#requests

You knew the real Garrett. You knew that beneath the arrogant, untouchable exterior there was a guy who harbored a vicious resentment for the expectations his father, Phil Graham, placed on his shoulders.

And you knew exactly how to bite the inside of your cheek and look the other way when a starry-eyed puck bunny did the walk of shame down his stairs.

Garrett had made his boundaries crystal clear long ago: he didn't do relationships. Hockey was his entire life, and casual, no-strings hookups were his only speed. You were the sole exception to his rule about letting girls stick around, but only because you were safely, immovably boxed into the friend category.

Tonight, however, the walls of that box felt like they were shrinking.

The hockey house was currently vibrating with the force of way too many drunk college students, the air thick with the smell of cheap beer, sweat, and cheap cologne. You had retreated to the kitchen for a momentary breather, hoisting yourself onto the counter next to the sink.

"Here you go, darlin'." Tucker slid a freshly poured red plastic cup into your hand. He leaned against the counter beside you, watching the chaos of the living room with an amused smirk. "You look like you'd rather be anywhere else."

"I love being shoved into drywall by sweaty frat boys," you replied dryly, taking a sip. "It's my favorite Saturday night activity."

"Hey, Y/N/N," Dean drawled as he wandered into the kitchen. His green eyes scanning the room before locking onto a blonde hovering near the fridge. Dean was an unapologetic slut, and he treated the house like his own personal playground. He shot you a lazy, devastating wink before zeroing in on his target. "Looking good. Try not to let G scare off every guy in a ten-foot radius tonight."

You rolled your eyes, but the knot in your stomach tightened. Dean wasn't wrong.

Speak of the devil.

Garrett pushed through the swinging kitchen door a second later, his broad shoulders easily clearing a path through the throng of bodies. He was nursing a single Bud Light, strictly adhering to his self-imposed, one-drink limit for the hockey season.

He crossed the room and planted himself right between your knees, boxing you in against the counter. He smelled like his familiar, woodsy aftershave, and the sheer heat radiating off his large frame made your pulse betray you.

"I still don't get why you're insisting on mingling downstairs," Garrett muttered, running a hand through his short, dark hair. "We could be upstairs watching season two right now."

"I wanted to be social," you sighed, trying to ignore how naturally his hand rested on the denim of your thigh. "And I actually wanted to talk to some people tonight."

"Talk to who? That pretentious guy from your psych seminar?" Garrett scoffed, his jaw ticking. "I’m telling you, Y/N, the guy is a walking disaster. I saw him in the quad yesterday and he looks like he showers in liquid arrogance."

"His name is Harry, and he asked me to come find him tonight," you snapped, exhaustion seeping into your bones. "And for the record, you said the exact same bullshit about the last three guys I tried to date."

"Because they were all walking red flags!" Garrett argued.

It was an exhausting, toxic cycle. He didn't want you, but the second you tried to scrape together a dating life of your own, his fiercely protective streak mutated into full-blown sabotage. He actively blocked every attempt you made at moving on, hovering like a giant, muscle-bound guard dog while offering you absolutely nothing but friendship in return.

"Stop fucking hovering, Garrett," you fired back. You hopped off the counter, forcing him to take a step back to avoid a collision. "I'm going to go find Harry. Alone."

You didn't wait for his response, pushing your way out of the kitchen and into the sweaty bodies to escape the heavy weight of his stare. You just wanted five minutes to breathe, five minutes to pretend your chest didn't ache every time he touched you.

But as you stepped into the living room, your night was about to collide with a very different kind of disaster.

You scanned the room, looking for Harry. You had met him in your advanced literature seminar, and he was exactly the kind of guy you should be focusing on—smart, ambitious, and completely disconnected from the hockey ecosystem. He was supposed to be the guy who finally helped you pry Garrett Graham out of your heart.

You finally spotted him near the makeshift beer pong table set up over the dining room table. He was holding a plastic cup, laughing with two guys you recognized from the honors program. 

You took a breath, pasting on a smile, and started to weave your way toward him. But as you closed the distance, the loud thump of the music dipped between songs, and Harry's voice carried over the ambient noise of the crowd.

"...yeah, I told her to come find me tonight," Harry was saying, taking a casual sip of his beer.

"Isn't she in your advanced lit seminar?" one of the other guys asked with a laugh. "I heard that class is brutal."

Harry scoffed, a cruel, dismissive sound that made you freeze in your tracks. "It is, and she is completely drowning in it. Honestly, it's painful to watch her try to keep up with the rest of us. I basically had to explain the entire reading list to her on Tuesday."

"So why'd you tell her to meet you?"

"Are you blind? Look at her," Harry chuckled, a slick, arrogant sound. "She's hot. And she's so desperate for help with her midterm, it’s basically a guaranteed hookup. All I have to do is pretend her thesis isn't completely pathetic, tutor her a little, and she'll be all over me. It's almost too easy."

The words hit you with the force of a physical blow.

Your lungs seized. A hot, suffocating wave of humiliation crawled up your neck, burning your cheeks. It was your darkest, most deeply buried imposter syndrome dragged out into the open and weaponized. You spent countless sleepless nights agonizing over your writing, terrified you weren't smart enough to be at Briar, and Harry had seen that vulnerability and decided to use it as leverage to get you into bed.

Tears prickled the back of your eyes, hot and sharp. A strangled breath escaped your throat, and before Harry or his friends could turn around and see you standing there, you spun on your heel and bolted.

You veered into the hallway leading to the front door, moving so fast you didn't even see the two silhouettes pressed against the wall until you collided hard with a solid back.

"Whoa, hey—" a familiar voice muttered.

You blinked the tears away just enough to realize you had crashed right into Dean, who was in the middle of hooking up with the blonde from the kitchen. Because of course he was. Dean had a notorious habit of hooking up everywhere but his bedroom. 

"I'm so sorry," you choked out, your voice cracking pathetically.

Dean pulled back from the girl, his light-green eyes widening as he registered the tears spilling over your lashes. "Y/N/N? Hey, what's wrong? Wait—" 

"I'm fine, sorry," you gasped out, pushing past him and shoving the heavy front door open.

The crisp October air hit you like a bucket of ice water, but it didn't numb the stinging humiliation. You stumbled down the porch steps and pulled your phone out of your pocket with shaking hands, swiping furiously at your screen to pull up the number for the campus taxi service. 

Before it even began to ring, the front door burst open behind you.

"Y/N!"

Garrett’s voice was sharp with panic. He marched down the porch steps, his heavy black boots thudding against the wood. He grabbed your elbow, spinning you around to face him.

"Dean said you ran out of here crying. What the hell—" Garrett froze, the rest of his sentence dying in his throat as he took in your wet cheeks and trembling bottom lip.

The annoyance that usually shadowed his features when you fought was instantly wiped away, replaced by a raw, terrifying protectiveness. His large hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs gently brushing the tears from your skin.

"What happened?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. "Did he touch you?"

You shook your head violently, squeezing your eyes shut because looking at him only made the shame burn hotter.

"Nothing," you choked out, pulling out of his grip. You wrapped your arms around yourself, fighting a losing battle against your own tears. "I'm not telling you what happened just so you can give me the whole 'I told you so' speech. You were right about him, okay? Can we just leave it at that?"

Garrett stared at you for one long, suffocating second. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, putting two and two together. The silence that stretched between you was terrifying. His eyes darkened to the color of a storm, and the muscle in his jaw ticked furiously. 

He just turned on his heel and stalked back up the porch steps.

"Garrett!" Panic seized your chest. "Garrett, no!"

You scrambled up the steps, chasing him through the front door, but he was moving with the blinding, aggressive speed he usually saved for the ice.

"Garrett!" You yelled his name, pushing past confused partygoers, but he was an unstoppable force. "Garrett, stop!"

He found Harry exactly where you had left him, still leaning against the beer pong table.

Garrett grabbed the back of Harry's shirt, spun him around, and swung.

His fist connected with Harry's face with a sickening, bone-jarring crack. The guy didn't even have time to scream before Garrett hit him again, the sheer force of it lifting Harry off his feet and sending him crashing backward into the beer pong table. Red plastic cups and cheap beer went flying in every direction as the table buckled beneath them.

The crowd erupted into shrieks, scattering backward to form a wide circle.

