Amina

It’s like you’d prepared yourself for the moment, your pussy already stretched to take him, straddling him as you pull his plaid pajamas down, thick and veiny member springing out and slapping against his stomach. You lip your lips, bringing yourself closer, eyes meeting his, “‘S okay Pa, I-I got it.”

You lay one hand flat on his chest, other hand guiding him into your awaiting hole. It’s a tight fit, always is, has you hiccuping as you try for best to fuck yourself down Price’s dick. Wet squelches as you take every inch, gasping for air. Price’s jaw is tight, hand resting on your hip, as he tries everything in him not to buck his hips up into you. The cigar is burning over the ash tray, “Hah- gotta take it easy lovie.”

You quickly nod but only a moan falls from your lip, the burn of him stretching you out rolling over you. You’re eyebrows are knit together, shimming your hips down to you feel his mushroom tip hard and pressed against your soppy walls. John only grunts, spreading your legs a little wider to see the ungodly view, your cunt fluttering and clutching his girth like a vice down to his pubic hair. He gives you a smirk, bring the cigar to his lips, “Good work princess, took it all on your own.”

You can’t help but blush, walls pulsing around him once, you bat your lashes, keening, “Thanks Daddy.”

You use his chest for leverage, slowly lifting yourself up and down, how your face gets screwed up in pleasure with every bounce, your fat tits in his face, nipple hard and staining the shirt.

He tugs your pale blue nightie off with one hand, milk dripping onto him as he watches your every curve of you, fully nude now, letting out a deep groan while he hand gropes your tit, “Fuck buttercup, feed ‘em to me.”

Your breath hitches, blushing, “But Pa- nngh!” you whine out, rolling your hips back then forward, snug cunt dragging his cock with you, “‘s embarrassin.”

“Mm mmm, not embarrassing when it’s for your old man,” he drags you closer by his beefy arm, pressing his face in your chest, mouth watering as he nibbles right above your areola. “ ‘M starved baby. Won’t have too much, shit- promise.”

You’re desperate for more, more more, guide him to your right nipple, letting him wrap his tongue around your hardened peak. You go weak, hands going through his greying brunette hair as he sucks and licks your tit, drinking every bit of milk he can. Price finally sets his cigar down on the ash tray, hand flat on you back as to make sure you stay close to him. Let him tug your nipple between his teeth, other hand making sure you keep that steady rhythm, giving your sensitive bud wet suckles. Every bounce of your pussy on him only getting better, your body trembling, crying out, “Shit- Pa- anngh! Pa!”

Johns fingers tweak your other nipple, milk squirting out, he gripping your chin between his fingers and planting your lips on his coated lips. You can taste your own milk on his tongue, letting him suck your tongue, lips smacking with every filthy wet kiss. You wrap your arms around the older man’s hairy broad shoulders, hips stutter, croaking out a moan as you hit your high. Your foreheads pressed against each other, trying to catch your breath but John sits you down, hips connecting.

He’s got that smug look on his face, “Still haven’t cum sweetheart.”

He shouldn’t have teased you like that. Especially after you worked up all the courage to ride him.

The problem only starts after you drawls out that second orgasm Price knew he was in for it, brown eyes glazed over, bottom lip jutted out, hips somehow only getting faster, hungrier. His member only making it half way out as you throw your ass in a circle, over and over, hypnotic even from front. Your cunts filled to the brim with his thick cum, a ring of cream at the base of cock as you slam yourself down.

You’re blabbering at how good you feel, how warm his cum feels inside your swollen folds, tears down your face, taking his calloused hands and letting them roam your body, your face to your chest, your stomach where he can feel himself pressed against your womb, to the perfect fat of your ass that jiggles with every bounce.

He chokes when you throb so tightly around him, hand lazily giving your ass a smack, “Shit buttercup, ah- slow down!”

“But Pa,” you keen, rolling your hips against him that makes him throw his head back against the recliner, “Y- mmm! You said I could take the lead!”

You’ve already fucked yourself dumb on him, using your old man like a damn dildo, John’s red to his ears, delirious in the soaking and gushing confines of your pussy while you fuck him silly. His eyes roll back in his head when he feels you swivel your hips just right, cocktip slobbering your walls.

“D-does it feel good for you dad? Angh- want you to feel gooood pa. Please” You tilt your head to adorably lust in your eyes, hopeful, desperate.

You hear your old man let out a whimper, a strangled grunt, he grips your hips hard enough to bruise, blue eyes low, “Always- fuuuck darlin- always felt good. Hck- So good f’me buttercup.”

The praise immediately going to head your pussy, moaning frantically trying your peak. Crying out as John gives you sloppily pumps himself up into you. Groans and moans filling the living room, till you’re both cumming and hard. It’s so warm in your stomach has you mewling just from the white substance being buried deep inside your velvety walls. 

You finally lift yourself up, globs of cum dribbling down Price softening cock, his shaft spurting out cum. “Shit honey.”

You’re sticky all over, letting John pull your tired body into his arms, he lets out a tired breath. Kissing your temple, “Good work buttercup, made Pa proud.”

“What do I get in return, pet?” Leaning back, legs spread, touching that annoying beard of his. You really really want to go of that spa trip and you’re not in the mood to argue.

Instead you put the papers you’re holding down, look Price in the eye and take a fast decision. You slide off your underwear beneath your pencil skirt and straighten up - then holds up your thong with a finger, dangling it just out of his reach.

“This.”

Suddenly Captain Johnathan Price is not against the idea of letting you have two days off. In fact you get them almost immediately and he even promises not to call and bother you. You roll your eyes at his desperation but throw the thong on the desk and grab your papers, ignoring the pleasured groan leaving your boss.

"can i go to bed early tonight? or should i be expecting another midnight text?"

your narrowed sideways glance at ellie reveals her widening smirk. you hang your head low, a soft sigh falling from your lips. the last thing you need at this moment is that expression on her face. you absolutely don't need the conflicting feelings it arises in you, like the sour irritation and the mortifying need. there's a tightness in your chest, aching away at this very moment.

the worst part is that the ache doesn't leave when ellie does.

maybe, it even gets worse. seeing her now, at the end of the workday with her laptop bag slung over her shoulder, you wish she were doing anything but reminding you about last night on her way out the door.

every excuse you can think of is flimsy, and you've tried all day to pretend she isn't right when she accuses you of being sad and lonely at home.

"well— i had a genuine question," you mutter, more defeated now.

there was a moment of weakness last night — at exactly eleven minutes past twelve — your thumbs slowly, delicately caressed each letter of her name on your phone's keyboard, and hit send. and it was not until the haziness had finally disappeared fifteen minutes later that you realised how strange it is to text somebody their own name and nothing else. how strange it is for you to ask for someone.

almost like you needed her.

embarrassment clung to you immediately, and you of course attempted to wave it off by asking her something work related, but the damage was done.

ellie was amused.

thankfully, she doesn't have your perspective.

if she knew what was really going on in that hour, you aren't sure what she'd do. if she had your perspective, and knew what you did to yourself with her name in mind, and if she saw the messages you drafted but never sent to her, she would have some grandiose reaction, though you aren't sure in what way.

"i know you're a hard worker, darling, but you weren't actually sitting on excel at midnight, were you? you know you can talk to me if you're lonely . . . i'm actually kinda nice to talk to, in fact."

ellie's voice grows closer, but you refuse to look up from your desk, and you're still surprised when her hand suddenly moves slowly over your shoulder.

"don't be a stranger. just remember that."

there's that tightness around your heart again, combined with the not-so-subtle movement of your thighs pushing together. ellie's hand pauses then, very suddenly, and you feel heat rising from your lower stomach and all the way into your face. the office clock ticks away in the silence until she takes a very slow, deep, intentional breath and pulls away, your neck tingling in the wake of her presence.

you could have melted right there. and it seems like she knows that.

not once have you taken up ellie's offer of sending a text when you feel lonely. you haven't slipped up once in the weeks since that day, you've been as strong as you can — unfortunately, the more you've tried to stonewall her, the shakier your resolve has become. it's weakened you more than anything.

it's more than wanting to text ellie now. it's turned into nights of hovering over the call button. these sleepless nights have only further contributed to your hopeless need, making it harder to pretend you don't want to give in. ellie doesn't have to push hard. every offer she makes, you come closer to taking it.

five o'clock hits. you should be packing up right now so you can beat the rush on public transport. but ellie always lingers after work and lately, you don't want to be the first one to leave the office.

and with you not even trying to look busy, it's stupidly obvious what you're doing.

you jump to attention as a hand waves in front of your face, silver rings glinting in the fluorescent lighting.

"you've been staring at your computer this long, and haven't even noticed the screensaver pop up . . ?"

"no, i'm . . . i'm meditating."

"ah, right." ellie chuckles. "of course you were — and i'm sure you must be feeling very zen right now, considering it looks to me like you were 'meditating' all day. you weren't slackin' off, were you? i mean . . ."

you flinch the moment she makes contact with your upper back, hand resting over your blouse. you know she notices — she seems to hesitate for a short moment before resuming the trail she was taking to the back of your neck. like she knows how delicate this matter is; like she's learned that you need a gradual introduction to her power and to avoid startling you.

when she continues to push the limits and test how far she can take her teasing, it gets easier for her to do so. a month ago, you might've slapped her hand away. what tells ellie she's got you now is the slow turn of your head, your eyes not narrowed, for once, but doe-like; looking up at her standing form with need simmering inside.

you deflate, body battling between the urges of shrinking into yourself and melting against her. the touch, warm and comforting, guiding and gentle, does not match the judgement on her face. her lips are sewn together in a straight line as her eyes tear you apart, and you freeze the moment they catch yours.

"i wasn't," you mumble. it's pathetic, but it's all you can say through the dryness of your throat.

"yeah, i mean, something's definitely wrong if i'm doing more work than you for once. so i sure hope you're alright . . ."

"you did not do more work than me." you try to scoff, the sound coming quiet and disjointed as you look away from ellie. "mind your business."

