Dream grumbled, and Hob laughed.

“That’s okay.” He seemed to be coming around to the situation now; he leaned forward again so he was almost in Dream’s lap, and murmured against his cheek, “Just means I get to make sure your first time is just as good as you deserve.”

“You are very sure of yourself,” Dream said, but curled his fingers around Hob’s hips, holding him close.

“I know what I’m good at,” Hob said.

“In that case I should probably inform you that you are terrible at making coffee,” Dream said, and Hob laughed, the sound loud so close to Dream’s ear. It made him smile.

“Wow,” Hob said. “I know, okay? I’m not usually in charge of it. Normally I just bake.”

Dream pulled back just far enough to see his face. “You… are not?”

Hob gave him a bashful smile. “Just wanted the chance to see you. Would have missed you if I was working in back.”

Dream stared at him, astonished—and touched, too. “I demand recompense for all the horrific coffee you forced me to consume.”

“It can be arranged,” Hob said. And kissed Dream again, his lips soft but sure. Knowing that Hob had been specifically engineering things to be able to see him, just as Dream had— it only made him like Hob more.

“Will you touch me?” he asked, and Hob groaned.

“Think I might die if I don’t.”

He eased Dream back to lie down against the pillows, then pulled off his underwear. Dream was breathing hard again now, lying naked under Hob’s hungry gaze. He hoped he wouldn’t faint, but it felt like a distinct possibility. At least Hob had proven that he wasn’t bothered by that, once before.

“I still want to get my mouth on you,” Hob murmured. “Is that okay?”

“Please.” Dream liked Hob’s mouth. He wanted Hob’s mouth on him. Had he ever felt that way before? He didn’t think so. But he imagined Hob taking him in his mouth and he wanted.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Hob said. “Since you walked into the cafe that first time, can you believe it? Sorry. Hope that doesn’t creep you out.”

The thought of Hob imagining this while talking to him over the counter only made Dream feel hotter inside. “I like when you think about me.”

“And I like thinking about you.” He kissed the tip of Dream’s cock, and Dream gasped. “And being with you even more.”

He took Dream in his mouth then, and Dream lost all ability to respond to him. Hob’s mouth was so much. All-encompassing wet heat, the flat pressure of his tongue, and then Hob bobbed his head and took him deeper and Dream moaned, startling himself with the sound. He flailed, and found Hob’s hair, holding onto it for balance, and Hob hummed his approval.

Hob felt so good. Dream did not know how he was supposed to survive it. Perhaps Hob wouldn’t mind if he didn’t. Perhaps he’d take it as a compliment. Dream felt much like how he had right before he’d fainted on Hob at the cafe, a rush of pleasant lightness at the thought that Hob was paying attention to him and wanting him, but he didn’t faint this time. He just fell into the pleasure of Hob’s touch.

He lost himself for a while, to Hob’s tongue, the pressure of his lips, his skillful pacing that kept Dream struggling to find where the edge was. He felt he was supposed to be participating more actively but he could not gather himself together enough to do more than play with Hob’s hair, to touch his jaw and throat and slick lips as if in a dream. He felt out of control, and Dream normally hated feeling out of control, but Hob felt so good that it was worth it.

“Hob,” he cried, as Hob dragged his tongue over him in a way he’d clearly learned would get a particular reaction. Dream’s hips twitched up, thrust automatically into Hob’s waiting mouth, and he rushed to apologize—but Hob moaned. The rumble of his voice was too much for Dream, who already felt held on a razor’s edge of control. The weight that had been building and building in his belly and thighs snapped in a rush and he came in Hob’s mouth, cock bumping the back of his throat. Flushed and overheated, he tugged on his own hair. It cut through the bright overwhelm of being touched.

Breathing hard, he looked down at Hob, who pulled off him slowly, and then swallowed. Dream swallowed, too, a shaky echo of the motion, and pet Hob’s hair, twining the long strands between his fingers.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I did not warn you.”

Hob slanted a smile at him. “It’s okay. I knew what I was getting into giving a blowjob to someone who’d never done it before. Besides—” he kissed the crook of Dream’s hip, tongue darting out to wet the skin “—I wanted to taste you.”

Hob was too much for him. He made Dream feel so overwhelmed, but in a good way, such a good way. Hob crawled up Dream’s body to kiss him, arms bracketing Dream’s head, and Dream let the heat of Hob's mouth, and the pleasant wake of orgasm wash over him.

"Good?" Hob murmured, and Dream nodded. Good, yes, so good. He pulled Hob closer so all of Hob’s body was pressed to his, Hob’s weight over him. There was so much skin like this, so much heat, Hob’s hair brushing his stomach and the strong planes of his back under Dream’s hands. Hob groaned as his erection ground into the crook of Dream’s hip, and Dream needed, suddenly needed to see him come, too. He wanted to see Hob fall apart. He wanted to be the one who made it happen.

He tugged on Hob’s boxers, and Hob budged up enough that together they were able to get them off. Then Dream pulled him back in, wrapped a leg around the back of Hob’s thigh, chasing skin touch. Hob kissed his throat, grinding his cock against Dream’s sharp hipbone, the flat muscles of his belly. An image flashed through Dream’s mind of Hob moving like that but in him and he was startled by how fiercely he wanted it.

It was joyful, too, to hold Hob close to him and feel his pleasure. Hob did not have to be inside him for Dream to feel that he had never been so close to another person before. It was fascinating and beautiful, the mess of Hob’s lips on his skin, the glide of precome, the moving warmth of Hob’s body.

He reached between them and took Hob in hand. Hob stuttered at the touch, then groaned. “Fuck, your hands.”

“Have you been thinking about them?” Dream asked. A thrill ran through him as Hob nodded. Dream would not have expected himself to want to, to be able to try to stoke Hob’s pleasure through words, this was all so new, but— “Did you imagine me touching you like this?” He twisted his grip around Hob, and Hob shuddered. “My hand wrapped around your cock?”