Harry hit the floor, groaning, but Garrett wasn't finished. He dropped to his knees, grabbing Harry by the collar of his shirt, pulling his fist back to deliver another devastating blow.

"Garrett, stop!" you screamed, finally breaking through the circle of onlookers.

You lunged at him, grabbing his thick bicep and trying to haul him backward. But he was two hundred pounds of pure, sculpted muscle fueled by blind rage. You couldn't even budge him. Your fingernails dug into his arm, but he didn't even flinch. 

"Graham, enough!"

Suddenly, Logan and Tucker burst through the crowd. Logan, a bruiser of a defenseman, wrapped his massive arms around Garrett's chest from behind, hauling him backward. Tucker grabbed Garrett’s other arm, digging his heels into the sticky floor to help drag their captain away from the bleeding guy on the floor. 

"Get the fuck off me!" Garrett roared, thrashing against his teammates, his chest heaving wildly.

"Cool it, man!" Logan shouted, straining to hold him back. 

You planted yourself right in Garrett's line of sight, placing both your hands flat against his chest. His heart was hammering violently against your palms.

"G. Look at me," you commanded, your voice shaking.

His wild, silver eyes finally locked onto yours. The lethal fury in his gaze flickered, the fight slowly draining out of his posture as he registered the sheer panic on your face. He stopped fighting Logan and Tucker, his heavy, ragged breathing filling the tense silence of the room. His knuckles were already turning a vicious shade of purple. 

"We are going upstairs," you said, your tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. "Now."

You didn't wait for him to agree. You grabbed his wrist and turned, dragging him away from the wreckage, up the narrow staircase, and straight into his master bedroom. 

You slammed the door shut, leaning your back against the heavy wood as if it could keep the rest of the world out. The chaotic bass of the party was instantly muted, leaving only the sound of Garrett’s ragged, heavy breathing.

He stood in the center of the room, staring blindly at his split knuckles. The skin was already swelling and bleeding, identical to the brutal bruises he brought home after playing dirty teams like St. Anthony's.

"Are you insane?" you choked out. Your voice trembled, the adrenaline crash finally hitting you and leaving you hollowed out. "You could get suspended for that! Coach Jensen will bench you, Garrett!"

"I don't give a fuck about Coach Jensen right now," he snarled, spinning around to face you. His gray eyes were stormy, flashing with a volatile, untamed fury. "He was using you, Y/N. He was standing there laughing with his buddies about manipulating you."

"And you think I don't know that?" Your voice broke. "You think I didn't hear him? God, G, you didn't have to throw a punch to prove how pathetic I am. I already knew!"

Garrett flinched as if you'd struck him. "What are you talking about? You aren't pathetic."

"I am!" you yelled, pushing off the door. The humiliation from downstairs was a living, breathing thing inside your chest. "I'm the idiot who thought a guy actually liked me for me. I'm the idiot who's failing her seminar, who trails after you like a lapdog, exactly like he said! And you charging in there to fight my battles like I'm incapable of defending myself only proved him right!"

"He's a piece of shit who felt threatened by you," Garrett argued, closing the distance between you in two long strides. "He knows you're brilliant."

"Stop it!" You shoved both hands against his solid chest, trying to push him away, but it was like trying to move a brick wall. "Stop pitying me! I can handle the fact that you don't want me. I can handle sitting on the sidelines watching you bring home a different girl every weekend. But I cannot handle you treating me like some fragile charity case you have to protect!"

Garrett didn't move. He absorbed your shove, his jaw tightening so hard the muscle ticked visibly beneath his skin.

"Pity?" he repeated, the word tearing out of him in a harsh, jagged exhale. "You think I pity you?"

"Garrett—"

"You think I sit up at night, listening to you talk about other guys, watching you dress up for dates with assholes who don't deserve to breathe the same air as you, out of pity?" He grabbed your wrists—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to pull your hands off his chest so he could step directly into your space.

His heat surrounded you, smelling of sweat, adrenaline, and his familiar woodsy aftershave.

"I don't defend you because I pity you, Y/N," he said, his voice dropping to a rough, desperate rasp. "I do it because I am completely, out of my fucking mind for you."

The air vanished from the room.

You stared up at him, your heart slamming violently against your ribs. "What?"

Garrett released your wrists, bringing his hands up to cup your face. His thumbs gently swept over your wet cheeks, his bruised knuckles resting warm and rough against your skin. The arrogance and swagger he wore like armor were completely gone, leaving behind a raw, agonizing vulnerability.

"I have been in love with you for years," he confessed, the words pouring out of him like a dam breaking. "I told everyone I didn't want a girlfriend because the only girl I wanted was my best friend, and I was too terrified of ruining it. So I kept my mouth shut. I watched you look for someone else, and it tore me apart."

"Garrett," you breathed, a fresh tear slipping down your face.

"You are the smartest, most beautiful person I know," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips with heavy, agonizing intent. "And if you want me to back off, I will. I'll walk away right now. But don't you ever, ever think I pity you."

Your brain was short-circuiting. The secret you had buried so deep, the ache you had carried for years, was suddenly reflected right back at you in his intense gray eyes.

"You're the biggest idiot on this entire campus," you whispered, a shaky, breathless laugh escaping your throat.

He froze, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "Y/N—"

"I've been in love with you since high school," you interrupted, sliding your hands up his chest to tangle in his short dark hair.

Garrett’s breath hitched audibly. "Are you serious?"

"You really think I hung around all this time just for the free pizza and your terrible taste in TV?" you asked, a blinding smile breaking through your tears.

A slow, devastating smirk spread across his lips, the dimples you loved so much finally making an appearance. "Well, damn," he breathed.

The hesitation vanished. Garrett’s hands slid to your waist, gripping you firmly and pulling you flush against his body. He crashed his mouth down on yours, and it was a messy, desperate collision of everything you had both held back for years.

He kissed you like he was starving. His lips were demanding, his tongue sliding against yours with a hungry, possessive heat that sent a shockwave of electricity straight down your spine. Your fingers gripped his hair, anchoring him to you as he backed you up against the door, his large frame pressing you into the wood.

When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless, his forehead resting heavily against yours.

"So," Garrett murmured, his thumb stroking your hip. "I guess this means I don't have to share you anymore."

whenever leon was in town between missions or government assignments, he'd always show up with a six-pack of beer or a bottle of decent bourbon, settling into the comfort of the living room couch as they talked. it was endearing to watch, seeing them laugh loudly about old stories from their past, or just sitting in a comfortable silence watching whatever game was on.

you'd grown up watching leon from the sidelines. as a kid, he was like a cool uncle who'd sneak you cookies sometimes when your dad wasn't looking. it was innocent. but somewhere between high school and college, that admiration shifted into something akin to attraction.

leon was pushing fifty now, but as time moved on it seemed as if he could only get more attractive. broad shoulders, killer jawline, huge, bulging biceps that you itched to sink your teeth into. and his eyes— those sharp, piercing blue eyes that seemed to notice everything. it all lingered in the back of your mind at night when your body begged for sleep.

conveniently enough, after you wrapped up your finals for the spring semester, you asked your dad if you could come home for summer break. he was ecstatic, of course. he was always over the moon to see his baby girl he watched grow into a competent young woman. so when you called and told him you wanted to stay for the summer, he was more than willing to accommodate you. while you were also excited to see him and finally relax from the stress of being a college student, you'd be lying if you said leon wasn't part of the reason you packed your bags so quickly.

as such, it came as no surprise when he'd just be downstairs whenever you came down from your bedroom. leon would show up often to share a drink with him, watch some random game on the television, or simply just talk. oftentimes when leon visited, you'd find yourself lingering in the kitchen longer than needed, purposefully slowing your movements to just admire him while he talked to your dad about whatever.

and that was precisely what you were doing right now. you weren't paying attention to any of the words leaving leon’s or your dad’s mouth. you were too busy salivating over the way his biceps clung to his too-tight compression shirt as he raised his glass to take a short sip of the bourbon he'd poured.

despite leon being much, much older than you, you couldn't help but fantasize about him in a way that'd make even the devil himself blush. you knew it was wrong. forbidden, even, but the pull you felt towards this man was unlike any other. no charming frat guy or random on campus your age could make you feel the way you felt about leon. he was off-limits, but perhaps that was precisely one of the reasons why you felt so drawn to him.