"your business is my business. we work together. dummy." she laughs. her hand leaves your neck, not before giving one last light squeeze. and you miss the touch, regrettably. "i was gonna say i don't mind picking up some of your slack, actually, along with some other stuff — you know, like compliments. might keep that to myself now, since you don't wanna hear it."

"well— n-no. 'm a big girl, i don't need you to tell me i'm doing a good job."

you stand, heels digging into the carpet as you finally kick into gear and begin to gather your items.

"i'm sure." ellie leans back, her hips against your desk, still leering at you with investigative eyes. "didn't mean to piss you off."

"well, you did."

"yeah. i'm getting that."

you can still feel those eyes on you. around you. under your skin. in your clothes.

and the air is cold, one side of your bed empty as always. the goosebumps on your bare shoulders leave you so much more vulnerable to thinking about ellie.

she's worked hard on getting you to this point — though, she didn't have to try this hard, honestly, you've been struggling to keep your feelings at bay for a long time now — and yet, you're still shocked when your phone pings and her name is on the screen.

at nine o'clock.

ellie: i think you should know i'm serious when i ask you to call me if you need anything.

the words blur, the bright screen in the dark of your room burning your eyes. those aren't tears. well . . . they were tears, but you rub them out quickly.

another message slides onto the screen before you even think to reply.

ellie: and i didn't mean to be so condescending earlier. you're really tricky to figure out. you won't take compliments. can't you make this a little easy for me?

you let out a deep breath, practically throwing your phone against the mattress in defeat. what does she want from you? is it the same as what you crave from her?

will this complicate things?

giving in is the easiest thing you have done in years. hitting the call button takes zero effort.

"yes, darlin'?" she answers quickly, the satisfied smirk on her face audible down the line. it doesn't irritate you as much as it does arouse you.

everything flies out quite suddenly, surprising both yourself and ellie, but you can't stop. and the more you speak, the more relief you feel.

"it's just— you're really annoying. like, really annoying. and i worked so hard to get this fucking position just to deal with you distracting me all the time. i can't get a grip. i've been so good at never needing anybody and then you— you."

the covers fly off your body as you get out of bed, beginning to pace the halls of your home, and your rant continues as you only get more heated.

"you know exactly what you're doing. and it is cruel. what, were you born with the ability to read minds or something? do you think it's funny embarrassing me the way you do? i don't need— i don't want your praise. i don't want you to handle things for me. so why? why do you keep trying?"

silence fills the space you were hoping ellie would speak in. and that absence of her voice feels so agonising.

and finally, you give in. for real, this time.

calling her was the first step. that was a test of temperature, just the tips of your toes touching the water. now you are going to jump in.

"i think the most frustrating thing is that you have waited this long for me," you mumble. "y'know that just makes me feel like being even more stubborn. it makes me need you in the worst way."

"in what way? talk."

you purse your lips together, leaning against a wall.

"i need you," you say. your voice trembles. "i need you to fuck me. i need you because . . . i just need everything to go away, all the work stuff and the news and everyone outside, 'n i know you could do it. you make it feel like it's just us."

as you take a breath to keep going, she cuts in.

"i see, darlin'. let me come do that for you. we'll fix it."

"i just need a hug," you say, breathless. the prospect of ellie coming to save you doesn't scare you anymore. it livens you.

you get that hug. as soon as her knuckles meet your door, you open up and take her with open arms. you get that hug and you get even more than that, as ellie makes good on all her promises.

kisses. tender pecks from plump lips, on yours and your body. kisses in places that lips haven't ventured in years, hands surprising you with leisurely touches; no rush at all, but lots of appreciation.

"please be nice to me," you whisper, with no choice but to rest your hands on her shoulders, caged in against the wall. your fingers grasp at her white blouse, heartbeat in your ears.

"i am nice," ellie scoffs, pinching your waist. "i'll be nice. i've got you, don't worry anymore. don't think. just don't. i'll take it from here."

her hand rises to your cheek, cradling so gently that you feel like collapsing. you might've if she weren't here, holding you.

"i— okay." you nod meekly, no longer avoiding her eyes. "okay."

"good girl. good. the only thing you need to do right now is show me to the bedroom, yeah?"

ellie's practically taken your independence and made it drip out of you. being docile feels so much safer. nodding your head and holding her hand up the stairs feels comfortable.

"this is a pretty little slip," she comments, pinching the silk hem between her fingertips and lightly tugging from behind. "do you always wear things like this?"

"oh, yeah . . . i, um, i like 'em."

"makes you feel as hot as you look?"

you shy away, a change in your usual demeanour that is so welcome to ellie. it's adorable.

in the doorway to your room, her hand on your hip pulls you against her side, and her lips graze your blistering temple.

"let's lay you down."

you climb onto your bed, the mattress dipping below your weight. ellie follows shortly after, catching your lips with hers on the way down and helping you settle amid your pillows.

it doesn't feel scary. her cold fingers gliding across your bare stomach, pushing up the nightie, even giving your breasts a light and experimental squish, it's not even a little disturbing. you'd sworn off letting someone have you like this. but you trust ellie. it feels so easy to.

"that's right, just let me take care of you," she murmurs, crawling in between your legs. cool air hits your pussy as she pulls your panties to the side, ellie whispering a curse at the little twitches of your body and the shimmer of your wet skin. "fuck. poor thing, how long have you been this fucking needy for?"

you shrug, pulling your lip between your teeth over the mere sight between your thighs — the tip of her nose brushes over your pelvis, the softest of kisses laid upon your clit. it's nothing, yet your head falls back onto your pillow, your hand curls into a weak fist at your side.

you feel her chuckle against your skin, the sound gravelly. "oh, you're real cute, huh? you're as sensitive as a first timer."

you try to shake your head, not defiant, but shy, and ellie places her hand over your fist, holding tight.

"relax for me, baby. m'gonna treat you good."

wet warmth envelops your cunt, her tongue trailing up and down in a slow, precise manner. it leaves you gasping, voice a little hoarse. when she focuses quick flicks over your clit, thick tears clump in your lashes, caught before you can blink them away. she eyes you from below, hooded gaze drinking you in.

"awwh, baby . . . " she sighs, a smile in her tone. "don't look away!"

"mm, i can't look," you whimper in a mousy voice.

there's something renewed in her efforts down below, her head tilting to rest on your inner thigh as she sucks and kisses your swollen bud — making out with your pussy — almost desperate to see those shiny eyes of yours again.

"you fucking taste so sweet," she groans, her thumb running languid circles over your clit as she speaks. "look at me. you want me to keep going?"

you whine her name, hands tensing as you hold back the instinct to hide your face away. but she earns back the view of your begrudging, anxious face quickly contorting into pleasure yet again. and those eyes, welling up so easily . . .

she doesn't want to be too mean — well, she did swear she's nice earlier, and she needs that to remain true — but you haven't let go of enough yet.

and then you blink, and you look away again, and she can't make cruel demands too many times . . .

so, ellie sits up. her calloused fingertips prod at your entrance, hitching your breath instantly. "i think you need this instead, yeah? fast, babe?"

you fidget and flit, a high moan escaping you while you adjust to the filling of your cunt. and she isn't fast . . . until you open your mouth again, trying to speak.

you shriek, heavy pants falling out of your mouth as ellie thrusts her long fingers into you roughly, brushing over deep, spongey places you couldn't ever reach on your own.

"o-oh my god," you whimper, attempting to cover your face, to hide again from her stupid, evil, attractive smile.

but you can't. not with her leaning over you. her forearm digs into your stomach, keeping you in place and increasing the intensity of her every touch.

"good? tell me about it, darlin'."

"it's good," you say pathetically. not a single sound from your lips is controlled, a far cry from your typical self. "s-so good, m'so good. ellie, mmm— please, please."

"please what?" she prompts, fake sympathy dripping off the words, barely audible beneath the lewd squelching of your pussy. "what do you need?"

"you," you sob. when did the tears start to stream down your cheeks? you never noticed 'til she kissed one away, too busy babbling and thrashing in her grip. "i just need you, ellie, it's so good and i should'a never pretended otherwise b-because—"

"i know, baby," she coos, and that's when the pressure is too much for you, an intense orgasm washing over your body. she keeps you restrained, only stopping to wipe all those pretty tears away when you start to shiver. "shh, i know. so proud of you."

your panties cover you once more, her hand fixing them back in place with a gentle pat over your cunt. all you do is lay your head upon her shoulder, eyes too heavy to open, be it from all the emotions or post-sex exhaustion hitting you like a freight train.

"you are a good girl," ellie murmurs, rolling onto her back with you in her arms. "i'll tell you that as many times as i have to."

He wins almost every race.

There's no joke about his prodigy status, especially when he's been training some new kids on the block named Megumi and Yuta. Though, not many, in fact no one outside of you and Satoru knew about the two kids personally. Having to take care of them, since the fushiguro's father and mother weren't in the picture anymore.

"we're parents!" He had squealed to you when you were helping Megumi brush his teeth one morning, since the five year old was sleepy and down with a cold. It didn't matter if you were in a robe, looking tired and annoyed, you'd always look soooo fine to Gojo when you were with his (adopted) kids.

Despite the crowd of women flocking to his car after races or even before them at the showcases, his eyes remained on one woman. You.

And yet, he still entertained girls now and then with flirty comments and glances, just to see you jealous. "Pleaseeee?" The girl begged, as she was offering a marker to the white haired racer an hour before the race was set to begin. Her lips jutted out in a petulant pout to appear more cute, while her other hand was pointing at her dangerous amount of cleavage.

Satoru, knowing exactly what he was doing, bit his bottom lip and smirked, "hell yeah. Keep those tits steady, can't mess up my autograph," he raised an eye brow and tilted his head to the right, smiling at the blushing woman.

Taking the marker out of her hand, he popped off the cap with his teeth, one hand out to steady her while the other was rapidly signing his signature. Even taking the time to poorly draw a little chibi of himself and his car on her skin. A flick of his wrist and he's flipping a coin, watching it flip in the air as he muttered to himself with a smirk, "heads and I get a kiss..." before landing it smack on the back of his opposite hand and smirking down at it.