It did not feel awkward as Dream would have expected. Unlike with the stressful repartee of public conversation, he only had to focus on Hob’s reactions, and how he could use his words to turn Hob’s imagination, like he did with his stories. Hob was not even looking at him as he spoke, but he was focusing on him, Dream could tell.

He let Hob thrust into his hand, encouraging him on with his leg still wrapped around the back of his thigh, dragged his other hand through Hob’s hair, and murmured, “Did you know that I rarely fantasize about anyone, but once I met you I could not stop thinking about you touching me?”

“Dream.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he praised—Hob was, he was beautiful to Dream, he was an explanation of something Dream had always wanted to understand—and Hob whined. Dream caressed the back of his neck, down his spine. “I want to see you come.”

And Hob did, gasping against Dream’s throat and spilling into his hand. It thrilled Dream more than his own pleasure, to feel Hob come for him. Hob’s desire for him, and how he responded to Dream’s voice.

“Fuck, Dream.” Hob’s weight was heavy on him now, his breath hot against Dream’s throat. “I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“Nor I,” Dream admitted, and Hob chuckled.

“You’ll be a monster now that you’ve got started,” he said. They lay there like that for a few heartbeats, catching their breath, Dream running his fingers through Hob's hair. Then Hob pushed himself up on his elbows to look at him, hair falling into his eyes, a fond look on his face. “So. First time. Did you enjoy yourself?”

It was harder to speak again with Hob looking directly at him, but Hob’s look on him was kind, so Dream persisted. “I did,” he said, and Hob’s smile deepened, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “And it is not so often that I enjoy something that is new to me.”

Hob kissed him lightly on the lips. “I'm so glad, love. That's what I wanted for you.”

He pet Dream’s hair. The touch felt so nice. “I…” Dream started, because he did have something more he wanted to say to Hob, hard though it sometimes was to speak. Hob looked at him expectantly, waiting. “I did not know what it meant to want this— or to want someone until I wanted you,” Dream admitted. “And… it was not something that I needed. But now that I have it, I do want it, and I want to explore more. With you.”

Hob’s smile softened. "Seeing you enjoy yourself was better than I could have hoped for. Happiness is so gorgeous on you. So don't hesitate to tell me what you're thinking of." He kissed Dream’s cheek, and by the corner of his eye. “There’s a lot I want to explore with you."

There was a low burn of heat in his words, and Dream’s body prickled in expectation. So strange, the way that he responded to Hob, without intention or control, and it was so much stronger now that he knew what Hob’s hands, and mouth, on him felt like. There was so much to discover. He thought of what he had imagined, Hob moving within him, but didn't speak that desire yet. He did not think he was yet ready to bring that from imagination to reality. But someday.

Hob fetched a damp towel to clean them up, then pulled Dream close to him again. It was very warm, like that, their legs tangled, Dream’s head pillowed on Hob’s arm. He had never lain in bed naked with another person before. He found that he liked it. At least with Hob.

“Thank you,” he said, lips pressed to Hob’s shoulder.

“Hm?”

“I do not… often know what I am doing, in these situations,” Dream said. “But I never feel like I am doing it wrong, when I am with you.”

Hob kissed the top of his head. “You’re not doing it wrong,” he said. “You’re perfect.”

“That is objectively untrue, but thank you.”

Hob laughed, and held him close, arms wrapped around him. Dream felt encompassed, grounded. It was a good feeling. Hob was a good feeling. One that Dream certainly intended to hold onto.

He tucked his head in against Hob’s chest, and, smiling, let the dreams he had been spinning at dinner, of Hob cooking for him, of staying, fill his mind again. Only now, there were a few other things included in those dreams, too.

#hob's trying to be normal about it so it doesnt have to feel like a huge deal for dream #but inside i think he's 5 trillion exclamation points in a row. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! about it all #meanwhile dream accidentally discovered hob's praise kink and now is like New Toy! New Toy! New Toy!#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #last fic of the year baby #i've obsessed over this for long enough i must release it

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megamindsecretlair · 3 months

Text

Stitch me where my heart bleeds

Pairing: Choso x Black!Fem!Black!reader/plus size reader

Warnings: 18+ only, MINORS DNI, you are in charge of your own reading experience. Just smut. No thoughts. I get to zooting and the thots write themselves. PIV, fingering (female receiving), hand job (male receiving), cursing, praise kink, slight possession kink, reader is obsessed with her man, needy choso

Summary: It's too damn hot outside. But not hot enough to get loved on by Choso.

Word count: 2,021k

A/N: I was too lazy to get my ass up and type this on a computer. So I take full responsibility for this one. I'm just feral and need my baby 😭

Taglist: @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00 @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @westside-rot

Like, just imagine that it's a hot summer night right. The type of heat where the fan blows hot air and you lay across your bed with no shirt or bra on. Even your panties were too hot to have on.

But you can't resist laying as close as possible to Choso. His warm chest is against your back. You felt his breath even out as every inch of him molded against every inch of you.

Your poor baby's love language is physical touch. He craved it. And you wouldn't deny him a thing. You played with his hair or scratched his shoulder, reassuring him with small gestures that he's the love of your life.

But like, also imagine that he's in a needy mood. Pushing his hips against yours. Rubbing his fat dick into your ass as he grinds against you. Practically fucking you already.

His large hands grip your hip. His breath tickles your neck. He nuzzles his nose against your skin, smelling your intoxicating eucalyptus and spearmint lotion.

"Choso," you whisper into the quiet night. There was only the whir of the fan above and his breaths against your skin. You moved your arm back so that you could run your fingers through his long, silky hair. You dislodged his careful bun, letting his inky hair spill out over you and the bed.