"what are you lookin' at, honey?" your dad suddenly asks, and your hand stills, tightly gripping the spoon you'd been using to mindlessly stir the parfait you'd adorned with blueberries shortly before. you shift your gaze to him, hands clammy as you come up with an excuse for your shameless staring. he was seated next to leon at the island, offering you an amused smile as he watched you set the spoon down on the counter.

"uh... nothing, dad. just a little tired." you fib, wiping your hands on the hem of your tank top, hoping neither man would notice the slight tremor in your fingers. your dad let out a hearty chuckle, completely oblivious to the true reason why your gaze had been locked onto the man next to him.

"just tired, huh?" your dad teases, shaking his head with fond exasperation. "college kickin' your ass that bad?" he jokes, reaching over the counter to steal a blueberry from the edge of the parfait you'd been preparing (a late-night snack you claimed you wanted), popping it into his mouth without a care in the world. "maybe you're just getting old like us." he says, nudging leon's arm with his elbow while winking at you playfully.

leon didn't laugh right away, instead his piercing eyes shifted from his glass of bourbon to settle on you. the look he gave you was brief, but it left an impression so profound that it made your breath hitch ever so slightly. god, the effect he had on you was ridiculous. his jaw flexed once, the sharp line it catching the warmth of the overhead light fixture as his lip curled up into an amused smirk.

"yeah. college can do that to you, kid." he says, a low chuckle leaving his throat, "but some things age you even faster." he admits, the comment was wrapped in humor, the kind of dry, self-depreciating joke that fit right in with their usual banter. you stifle a laugh, biting the inside of your cheek as you smile down at your parfait that was beginning to turn into room-temperature slop.

your dad's laugh fills the kitchen again, easy and warm as he reached over and snatched yet another blueberry. "listen to this guy," he says, shaking his head as he pops it into his mouth, "talking like he's ancient. you're not that old, leon. hell, you've still got more hair than me." he says, and you can't help the fond smile that breaks out on your face from his ridiculousness. he was definitely drunk.

"you want me to make you one or something?" you ask, giving him an annoyed look that was more teasing if anything. "maybe it'll help you sober up, you drunkard." you giggle, shaking your head as you take in his expression. your dad waves you off with a dramatic groan, nearly knocking over his own glass.

"nahh, i'm good. bourbon's doing just fine. besides, if i eat any more of that fancy yogurt crap, i'll probably be up all night." he slurs, pushing back from the island, swaying a little as he stood.

"i'm gonna take this to the couch. you two kids behave in here, alright? don't let leon talk to you into any more mission stories. they get longer when he's had a few." he says, landing a firm clap on leon's shoulder as he passed, the brotherly gesture making your heart pang with a twinge of guilt. "right, man? keep an eye on her." he says, turning on his heel and making his way to the couch. he finally settles down with a loud thump, grunting as he makes himself comfortable.

leon lets out a low, easy chuckle and shakes his head, "will do…" he says, turning his attention back to you as he takes a small sip of his bourbon, the muscles in his thick biceps flexing visibly under the tight compression shirt. the kitchen fell into a heavy, charged silence the second he left. setting the glass down, his eyes meet yours and you think you might just explode.

you offer him a shy smile, shaking your head slightly and looking down at your untouched parfait. the blueish-purple pigment from the blueberries bled into the white, milky substance it sat upon, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. your pulse was hammering too hard in your ears to even think about it. leon clears his throat, and your attention turns to him again, meeting his eyes once more.

"so, how's college treating you?" he asks, a brow raised in question as he waits for your response. the simple question lingered in the air longer than it should have as you gather your thoughts.

you clear your throat, hand settling on the counter casually as you trace random shapes into the granite. "yeah, um. pretty good, not much going on. just… doing my best." you say, the words sounding a little rushed as you laugh awkwardly. leon hums, nodding as he takes in your words. he shifts a bit, resting his forearm on the counter while twirling his glass absentmindedly.

"yeah... you've always been good at that," he compliments, offering you a small smile as he stares at you intently. the moment feels oddly intimate, the way he was looking at you, the way you were looking at him— it was almost as if you were both aware of something but neither of you dared to speak up about it.

he pauses, the hum of the refrigerator and your dad already snoring on the couch the only sound breaking through the heavy silence. leon's gaze was steady, unwavering as he watched you, watched the way your hands stilled from tracing random shapes into the countertop, the way your breathing turned a little bit more rapid.

after a while, the leon finally exhaled through his nose, the sound rough. "gonna be a long summer," he murmured, exasperated, almost to himself. your brows pull together in confusion, watching as he downs the rest of his bourbon before setting it back down with a quiet clink. you opened your mouth to question him, but when he starts to move towards you, the inquiry stays trapped in your throat.

he rounded the counter in slow, deliberate steps, his tall, brooding form cutting through the small space until there was barely an arm's length left. you let out a shaky breath, eyes staring up at his focused ones as he peers down at you with an unreadable expression. he stopped just short of touching you, one large hand bracing against the cool surface of the granite beside you, caging you in without quite doing so. leon's gaze dropped to your lips for a brief second before lifting again, gaze darker than before. the restraint in his expression earlier was beginning to fray, and it was nearly impossible to pull your gaze away from him now.

"you were about to ask me something?" he says, more a statement than a question. his voice was barely above a whisper as he eyes your form which trembled slightly at the timbre in his voice. "go on. ask me, then." he prompts, and you freeze up on the spot, stuttering a bit as you struggle to maintain your composure. he was so fucking hot, you could barely contain yourself. when you stayed silent, he let out another slow exhale, the sound rough and frustrated, like he was fighting a battle he was tired of losing.

"i meant what i said," he continued, stepping a bit closer to your frame as his voice deepens. "this summer's gonna feel real long if we keep doing this little dance." he says, breath fanning over your temple carrying the faint bite of bourbon as your eyes widen. surely, surely he hadn't noticed your glances, right? it was almost too embarrassing to think about. maybe it was the bourbon talking, you think, almost trying to convince yourself.

"what... what are you talking about?" you sputter, eyes darting around as you panic slightly. he couldn't possibly mean... no. there's no way in hell he knew you'd touched yourself to the thought of him at night, imagining his large biceps choking you out while his hands explored your body. the thought makes your cheeks burn in embarrassment, suddenly feeling hot under his unrelenting gaze.

"you know exactly what i'm talking about." he cuts in, voice rough and frayed around the edges as he stares down at you. "you're a smart girl. too smart to be pretending like you're clueless." he says, and the harsh raspiness in his voice is near sinful as the thoughts you'd been having about him for years begin to rush back to the forefront of your mind.

your breath hitches, eyes finally meeting his as you take in his expression. he's clearly holding himself back for you, giving you enough room to push him away if you wanted. but he's right, you can't deny the way your stomach lurches as all the filthy, shameful fantasies you'd had about him begin to flood your thoughts as you stared at him in shock. and now he was standing right here in your dad’s kitchen, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body, smell the bourbon on his breath, see the faint sheen of sweat at the base of his throat.

leon’s gaze searched your face, reading every flicker of emotion. when you didn’t immediately deny it, something in his expression shifted— the restraint cracking just a little more. he leaned in slowly, forehead nearly resting against yours, his voice dropping to a low, sinful whisper that sent heat pooling low in your belly.

"you've been thinking about it, haven't you?" he whispered, the words slow and sinful, each one dragging across your skin like rough silk. your breath hitches, eyes widening as you realize he probably knew everything. you were mortified. "thinking about the way i'd touch you," he says, hand reaching out to tilt your chin up so you were forced to look right up at him. "the way i'd ruin you for any other guy your age..." a low, breathy exhale leaves your lips at his brazenness, lips parted in awe as you let him touch you. his thumb travelled along your jaw, the calloused pad tracing along the bone until it reaches your lower lip.