"Tails, she's pissed at me."

He staggered into the sleek car, opening the shiny car door softly and trying to gauge your reaction. Your head turned away from him, only able to see a small glimpse of your face in the reflection of the window. Not even a greeting, he could practically feel the anger seething off you.

"Satoru," you talked to him flatly as he felt a strange thrill tingle down him, not your usual calls of "..'toru!" In a whiny tone. He squealed out happily and reached out his arms quickly, trying to get a feel of his favourite girl.

You stopped him halfway, hand outreached and pressing your palm flat to his face, his dark tinted sunglasses smushed against his face. His eyes squeezed shut as he didn't bother to even remove your hand, just continuing to try and reach out to hold you.

"Babyyy, are you mad at me? C'mon, you know I didn't do anything bad!" He pouted playfully and tried to reach out further again to hold you.

You grumbled, lips downward in a small frown and your lower lip jutted out in a small pout. He was close enough to smell the strong musk of his cologne, you liked to joke about it being 'illegal cologne for criminals' when you were not annoyed with Satoru. Right now was not one of those times.

"Satoru. I know what I saw," you scoffed and let go of his face to jerk your thumb back over your shoulder, pointing at the girl still outside the car window nearby. "You think it's a joke? I'm being serious, you're gonna end up sleeping on the..." you trailed off confused before grumbling his name in a louder, high pitched tone when he pulled out a small coke bag from the pocket of his leather jacket.

"I swear to god if you snort cocaine before a race, when I'm mad at you—" you paused to snatch away the baggy and stuff it down the side of the car you were in. "—I'm never seeing you again and you can say goodbye to... sleeping with me, holding my hand..." you continued to rattle off on your fingers.

Satoru sighed but smirked, reaching out to hold your hands in his, pressing kisses onto your knuckles when you tried to punch him. "Are you jealous, pretty girl?"

His teasing question was mean with your deadpanned face, completely unamused and thinking long strings of swears towards him.

He chuckled before leaning over to kiss at your forehead, even while you grumbled and halfheartedly tried to push him off of you. "C'mon, as if you'd ever be able to to refuse sleeping with THE Satoru Gojo," he scoffed proudly and leaned back in his own chair, blue eyes staring into yours.

"Plus I looooove you, isn't that enough? I wouldn't ever cheat," he argued earnestly, enough to make you pout and falter in your annoyance a little. You knew Satoru. Knew that from being such a high status, as being the clan leader of the 'Gojo Clan', the only recent successor to have one of those special knacks for dealing with cars and having multiple eyes just to know what races he would win and what ones he wouldn't, he would've cast you aside already if he wasn't serious about being exclusive with you.

He's already got a lot on his plate, the recent drug busts at where he would usually have Nanami deal, and rivalling Sukuna, the leader of the Ryomen clan for so long, maybe he was just tired and it looked like—

"Besides, I barely stared at her tits for like, what? 4 seconds? I stare at your tits like all the time—" he was casually admitting with that signature smirk, before letting out some playful exaggerated grunts when you punched his chest and shoulder repeatedly. "—uff pretty girl did I say something wrong? C'mon, why are you punching the most handsome man in the universe? Is this to do with that ovulation cycle reminder notification on your phone? You can just ask nicely for me to fuck—"

He was in the middle of playfully teasing you, before hearing the annoying growl of an engine drive in front of him towards the race line. Sukuna leaning out of his car with a scowl, "Yah, are you still parked here? I mean, I know I'm a strong racer but giving up sooooo easily?" He smirked before sticking out his tongue and pulling down at his lower eye lid just to piss Satoru off. He was eventually pulled back into his car by his girlfriend, out of view for you and Satoru to see.

You sighed when Satoru didn't pause to start up the sleek, illegally modified car and quickly pulled up to the start line of the race. "Look, all I'm asking is that you stop... are you even listening to me right now?" You glared at Satoru.

Meanwhile, Satoru was truly listening to you, but just to piss you off even more, had his eyes playfully undressing the scantily dressed flag girl who was approaching and standing between the two revving cars. He only whined and gently grabbed your hand when you were pinching his ear in retaliation, "okay okay, I'm not gonna stare, let me focus on the race so that asshole can't win."

The red lights flashed down at the two revving cars, dust and flames flying as cheers were heard all around from people watching. All from novice racers to fan girls of Satoru and Sukuna. The loud mechanical beeps as the flag girl shifted the top piece of her race flag bikini, before swiftly raising the two flags in her hands. Satoru's grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, shifting the grip as he leaned his head back and cockily glimpsed over at Sukuna's car.

Your hands gripped down on the leather seat with a fast and tight hold, a second before both the flags were lowered quickly. Cars zoomed past her in a flash, the red sleek car initially took the lead.

"Cocky bastard.." Satoru scoffed when seeing Sukuna sticking his tongue out at him for a brief moment when he was whizzing past.

It didn't take long for the whizzing blue car to ram upwards near the last minute of the race. You were busy squeezing your eyes shut and counting down from ten, hoping you didn't throw up. Satoru was getting off on the thrill, on the chase, on the racetrack.

Just as soon as it started, the car stopped to a slow halt. Satoru's hand pulled away from the fancy gadgets and modifications to grab at your thigh, rubbing gently. His breath uneven, despite the cocky smirk that made its way to his lips. His other hand making way through the locks of white hair, a self satisfied expression.

He won. Again.

"Get in the backseat," he breathed out, rubbing your thigh gently before letting go.

You wanted to be mad, to be annoyed at him and set your foot down. To show him just how much he had pushed you this time, to show him just how scary you could be when he tried to get on your bad side. You were bad at that. So bad at it.

The wet shlicks filled the car, rocking it gently on its tires. Parked in some dark corner under a bridge, far away from race or anyone really. Clothes thrown across the car, in random places, as both of your sweat slicked bodies combined. The windows were fogged up, a hand quickly reaching out to draw a shaky smiley face through the fog. You didn't even have the energy or brain to complain to Satoru about being distracted.

Hell, you were distracted. His muscular body completely covering yours in the now sweaty leather seats in the back, his face focused entirely on your expression. White locks sticking to his forehead before he brushed a hand through his hand and grabbed your legs, hitching your ankles over his shoulders.

You whined out his name at the different angle, reaching out your hands for him when he leaned down, essentially folding you in half. "... 'toruuuu.." you whined when he smirked between heavy breaths.

"First time you're calling me that— fuck, tonight, huh? god you're so tight..." He groaned out when tracing a shaky finger over your cheek.

"I'm.. mmh, still mad...!" You tried to whine out, before letting out a high pitched moan when he thrusted in erratically. A breathless chuckle escaped his lips when he stared down, taking in your blissed out expression. "Yeah, pretty girl? Keep going.. ngh— keep complaining while I make you— fuck, cum on my c-cock.."

Oh god. You were so screwed.

ɞ⠀.⠀geto ﾉ⠀suguru ﹗ ໒꒱۪

Geto Suguru, the mechanic.

While specifically working for Satoru as his best friend, everyone had small business dealings with the cunning man. He's the man that all novice racers think of as too good to be working at these street racing events, too pure-hearted and meant for big star companies. Suspected to have a secret child with you, from how gentle he is with the two girls he had fostered a year ago.

But they don't know how he gets when he's angry, how he gets when he knows he can get a jackpot out of manipulating one of the poor little gambling addicts that nanami had trapped in this sick world. They don't know how mean he is behind everyone's back, gossiping and laughing at all the misfortunes befalled on people that never suspected him to be behind it.

You do though.

His little assistant. Always babbling your pretty little head off while showing him all the cool new contraptions and modifications you had made to one of their test cars, showing him the freaky gadgets you had made in your spare time. Flicking his forehead whenever he jokingly insulted you, "mhmmmm, now how about you actually get back to your job that I pay you for doll?" His gossip sessions are met with the most unamused looks from you, "his dumbass went and got caught after I gave him all that counterfeit– hey! Come on, why are you looking at me like that? I told him to not show anyone," he would laugh out before shaking his head and getting back to the engine of the car.

And then it was the other part of your little relationship that neither of you addressed.

The stolen kisses, the make out sessions in the back of Satoru's car that neither of you told him about. He mayyyyy or may not have eaten you in the back of said car before too, and his mean tsking whenever you made a mess and squirted, but it's whatever, you know? But it's not just one sided either! You jerk him off whenever you two are bored in the workshop, or suck him off when he asks all nicely, just... needing a little something to take the edge off.

Free time in the workshop is either spent getting fucked out of your mind by Suguru, or getting high.

"I just wanna get high with my lover ♫" Kalil Uchis's voice sings sweetly in the background, loudly playing from your phone that was forgotten on the console of the car. Suguru scoffed and groaned, throwing his head back before sitting up in the car again and throwing the joint out the window, to be cleaned and dealt with later.

"You always put on this goddamn song... do you need to be so literal?" He questioned you incredulously, "every situation calls for a weirdly specific song."

You only looked at him annoyed in response, too busy grabbing your phone off the console, about to change the song. "You played that one 'mantra' song when getting ready to go out with Shoko and Utahime last weekend, and don't even get me started on our last little 'sleepover' where you started playing motive by Ariana Grande when I was trying to initiate a kiss!"

"I was kidding around!" You giggled at him and shared a small glance at him while he crawled over the dashboard from the driver seat into the back passenger seats where you were. "Also, are you admitting we're lovers?" You cooed at him with a playful pout.

"Ohhh, we're going back into this again?" He said absentmindedly, his eyes everywhere but on you. Throwing some bits and bobs from the seats out the window before settling back next to you.

"I'm gonna play... Love Hangover next if—" you were speaking before you stopped at the feeling of Suguru cupping the back of your neck, his hand warm and rough. Before you even knew it, his lips pressed onto yours, all warm and soft, moving with gentleness that made your thighs ache. You were left wanting more when he pulled away after a seconds, pouting while he looked at you with a deadpan.