Choso moaned in your ear and kissed your neck. "Need you," he murmured. His voice was its own aphrodisiac. The rumbling sounds reverberated against your back and sent shivers through your veins.

You moved your hand from his hair to his body and then to his dick. He twitched in your hand and gasped sharply, ending it with a slight moan.

He ran his fingers up and down your side, from the swell of your breasts, past your hip, skating over your thigh and almost touching your knee. Then, he would begin the torture in reverse, trailing a lazy line back to the underside of your breasts, stopping to flick at your hardened nipple.

You moaned and gripped him harder, massaging the base of his dick just the way he liked. He hissed and then released a ragged moan that made you gush.

"You make me so wet, baby," you cooed to Choso.

"Let me feel it," he groaned in your ear. He moved his hand to the apex of your thighs. His fingers played with your wet curls before nudging your pussy lips open and fingering your clit.

He sighed as he made contact and you clenched around nothing, filling up with so much wanton need.

"You're such a good girl, getting so wet so fast for me. That must be a new record, huh?" He asked.

You cried out, body shaking viciously. You spat on your hand and then returned it to Choso's thick dick. He groaned and ground into your hand. Your fingers grazed his balls and he growled in your ear. You huffed a giggle and then returned to stroking his shaft.

"Good girls behave," he said.

"Fuck, yes, Choso. I'll be good, I swear," you moaned.

Choso used his middle finger to circle your clit in tight circles, applying pressure and it made you see stars. You were close to cumming. So close to that sweet relief.

"You promise to be good?" He asked.

You nodded. His shifted his position, bringing his other arm around your neck. He used his thumb to trace your lips.

"I can't hear you," he said and grunted as you played with his tip. Beads of precum gathered, enough for you to fully lubricate the head. Your flicked your thumb against the tip and he moaned.

You sucked his thumb into your mouth. "Yes, I promise to be good," you managed to say.

"Yeah? Be good for me and cum on my fingers?" He asked.

He slipped his fingers from your clit to your pussy, plunging two fingers inside of you.

"Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes!" Your body exploded on his fingers. Your essence soaked his fingers, down to the knuckle. Sweat beaded against your skin, sticking you to him molecule by molecule.

He pumped his fingers into you, moving his hips in much the same rhythm. It was difficult to concentrate on getting him off by your hand when your world was falling apart.

Atoms burst apart in your vision, breaking the known universe down piece by tiny piece. Your body twitched and jolted. You flopped, back bowing, as the powerful orgasm ripped through you.

As it's cruelly delicious grip on you lessened, you fell back onto the bed with a heavy pant, trying to suck in all the oxygen that leaked from your brain.

You twitched with aftershocks, and Choso pressed kisses to your warm brown cheeks. "So good. So well. You did so great, baby. I'm so proud of you," he said in between kisses.

His kisses grew louder in nature, wet smacks filling the room. The whir of the fan did shit all to cool you down, but it was almost enough to get the air moving.

Your brain short circuited as he heaped you with praises. Telling you how proud he was, how he had so much faith in you. "You did so well, baby. You deserve another one," he said, pressing a soft kiss behind your ear. Your skin tingled there and you half sighed, half laughed.

Choso removed his fingers from your dripping pussy and brought it to his lips. He took his time sucking on his fingers, moaning at your taste. Whatever he couldn't get to, he circled around your nipples.

You twisted your thick thighs together, needing friction and relief. You felt bad but you gave up trying to get him off. You'll pay him back later. You'll suck the curse out of his damn body if it meant that he'd let you cum again right this second.

"You're so good to me, baby," you moaned.

You licked his thumb, resting on your lips. He nibbled on your ear as he nudged your legs apart.

"You ready for this dick?" He asked.

He moved your panties aside and slipped his dick through your wet folds, a soft smacking sound reaching your ears.

You gasped at the heavenly sensation. It felt good but it wasn't enough, ultimately. You needed more. You needed him to get as close as possible. You needed to stitch your hearts together and forever live in the comfort of his body.

"Yes, baby. Yes, please. Please fuck me, please. I'm so needy," you begged and pleaded.

A deep ache settled right down to your bones. You clutched and gripped at the dark sheets beneath you, nails pawing at the linen.

"I love it when you beg," he groaned. He lined himself up to your entrance, slipping easily inside of you. You gasped at the thickness of him. The size of him.

"Fuck, pleaaaase," you cried. Fuck if you knew what you were begging for now. For him to speed up? For him to slow down? You'd be lucky if you knew your own name should someone ask right now.

All you knew was that he felt so fucking good. He tightened his arm around your throat, placing enough pressure on your throat to take notice, but leaving you enough room to breathe comfortably. He had amazing self control and balance.

He slipped further inside, shoving into your warm, wet walls. He groaned with every inch gained, every centimeter further inside. "So fuckin' good. Ugv, taking me too well."

His large hand encircled your breast, squeezing, as he moved inside of you. If you squinted hard enough, he was kissing the edge of your cervix and you came on the spot.

"Oh, FUCK!" You yelled. God, this hurt. This was glorious. You couldn't breathe. Who the hell needed oxygen? You were ripped apart by each wave of pleasure that coursed through you.

"Made f'me," he groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. His hair spilled over your chest, tickling your breasts. Your breaths came out in choppy waves. Your nails dug half moon marks into his thigh, lightly dusted with hair.

"C-Ch-Choso," you sobbed on his dick.

Whether it was your cry or the way you gripped his dick, either could be the cause for Choso whimpering his way to an orgasm, spilling hot cum into you.

You matched him with moans and curses. And whatever other kind of sounds you didn't know you could make.

His hips slapped roughly against your ass. "Fuuuuck," he groaned.

You gripped him tighter, clenching with all your might as if you could trap him there. Trap him in that singular moment where you were as close as you could be to him. Sometimes it downright hurt your heart that you couldn't get closer.