"i'd take my time with you," he starts, voice dropping even lower as he pulls his thumb down, flicking your bottom lip before it settles back in place. "start slow. get you used to how a man like me takes care of a pretty thing like you." he says, and you have to bite back a whimper at how hot the situation is. it's worlds better than you could have ever imagined. his hands pause for a second before moving lower, running his fingers down your neck and ghosting over your collarbone. the touch was feather-light, but it left a trail of heat in its wake, making your skin prickle with anticipation.

his gaze followed the path of his hand, dark blue eyes raking openly over your flushed chest, the thin straps of your tank top, and the way your breasts rose and fell with your quickened breathing. he paused there for a moment, fingers hovering just above the swell of your chest, as if giving you one last chance to stop him. "do you want that?" he asks, his eyes flickering up to your flushed face. "want me to show you how good it feels when someone who knows what he's doing puts his hands on you?"

you bite down hard on your lower lip to keep the whimper from escaping, hands sweaty as they twitch at your sides. the situation was overwhelming in the best possible way— far hotter than any late-night fantasy you’d ever allowed yourself. leon kennedy, your dad’s best friend, the man you’d secretly wanted for years, was standing in your father’s kitchen with his body pressed close to yours, his large hands exploring your skin while your dad snored obliviously in the next room. it was so sinful, but in the best fucking way possible.

"god, yes." you breathed, eyes glassy with pure need. "i can't fucking take this anymore..." you admit, eyes staring into his eyes needily, the last of your resolve shattering as you breathe heavily. his hands twitch on your chest, eyes hungrily piercing into yours as he takes in your heated confession. he inhales deeply, eyes closing briefly before his other hand slides up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place while his mouth crashes down onto yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

he kissed you like a man starved, the hand resting on your chest clamping down around the swell of your breast as he pushes you into the counter with his larger body. you gasp sharply, hands scrambling for purchase on the counter behind you as he licks into your mouth with his tongue. the bitter taste of bourbon lingered as he devoured you, groaning softly into the kiss when you whimpered against him. his body presses you harder into the counter, the thick, heavy line of his cock pressing insistently against your stomach through his jeans.

your brows pull together, hips shifting slightly higher as you ground yourself against his thick cock. he groans, pulling back from your mouth once he feels your core pressed up against his. "fuck, don't do that, baby." he grunts, hands sliding down from your chest and neck to grip your hips to halt your movements.

you raise a brow at him, hand moving to run down his veiny arm that bulges from your touch. "do what? thought you said we should stop this little dance, leon." you smirk, fingers reaching up to finally squeeze at his bicep you'd been dying to touch for years. it's meaty under your grip, and you have to bite your lip to stop from moaning at how satisfying it feels. leon huffs, clearly torn as you stare with so much desire in your gaze that it makes him want to take you right over this counter.

"fuck, you’re gonna kill me," he mutters, voice gravel-rough and barely above a whisper. his free hand comes up, large and calloused, wrapping around your wrist— not pulling you away, but holding you there, like he can’t decide if he wants to stop you or make sure you never let go. his thumb strokes once over your pulse point, right where your heartbeat is hammering wildly.

he leans in closer, so close you can feel the heat rolling off his body, the faint scent of gun oil and something darker, warmer, clinging to his skin. those blue eyes drop to your mouth for a beat too long before flicking back up, dark with warning and want.

"i did say we should stop," he admits, the words dragged out like they physically pain him. his grip on your wrist tightens just enough to make you feel it. "your dad’s twenty feet away, snoring on the couch. one wrong sound and this ends with me getting shot and you grounded till you’re forty." he knows one of you has to be rational, and as much as he wants to bend you over and have you screaming, that would be much less than ideal with your dad asleep in the living room.

"but you keep looking at me like that..." he starts, lips brushing the shell of your ear, "like you want me to bend you over this counter and fuck you until you can't walk straight. like you want me to fucking ruin you for—" he cuts himself off with a sharp exhale, forehead dropping to rest against yours for just a second, eyes squeezed shut like he’s praying for strength he doesn’t have.

"and what if i do... want you to ruin me?" you ask, eyes staring up at him pleadingly as you feel him tense against your body. his eyes shoot open, pupils wide and dangerous as he looks down at you, a low groan leaving his throat as he chuckles lowly. he was done, fucking done denying himself of you, no matter how wrong or taboo it was.

"jesus christ," he breathes, the words a half-prayer, half-surrender as he pulls back from your forehead to rake over your form. he pauses for a moment, as if he was considering every filthy thing he'd wanted to do to you tonight. "you want me to ruin you?" he asks, hands sliding back up your body and under the thin material of your shirt. "then you better be fuckin' quiet, sweetheart." he adds, hands cupping your bare breasts through your tank, and it takes everything in you to not moan.

you stare into his eyes while he fondles your breasts, hands gripping the counter behind you for purchase when his thumbs pass over your nipples. leon's breath is heavy, his eyes drinking in every reaction from you as you try to keep quiet. his right hand moves to shove your shirt above your chest, the fabric pooling near your collarbones as his stare burns into you.

"fuck, you've got such pretty tits," he confesses breathily, his large, rough hands switching from groping the soft flesh to take your pebbled nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the buds between his fingers deliciously. you moan softly, eyebrows pulling together in pleasure from how good it feels. "be quiet. don't make me shut you up myself." he warns, tugging on your sensitive nipples, rolling and pinching them with just enough roughness to make your thighs tremble. the sharp sting of pleasure shoots straight down to your clit, making you clench around nothing.

when another tiny sound threatens to escape, he moves fast. one large hand leaves your breast only to clamp firmly over your mouth, palm sealing tight against your lips, muffling any noise before it can form. his other hand stays on your chest, still tormenting your nipple, twisting it slowly while he watches your eyes widen above his palm. "shhh," he hushes, voice velvety as he fondles you. "that's better. can't have you waking daddy while i play with his baby girl's pretty tits, can we?" he drawls, and your thighs press together at the riskiness of the situation. god, it was so wrong, but it felt way too fucking good for you to stop.

you nod slowly, hands gripping the counter behind you in a death-grip as you attempt to calm yourself down. he hums quietly, lowering his hand from your mouth and sliding down your hips. his other hand follows soon after, resting on your hips briefly before moving. his hands tug at the waistband of your shorts, hands pausing for a second before looking up at you for approval. you nod eagerly, and he quickly rids you of your flimsy shorts.

you're left in your panties and tank (which had been roughly pushed up by him) as you step out of your shorts and kick them to the side. there's a tiny wet spot on the front of your panties, and leon's jaw jumps at the sight.

"fuck me..." he breathes, the words rough and reverent all at once. he steps closer to you, right hand settling on your hip while his other rests on the counter behind your back. his hand on your hip dips lower, his touch making your skin tingle as he runs his fingers down your abdomen. he moves a little lower, fingers gently grazing your lower stomach, and you shiver at the touch. he pauses for a second, fingers skimming the delicate lace of your underwear before finally dipping under the wet fabric.

his fingers slide into your underwear with ease, middle finger brushing against your pulsating clit before moving lower to feel your wetness. you bite your lip, closing your eyes briefly to focus on not making any noise. leon exhales deep, his breath catching in his throat as his fingers glide through your folds. "jesus... you're fucking drenched," he groans under his breath, the words barely audible. his fingers drag through your wetness again, collecting the slick on his fingers before ghosting over your throbbing clit again. "this how badly you wanted me to ruin you? huh? bet no guys your age could ever get close to getting you this fucking soaked."

a moan threatens to spill from your lips at his filthy words, but you swallow it down. your pussy clenches from his touch, threatening to pull his fingers inside as you let out a shaky exhale. he circles your clit with the pad of his middle finger, slow, agonizing circles that make your hips buck against his hand. he dips them lower again, finally pushing two thick fingers inside you in one deep stroke. you accommodate them enthusiastically, pussy clenching around the digits as he curls them upwards.

"tight little thing, aren't you?" he says, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he watches his fingers disappear into your cunt under your panties. his eyes take you in, the way your chest heaves up and down under his ministrations, the way your nipples tighten from the cool air in the kitchen... it was almost unreal. his thumb stretches upward to rub tiny circles into your clit, the bud pulsing painfully as his fingers set a steady pace inside you.

you suck in a breath, head turning to the side to bury your face into his chest while your right hand grasps onto his shoulder for purchase. leon hums lowly, cock straining against his pants as he feels you tremble against him. he can feel every pulse of your clit, every flutter of your tight walls around his fingers and it's driving him insane.