"Don't play any other goddamn songs, okay?" He told you, and covered your mouth when you were about to speak. "Just nod or shake your pretty head, doll," he instructed as you nodded.

A beat of silence overtook you both, before he asked a question that made you feel a small throb. His smile was so sweet, you could've mistaken his question for something wholesome if you hadn't actually heard him.

"Do you wanna spread your legs for me, doll?"

You whined and began to subconsciously press your thighs together before nodding at him, while he smirked and began to ease you backwards, spreading your legs, cooing "yeah? Wanna spread your legs for Suguru, doll?"

You hesitated before letting out a soft whine when feeling his hand already trailing up your waist and hooking onto the waistband of the cargo pants you had on, small stains and spills of oil and other car fluids. Your head moved subconsciously, nodding to his request as he smirked at your state and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

God you should really rethink the type of underwear you wear when knowing Suguru's going to do this.

He slid off your jeans with ease, pushing you back to lay down on the seats and spread your legs to accommodate his large shoulders. "Can't I pick a song at least?" You whined with a small pout, while Suguru was busy pushing your underwear aside, into the junction of your thigh and letting out a warm breath at the sight of your glistening folds.

"Yeah yeah, just— don't put on some specific song.." he muttered before leaning in the flat on his thumb to rub over your puffy folds.

Your hands trembled when holding your phone, before giving up when you felt him waste no time in leaning his tongue in and tasting you. Your lips spread by his hands, while he leaned his tongue in to drive kitten licks all over your sensitive spots.

Your hands were still trembling, as you clawed them down to dig into Suguru's scalp, causing him to groan into your sensitive skin. A shiver running down your neck, when he pushed in a finger inside your tight hole, before adding a second and pumping them in unison. "fuuuuck yeah—" he groaned, focusing his tongue to suckle on your puffy clit.

He was a messy eater too, loudly slurping and suckling while you whined and moaned, half embarrassed and half turned on. Your hands tugging on his hair, confused whether you wanted him closer or whether you wanted him to shut up.

"Y-you're so loud..." you stuttered a little, before letting a small whimper of his name slip. He scoffed a little, continuing to suckle and slurp loudly. His voice was muffled against your dripping entrance, too focused on getting you off.

His tongue traced around your clit, flicking his tongue over it before he suckled it up into his mouth. Sucking on it gently as his thumb was beginning to press and shallowly thrust into your tight hole. He groaned softly before licking down and beginning to focus on your hole again, his thumb, still wet and slick from being inside you, was slowly rubbing over your clit.

The car was stuffy, and your clothes felt oh so hot. You just need to get a grounding on your senses, take off all your clothes and just let him take care of you.

"You know I'm not g'nna stop.." was what you could make out of his voice between the lewd noises.

It wasn't long before your thighs began to tremble, your voice rising a pitch higher and your nails digging in gently to his scalp. He could tell the signs, all too familiar with them when he redoubled in his efforts to make you come. With a whine of his name, you came, cumming on his face and leaving his chin, cheeks and lips dripping with your essence.

He pulled away slowly and licked his lips, before using the back of his hand to wipe at just how messy your (neo)essence was on his cheeks and chin.

"Now you wanna bend over for me or what?"

ɞ⠀.⠀nanami ﾉ⠀kento ﹗ ໒꒱۪

He does the dirty work that no one else at the car meet ups do. He's the one pulling up his sleeves, all to keep his wife quiet and safe.

Your husband, as sweet and transparent as he makes himself, he lies. He lies to you so innocently, you have no choice but to believe him! He's doing business, he's keeping you all safe at your shared home, living like a princess. All you have to do is love him, and don't question what he does.

Sure he comes back home with blood on his sleeves a few times, the smell of weed and his palm often seems unnaturally red, but he can't be lying to you! He's Kento Nanami, your husband, the one who doesn't lie.

All you know of his co-workers is that they're lazy and clueless to how his 'industry' really works. What is Kento's industry? ... business. What type of business? And by that question he would've already distracted you and made you forget all about your silly concerns. Sukuna's there for the thrill of beating Satoru Gojo, and Satoru's there for the thrill of the race itself. Neither of them want to 'bore' themselves with recruits for the races.

So while you're sitting all pretty and cozy at home, Kento's rolling back his sleeves and adjusting his tie in the grimy bathroom. Looking dead straight ahead, and hiding his wedding ring into his wallet, before picking up his briefcase and exiting with a sigh.

It's only a few steps on the sticky floors of Shibuya subway before he tilts his head to the side, analysing the man in the hoodie in front of him.

Easy enough.

The young man, with a small stubble and greying eyes looks up from his phone when seeing a smiling Nanami Kento, looking down at him. Nanami doesn't think twice before flicking the cigarette out of the young man's hand and stepping it into the floor with the most charming smile.

"Hey, what the hell man?" The man questioned him, getting riled up and confused. Pushing his hoodie back to reveal the messy black locks of hair on his face, his jumper wasn't zipped up properly either. Revealing a green fast food employee uniform, with the name tag still on, 'Atushi'. He ran a hand through his hair, scoffing at Nanami as the blond man reached out his hand with a business card.

"Please, no need to yell sir. I can tell you're a good man, smart enough to make money..." Kento trailed off, glancing down at the name tag away before chuckling in that unnerving smile again when Atushi snatched the business card out of his hand.

"What's it to you? I'm not here to join your weird multi level marketing scheme—" he was speaking annoyed, eyes reading over the card before raising one of his eyebrows confused. It was all about car racing, and how much money people made within the first week. Too good to be true.

"Are you one of those YouTubers that play pranks on random people? What the hell is this?" He argued back and shook the card in his hands.

"No no, please, good sir, I would never!" Nanami shook his head innocently and smiled at Atushi. Adjusting his tie discreetly, and running a hand through his well groomed blond locks. His lips, although smiling and soft, his eyes only crinkled slightly. Making a small chill run down Atushi's neck, maybe he shouldn't yell so much in a random subway.

"...I do need money, but I'm not doing whatever—" he shook the card in his hand again, "—this is!" He huffed.

Nanami only smiled in response before offering the man two things from his large hands. His name tag, and a small stack of fresh 100,000 yen notes. Atushi looked at Nanami quizzically before glancing down at his chest again, noticing his name tag gone. When the hell did Nanami grab it?

"What— is this some kind of magic trick? I'm telling you man, I'm not interested, I've already got my sister to take care of," Atushi shook his head and scoffed incredulously, hesitating to take his name tag back.

"Your sister, huh?" Nanami tilted his head to the side slightly before continuing. "I'm sure that a responsible man like you would know just how valuable even 100, 000 yen would be. It doesn't take much to earn either, can you drive?"

Atushi hesitated, quacking glancing at Nanami's face and then down at his hands again before looking up into those dark eyes. "I can. Why?"

"Novice races. They're easy, really! You can even bet some money on the pro leagues, and earn huuuge stacks of cash," Nanami persuaded him with that sweet smile. Offering out his hand again. "I'll let you borrow this money from me with no charge, just promise me you'll show up on Friday Night at the place on my card." Kento grinned.

It felt like time had slowed for Atushi, as he hesitated between his two options. His grubby fast food job again, the manager he didn't like, and barely able to pay for Keiko's medical bills. The other option was more tempting, a whole golden goose if he played his cards right.

He took the money.

Kento grinned even wider and threw away the name tag. "You're a smart man. I'm sure you'll spend that money wisely." Little did Atushi know about the word the smooth talking blond man had dragged him into.

Nanami would always return home, making sure to rub off any other smells and return the smell of that rich cologne you had picked out for him on your last anniversary. He felt a bit guilty every now and then when having to talk about how annoying his nonexistent office coworkers were, and convince you that it would be a terrible idea for you to ever visit him at the office.

"I'm making an honest living for us, aren't I? Isn't that enough, darling?" Kento asked in a soft voice when cupping your face and kissing your forehead.

"But... I've only met your office coworkers at our wedding!" You pouted at Kento and huffed softly. You had only met the charming Gojo and Geto at your wedding reception, both of them with their own plus ones and teasing Nanami about how Nanami always kept you away from their 'workplace'.

"Ah, ah, ah" he shushed you quickly with a swift and soft kiss to your lips. Leaving you a little confused and dazed, pouting up at him.

You were about to protest before Nanami cut you off again, pressing his finger to your lips, "I'll invite over Suguru and Satoru for dinner next week, how about that? You can even meet the new intern, Ino." Quietness followed as you thought about it, while he held back that cunning smirk of his when his pretty wife finally shut her mouth.

"No point in dwelling on it now, I've already invited them," he lied to you smoothly and adjusted his tie, loosening it while crawling onto the sofa with you. His hips settling between your thighs, his large warm hands gently pushing your nightgown out of the way. "Hm? And you wore... that piece?"

He raised an eyebrow, amused when glimpsing down at the cute pink number you had on with the little bow at the front, the one Kento loved.

His lips gently pressed onto your plump ones, silencing you while your thighs trembled and ached. Soft whimpers and whines escaping your lips, pressing Kento on to hook his fingers around the waistband of your underwear and sliiiiid them off smoothly. He pulled away from the kiss and held up your underwear, dangling it in front of you.

Your blush and embarrassed whine onto seemed to turn him on more, "Kento!" You squealed and tried to grab at the pink number, before he pulled it out of your reach and tutted at you. "Ah, ah, ah, greedy girl. What have I been teaching you?"

You pouted at his words, watching him stuff the lacy number into the pocket of his pants. "Patience..." you muttered, a little annoyed. He only seemed to smile at your words and kissed your forehead again, more mockingly this time. "Mhm, good job.." he cooed before continuing, "gonna keep this cute little number for later, okay? Save for when I'm all alone and missing.. this.."

He breathed out heavily, parting your legs again gently and sliding a single hand between, rubbing at the slit. "So messy..." he muttered mockingly.

His small teasing touches shifted bolder when he began to kiss you, muffling your small moans and whimpers. Two fingers gently but steadily pumping in and out of your puffy hole, the heel of his palm rubbing against your sensitive clit. You moaned his name out into the kiss, not even having to say a word as he fastened his movements.