Choso came down from his high, stilling against your body as he huffed and panted. He once more gave you gentle kisses to your temple and cheeks. He kissed the corner of your mouth.

"You did so well, baby. Thank you. Thank you for being my good girl."

Your brain went fuzzy around the edges. You melted against him, no longer in your body but in some other ethereal place. You should've never told him about your praise kink. Now he used it whenever possible to torture your mind as often as he tortured your body.

"Thank you, baby," you told him.

Choso slipped out slowly, like he was trying to imprint this sensation or moment on his dick and relive it again. He sighed when he finally popped free.

A rush of cum leaked out behind him and you groaned, top teeth sinking into your bottom lip. "Fuck," you whispered.

Choso stood up from the bed and then roughly opened your legs so that he could watch his cum leak out of you. He encouraged you to push as much out as you could. He liked seeing your pussy clench over and over as you tried to work him out of you.

You felt light-headed and free. Like you were soaring through a field of clouds. When nothing else leaked out, Choso stood up and went to the bathroom.

He came back into the room and gently wiped your skin down with a cool cloth. You moaned for the hit of relief you got from that small act.

He wiped between your legs, taking time to thoroughly clean you up. He rubbed the rough cloth against your pussy, giving you an extra sensory that made you bite the sheets. A thread of drool connected you to the bed.

"You did so well baby. I think we can do one more," he moaned.

"I can't, baby. Ouuee, baby don't make me."

He increased pressure of the cloth against your clit, rubbing circles and started a fire low in your belly. Your clit throbbed under his careful ministrations.

"I can't make you do something you already want to do. You want to give me one more," he said. It wasn't a question. He was telling you. Was telling you that he knew your body better than you did.

Your knees jerked as that realization hit you like a truck. And fuck if he wasn't right.

Delicious pain twisted your lower belly, desire pooling in between your thighs. You were on fire. So fucking hot that your lips burned.

"Cum for me, baby. Be good for me," he said.

On command, your orgasm ripped out of you. You cried and chanted his name.

"That's right, tell me who owns this pussy. Who owns this good pussy?" He asked.

You struggled to tell him that he does. That you were his good girl and he owned you body and soul. You couldn't communicate any of that. 100% of your focus was to survive your climax and breathe. Two very important things.

Choso wiped away your lingering essence. He retreated to the bathroom before joining you back in bed.

Without words, you seamlessly matched your heartbeat with his. You grew drowsy, yawning every few moments. Your leg twitched once as you drifted off into blissful, fucked out, sleep.

The end!

Sorry for any mistakes, I typed this on my phone.

The Secret Choso Files

101 notes · View notes

narrycherries · 2 years

Text

✰ baby honey ✰ #1 (dom!harry)

Harry’s favorite thing to do is to take care of you and give you as many orgasms as you can take, even if you’re being a brat.. dom!Harry concepts

a/n: this pairing does not have a set/strict plot, but there will be many different situations/writings for them! Lots of smut! ;) some may carry over multiple parts!

masterlist / part 2 — join the tag list!

word count: 5.3k

warnings/tags: dom!harry, daddy kink, praise kink, soft-sub reader, oral f receiving, Harry x reader, smut, mature situations, punishment, mean!dom, some fluff :) pet names

Your mind was dizzy as you slowly walked down the grand staircase while sliding your hand down the cool railing. Soft hums were coming from your throat, and your stomach was filled with butterflies. Carefully, you stepped your sock clad feet on the hardwood floor and turned to go in the direction of the office. There wasn’t a worry in your mind or a slight bit of fear in your chest as you made your way to the big wooden door.

You run your fingertips over the cold knob before turning it and pushing the heavy door open. The room that was just filled with mixed voices becomes silent. Your eyes were cloudy, but they immediately focused on the thing you were looking for. A smile spread over your pink lips as you locked your sight on his pretty emerald eyes. Harry was so beautiful, so perfect.

He sighed heavily as he gave you a hard stare. It made your stomach churn, but you ignored it. You wanted him - needed to feel his touch and hear his voice. Before you could even get two feet inside the room, he was standing from the big wood desk and walking towards you. He wasn’t paying the three men sitting in the chairs any mind, you were his main focus. Per usual.

His big, heavy hands landed on your waist and he guided you out of the room and away from the door. He moved you against the wall and immediately grabbed your chin.

“What have I told you about interrupting my meetings?” His voice was low and deep.

“I-“

“Shut up.” He snapped, his grip on your chin got tighter. “You’re acting bad. You know I don’t like it when you’re bad.”

“I need you.” You whined softly, hands fisting into his white button down.

“You’re gonna wrinkle my fuckin’ shirt.” He said through gritted teeth as he ripped your hands away.

“No, please! Just wanna touch you!” Tears were building in your eyes as you saw the anger come over his face.

“You were told to stay in the bedroom. You’ve disobeyed me.” Harry put his hand on your throat, but he didn’t squeeze you. He was gentle, for now. “You’re being a bad kitten.. and bad kittens get punished.”

You began to shake your head from side to side, tears streaming down your face. You coiled your hand around his wrist and dug your nails deep in his skin. Upsetting him was always your biggest fear. It was your intention to always be good for him, always be on your best behavior. Despite not doing anything wrong, you feel horrible.

“You’re gonna get my hand on your ass, and my cock’s gonna destroy that little hole of yours, missy.” He was harsh and cold, and that made things worse for you. “Not gonna let you cum. Gonna make those spanks hurt and you cry those pretty eyes out. I’ll make sure you remember the rules.”

“Not tryna be a b-bad kitten!” You cried out, eyes burning holes through his. “I need you, Daddy, need to touch you, please.”

As soon as he heard the word come out of your mouth he softened completely. His hand slid to the small of your back and the other gently covered your warm cheek. His thumb messed with the corner of your mouth as you spoke in broken sobs.

