#i need to get out of my house immediately | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

watermelonlovershigh · 1 day

Text

In Sickness and in Health {part. 9} (housemate!harry series)

The Next Morning {part. 8} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: sorry this part took so long. it took me forever to write. it's quite a longer part so i hope you enjoy reading. don't forget to leave your feedback and reblog. also i think something went wrong with my taglist so if you weren't sent this from me tagging you, idk what happened. xoxo

This story contains: vomit (stomach bug), sickness comfort, fluff, crying, mentions of neglectful ex partners, accidentally dropping "L" bomb at the end

{ housemate!harry - friends to lovers - boyfriend!harry - softrry - teacher!harry - au!harry }

word count- 3,750

Harry unfortunately catches a stomach virus the day after you made your relationship official and you have to pick him up from work and take care of him for the rest of day, which he greatly appreciates.

Harry woke up on Monday morning and started getting ready for work as usual. Despite feeling a slight cramp in his stomach, he chose to disregard it. Just before leaving the house, he returned to your bedroom where both of you had slept the previous night and gently kissed his girlfriend's forehead. You were still asleep, having the flexibility to work from home, so there was usually no need for you to wake up at the same time as Harry. On his way out the front door, he grabbed a banana from the kitchen before making his way to his car.

--------------------------

The stomach cramps that Harry felt while getting ready for work are still present, and as he starts teaching his first class of the day, he realizes that they're only getting worse. Initially, the sensation in his stomach was similar to cramps, but as time goes on, it becomes more of a swirling feeling that makes it difficult for him to focus on his task of teaching. Eventually, Harry opts to handing out worksheets for his students so he can sit down and attempt to alleviate the ache in his stomach.

Ultimately, the plan falls through because he reaches a point where he senses he's about to vomit all over his desk, in front of all his students, if he doesn't immediately go to the bathroom. Harry quietly gets up from his desk and leaves the classroom without any explanation. If he had more time, he would have requested his neighboring teacher to supervise his class while he steps out, but he's worried there's no time for that.

Upon reaching the hallway, Harry quickens his pace towards the nearby teachers' bathroom. Fortunately, they were conveniently located not too far from his own classroom. Without wasting a moment, he swiftly enters the one toilet bathroom, closes the door, and securely locks it behind him. Rushing towards the toilet, Harry manages to make it just in time. As he stands in front of the somewhat grimy white porcelain, he began to throw up the lasagna you'd cooked the night before and remnants of the banana he had forced himself to eat this morning.

When Harry completes the gross task, he straightens up, breathe labored, and retrieves some toilet paper to cleanse his nose and mouth. Subsequently, he flushes the toilet to prevent any further discomfort from the sight of his own puke. Now, he faces a dilemma. Is it possible that his sickness was a one-time occurrence, allowing him to continue teaching for the remainder of the day? Or, should he call and ask you to pick him up? He decides to pick the first option, unless he begins to feel sick again later on.

--------------------------

Despite his best efforts, Harry can only make it until lunchtime before he finally gives in and calls you to come pick him up. He's been sick twice more since the first incident, and there doesn't seem to be any improvement in his condition. On top of Harry's queasy stomach, he now has a pounding headache and doesn't want to take the chance of driving himself home and getting into an accident. It's really frustrating because just yesterday you both decided to make your relationship official, and now Harry is feeling terribly ill. This was definitely not how he had planned today going.

He wanted to come home and canoodle you all evening. Make you dinner and begin working on his promise of all the places he intends on fucking you in. But instead, he's presumably got some sort of stomach bug that hinders any of that from happening.

Alone in his classroom while his students are at lunch, he pulls out his cellphone and dials up your number.

"Hello." you pick up with an upbeat tone, unaware of how the conversation is about to go. By looking at the time on your laptop, you assume Harry's on his lunch break and has a moment to talk. He's called you on his lunch break in the past, but now it feels different. You're boyfriend and girlfriend. His calls feel more meaningful now.