"Such a pretty wife f'me.." he whispered into the kiss before pulling away, fingers not stopping in their pumping. He admired your flushed out look for a second before glancing down at where his fingers were so lewdly pumping in and out, small wet squelches could be heard. He smirked before looking back up at your face, cocking his head to the side.

"Stick your tongue out for me darling," he muttered, his free hand trailing up to gently tilt your chin up.

You obliged obediently, making him groan softly, "such an obedient wife for me, aren't you?" He cooed and began to slowly try and sneak a third finger in. When you began to whine and whimper at the intrusion, he leaned in and suckled on the tip of your tongue.

It wasn't long before you came on his hand, warmly coating the tips of his fingers. His hand slowly sliding out after your orgasm, lifting it up to his lips before sucking them clean. Eyes locked onto your dazed and flustered ones, knowing he had successfully distracted you once again. Just like every other time when you tried to question him about anything tied to his job.

"Have you ever thought about having a baby, darling?" He asked, innocently enough for you to believe he was asking from the genuine curiosity and love he had for you. You nodded in response to his question, slurring on your words a little, breathless, "yeah.. sometimes..."

He nodded, before kissing your forehead again. "Wanna spread those pretty legs for me then, darling? Maybe we should do a test round... or two."

ɞ⠀.⠀sukuna ﾉ⠀ryomen ﹗ ໒꒱۪

Sukuna's known for his attitude. Everyone knows not to piss him off.

Everyone knows especially not to mess with his girlfriend, you. Someone flirts with you? Unconscious with a black eye an hour later. Someone compliments you? The most venomous glares ever, as if silently threatening the person to not overstep. Someone bumps into you? You have to physically pull Sukuna back from causing a scene.

He gets especially pissed off whenever he even catches a small glimpse of Gojo's white hair. Someone with blue eyes look at him? He's complaining to you about Gojo again. A white cat crosses the street? He's complaining about Gojo.

You like to tease him though from time to time, "ooooh, I think sukuna's just a little shy and wants to make friends with Satoru!" You'd coo at him.

He'd only glare and deadpan in response, swatting away your hand that was trying to pinch at his chubby cheek.

The worst days for everyone at the car race are when you're mad at him. You don't show up to ride in his car, preferring to stay all cozy in your shared penthouse, giving him the silent treatment when he was glaring at you, holding the keys and tapping his foot impatiently at the front door.

Now that he's being ignored, suddenly it's everyone's problem.

Nanami won't approach him on that day, not even if it's to share good news about the increase in earnings. Suguru makes sure to stay holed up in his workshop, busying himself with anything he possibly can and praying sukuna's car doesn't break down. The novice racers avoid him more than usual, even girls who watch his races know not to bother him when he's in one of his tantrums when you're in an argument with him.

The only person who provokes him and gets away with it is Satoru fucking Gojo.

Teasing him,dreamily and loudly talking about how he got to freely kiss his girlfriend, how wonderful it was to cuddle with her, even flexing about how his arguments were always resolved. It was a true miracle that Satoru wasn't dead by like... his first meeting with sukuna a year ago.

Yet, when Sukuna makes up with you, earning his cuddle and kissing privileges back, he's... nice.

You're holding his hands and kissing his cheeks after he wins a race, and he's trying his best not to make his blush obvious. Looking at you with the most fond eyes ever, as if you had personally hung the stars and created the earth he stood on. He'd break the law for you, buy a billion roses and still buy you even more, he'd burn the world for you if you wanted.

"Mwah! Mwah! Who's my good boy?" you're cooing at him with a smile as sweet as honey, his lips fighting their hardest not to smile back. His cheeks are covered in pink sticky lip gloss, in the shape of your sweet kisses.

"Woman, are you trying to drown me in this–... this?" He tries his best to sound intimidating under the harsh lights of the streetrace venue, hundreds of eyes on him and his opponent. His hands gesturing to his face, a mocking scoff escaping his lips as he looks down at you incredulous.

You return his look back with a playful tilt of your head, playing innocent. "What? My love? My kisses? If you don't want me to–"

Your playful words are cut off when he grabs at your wrists, keeping them near his face as he snarls down at you. His words come on in an embarrassing whisper as he keeps up the annoyed and dominant facade. "What? No–.. now I never said that... you know damn well what I meant, woman. Just–" he trails off, letting go of your wrists to look away with a sigh.

"– Just... continue what we're doing later. When we're back in the car."

Ah yes, his car. His car that's littered in traces of you. The sticky girly lipglosses, little keychains and pins, perfumes that were wayyyyy too expensive but sukuna still bought for you, and of course, all the small polaroids you took of your relationship. The sneakily photographed moments of Sukuna cuddling with you, sleeping and drooling on your chest, mixed in with more purposeful photos that sukuna took of you, or photos that you had asked others to take of you and sukuna.

Because no matter what others say about his attitude, you know Sukuna.

The sweet sukuna that holds your hand the gentlest he can, the sweet sukuna that holds all your bags for you and carries you up the stairs if you're too tired.

The sweet Sukuna that promises to marry you and make you carry his children when he's hitting your cervix in your quiet penthouse, huffing and puffing while the bed creaks loudly. His breath tickling the back of your neck, while he uses one hand to push your face down in the pillow, the other large hand being so mean when he holds at your waist, preventing you from escaping. The sweet Sukuna that fills you up to the brim every other night, and holds you close, muttering all sorts of filthy things in your ear while subtly rocking his hips to harden his softening cock inside you, trying to get just one more round in before you passed out.

No matter what, Sukuna loves you and treats you like a princess. 

Mr. kennedy was your best friend's dad and you were already ruined for anyone else long before you admitted it to yourself.

you never knew what he did because he was never fucking there. the porsche cayenne turbo gt would be gone before your sneakers even hit the porch—sometimes still warm in the garage like he'd only just peeled out after another middle-of-the-night call that nobody was allowed to ask about. you'd show up after school and the house would feel too quiet without him, like the air itself was holding its breath waiting for him to come back. he missed lucas's games.

you'd sit in the bleachers scanning the same empty spot where other dads recorded every play, phones up, proud, present. leon's seat stayed empty. always. while he was god knows where doing god knows what, that sleek black cayenne sat untouched in the garage like some expensive apology nobody wanted to accept.

he was barely home when ellane started fucking someone else. you heard the fights leaking through the walls—low, vicious, words like “how long this time?” and “you don’t even care anymore.” you saw the strange car in the driveway at 2 a.m., windows fogged, rocking just enough. you smelled the wrong perfume on the couch cushions the next morning, sweet and cheap and clinging.

but leon was barely home.

always barely.

disappearing for “work trips” that stretched into weeks, coming back quieter each time, eyes older, shoulders heavier, leaving behind a single coffee mug in the sink or the sharp metallic tang of gun oil and exhaust to prove he’d existed there at all.

then one humid summer day you walked over in that white dress. so thin the sun made it almost nothing—soft outline of your bra showing through, bright pink shorts flashing underneath every time the fabric shifted against your thighs.

curls bouncing loose down your back. nails digging crescent moons into your own shoulders because your stomach was already twisting with something you refused to name.

and there he was.

leon kennedy stepping out of the cayenne in full tactical gear, phone still pressed to his ear, sweat-dark hair sticking to his forehead, faint streak of dirt or blood or both along his jaw. he looked like he’d just walked through fire and come out the other side smoking. shoulders rolling under the weight of whatever invisible thing he carried. he shut the door with a soft click. his eyes found you instantly. and stayed.

the hard lines of his face eased—just a fraction, just enough for you to feel it in your chest like a door cracking open. he probably thought you were there for lucas. he tilted his head toward the house. “lucas is inside,” he said, voice low, rough from disuse, but there was this buried thread of kindness in it that made your lashes flutter.

you followed him anyway.

the scent hit you first—gun oil, worn leather, clean sweat, something faintly metallic like blood or cordite that clung to his gear and made your thighs press together without permission. it mixed with the burnt-sugar-char smell drifting from the kitchen—ellane’s latest welcome-home disaster. she always tried. she always failed. he’d eat it anyway. he always did. compliment her like the roast wasn’t charcoal, like the marriage wasn’t ash.

“i’m home—” he called, voice carrying through the hallway lined with perfect family photos from years when he was still around enough to be in them.

ellane rushed him—arms tight around his neck like none of the cheating or screaming had ever happened. you tried to slip past. she grabbed you too, cupped your face with those same hands. you jerked back fast. forced smile. “hi miss ellane—”

smoke curled thicker. “shit, the roast,” she muttered, heels clicking away in a cloud of denial.

leon stood in the entryway peeling gear slow. heavy vest thudding to the floor. holsters unclipped one by one. gloves tugged off scarred, bruised knuckles finger by finger until his hands were bare. “i need a shower,” he said, voice gravel and exhaustion, like the sentence had been sitting in his throat for days.

then he looked at you. really looked. blue eyes catching yours longer than they should have. a small, tired smile pulled at his mouth—the kind that said he was too worn out to hide how much it meant that someone noticed he’d made it back alive. it hit you like a fist to the sternum.

he turned. climbed the stairs. boots heavy on wood. black shirt clinging to the broad plane of his back, faint ridges of scars showing through damp fabric. you stayed rooted, pulse slamming in your ears, kitchen smoke swirling, mind looping that tiny private smile over and over like a song you couldn’t turn off.

soon after, you followed.

white flats creaking. heart knocking. passed the bathroom door—cracked open. steam curling out.

he stood at the sink. not in the shower yet. tactical pants slung dangerously low. belt unbuckled. black shirt half-open. hand wiping a slow streak through the fogged mirror. and there he was—leon. dick hanging heavy even soft between thick thighs. chest mapped with fresh red scratches, older purple bruises, stories carved into skin he’d never share. knuckles white on the sink edge. staring at himself like he didn’t recognize the man looking back.

your breath snagged. eyes wide. then he looked over. blue locked right on yours through the crack.

you stumbled back—flats squeaking—ran to lucas’s room like you hadn’t just seen everything.

lucas was on his bed, ipod on his stomach, headphones in, eyes closed. jumped when you flopped down. “shit—you scared the fuck outta me.” “sorry.” you giggled, dress riding up, pink peeking more than it should. “your dad’s home. your mom’s cooking again.”

he groaned. dropped back. scrolled without looking. “he came in here. tried to talk. i told him to get the fuck out.”

you sat up fast. “and?”