“M’not.. not a bad girl.. promise I.. I just needed.. needed something.. Da-daddy.. I.. I can’t stop it.. y’know I can’t..”

He felt terrible for treating you so bad, his heart was aching as he watched all the tears fall. “Hey, shh. Kitten, calm down.”

Despite his efforts, you were still breaking down. Worry filled your mind as you thought about all the consequences. You were so afraid that you were doing something wrong, that you had upset him. It was making you feel nauseous and like you were running out of air.

“Feel so-so little, Daddy.. wanna be.. be safe with you.. s’all.. just wanna see you..”

He shushed you again, and this time let his thumb cover your lips to stop you from rambling. “Relax for me, angel baby.”

You nodded softly and carefully placed your hands on his torso. His defined muscles felt comforting, even through the fabric of his shirt. You didn’t care about wrinkling it, so you closed your hands into fists again - holding as tight as you could.

“Now.. shhh..” he softly pecked your forehead before leaning back to look into your puffy eyes. “Tell Daddy what you need.. so I can help my girl.”

Your lips quivered as you tried to say something, but no words were coming out. He noticed the struggle and the pout on your lips. His hand moved down to your hip and he tilted your head further back to get a good look at you.

“Tell me, kitten, tell Daddy what’s got you all soft.” He made sure to give you a gentle smile. He knew you appreciated it when he was kind and caring, especially during these times. “Why’s my girl feeling little?”

Answering him was your intention, but you said the wrong words. You replied with what was on your mind, what was worrying you so much.

“I’m a bad girl.. I.. I didn’t listen to Daddy.. m’a bad kitty.”

“Tsk tsk, stop it, darling.” He gave you a stern lift of his brows. “You’re not a bad girl. Daddy isn’t mad, sugar plum.”

“But you said.. said I was being bad.” You sucked in your bottom lip as you looked at him through your lashes. Your eyes were hardly opened, the crying wore you out.

“That was before I knew you were feeling little, my angel.” He swiped your hair away from your face and held onto the back of your neck. “You’re Daddy’s good girl.. such a sweet kitten.”

“M’sorry I.. came in the office.” The words you whispered were barely audible.

He sighed and moved his hand down to your waist. “Daddy’s the one who should be saying sorry. I saw how happy you were to see me, kitten, how big your pretty lips smiled.. and I was so mean to you, wasn’t I? Didn’t give my girl any loves.. that’s all my baby wanted, yeah? Wanted Daddy’s attention for a minute.”

You nod lightly, arms snaking around him. He pulled you into his chest and you gladly hid your face in his shirt. He petted the back of your head, running his fingers through your long hair. His comforting words made you feel relieved and relaxed. He wasn’t mad at you anymore, and he just misunderstood the situation. Being in his arms made you feel safe and secure.

“Do y’wanna sit in the office with me, baby love? Daddy can pull up a chair for you.”

You sucked up the snot in your throat, the idea making you feel tingly. “Can I be by you, Daddy? Wanna be close.”

“Right beside me, my love. Just have to behave and be quiet for me, alright? Let Daddy finish his meeting and then I’ll make you feel better, baby.” He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you so tight.

You smiled against his shirt. “Wan’ loves and cuddles and kisses.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “All the loves and cuddles and kisses you want, kitten. Whatever you want Daddy to do.. my girl, always so sweet for me.”

“Woke up from m’ nap.. felt really little.. felt soft and scared, Daddy.”

He grunted as he leaned back, hands gently moving you so he could see you properly. “M’sorry i wasn't there for you, baby girl.”

“Here now.. don’t wanna leave you.”

“You don’t have to, honey bun. Daddy’s right here.”

You splayed your hands on his back, feeling his muscles tense as he gently rocked you from side to side. His hands held your hips so tight, so safely.

“Need t’ feel full.. Daddy can you.. fill me after your meeting?”

“Does my girl wan’ her Daddy’s cock, hm? Wan’ Daddy to fill you up with his thick cum?”

The filthy words caused ripples down your spine. You whimpered at the thought of being full. It was too hard to try to speak, so you nodded once again for him.

He smirked gently and kissed your swollen lips. “Daddy will give you what you want soon, kitten. Give you all my cum.. make sure your pretty pussy is filled to the brim.. wanna watch it drip out of you, baby love. Gonna fill my girl up.. make her feel so good, yeah?”

“Wanna have it all, Daddy, please..” Your whisper made his crotch twitch.

“No more talking about it, sweetheart, don’t wanna get Daddy hard just yet.”

The thought made your eyes sparkle, and it didn’t go unnoticed. He smiled sweetly and kissed you for a long moment before finally grabbing your hand and leading you to the office.

When you walked in together, the three men turned their heads to watch Harry walk through the room. Nobody said anything at first, so he broke the ice himself.

“Sorry about that, gentlemen. My fiancé isn’t feeling the best.”

“S’alright. Understandable.” One of them replied with a fake smile.

Harry glanced around but realized that the only other available chair in the room was his big leather one. He sighed and gestured to the chair.

“Just sit there, honey. We’re almost finished anyways.”

You hesitated, but eventually sat down in the chair. Harry sat one leg on the edge of the desk, eyes on the men as he picked up wherever he left off. They weren’t bothered by her presence, but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel embarrassed. You were sure the tear streams were still evident and you could feel the warmth of her skin. You probably looked like a mess.

The business talk didn’t interest you at all. You kept your eyes on Harry’s shiny black shoes. The longer you looked at them, the more you noticed his trousers. They fit him well and hugged his thighs. The dark grey color matched the blazer that was draped over the back of the chair. He looked so professional and handsome. His hair was perfectly sculpted. Even the expensive watch on his wrist was in a perfect spot. You were still annoyed by the men being here. Normally, meetings took place at his real office, not at your home. Apparently things happen at times, that’s what he told you at least, and arrangements have to be made.