"fucking hell," he whispers, the strain in his voice thick and raw as his cock twitches against the front of his jeans. "can only imagine how fucking tight you're gonna be when you cum on my cock. shit, you're gonna kill me, baby." he groans, thumb pressing harder against your clit as he fucks his fingers impossibly deeper into your leaking hole. your slick is practically coating his hand, but he doesn't fucking care. all he's focused on is making you cream around his fingers for the first time.

his fingers speed up drastically, and you have to bite your lip to control your moans. your nails are practically digging into his shoulder, tears pricking at your eyes as you feel a pit begin to form in your stomach. he curls his fingers in deep, delicious thrusts that hit that perfect spot over and over, thumb rubbing firm, steady circles on your swollen clit. he angles his wrist just right, fucking you a little harder, a little faster, pushing you right up to the edge of your orgasm.

leon's free hand wraps around your shoulder, pulling you against his solid chest so you can muffle every shaky breath and broken whimper into his shirt. his lips brush the top of your head, then drop down close to your ear, "you gonna cum?" he asks softly, pressing a short kiss to your temple. you nod against his chest, legs shaky as he digs his thumb into your sensitive clit.

leon feels your frantic little nod against his chest and the way your pussy suddenly clamps down hard around his thick fingers, and it rips a low, guttural sound from deep in his throat. "yeah?" he breathes, voice strained and dark right against your ear. "gonna cum right here on my hand while your dad's in the next room asleep?" he whispers, and your eyebrows pull together from how filthy it all sounds.

his fingers don’t slow down— they fuck you harder, faster, curling relentlessly against that spongy spot with every thrust while his thumb grinds down firmly on your swollen clit, rubbing tight, merciless circles. "go on then," he whispers, coercing you to finally fall apart on his fingers. "show me how fucking good it feels." he says, fucking his fingers deeper into your twitching cunt.

your pussy clenches harder around him, harsh, ragged breaths leaving your lips as you finally cum on his fingers. your legs nearly give out as your orgasm rakes over you explosively, walls clamping down on his fingers violently while your clit throbs under his thumb. you press your face into his chest deeper, a tiny, quiet moan leaving your lips as you writhe in his hold. leon rubs small, barely there circles into your clit to drag your orgasm out as long as possible, watching in delight as you breathe hard into his chest.

"fuck, that's right," he whispers, slowing his pace down a bit as you twitch from the overstimulation creeping up on you. "good fucking girl... only i can make this tight little pussy cum this hard, huh?" he says, hand coming up to smooth over your hair, letting you tremble and ride your intense orgasm out while your muffled whimpers disappear into his shirt. only when your thighs begin to close in on his hand does he finally ease his fingers out of your wet cunt, patting your pussy softly before slipping them out of your panties.

your breath is hot as you pant into his shirt, trying to catch your breath from the intense orgasm he just gave you. you slowly move from his chest, hand gripping his shoulder tighter for support as you look into his eyes. leon’s eyes darken even more as he pulls back enough to look at your face— you're wrecked, lips swollen from biting them so hard, eyes dazed with faint tear streaks visible on your cheeks. he can't help the way his cock twitches in his pants upon knowing you were crying from how good it felt. it did something to him, made him carnal, hungry, desperate with the need to fucking ruin you.

"fuck," he grunts, thumb coming up to caress your cheek, looking into your eyes with a new, primal hunger stirring within him. "you have no idea what this does to me, baby." he confesses, fingers pressing against your lips as he shoves his cum-slicked fingers into your wet mouth. you eagerly take them, glossy eyes looking up at him as you suck on his fingers.

"that's right..." leon’s voice drops into something even darker, rougher, as he watches you suck so eagerly on his cum-slicked fingers. "such a dirty fucking girl, letting an old man like me have my way with you." he pushes his fingers a little deeper, pressing down on your tongue, reveling in the way you swirl your tongue and suck his fingers like you’re starving for it. his cock twitches painfully in his jeans at the obscene sight. you were addictive, like his own personal brand of heroin that he couldn't stop reaching for.

"god, i'm gonna fucking ruin you." he vows, removing his fingers from your mouth slowly with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting them to your swollen lips for a moment before it breaks. you stare up at him eagerly, biting your lip as your eyes travel down to the obvious erection straining in his pants. you reach down, hand gripping his thick cock through his jeans as you palm him. he lurches forward a bit, hand reaching out to rest on the counter beside you, caging you in.

"you're so big, leon. gonna feel so good inside me..." you whisper, eyes darting up to his face as you take in his tense expression. his jaw was tight, teeth grinding with every teasing little squeeze to his cock, hands gripping the counter so hard his knuckles turned white.

"fuck," he hisses through gritted teeth, jaw clenched so hard the muscle jumps. his eyes squeeze shut for a second, fighting for control, before they snap back open. his stare was dark and primal as his eyes pierced into yours, unrelenting. "greedy little slut," he grunts, voice dangerously low as he continues, "talking like that while your dad's asleep in the other room... you really are fucking filthy, aren't you?" he degrades, and a part of you thinks you should feel offended, but you aren't. it was all too hot, all too intense for you to try and think rationally right now.

he leans in closer, forehead nearly touching yours, his hot breath fanning across your lips as you continue to palm him. you can feel how hard he is— thick, heavy, throbbing under your touch, the heat of him burning through the denim. he reaches down and grabs your wrist, stopping your teasing strokes, but he doesn’t pull your hand away. instead, he presses your palm firmer against his erection, grinding into your touch once with a quiet, frustrated sound.

"this what you fucking want?" he grits out, leaning in so close his lips brush against yours as he speaks. "want to feel how big i am? how deep i can stretch that tight little pussy?" he whispers roughly, and your lips part slightly at how filthy he's being. this was a hundred times better than any little fantasy you'd had of him in the quiet of your bedroom. leon’s eyes are nearly black now, pupils blown wide as the last threads of control begin to fray as he stares down at your parted lips and flushed face.

you could hardly believe this was real. the way he talked to you was so incredibly dirty that it made your clit throb against the fabric of your ruined panties. you breathe shakily as you gather the courage to speak, "yes, i... want you to ruin me... for anyone else." you confess, eyebrows pulling together as your glossy eyes stare pleadingly into his sharp ones. "please, leon, need your cock so bad," you whimper, hand gripping him tighter through the rough fabric. he curses sharply under his breath, a large hand grasping at your wrist to halt your ministrations.

"fuck, baby," he whispers, sucking in a sharp breath at your heated confession. he leans closer, voice dripping with lust as his lips graze the shell of your ear. "yeah? want me to wreck that sweet little pussy so good you'll forget anyone else ever existed?" he purrs, mouthing at the sensitive spot beneath your ear, breath hot and heavy against your skin. you nod feverishly, the pure filth of his words affecting you more than you'd like to admit.

he chuckles darkly against your neck, the low vibration sending shivers straight down your spine as his lips brush over that sensitive spot again, teasing with just the edge of his teeth. he finally pulls back, hands sliding down to his hips to tug at his belt. "you'll get that, baby," he whispers, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down impatiently. "i'll give you every fuckin' inch 'til that sweet little cunt's ruined for good." he says, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free himself.

his thick, veined cock springs free, heavy and rock-hard, the flushed head already leaking precum. he's intimidatingly big— long, girthy, curving slightly upward in a way that threatens to hit every sensitive spot inside you. he wraps one large hand around the base and strokes himself once, slowly, letting you see exactly what you've been aching for all these years. you might just pass away from how big he is alone, mouth agape as you ogle his length, breath getting caught in your throat as you struggle to compute how that was going to fit inside you.

he catches the way your eyes widen in stunned silence as he strokes himself, chest swelling with pride as he lets out a breathy chuckle at your expression. "oh, baby," he starts, voice lowering to a sultry drawl. "nobody your age been this big before, huh?" he questions mockingly, hand on his cock stilling as he reaches out to you, gripping your jaw tightly with his large hand.

his thumb presses into your bottom lip, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to keep staring into his sharp, hungry eyes while he drinks in every bit of your fucked-out expression. "don't worry," he mumbles, reveling in the way your lip quivers ever so slightly. "i'll make sure you take every inch." he purrs, releasing your jaw slowly, fingers trailing down your neck and over your collarbone before sliding possessively along your hip.