“and i’m done pretending he gives a shit.” bitter smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

you frowned. “hey. you’re being too hard on him.”

he sucked his teeth. rubbed a hand over his stomach—abs flexing, waistband low, boxer briefs showing. “you don’t get it. my whole life he’s been gone. every time he comes back they want me to act normal. like he didn’t miss birthdays, games, everything.”

he got up. walked to the window. stared out like he could escape through the glass. shoulders tense. hands shoved in pockets. same way his dad stood when he was swallowing words.

quiet. only the faint tinny music leaking from the dangling headphone.

“lucas.” you sat up. flats tipping off the bed. “you only get one dad.”

he didn’t turn right away. just stared. jaw tight. fingers flexing. then slow. eyes met yours. sharp. tired. “well i might as well not have one.” shrugged like it didn’t matter. eyes lingered on you a beat too long. waiting for you to argue.

you didn’t know what to say.

downstairs the burnt roast smell thickened. you ended up at the table anyway. across from him.

leon in a plain white t-shirt now—still damp at the collar, fabric stretched tight over chest and shoulders, sleeves hugging biceps, hair pushed back wet. cleaner. no less tired. lines around his eyes deeper in the warm light.

ellane clinked plates too loud. forced smile. “dig in.”

lucas stared at his food. fork unmoving. wouldn’t look up. shoulders hunched. jaw working like he was chewing glass.

leon glanced at him. once. twice. mouth opened. closed. picked up his fork instead.

quiet except silverware scraping. fridge humming.

you caught leon’s eye. just a second. his gaze steady. searching. that same small tired smile flickered—like he remembered you were there. like maybe you were the only one not lying tonight. your stomach flipped so hard you almost gasped.

lucas finally stabbed a piece of roast. eyes stayed down.

“so how was the trip?” ellane’s voice too light.

leon’s grip tightened on the fork. knuckles white. “you know i can’t talk about it.”

“yeah. we know.” lucas rolled his eyes. voice cracked. “what the fuck could you be doing that you miss your son’s birthday?”

leon set fork down slow. breath through nose. “lucas. watch your mouth—”

“no.” lucas gripped his fork harder. hair falling forward. “you don’t get to tell me that."

"look where we live. you have everything—and you get mad at me for working?” mr. kennedy leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands forming a bridge over his lips.

table dead silent. fridge hum. ellane’s glass hitting wood too hard.

lucas shoved chair back. “i’m done.” footsteps pounding upstairs.

ellane stared at her plate. tears welling. leon rubbed his face. exhaled slow.

you couldn’t move. because even in the wreckage all you could think about was following him up those stairs. into whatever dark corner he’d disappear to. letting him see how much you weren’t avoiding him.

“fuck, leon. you do this every time.” ellane stood sharp. plates clattering.

his phone buzzed. screen lit. blocked name.

ellane paused. eyes narrow. “so you’re leaving again.”

leon stood. “i have to take this.”

she laughed—short. bitter. “go save the world. we’ll be fine. we always are.”

he looked at her. then at you. voice dropped. “i’ll be back. soon as i can.”

ellane snorted. “that’s what you said last time.”

he stepped away. phone to ear. voice shifting clipped. professional. “yeah, this is kennedy. talk to me.”

kitchen quiet except running water. ellane scrubbing like the plate owed her something.

you stood slow. heart hammering. eyes followed the line of his back disappearing.

ellane glanced over. eyes red. “you can check on lucas. he needs a friend.”

you nodded. feet didn’t move right away. because part of you wanted to chase him instead. slip down the hall. hear his voice low on the phone. watch his free hand rub the back of his neck. feel that pull in your stomach tighten until it hurt.

but you went upstairs.

that night you stayed. lucas cried in your lap—face buried against your thigh, shoulders shaking, quiet sobs muffled into your dress so no one downstairs would hear. parts of him the football team never saw. they saw the captain with the cool dad, cool car, hot mom. never this—curled small, tears soaking thin white fabric, fingers gripping your hip like you were the only anchor left.

you stroked his hair. curls damp from sweat and salt. whispered “it’s okay” even though nothing was. his breathing hitched every time he tried to speak—half-words about missed birthdays, slammed doors, broken promises—then melted back into silence.

you let him cry until his body went heavy, exhausted, until sobs turned to slow even breaths and he finally drifted off against you.

the house was quiet now. ellane passed out on the couch with an empty wine bottle on the coffee table, tv flickering blue light across her face.

leon was gone—slipped out the back door after the call, porsche rumbling away into the night before anyone could say goodbye. maybe he didn’t want one.

you sat there in the dim lamp light, his head still in your lap, weight warm and solid. your dress had ridden up again, pink shorts peeking, but you didn’t fix it. your hand stayed in his hair, thumb tracing slow circles on his scalp like it could erase the hurt.

but your mind wasn’t all on him.

every few minutes your eyes drifted to the hallway, to the closed door of leon’s room down the way. you pictured him coming back—quiet footsteps on the stairs, tactical gear shed somewhere, that white t-shirt clinging again from whatever sweat or rain he’d walked through.

imagined him pausing at lucas’s door, seeing you there holding his son, your legs bare, curls messy from the long night.

imagined his eyes lingering—not on lucas this time but on you. the way they had at dinner—quick but burning. the way his voice dropped when he said your name even if he hadn’t said it out loud yet.

your thighs pressed together under lucas’s cheek, a slow ache building low in your belly. guilt twisted sharp—you were here for your best friend, the one breaking in your arms—but the obsession was louder now. louder than his soft snores, louder than the fridge humming downstairs.

you wanted leon to come home. wanted him to see you like this—soft, caring, loyal. and still want you anyway. wanted him to step into the room, close the door quiet, and look at you the way no one else ever had.

you waited until lucas’s breathing settled deep and steady, his arm still heavy across your waist like he needed you to stay.

you eased out from under him slowly, sliding a pillow beneath his head so he wouldn’t wake, then slipped barefoot from the room, leaving your flats behind by the door.

the hallway was dark and silent, ellane’s faint snores drifting up from the couch downstairs where the tv still flickered blue light across the walls.

you stopped at his mom and dad’s bedroom door, fingers curling around the cool handle, heart pounding hard enough to ache. you pushed it open quietly and stepped inside.

the room smelled mostly of him—gun oil, leather, the sharp clean soap from his quick shower. the bed was still mostly made, he’d only come in after dinner to change, leaving tactical pants slung over the footboard, black shirt crumpled on the floor, white t-shirt folded neat on the dresser next to his keys and charger.

no warmth lingered in the sheets, just his scent hanging in the air like he’d barely been here.

you closed the door with a soft click and stood for a moment, thighs already pressing together, pink shorts damp against your skin. you moved to the bed and sat on his side, fingers tracing the cool fabric where he should have lain. leaning down, you pressed your face into his pillow and inhaled deep—that sharp, masculine smell of him, clean and smoky from whatever hell he’d come back from. your curls spilled forward, brushing your cheeks as you buried deeper.

your hand slipped under the dress slowly, thumb brushing over your clit through the thin fabric, swollen and sensitive from earlier. you pushed your shorts aside, fingers sliding in, rubbing slow tight circles as the pressure built quick and hot.

you pictured him walking in right now, catching you there—legs spread, curls wild against his pillow, fingers buried deep. imagined his blue eyes darkening, stepping closer, dick already hard and heavy as he watched.

“couldn’t wait?” his voice low and rough, hand wrapping around your throat gentle but firm, pulling you up to kiss you hard while his thick calloused fingers replaced yours, stretching you open.

you moaned softly into the pillow to muffle it, hips rocking against your hand, slick sounds filling the quiet room.

you whispered his name. “leon”—barely audible, like a secret slipping out.

orgasm hit fast, thighs shaking as you clenched hard around your fingers, wishing it was him inside you instead. you trembled through it, whole body lit up, then sank back panting, curls fanned across his pillow, skin flushed and glowing in the dim hallway light leaking through the crack.

guilt flickered but faded quick, drowned by the ache that only grew stronger. you lay there a minute longer, breathing his scent.

then you fixed your dress, smoothed your curls, slipped out quietly, and closed the door behind you.

you quietly walked down the stairs, a little thirsty. until you saw the lights move through the blinds. mr. leon was back. and that made you wetter than anything imaginable.

you leaned over the sink, grabbing a glass to fill with water, heart already racing. his keys twisted in the lock, boots echoed heavy through the quiet house, then stopped at the kitchen entryway.

“oh, you’re still here?” he walked in, lights dim from the streetlights outside filtering through the blinds, casting soft stripes across his face. he looked tired—hair damp again, white t-shirt clinging a little from the night air, tactical pants low on his hips like he hadn’t bothered to change yet.

“yes sir, my parents don’t mind me staying.” you raised the cup to your lips slow, taking a sip while your bare feet rubbed together against your ankle. you leaned forward over the kitchen island, dress shifting up just enough to show more thigh, pink shorts peeking underneath. your curls fell forward, brushing your shoulders as you held his gaze.

he nodded faintly, eyes flicking down for a second before coming back up. he placed both hands on the island, leaning in opposite you, close enough that you could smell the faint gun oil and rain on him.

“look—” he bit at his lip, voice low and rough from the long night. “i’m sorry about what happened earlier. you didn’t need to see that.”

you set the glass down soft, fingers lingering on the cool rim. your thighs pressed together under the island, the ache between them sharp and insistent now that he was right there, real, not just a scent in his pillow. you tilted your head a little, curls shifting, and met his eyes steady.