You were growing impatient with each minute. All you wanted was him, and you wanted him all to yourself. Having to share his attention with these men was driving you mad. You tapped your fingertips against the arm of the chair as you stared at the floor.

Before you even realized it, Harry got off the desk and escorted the men to the front entrance. He was only gone for a minute. When he came back through the door you jumped up from his chair and began to rock on your heels. He chuckled as he reached you and took hold of your waist.

“Thank you for being patient, baby.”

“You’re all mine now, right?” You batted your thick lashes at him and he gladly squeezed each side of your butt.

“All yours, kitten.”

He sat down in the chair and gently grabbed your wrist. He pulled you onto his lap, greedily holding your waist. You smiled as you wrapped an arm around his head and began to softly peck your lips along his hairline. He chuckled as he slipped both hands under your shirt.

“You seem upset, Daddy.. don’t like it when you’re upset.”

He grunted, hating that you noticed things so easily. “Just stress from business, baby love, s’all.”

“Do you want me to make it go away?” Your words made his crotch tingle.

“No, baby. S’all about you right now. You still want Daddy to make you full?”

“Yes, please.. wan’ you to fill me, Daddy.”

When you leaned back to look at him, your tongue came out and swiped over your lips. A smirk covered his mouth as he slid a hand into your leggings, groping your butt cheek.

“No panties?” He lifted a brow. “Someone’s being a little tease.”

You giggled softly and started kissing his forehead. “Just wanna make it easier.”

“Hm.. m’sure you do.” He patted your thigh, a silent indication for you to stand up.

You didn’t want to move away with him, but you knew you had to. You stood in front of him, waiting patiently for him to do something. He stood up, too, and walked around you. When you hear papers shuffling, you spin around and grab his elbow gently.

“Let me clear the desk, kitten.”

“Daddy..” you were curious as to why he was doing that. “Are you gonna take me on your desk?”

He chuckled a few times before looking over at you. “M’gonna put you on the desk so I can eat up your little pussy, baby doll. Daddy will take you to the bedroom after.”

You groaned and squeezed his elbow. “Wan’ you to take me here.”

He watched your other hand reach to tap the desk. He smirked and gave you a quick nod. “Alright.”

Harry made sure everything was pushed to the edges of the wood, and out of your way. He adjusted the monitor so it was also out of your way. The desk was big, so it was easy to make adjustments. When he dropped the final stack of papers into the bottom drawer, you smiled happily and grabbed his shirt where it was tucked in on the side.

“Patience, my baby.” He pulled away from you with a smile, but grabbed you instead. “Let Daddy take care of you, kitten.”

Out of nervousness, you popped your index finger into your mouth. You didn’t want to upset him, so you kept quiet as you waited. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your leggings on either hip and he yanked them down. He kneeled as he did so, making sure to get a good look at your womanhood.

“Mm, baby girl. Daddy missed you so much.” He pressed a kiss to your pubic mound, savoring the feeling of your soft, bare skin. “Can’t wait to have this pretty pussy all in my mouth.”

“Daddy.. please.. need you.” You whined while you curled your fingers in his scalp.

Harry gripped your thick hips and gave your butt a slap before standing up. You smirked softly, still shocked that he loved your body so much. It was something you struggled with - but he adored you, every inch and every pound. Your full ass and perky breasts, he could never get enough. It bothered you that your breasts weren’t big, but he loved them anyways. That’s all that really mattered.. that he loves you.

“Daddy.” You mumbled softly as he picked you up and sat you on the desk.

“What is it, angel?” He pressed his palm against your warm cheek, forcing your eyes to stay on his.

“Wan’ you so bad, please.”

“Honey, be a little patient. Daddy’s gonna give you everything you want.” He kissed you for a moment. “Now.. shh.”

He didn’t hesitate to drop down between your legs and push them apart. His tongue immediately swiped up your slit.

“Daddy.” You gasped as he did it over and over.

He made sure you were wet from his spit and your own natural release before he began to suck on your clit. He hallowed his cheeks, applying a hard pressure on your little nub.

“Wan’ a finger.” You muttered as you closed your eyes and held your breath.

Harry pulled away from your clit to spit on his finger. He watched your hole as he carefully wiggled his finger inside of you. Once he was sure you were comfortable, he began to move it in and out slowly. His tongue returned to your nub and he didn’t let up again. Normally he wouldn’t give you a finger until he’s made you orgasm, but he promised he’d do whatever you wanted. He doesn’t break his promises to you.

“More.” You mumbled while raking your fingers through his scalp. He liked it when you touched him, so you didn’t hesitate to tug at his roots. “M’gonna cum.”

He grunted against your clit, his tongue working in quick motions. You were so sensitive from being needy, so the orgasm rushed on you before you even realized. A heavy groan came from you as your thighs shook a little and your eyes fell back into your head.

Harry did his best to hold your hips down, but you were thrashing a tad as he kept sucking through the orgasm. You whined suddenly and pushed his head away. He let up, just to make sure you were okay.

“Kitten.. S’alright, baby.” He whispered as he stood up and took hold of your face.

When you opened your eyes you saw his, and a wave of comfort came over you. “Daddy.. felt so good.”

He chuckled softly, thumbs rubbing your lips. “Felt good, baby doll? Did Daddy make you cum?”

You smiled sweetly. “Came really hard for you.”

“Mhm, sure did, kitten.” He gave you a kiss and you couldn’t help but taste yourself on his mouth. “Got so wet for me.”

A gentle giggle fell from your lips. You wrapped your arms around his torso and pulled yourself forward. He dropped a hand to your waist to steady you, but made sure to keep a warm palm against your jaw.