he steps a little closer, foot wedging between your bare legs to spread your thighs, the heat of his body pressing against you as his deft hands trail lower. his fingers hook into the waistband of your soaked panties, and he tugs them down your legs impatiently. the drenched fabric peels away from your slick, puffy folds with a wet sound that makes his eyes darken even more. you step out of them once they reach your feet, kicking the ruined scrap of fabric next to your abandoned shorts he discarded earlier.

his gaze drops to your now completely exposed cunt, glistening and swollen, practically weeping for him. a low, appreciative groan rumbles deep in his chest, vibrating through the space between you as he takes in every shiny, puffy inch of your dripping pussy. "fuckin' beauty," he says, admiring your soaked cunt that flutters around nothing as he spreads you open with his fingers. "so fucking pretty, baby... this little cunt was made just for me, huh?" he teases, thick fingers dragging slowly, deliberately through your drenched folds, parting them with a wet, obscene glide that makes your hips twitch.

the slick sounds are louder than you'd like in the quiet room as he circles your swollen clit once before dipping lower to tease your entrance, pressing just the tip of one finger inside you only to pull back and spread your arousal everywhere. "greedy girl," he whispers, the words hot against the nape of your neck before he pulls back, his breath sending shivers racing down your spine. he nips at the sensitive skin there before pulling back just enough to look down between your bodies again.

his hand sneaks under your thigh, strong hands hooking it up and over his hip, opening you up to him as he steps in closer. you grip the counter behind you for balance, the leg that was planted on the floor already wobbly from your previous orgasm. the blunt, leaking head of his thick cock presses right against your slick entrance, your walls immediately fluttering from just the ghost of his tip nudging at your folds. he grunts quietly at your neediness, hand on your thigh gripping the supple flesh tighter.

"listen to me," he starts, voice dropping into that dangerous tone that sends a shiver racing down your spine. "i'm only gonna say this once, baby." he reinforces, free hand gripping the base of his cock to line himself up with your dripping hole. "the louder you are," he warns, each syllable slow and deliberate, laced with dark promise, "the rougher i get." your breath hitches at the threat, hands trembling as you gulp thickly. you nod, exhaling shakily as you condition yourself in your mind to be quiet.

he presses the blunt, swollen tip right against your dripping hole, rubbing it up and down through your slick in lazy, torturous strokes, coating himself in your wetness and letting you feel the heavy weight and heat of him right there. the fat head nudges and slides over your swollen clit, then drags back down to kiss your tight hole again and again, spreading your arousal everywhere until his entire length is shiny and slick with you. every slow pass makes your thigh tremble against his grip, letting out a quiet, impatient whine at his teasing.

"remember what i said," he reminds you, voice gruff and demanding. "be a good girl and keep those pretty sounds quiet for me." with that warning hanging in the air, he finally stops teasing. he grips your thigh harder, fingers digging deep into the soft flesh, and pushes forward in one slow, relentless motion. the thick head breaches your entrance with a wet pop, stretching you wide as he sinks the first few inches inside your tight heat. the burn is immediate and intense, your walls forced to accommodate his massive girth.

your throw your head back in pleasure, a silent cry leaving your parted lips as you brace yourself against the counter, knuckles turning white. you can feel every vein, every ridge dragging against your sensitive walls, and it makes your thighs tremble violently. a broken, shaky exhale leaves you as he keeps pushing, sinking more of his thick cock inside you. your eyes flutter shut for a second, brows pulling tightly together as the overwhelming fullness makes your stomach tighten. you’ve never felt anything like this. never felt so stretched, so full, and he’s not even all the way in yet.

a tiny, helpless whimper slips out before you can stop it, the sound barely audible, trembling in the back of your throat. "leon…" you whisper brokenly, voice cracked and barely there, eyes fluttering open just enough to look up at him with glassy, pleading eyes.

the moment his name leaves your lips, leon’s hips stutter for half a second. his sharp blue eyes darken instantly, pupils blown wide as he stares down at your wrecked expression. his grip on your thigh tightens almost painfully, fingers digging deep bruises into your soft skin. "shhh, baby," he grunts quietly, voice low and dangerous against your ear. "i told you to be quiet." but even as he warns you, he doesn’t stop. instead, he pushes forward again, forcing another thick inch into your fluttering cunt. the wet, obscene sound of your slick coating his cock fills the small space between you as your walls stretch even wider around him.

you whimper again, softer this time, biting down hard on your lower lip until you taste copper. tears prick hot at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming stretch. your pussy clenches hard around his heavy length buried inside you, sucking him deeper even as it struggles to take him. "leon... can't, 'stoo much.." you gasp quietly, voice barely a whisper, hands gripping the counter impossibly tight.

your words dissolve into another quiet, broken whimper as he rocks his hips and sinks the rest of the way in with one final, devastating thrust. he bottoms out completely, hips flush against yours, every long, girthy inch of his cock buried to the hilt inside your tight, dripping pussy. the blunt head presses hard against your cervix, the fullness so intense you swear you could feel him in your stomach.

your hands scramble from the counter to clutch desperately at his shoulders, nails digging into the tight fabric of his compression shirt. your leg shakes uncontrollably where it's hooked around him, pussy gushing slick around his cock from how full you are. leon groans lowly, forehead pressed to yours as he stills, letting you feel every throbbing inch of him buried inside you.

"goddamn, you feel perfect," he rasps, lips brushing against yours. "pretty pussy’s ruined now, isn’t it?" he says, a low, broken mewl slipping from your lips the second he starts pulling his hips back, dragging every thick vein and ridge along your sensitive walls until only the swollen head remains stretching your entrance.

before you can complain, he slams back in with one powerful thrust, burying every inch to the hilt in a single stroke. the wet slap of his hips meeting yours is quiet but filthy. your eyes roll back, a silent cry catching in your throat as the blunt head kisses your cervix again, the fullness so intense it makes your belly tighten.

leon’s hand quickly clamps over your mouth again, large palm sealing tight against your lips, muffling any sound before it can escape. his sharp blue eyes bore into yours, dark and dangerous. "be quiet," he warns, voice rough and dripping with dark promise as he rolls his hips into your needy cunt, "or i’ll have to get real rough with this pretty pussy while your dad’s sleeping in there." you nod frantically against his palm, eyes glassy and wet with unshed tears. he hums in satisfaction, still keeping his hand firmly pressed to your mouth as he resumes his thrusts.

he starts slow at first. long, deep strokes that pull almost all the way out before sliding back in, forcing your walls to stretch wide around his girth again and again. each thrust punches the air from your lungs. the thick head of his cock drags against that sensitive spongy spot inside you, then presses firmly against your cervix on every stroke. his thrusts are relentless, almost painful, but the pleasure is so sharp it makes your thigh shake where it's hooked around his waist.

"so fucking tight," leon grits out, voice low and strained right beside your ear. "pretty pussy needed this stretch, huh, baby?" your walls flutter hard around his thick cock at the filthy praise, clenching down so tightly it draws another low groan from his chest. you can feel every inch of him, every vein pulsing inside you, the slight upward curve pressing firmly against your walls before the blunt head kisses your cervix again and again.

you nod eagerly against his palm, a muffled, desperate sound vibrating against his hand. your pussy clenches around him, fluttering and pulsing as the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter. your neglected clit throbs painfully between your folds, sending little electric jolts through your core with every grind of his hips.

leon chuckles darkly against your ear, the sound rough and satisfied. "yeah... that's what i thought." he murmurs, voice dripping with lust as he rolls his hips in a slow, grinding circle, making his cock shift deep inside you. "been aching for a real man’s cock, haven’t you? no boy your age could ever fill you up like this."

he pulls back almost all the way, letting you feel the aching emptiness for just a second, before slamming back in with one deep, powerful thrust. the wet slap is quiet but obscene. your eyes roll back again, a silent cry catching in your throat as the sudden fullness punches the air from your lungs. "shhh, easy baby," he whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear while his hand stays sealed over your mouth. "keep quiet for me, now. you’re doing so good… taking every inch like you were made just for me." his praise makes your pussy flutter even harder around him, each thrust dragging heavily against every sensitive ridge inside you.

his hand gripping your thigh reaches down to rub tight, hard circles into your clit, the sensitive bud pulsing under his thumb. you nearly let out a whine, but leon's hand on your mouth reminds you that you can't, a silent reminder of his dominance. his fingers press firmer over your mouth as he feels you flutter around his cock, a low, approving growl rumbling in his chest.

he doesn’t let up. the rhythm of his thrusts stay deep and punishing, pulling back until only the thick, swollen head stretches your entrance, before driving back in with that same brutal snap of his hips. each thrust forces another wet, filthy sound from where your bodies meet, the obscene slide of him filling you completely, over and over, the heavy weight of his balls tapping softly against you with every thrust.

his thumb keeps working your clit in relentless, tight circles, never slowing, even as your thigh starts to tremble violently. the pressure builds fast and vicious, that aching coil tightening low in your belly until your vision starts to blur at the edges and fresh tears slip down your cheeks.

leon leans in closer, lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear as he whispers, hot and filthy, "you gonna cum again for me like this? gonna cream all over my cock while i keep you quiet?" he angles his hips just right on the next thrust, grinding the fat head of his cock hard against that spongy spot deep inside you while his fingers pinch and rub your swollen clit in perfect, merciless sync. your eyebrows pull together in sheer pleasure, glossy eyes staring into his as you listen to his filthy words.