“i didn’t mind,” you said quiet, voice barely above a whisper. “i mean… i saw a lot tonight. and i’m still here.”

his jaw ticked once, blue eyes searching your face like he was trying to read something he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. the kitchen felt smaller, air thicker, the only sound the low hum of the fridge and your own pulse loud in your ears.

he exhaled slow, one hand rubbing the back of his neck—the same way he did when he was stressed or thinking too hard. “you’re a good kid. good to lucas. he needs that.”

you nodded, but your eyes dropped to his mouth for a second, then lower to the way his t-shirt stretched across his chest, outlining every scar and muscle you’d imagined touching. “he does,” you agreed. “but… you’re here now.”

he didn’t move, but his fingers flexed on the island countertop, knuckles whitening just a bit. the space between you felt charged, like one wrong breath would snap it.

“i- i gotta get some sleep.” his voice broke the silence, rough and low, like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

you reached for his hand without thinking, fingers brushing his knuckles soft at first then curling around them. your eyes quivered, lashes wet, lips poked out just a little in that small pout you couldn’t help when you were nervous and wanting all at once.

“mr. leon.”

he froze. completely. breath catching sharp in his chest. his hand stayed under yours, warm calloused skin against your palm, but he didn’t pull away. didn’t step back. just stared down at where you were touching him like the contact burned.

your thumb traced slow over one of his knuckles, feeling the faint scar there, the roughness from years of holding guns and fighting things no one should have to fight. your curls shifted forward as you leaned in closer over the island, voice barely above a whisper.

“you don’t have to go yet.”

his eyes flicked up to yours, blue dark in the dim streetlight stripes, pupils blown wide. he swallowed hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “this is… we can’t.”

but his fingers flexed again, not to pull free, but to curl just slightly around yours. holding on. like he was fighting every instinct screaming at him to stop and losing the fight anyway.

you stepped around the island slow, bare feet quiet on the tile, until you were right in front of him. close enough that your chest brushed his, dress thin enough he could feel how hard your nipples were through the fabric. you tilted your head up, curls falling back over your shoulders, eyes locked on his.

“please,” you breathed, lips so close to his you could feel the heat from his mouth. “just… stay a minute. with me.”

his free hand came up slow, hesitant, like he was giving himself one last chance to stop. fingers grazed your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. he looked wrecked—tired, guilty, hungry all at once.

“you don’t know what you’re asking,” he murmured, voice gravel thick.

your hand slid up his arm, feeling the muscle tense under your touch. “i do.”

he exhaled shaky, forehead dropping to rest against yours. eyes closed for a second like he was praying for strength he didn’t have. then his hand cupped the back of your neck, fingers threading into your curls, holding you there.

his mouth crashed into yours—rough, desperate, tasting like coffee and regret. tongue sliding in deep, claiming like he’d been starving for it. you moaned soft into him, hands fisting his t-shirt, pulling him closer until there was no more space left.

he lifted you easy onto the island, your ass hitting the cool countertop, legs wrapping around his waist instinctive. his hips pressed forward, hard length straining against his pants right between your thighs. you rocked against him once, twice, whimpering into his mouth as friction hit exactly where you needed.

he broke the kiss gasping, lips on your neck now, teeth grazing soft then biting down light. “fuck… we shouldn’t.”

but his hands were under your dress already, pushing it up, fingers hooking into your pink shorts and tugging them down your thighs. you lifted your hips to help, breath hitching when cool air hit your slick folds.

he groaned low against your skin when he felt how wet you were, fingers sliding through you slow, teasing your clit with rough circles. “been like this all night?”

you nodded frantic, curls bouncing. “since you came back… since dinner… since i saw you in the bathroom…”

his fingers pushed inside you—two thick, stretching you open while his thumb kept working your clit. you cried out soft, head falling back, but his other hand covered your mouth quick.

“quiet, baby. lucas is upstairs. ellane’s right there.”

you nodded against his palm, eyes rolling as he curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot that made your thighs shake. he kissed you again to muffle your moans, tongue deep, hips grinding against his hand like he was fucking you through it.

it built fast—too fast. you clenched around his fingers hard, back arching, coming with a muffled cry into his mouth. he worked you through it slow, drawing it out until you were trembling limp against him.

he pulled his hand free slow, brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, eyes locked on yours the whole time. dark. possessive.

then he stepped back just enough to breathe, forehead against yours again, voice wrecked. “go back upstairs. before i do something we can’t take back.”

but his hands stayed on your thighs, thumbs stroking soft circles, like he couldn’t let go yet.

you touched his face, thumb over his lip. “what if i want you to?”

he closed his eyes, jaw tight.

the kitchen stayed silent except for your heavy breathing and the distant hum of the fridge. upstairs lucas slept. downstairs ellane snored.

and right here, in the dim light, the obsession wasn’t just yours anymore.

“i can’t… we can’t, this was—” he started again, voice cracking low.

you rubbed his face gentle, eyebrows slouched, thumb still tracing his bottom lip. “mr. kennedy, i really want this…”

you leaned against his chest, cheek pressing to the warm cotton of his t-shirt, feeling his heart hammer under your ear. your eyes looked back up at him, soft and pleading, feet dangling off the island edge, toes brushing his calves.

“i really want this. please.”

he bit at his lip hard enough to leave a mark, eyes flicking down to where your dress had bunched around your hips, pink shorts still tugged halfway down your thighs, slick shining on your skin from what he’d just done. he wanted this too—god, he wanted it bad. the way your curls framed your face in the streetlight glow, the way your lips parted when you breathed his name, the way your body fit against his like it belonged there. every inch of him ached to give in.

but he was too respectful to finish. the only job he couldn’t finish.

his hands flexed on your thighs, thumbs still stroking those slow circles, but slower now, like he was trying to talk himself out of it. he exhaled rough through his nose, forehead dropping to rest against yours again.

“baby,” he murmured, voice wrecked and quiet, “you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

you shifted closer, legs tightening around his waist, pulling him in until his hips pressed flush against you again. you could feel him—hard, thick, straining against his pants right where you needed him most. you rocked once, slow, deliberate, and he hissed low, fingers digging into your skin.

“i do know,” you whispered, lips brushing his jaw. “i’ve known since i saw you in the bathroom. since dinner. since you looked at me like that. i want you, mr. kennedy. all of you.”

he groaned soft, almost pained, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your curls. he held you there, not pushing away, not pulling closer—just holding, like he was afraid to move and make the decision real.

“if we do this,” he said, voice barely above a breath, “there’s no going back. lucas… ellane… everything changes.”

you nodded against him, nose brushing his throat. “i know.”

he stayed silent a long beat, thumb stroking the nape of your neck now, the way he might soothe lucas when he was little. then he tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing your eyes to his.

blue met yours—dark, conflicted, burning.

“tell me to stop,” he said one last time, almost begging. “tell me right now and i’ll walk away. i’ll go upstairs, sleep on the couch, pretend this never happened.”

your heart slammed against your ribs. you leaned in instead, lips grazing his, soft at first, then deeper.

“don’t stop,” you breathed into his mouth. “please don’t stop.”

that was it.

his control snapped quiet and clean.

he kissed you hard again, tongue deep, hands shoving your dress up higher. he yanked your shorts the rest of the way off, tossing them somewhere in the dark. his fingers were back between your legs quick—two sliding in deep, curling just right while his thumb circled your clit rougher now, no teasing.

you gasped into his mouth, hips bucking. he swallowed the sound, free hand gripping your ass to hold you steady as he worked you open, prepping you fast because he couldn’t wait anymore.

he broke the kiss long enough to undo his belt with one hand, zipper down, pants shoved low enough. his dick sprang free—heavy, thick, tip already leaking. he stroked himself once, twice, eyes locked on yours.

“last chance,” he rasped.

you wrapped your legs tighter, heels digging into his back. “please fuck me leon.”

he lined up slow, pressing the head against you, stretching you inch by inch. you both groaned low—he from how tight and wet you were, you from how full he made you feel right away. he bottomed out with a shaky breath, hips flush to yours, holding still for a second so you could adjust.

then he moved—slow at first, deep rolls that hit every spot, building steady. your nails dug into his shoulders through his shirt, head falling back as he fucked you on the kitchen island like he’d been starving for it.

“fuck… so good,” he muttered against your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “been thinking about this… shouldn’t have… but i have.”

you whimpered, clenching around him. “me too… every time you looked at me…”

he picked up pace, harder now, the island creaking under you. one hand covered your mouth again to keep you quiet, the other braced on the counter beside you. he watched your face the whole time—eyes half-lidded, lips parted, curls bouncing with every thrust.

those nasty wet sounds louder than the tv downstairs the snores the distant hum of the fridge lucas’s steady breathing upstairs. everything else faded just the slick slide of him inside you the way your body gripped him tight every time he pulled back slow then pushed in deep.

his hand traveled up under your dress cupping one tit rough but careful thumb brushing your nipple until it pebbled hard. he pinched it gentle then firmer rolling it between his fingers making you arch against him a soft whimper slipping out before you could stop it.

he moaned low into your neck lips brushing your skin hot breath fanning over you. “fuck… you feel so fucking good.” his voice gravel thick wrecked from holding back so long. hips rolling steady deep not rushing just savoring every inch every clench.

his eyes rolled back a little as your pussy sucked him in every time he pulled out slow glossy and clinging like it didn’t want to let go. you gripped at his hair fingers tangling in the damp strands and his head tilted just a fraction letting you see his face—eyes half-lidded jaw slack mouth parted in a silent groan.

he watched himself disappear inside you thick shaft stretching you open slick coating him shiny every time he pulled back. “you wanted this… you wanted your best friend’s dad’s dick?” he slowed his hips grinding them in lazy circles letting his fat head drag against every sensitive spot dragging out the cream from your pussy white and messy dripping down your thighs onto the countertop.