“Feel better, baby love?” His voice was soft, it made you feel safe.

“Mhm.”

“Daddy loves to make you feel good, babe. Love to make my girl cum.. always tastes so good.. got such a sweet little cunt, don’t you?” You nodded. “All for you, Daddy.”

“Hm, I know.” He kissed you for a couple of seconds. “All mine.”

“Daddy..”

He furrowed his brows at the tone of your voice. You seemed sad all of a sudden and he didn’t like that.

“What’s the matter, baby?”

You shook your head, trying to ignore what you wanted to tell him. Of course he didn’t let that slide. He huffed and gave you that look.

“Tell me, sugar plum.”

“Just..” You paused, feeling suddenly nauseous.

He didn’t rush you into talking, he knew sometimes it took you a few minutes to gain some courage. Your eyes fell from his and you stared at the undone top button of his shirt. You felt the need to touch him, so you began to undo the rest of the buttons. He watched you carefully, trying to figure out what was going on. Your fingertips skimmed his skin, making goosebumps rose on his.

“You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything, y/n.”

When he said your name, you shot your eyes at him for just one second. He rarely said your name, only when he was serious or if he was introducing you to someone. You rarely heard him say it. That never bothered you that he didn’t say it, but it did grab your attention.

“M’just..” you sighed heavily. “.. I changed my mind.”

His brows dropped even further. “About what, darling?”

Finally, the shirt was opened in the front and you could see his body. You reached up and grabbed either side of the shirt, pulling it down his arms as best as you could. He took over and yanked the shirt off. He was about to drop it on the ground when you grabbed onto the expensive material. Harry let you take it, and he watched as you brought it to your chest to clutch it.

You locked your legs around his hips. “I.. want something different.”

“Don’t want me to fill you, baby?”

A grunt left your throat and you grabbed his elbows. “I do.”

“Then what do you want differently, angel?”

You didn’t answer him right away. Your hands moved to his chest and you took your time as you touched all over his front. He was warm and his muscles were hard - yet, his skin so soft.

“Baby girl, you have to tell me.” He wasn’t getting frustrated or anything, he was just very concerned.

“Daddy.. I..” You were still in a small mindset, and he knew that.

“Baby, listen to Daddy.” He moved your head up so your eyes were locked with his again. “Daddy wants to make you feel good.. and make you feel safe. You’re feeling little still, baby doll, and Daddy knows you need t’ feel safe.”

“Wan’ you, Daddy.” You mumbled gently.

His eyes were so soft and full of concern. “Then what’s the matter, my love?”

You finally huffed and caved in. “Don’t wan’ you to take me in here.. wanna be comfy.”

He smiled. “Want Daddy to take you in the bed, baby? Wanna be on the soft sheets?”

You nod a few times. “Please..”

“Anything you want, baby.”

You kept hold of his shirt as you hopped off the desk and grabbed his hand. He guided you out of the office and toward the staircase. You were quiet the whole way up, only because you were thinking about him. You wanted him so badly, wanted him to sink his length into you and never pull it out. You couldn’t wait to feel his weight on top of you, to experience the feeling of your nipples pressed against his skin as he took you nice and slow.

When you reached the bedroom, your heart started to race. He pulled your shirt off and unhooked your bra, then gestured for you to lie down.

“No.” You groaned as she sat on the foot of the bed. “Wanna touch you.”

“S’not about me, honey.” He chuckled as you grabbed his belt and undone it.

“Just wanna see you, then.” You shrugged, smiling as you pulled down his zipper.

The bulge was extremely visible, and that made your core tingle with excitement. Soon, his pants were pooled around his feet and he kicked them away. He smirked as he watched you stick your hand into his boxers and pull his member out.

“So big.” You whispered as his hard length stood proudly in front of you. “Wan’ it, Daddy, please.”

“You always get what you want, don’t you kitten?” He chuckled as you crawled up the bed and laid down on your back. “Want it this way, babe?”

Harry spread your legs opened and kneeled between them. You thought for a moment as he squeezed the backs of your knees. It was intriguing to think about another position, so you decided you might as well try something else. It wasn’t like he’d never do it that way again.

“Wanna turn over.” You smiled.

He made a weird face at you. “What? My kitten doesn’t want me this way? Her Daddy?”

You giggled at him as you pulled your legs free and turned over onto your stomach. You shoved your arms under your chest and arched your ass up. He gave you a playful smack before leaning over your back. His hands fell into the mattress, keeping his body flush with yours.

“Wanna feel you this way, Daddy. Promise m’still your kitten.” You didn’t want him to think your head had cleared up, because it hadn’t. “Please.”

“Okay, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna give you exactly what you want.”

He started by pressing open mouthed kisses across the top of your back. He swept your hair over one shoulder so he could have access to the side of your neck. He grunted as his teeth sunk into your soft skin.

“Please.. wanna feel you deep.” You muttered as you reached behind you and grabbed his forearm.

He chuckled. “Patience, kitten. Daddy likes to love on his baby, y’know that.”

“Daddy doesn’t bite me.. Harry bites me.”

You felt his smile press against your skin. “M’sorry.. just missed you, baby love.”

“Harry can have me later.. I want my Daddy now.”

The pout on your lips made him smirk. He kissed it as you turned your head to look at him. It made you giggle and the pout turned into a smile.

“Daddy’s girl.” His voice was like a rumble of thunder. “Always my good girl.”

A weighted moan fell from your lips as he rubbed spit onto your entrance and slowly pushed his tip in. He let his length go once it was secure, and pressed a hand to your hip. Harry leaned back down, his front brushing your back as he began to move.

“S’good, baby doll? Don’t let me hurt you.” He took a deep breath as he went in about half way, then pulled out to check on you.

“Good, Daddy.. gimme more, please.”

He smirked at your eagerness. “Daddy’s gonna give you his cock, baby, just how you want it.”