"yeah? gonna let daddy’s friend fucking wreck you right here in the kitchen?" your pussy clenches violently around his thick cock, walls fluttering and spasming as another wave of slick gushes out around him, coating his shaft and making the wet sounds of his thrusts even filthier in the quiet kitchen. leon groans lowly as you clench around him, hand moving back up to press your thigh against your chest. "i think you like hearing how wrong this is. like knowing your dad’s best friend is balls-deep inside his baby girl while he's asleep on the couch."

you let out a quiet sob into his hand, pussy clamping down relentlessly against his cock as you nod desperately. you loved it, you loved how risky it was, how wrong it was, how absolutely fucking filthy he was. it was so much better than you'd ever imagined.

his thumb returns to your swollen clit, rubbing tight, fast circles that have your thighs shaking uncontrollably. the coil in your belly is on the verge of snapping, burning hotter with every filthy word he breathes against your ear. "yeah... that's it, baby," he whispers, voice rough and dripping with lust as he grinds his cock deep, the fat head bullying your g-spot without mercy. "cum all over this cock like the dirty girl you are."

the command, paired with the perfect grind of his hips and the merciless pressure on your clit, sends you hurtling over the edge again. your entire body locks up, back arching hard against the counter as a silent, shattering orgasm rips through you. your pussy clamps down like a vice around his thick length, pulsing and fluttering wildly as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. fresh tears spill down your cheeks while you bite down hard on your lip to stay quiet, only tiny, broken whimpers escaping against his palm.

leon groans low and deep, his cock twitching hard inside your spasming cunt as he feels you fall apart around him. "fuck... yeah," he grunts, burying his head into your shoulder while he fucks you through the intensity of your orgasm. "good girl, such a good fucking girl." he praises, voice strained as he fucks you through it with slower, grinding thrusts, letting you ride out every last pulse.

leon’s low groan vibrates against your shoulder as your orgasm drags him right to the edge with you. your walls pulse and flutter around his thick cock, milking him relentlessly while slick gushes out around his shaft. the wet heat of you, the way you clamp down on him, the quiet, broken whimpers you couldn't quiet against his palm— it’s almost too much.

he keeps thrusting through your climax, slower now, deep and grinding rolls of his hips that drag every thick inch along your fluttering walls. the overstimulation makes your thighs shake violently where one is still hooked over his hip, but he holds you steady in his strong grip, forehead pressed to yours as he watches your face with dark, hungry eyes.

"god, you're gonna make me fucking cum," he grits out, voice wrecked and strained against your lips as he fucks you through your orgasm. your eyebrows pull together as the shocks of pleasure-pain begin to take over, soft whimpers falling from your mouth as his thrusts begin to turn sloppy. "so fucking tight... shit, i'm fucking close," he grunts, hand moving down from your mouth to gain purchase on your right hip, using it as leverage to pull you into each deep thrust.

his thrusts turn shorter, more erratic, the wet sounds of him moving through your soaked heat growing louder in the quiet room. you can feel him throbbing harder inside you, right on the cusp of his release. "god... fucking take it," he grits out against your neck, pulling your hips against his cock rougher as you bite down on your lip so hard you taste blood.

the filthy edge in his words, paired with the very real risk of your dad sleeping just down the hall, sends another rush of heat straight to your core. your pussy clenches involuntarily around him, milking his throbbing length. "shit, i'm cumming, fuck—" leon’s voice breaks into a low, strained groan as he buries himself to the hilt with one final, rough grind.

his cock pulses violently inside you, thick and heavy, flooding your fluttering walls with hot, heavy spurts of cum. you feel every pulse, every twitch of his cock as he empties himself deep inside you, his grip on your right hip almost bruising while he rocks through it. his movements push his release even further inside, a small whimper leaving you as you feel his tip kiss the deepest part inside you.

"jesus fucking christ," he moans lowly against your neck, rocking his hips slowly into your cunt as he fucks you through the rest of his high. he keeps grinding in slow circles, making sure you feel every inch of him while your walls continue to flutter and milk the last drops from his throbbing cock. "fuck, that's right, so good, so fucking good baby," he praises, pressing small little kisses into your neck where your pulse thrums rapidly as you try to catch your breath.

he stays buried deep, cock still twitching with the occasional aftershock inside your cum-filled heat. the grip on your right hip slowly eases, his fingers stroking over the flushed skin in gentle, apologetic circles where he’d held you so tightly. he pulls out slowly, the wet sound filling the quiet room as his thick cock slides free from your fluttering pussy. you immediately feel the warm rush of his cum leaking out of you, dripping down your folds and sliding down the inside of your thigh.

you wince slightly, the cool kitchen air kissing your cunt as your legs settles back down on the ground below you shakily. you huff out a breath, hands gripping the counter behind you to steady yourself before looking up at leon.

he's breathing heavily, eyes closed and brows pulled together tight as his hands rest upon the counter beside your form, caging you in. a faint sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead and along the line of his neck. after a few seconds, his eyes slowly open, heavy-lidded, locking onto yours. the intense hunger from moments ago has softened into something warmer, more intimate, though the corner of his mouth still twitches with a lazy, satisfied smirk.

"fuck..." he breathes out, voice low and hoarse. he leans in a little closer, one hand lifting from the counter to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. "you okay, baby?" he inquires, taking in your post-orgasm haze as you catch your breath. you offer him a quiet nod, a small smile gracing your features as you stare at him. leon’s eyes linger on your face for a long moment, his thumb tracing lightly along your cheekbone.

"good," he murmurs, voice still rough but quieter now. "let's get you upstairs before your dad wakes up." he presses one last soft kiss to your forehead, then carefully pulls back. he pulls his boxers and pants up in one smooth motion, efficiently tucking himself back inside. his hands slide to your waist, steadying you as your legs continue to tremble. with gentle movements, he helps you tug your panties and shorts back up your thighs, though the fabric immediately feels the warm, sticky mess of his cum still leaking from you and soaking into the material.

"easy, baby," he whispers when you sway a little. one strong arm wraps around your lower back, pulling you against his chest for support while his other hand adjusts himself in his pants slightly. "i’ve got you." he keeps you close as you both quietly slip out of the kitchen, moving through the dark hallway on quiet feet. the living room is still quiet— your dad’s soft snoring drifts from the couch, completely unaware.

you let out a sigh of relief, the nervous thrum of your heart slowing a bit at the sight of your dad still sound asleep. leon’s hand stays firm on your waist the entire way, guiding you up the stairs with careful, measured steps until you’re safely inside your bedroom. he closes the door shut quietly, turning around to see you flopping face-first into your bed.

leon makes his way to the edge of your bed, watching the way your body sinks into the mattress, exhaustion pulling you under. the room is quiet except for your heavy breathing and his steady breaths. he reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, the touch careful and warm. "you did so good for me," he murmurs, hand stroking your hair down where it was messily tangled. you hum, turning your head and looking into his eyes with a soft expression on your face.