“y-yes… it feels so good.” your lips quivered softly and so did your legs wrapped tight around his waist heels digging into his lower back. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the stretch the fullness the overwhelming heat of him but it wasn’t pain it was too much in the best way.

he sucked at your neck hard enough to leave slight bruises blooming under your skin dark little marks you’d have to hide tomorrow. your pussy made those wet obscene sounds every thrust loud in the quiet kitchen louder than the tv downstairs the snores the fridge hum. slick slapping skin on skin the wet slide of him pulling out and pushing back in.

“look at you,” he murmured rough against your throat tongue flicking over the fresh bruise. “taking me so deep… creaming all over my dick.” his hand slid down between you thumb finding your clit rubbing firm slow circles matching the grind of his hips.

you whimpered nails scraping his scalp hips bucking up to meet him needy clumsy. “leon… please… don’t stop.”

you gripped the edge of the island hard knuckles white breathing the pain away trying to relax around him even though every inch still burned sweet and full. “fuuck.” leon groaned into your neck voice breaking rough as he felt you clench again.

he wedged a hand down between you fingers wrapping around the base of his dick slick with your wetness. he pulled out slow the thick head dragging against your walls until it popped free with a wet obscene sound that echoed in the quiet kitchen louder than anything else.

he came right then hot thick ropes spilling across your pussy painting your folds your clit your swollen lips. you looked down watching it drip slow down to your hole some sliding inside on its own some clinging to your skin shiny in the dim streetlight.

his dick twitched jerked against you still hard pulsing leaking the last drops as he stroked himself once twice through the mess.

he laughed low breathless “shit…” almost disbelieving. then he rubbed the head of his dick through the cum smearing it over your clit down your slit pushing it back inside your tight pussy with slow deliberate rolls of his hips. the stretch came again softer this time slicker easier but still so full.

his head tilted back a deep groan escaping his lips eyes squeezed shut like he couldn’t believe how good it felt.

he pulled out again slow this time the wet drag making you both gasp. his dick still hard slick with everything you’d made together he didn’t let you catch your breath just wrapped an arm around your waist and lowered you to the kitchen floor gentle but firm.

your back hit the cool tile first then your shoulders curls fanning out dark against the pale floor like spilled ink. he followed right down kneeling between your thighs mouth already on you kissing hot open-mouthed trails everywhere.

started at your collarbone tongue flicking over the faint bruises he’d left earlier soothing them then sucking fresh ones lower on your chest. lips closed around one nipple teeth grazing light enough to make you arch whimpering soft his hand cupping the other tit thumb circling the peak until it ached sweet.

he kissed down your stomach slow deliberate tasting the sweat the salt the faint sweetness of your skin. paused at your navel dipped his tongue in once making your hips jerk up involuntary.

then lower kissing the soft skin just above your mound fingers spreading your thighs wider so he could see the mess he’d left—cum still dripping slow from your hole mixing with your own wetness shining on your folds.

he groaned low against your inner thigh teeth nipping the tender skin there leaving another small mark. “fuck… look at you leaking me.” his voice rough wrecked breath hot on your pussy. tongue flicked out once catching a drop sliding down your thigh then dragged up slow licking a long stripe through your folds tasting both of you.

you cried out soft hand flying to your mouth to muffle it hips lifting toward his mouth needy. he didn’t tease long just buried his face deeper tongue pushing inside you lapping up the cum he’d pushed in earlier mixing it with your slick sucking gentle on your clit then harder when you started trembling.

his hands gripped your hips holding you down while his mouth worked you open again tongue fucking in and out slow then fast circling your clit with firm pressure until your thighs shook hard around his head.

“leon…” your voice broke high and quiet fingers tangling in his hair pulling him closer.

he hummed against you the vibration sending sparks up your spine then pulled back just enough to look up at you—eyes dark lips shiny chin wet curls of his hair sticking to his forehead.

“come again for me baby,” he murmured voice thick. “right here on the floor where anyone could walk in.”

that thought alone—lucas upstairs ellane downstairs the risk—made you clench hard. he dove back in sucking your clit steady tongue flicking fast until you shattered thighs clamping around his ears back arching off the tile a choked cry muffled into your own arm.

he kept licking soft through the aftershocks drawing it out until you were shaking overstimulated pushing weakly at his head. he kissed his way back up slow gentle now lips brushing every mark he’d made every place he’d tasted.

when he reached your mouth he kissed you deep letting you taste yourself on his tongue mixed with him salty sweet and thick. his dick still hard heavy against your thigh twitching like it wanted back inside right now.

he gently flipped you onto your stomach knees pressing into the cold tile already bruising from the hard floor. his hands slid under your hips lifting your ass up high your back arching pretty your curls spilling forward over your shoulders and onto the floor.

your pussy glistened in the dim light slick and swollen from before cum still leaking slow down your thighs. he squatted over you thighs bracketing yours one hand braced beside your head the other guiding his thick long dick back to your entrance.

he pushed in slow at first the angle brutal stretching you open painfully wide in this position every inch burning deeper than before. you winced sharp breath catching but he cuffed your mouth quick palm firm over your lips muffling the sound while his hips rolled forward forcing another moan out of your lungs straight into his hand.

“shh baby quiet,” he rasped low against your ear breath hot voice wrecked. “take it just like that… good girl.”

he bottomed out with a low groan balls pressed tight against you holding still for a second letting you feel how full he made you how deep he was buried. then he started moving slow deliberate pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in hard enough to make your knees slide forward on the tile.

your hands scrabbled at the floor nails scraping tile trying to hold on as he fucked you steady deep the wet slap of skin on skin loud in the quiet kitchen louder than the tv downstairs the snores the fridge hum. every thrust pushed another moan out of you muffled into his palm tears pricking your eyes from the stretch the fullness the way he hit spots that made your legs shake.

he leaned down chest to your back one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you steady the other still covering your mouth thumb stroking your cheek even as his hips snapped forward rougher now.

“fuck… so tight like this,” he groaned into your neck teeth grazing your skin. “taking me so good… your pretty pussy gripping me like it never wants me to leave.”

you clenched hard at his words back arching deeper ass pushing back to meet him needy clumsy. he rewarded you with a harder thrust balls slapping against you the sound obscene wet.

his hand slid from your mouth to your throat gentle but firm fingers curling just enough to feel your pulse racing. he tilted your head back kissed the corner of your mouth messy then deeper tongue sliding in while he kept fucking you relentless deep.

you came sudden and hard thighs trembling pussy pulsing tight around him milking him as waves rolled through you. he groaned low hips stuttering fucking you through it chasing his own release until he buried deep one last time spilling hot thick inside you again filling you until it leaked out around his cock dripping down your thighs onto the tile.

he stayed inside panting chest heaving against your back you could barely make a noise let alone feel your legs. he leaned off you just enough to breathe dick still buried deep in that tight pulsing pussy not pulling out not even an inch.

“fuck.” his voice ragged broken. “just—just a little more i promise.”

you could barely think anymore brain fuzzy from the overload the stretch the heat of him filling you completely. leon kissed at your neck soft at first then harder lips brushing over the bruises he’d already left sucking a fresh one into the skin below your ear while his hips rolled slow lazy circles keeping himself buried grinding the base of his cock against your clit with every tiny movement.

those little moans escaped your lips high and shaky no matter how hard you tried to swallow them. he groaned low in response the sound vibrating through your back straight to your core.

“i can’t stop…” he muttered almost to himself weight pressing you down harder against the tiles cool floor biting into your knees and palms as he started thrusting again shallow at first then deeper slower drags that made your toes curl and your breath hitch.

“—please—please don’t stop mr. kennedy.” your voice cracked with each beg small desperate broken on every syllable.

he hissed through his teeth hips snapping forward once hard then slowing again torturing you with the drag. “goddamn baby… saying my name like that.” one hand slid up your spine fingers tangling in your curls pulling your head back just enough to kiss you messy over your shoulder tongue sliding in deep while he kept fucking you steady deep the wet slap of skin on skin filling the kitchen louder than anything else.

his other hand reached around found your clit again rubbed firm slow circles matching the rhythm of his thrusts. you clenched hard around him whimpering into his mouth thighs trembling uncontrollably.

“that’s it… squeeze me just like that.” he panted against your lips forehead pressed to the side of your face sweat mixing with yours. “feel how deep i am? how full you are? gonna come again for me… gonna come all over this dick while i fill you up one more time.”

you nodded frantic couldn’t speak just nodded tears slipping down your cheeks from the intensity the pleasure so sharp it almost hurt. he sped up just a fraction hips snapping harder now balls slapping against you every thrust pushing more little moans out of you even with his hand still half-covering your mouth to muffle them.

“come on baby… give it to me.” his voice low wrecked thumb pressing harder on your clit rubbing fast tight circles.

you shattered sudden and hard pussy clamping down on him like a vice thighs shaking violently back arching as you came with a choked sob muffled into his palm waves crashing through you leaving you limp trembling against the tiles.

he groaned deep hips stuttering fucked you through it chasing his own release until he buried himself to the hilt one last time spilling hot thick inside you again pulsing deep filling you until it leaked out around his cock dripping down your thighs onto the floor.

he collapsed over you careful not to crush you chest heaving against your back dick still twitching inside you both of you panting ragged in the quiet kitchen.

after a long minute he kissed the back of your neck soft whispered “you okay baby?” voice hoarse thumb stroking your hip gentle now.

you nodded weak smile shaky curls sticking to your damp face. “yeah… so good.”

he chuckled low breathless eased out slow wincing when you whimpered at the emptiness. helped you roll onto your back pulled you up into his lap on the floor arms wrapped tight around you holding you close while your breathing slowed.

kissed your forehead lingering fingers combing through your messy curls.

“go upstairs now baby.” murmured quiet. “before i drag you back down here.”

you looked up at him eyes glassy lips swollen neck marked. “you’ll come later?”

he nodded thumb tracing your bottom lip. “when it’s safe. promise.”

you stood on trembling legs fixed your dress smoothed your curls feeling the warm drip of him still between your thighs the ache deep sweet and sore.

he watched you go hand over his jaw eyes dark heavy.

kitchen quiet.

nothing the same anymore