You sighed in relief as he pushed back in, his elbow falling into the mattress beside your shoulder to support his weight.

“Tell Daddy how you want it, sweetheart.” He moved his hand to your throat and you gladly wrapped yours around his wrist to keep it there.

“Want you deep.. hard and fast, Daddy.”

His tongue swiped over your shoulder. “Want Daddy’s cock deep in your tight pussy, my angel? Want Daddy to fill you?”

“Mhm.” You moaned with your lips shut, eyes doing the same as the pleasure rushed through you. “Please.”

He didn’t say anything else as he began to fully insert himself - balls deep in you. Your mixed groans and breathes were intimate and it made you feel good - made your chest warm. Each snap of his hips got harder than the previous.

“Uh, Daddy, more.”

He chuckled softly and picked up his pace, his weight pinning you to the mattress while he fucked his length deep inside of you. You could feel the thick veins that ran along the length of his cock rubbing against your walls. You clenched around him every now and then, pulling deep moans from his throat.

“Baby love, squeezing Daddy’s cock so good, hm? Wanna feel Daddy’s cum in your tummy, baby? Wan’ me to fill you up?”

“Yes, Daddy. Wan’ it all. Please give me your cum, Daddy.”

His eyes rolled back in pure pleasure as the filthy words filled his ears. He began to fuck you harder and quicker, the sloshing sounds of your wet pussy made his balls swell. He needed to put his seed in you, plant it deep in your body.

“Oh, baby girl, takin’ m’cock so fuckin’ good.” He groaned into your shoulder as he reached down to grasp your hips tight, fingers burning your skin from the pressure. “Such a tight little cunt.”

Your back arched into the mattress, your ass pushing up against his pelvis. He grunted as he gave your hip a hard smack. You whimpered at the sudden and unexpected pain. Daddy never hit you hard - he barely would oblige if you begged him to.

“Too hard.” You choked out, tears pricking your eyes. “Da-Daddy.. hit me too hard.”

He huffed at himself and started to rub and massage the area he unknowingly left a red hand print on. “Sorry, baby, m’sorry.” He attacked your neck with his lips, hoping the affection would make up for his mistake. “Didn’t mean to hit you, doll. Daddy got.. distracted, m’sorry.”

You nodded a little, your hand reaching back to wrap around his wrist. He was still rubbing deep circles into your bruised skin, wishing he could erase the pain.

“Can.. can I cum.. please? Daddy can I cum on your cock?” Drool was slipping down your chin as our mouth hung open - the pleasure causing you to become numb.

“You can, baby, cum for Daddy.. cum on my cock, baby love. Let Daddy feel your wet pussy spill on him.”

He’s pounding you hard and fast, carrying you closer to the edge as the seconds fly by. You were moaning his name and digging your nails into his wrist, your walls squeezing him so tight.

“C’mon, cum for me. So close, yeah? Daddy can feel that tight pussy, babe. So tight for me.”

His filthy words made your eyes roll back and your lips fell apart - a loud moan full of strings of his name filled the air. He groaned heavily, verbally encouraging you to cum hard. You did jsut that, your pussy suffocating his cock as it held on to it hard - milking him of his warm, thick cum.

“Baby, fuck, yes. Take Daddy’s cum in your tummy. Such a good thing you are. My baby.” He praised you as you kept gushing out your release. He slowed his motions, keeping his cock buried in your hole. “Takin’ Daddy so good.”

“So warm.. so full.” You uttered as the side of your face hit the pillow.

He gave you a chuckle as he softly pecked your cheek over and over. “Daddy’s pretty girl, yeah? Full of my cum. So, so full and warm.”

“Daddy.. so good.. feels so good.” Your eyes shut and you release a deep breath, tiredness washing over you.

Harry noticed your behavior, and he assumed he would tire you out anyways, so he kissed your temple and slowly pulled out of you. He moved onto his knees after nudging your legs apart. He grabbed your ass on either side and pulled your cheeks further apart, just playing with the thickness as he watched his cum drip out of your hole.

“You’re such a pretty thing.. so full of Daddy’s cum.” He squeezed each cheek before let them go, hands sliding down to your thighs. “Do you want to be cleaned up, baby?”

You shook your head. “No.. wan’ it in.”

He smirked to himself as he climbed over you to get off the bed. You didn’t have to worry or question about where he was going - he was getting a fresh pair of panties for you. As you laid there patiently, your stomach was full of butterflies. The sticky cum rolling out of your cunt covered your clit, making you shiver. You could still feel him inside of you, the fullness hadn’t disappeared yet.

“Alright, roll over, princess.”

You did as he asked and fell into your back. He smiled sweetly as your sleepy eyes looked his way. He saw your eyelids falling as you struggled to keep them open.

“Oh, baby.” He huffed as he slid the panties up your legs. He stopped before he covered your hips. “M’so, so sorry. Daddy didn’t mean to hit you.”

“S’okay.. feels okay now.” You mumbled back, reaching over to touch his wrist.

He let you take his hand for a moment and you squeezed it. “You should be mad at me.. should be, babe, but you’re such a sweetheart, yeah? My sweet baby doll.”

His lips smeared on yours for a long moment before he leaned up, dropping your hand to pull the panties up. Once he knew his cum was secured in place where you wanted it stay, he nudged you and rolled on to your side. He got behind you, arms snaking around your limp body to drag you closer. You hum, satisfied as you feel his now covered and softened cock against your butt. It didn’t matter if it was hard, you just liked to feel it there.

“Take a nap, m’love.” He kissed your ear softly, whispering his words carefully.

You nodded, pulling one of his hands up your body. You forced it to rest under your boob and he gave you a small chuckle.

“Cuddle bunny.” He uttered. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

He smirked to himself. “I dunno about that, baby love.”

(Part 2..)

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