"we need to be smart about this," he starts, and you purse your lips at the thought of sneaking around your dad. you nod slowly, taking in his words as you try and think of a solution. he leans in slightly, eyes searching yours. "what do you think? what do you want out of this?" he asks quietly, hand settling on your shoulder while his thumb rubs fond circles into the soft skin.

you bite your lip, thinking, then murmur, "maybe… we could start with just normal time together first. like... actual dates outside the house. and then see how it feels before we decide about telling my dad." leon’s mouth curves into a small, approving smile. he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"yeah?" he asks, a tiny smile breaking out onto his face. "we'll do that then, baby," he reassures you, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. you smile, nodding silently while leaning into his touch. your eyes flutter shut for a moment, basking in his touch as you feel your eyes get heavier.

"how 'bout you get some sleep, huh?" he suggests, and you smile softly, opening your eyes once more to stare into his, a fond expression gracing his usually hardened features. you let out a contented sigh before sitting up and pressing a firm yet soft kiss to his lips. he immediately kisses back, a hand coming up to caress your cheek softly.

leon pulls back slowly, resting his forehead on yours before speaking up, "i've gotta go back downstairs in case he wakes up," he huffs, pressing a short kiss to your pouted lips. "don't you worry, baby. i'll be over here all summer." he chuckles, and you can't help the big smile that breaks out across your face.

indeed he will be.

© cametoile ♡ + ↻

When you step into the bullpen of the Daily Planet, you draw attention. Jimmy and Lois look up with curiosity and something not unlike desire in their eyes. Clark Kent, however, looks simply for the view, a small smile on his face as he admires you. Meeting you has to be the best part of joining the Planet, he thinks.

“Another point for me!” you announce.

“No!” Jimmy exclaims.

You smile, spreading your arms as you turn in a slow circle. You bow dramatically, then point to the small whiteboard on Lois’s desk. She shakes her head as she uncaps the black dry erase marker, then adds a tally under your name. Clark has no idea what you’re talking about or what the score is for, but he doesn’t really care. You’re involved, and that’s enough for him.

“This is sad,” Lois muses as she returns the marker to her top drawer.

“At least we can appreciate that there’s still something in the sadness,” Jimmy replies.

“What?” you and Lois ask together.

Clark shifts in his seat, angling himself toward the television even though he’s watching you. The color of your eyes, the steady beating of your heart, how you style your favorite item from your closet several times a month, it’s all addictive to Clark Kent. Yet, he sits back and watches you rather than telling you how captivating he finds you.

“Jimmy, you’ve been slacking,” you muse.

He slides his phone toward you, nodding as your eyes widen at whatever is on the screen. “She then had the audacity to ask me out.”

“At least you’re getting asked out!” Lois replies. “The last time I went on a date was nearly a month ago and he asked to paint me.”

“Wait, that’s kind of romantic,” you point out.

“Yeah, if he’d wanted to do a portrait. He wanted to paint me, like put the paint directly on my skin.”

You cringe, sinking in your seat.

“What was so bad about last night?” Jimmy asks.

You went on a date last night, Clark realizes. And the scores have something to do with that. He’s an investigative journalist – he should have pieced it together sooner: you go on a date; you get a point. It’s some kind of dating score.

“I bought a new outfit a few weeks ago: the cute red one?” you begin.

Clark remembers it well. The shade of red is almost identical to his cape, and he’d stumbled over every word he’d tried to say while you were wearing it.

“So, I wore that,” you continue. “He asked me where I got it, and I was like, oh it looks great, I know. Turns out, he’d been on a date the week before and thought it would look amazing on her.”

“Men,” Lois scoffs.

“You need to find better dates,” Jimmy muses.

“Right, because they just flock to me,” you joke.

“Are you gonna wear that outfit again?” Lois wonders.

You shrug, and Clark swears his heart breaks a little, like he’s losing something precious.

“I thought I looked great in it. I mean… maybe I find another outfit to get catcalled in.”

Jimmy barks out a laugh, then argues, “I don’t think it’s the outfit that incites catcalling. It’s just you.”

“Please,” you reply, smiling brightly. “I’m not pretty like that.”

Jimmy and Lois laugh, turning back to their computers. You shake your head, still smiling as you open the document you’ve been working on. Clark, however, can’t focus on work.

The moment you say I’m not pretty, Clark twists so far in his seat that he nearly topples to the floor. He stares at you, taking in every part of you: your hair, your skin, your eyes, the way you smile and scrunch your nose as you read something on your computer. You are gorgeous, a kind of pretty that isn’t affected positively or negatively because of any given outfit. You make the things around you beautiful. And you deserve to know. The deadbeats you’ve been dating don’t deserve you, Clark thinks. If you can’t see how pretty you are, Clark will find a way to show you. No matter how long it takes.

A week later, Clark is still thinking about your “I’m not pretty like that” comment. To show you differently, he starts dropping little compliments and leaving notes on your desk.

This morning, he compliments how your hair is styled and how it makes your eyes look brighter than usual, showing the flecks of color in them. You duck your chin, murmuring your thanks before you rush toward the coffee pot.

Clark’s notes are specific: mentions of what makes you beautiful, compliments that go beyond skin deep. He doesn’t know if you realize they’re from him, but the point remains: you deserve to know how pretty you are, and Clark desperately needs to show you.

“I like your outfit,” Clark says when you arrive wearing the red outfit that had left him speechless before.

You laugh as you fall into your seat. “Thanks, Clark,” you reply. And then you move on.

Clark stops by Lois’s desk, his eyes narrowing at the whiteboard as he nudges his glasses up his nose. You’ve tallied three more points since deciding that you’re not pretty like that. He shakes his head, distantly aware that Lois and Jimmy have more points than you. With his eyes on his legs and his mind on you, Clark doesn’t look before he enters the elevator.

“Hi, Clark,” you greet.

Clark looks up quickly, the curl that falls against his forehead sweeping across his skin from the sudden movement.

“Hi,” he responds softly.

“Have any plans tonight?” you question.

Clark shakes his head. He sees your reflection in the metal of the elevator door, and he physically can’t take it anymore.

“How could you think you aren’t pretty?” he demands, turning to face you as his arms spread to his sides.

He’s tall enough that his hands hit both sides of the elevator, but he doesn’t look away from you. His blue eyes are wide and bright as he looks at you.

“What?” you question.

“You said that you’re not pretty like that after your date last week,” he reminds you, his voice laced with emotion. The elevator nears the lobby, and you reach forward to stop it. It lurches to a stop between floors, and you take a deep breath as you turn toward Clark.

“Clark, that was a joke,” you explain. “We make fun of our dating lives constantly; it doesn’t mean anything.”

Clark shakes his head, adamant as he argues, “No.”

“No?” you question.

He steps toward you and insists, “You have to believe that you’re pretty because you are!”

You cross your arms over your waist, smiling kindly as you say, “Not everyone is going to think that and I’m okay with it.”

“Not- what are you saying?”

“Clark, why do you care?” you question. “I mean, I appreciate it, but… It’s a fact that not everyone will think I’m pretty-“

“But I do!” Clark yells, his chest heaving as he stares at you. Nearly immediately, he seems to realize that he’s confessed something he didn’t mean to. His arms drop, he steps back, and apologies roll from his lips, the words spoken so quickly that you don’t understand much past your name. It sounds right coming from him, you realize.

“Clark,” you interrupt. He keeps talking, and you lay your hand on his arm as you say his name again.

The moment your skin meets his, he trails off.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” Clark whispers. “Of course.”

You smile as the elevator begins moving again. Clark holds the door for you, and suddenly you have no desire to go on another date unless it’s with the sweetheart beside you.

6 Months Later

You have an interview in fifteen minutes, and you’re regretting wearing a sweater. Maybe you should have worn a dress or at least a shirt with buttons. First impressions are important.

“Does this look okay?” you ask Lois.

“Yeah, you look great!” she replies.

You hum, glancing down at your outfit. Maybe it’s not the sweater… “I look terrible in this color,” you decide.

Clark drops his notepad, his pen falling to the floor with a noisy tch sound. He stands and straightens his jacket, then walks to your side.

“Clark?” you ask.

He doesn’t reply. He wraps his arm around your waist and guides you to the elevator. The entire ride to the roof is silent, but then you’re lifted into his arms and kissed like only Clark Kent can kiss.

“You’re beautiful,” he says against your lips.

You smile, threading your fingers into his hair as you murmur, “I know. Thanks to you.”