Harry nervously requests through the phone, "M' sorry to bother you, but could you come pick me up? I think I've caught some sort of stomach bug. I've thrown up three times already and m' not feelin' any better. I've also got a headache now. M' not sure if I can drive myself home."

You've never heard Harry sound so, bleh, since your time of knowing him. All the happiness he usually carries in his voice is gone and it breaks your heart to hear. You immediately set your laptop down and stand from the couch to slip a pair of shoes on. "Yeah Harry, I'll come and get you. Whereabouts do I need to park?"

"Just at the front entrance. I'll walk up to your car." he mumbles, not wanting to talk too much with a queasy belly.

"Okay, I'll be there shortly. Hang tight." you finish the phone call off before hanging up and grabbing your keys to head out the door. If Harry feels as bad as he sounded over the phone, you'd hate for him to stay any longer then he has to. Poor thing must be miserable.

--------------------------

When you reach the school's entrance, you see Harry standing there with his teacher's satchel hanging over his shoulder and a hand casually resting on his stomach. After placing the car in park, Harry quickly opens the passenger door and climbs in. He's ridden in your car just a few times before, mainly when you go grocery shopping or when grabbing a meal together.

As soon as Harry shuts the car door, he tries to get settled in car seat as best as possible while feeling like total shit. "Thank you for comin' to get me. Don't think I would've made it if I had to drive myself home."

Before placing the car back into drive, you coo over to him softly, "It's no problem, really. I hate that you're so sick. You were fine all weekend. When did you begin feeling sick?"

"While I was gettin' ready for work this mornin', I noticed my belly crampin' but ignored it. Then durin' my first class of the day, the crampin' turned into nausea before I ended up bein' sick in the teacher's toilet."

With the car in drive now, you begin pulling out of the school's lot and make the journey back to Harry's (yours too technically) house. "Awe, well I'll take care of you. No worries. In sickness and in health."

Harry abruptly turns his head to face you, worsening the throbbing headache he had been enduring, and instantly regretting his impulsive action. "What?" he responds with a touch of confusion, though internally filled with excitement over the end of your statement. "In sickness and in health? We only started datin' yesterday, we're not married." He refrains from expressing his true desire for future marriage.

Smiling playfully at the road, you reply, "I understand that, but I believe when you truly care about someone, you should stick to that commitment regardless of marriage. And since I'm your girlfriend and you're now my boyfriend, it means I care about you deeply and will take care of you, no matter the circumstances." What you really wanted to say is when you love someone alot, but didn't want to throw the love bomb in this conversation, afraid of how he'd react.

Harry feels as though he might throw up again and not from his stomach bug this time, but rather due to the pure admiration he feels towards you. Your endless compassion and selflessness towards him has the ability to make his heart feel as though it could burst at any given moment. He reciprocates these feelings wholeheartedly, even from the early stages of your relationship when you were just housemates and acquaintances. During that time, he took care of you when you were sick due to your period cramps, showcasing his genuine concern for your well-being during a time where you were most vularable.

--------------------------

After a ten-minute drive, you finally arrive home, and Harry silently expresses his gratitude towards the heavens above for helping him keep his stomach under control. He really didn't want to accidentally be sick in your car or have you pull over suddenly so he could spew on the side of the road. He's determined not to disgust his new girlfriend too much on your first full day together, although he's confident that you would have handled the situation with grace.

Getting out of the car, you instruct, "Go lie in bed and I'll bring you some medicine and plain crackers, alright. I'm gonna take care of you."

"Noo....." Harry whines as he drags his feet along the pavement to the front door, "don't wanna eat anythin'."

"But Harry, you need something on your tummy."

Huffing, he argues, "M' just gonna throw it back up and I don't wanna be sick again. I hate throwin' up."

You unlock the front door and step inside the living room, slipping off your shoes and placing your keys down. "I know baby but the medicine on an empty stomach may make you feel worse. Just a few nibbles is all I'm asking. And if you get sick afterwards, that's okay. At least I know you tried for me." Hey, you used the term 'baby' in a non sexual setting and it felt good. It felt right.

Harry makes his way to his bedroom and strips his work attire off before settling into the disheveled bed without a care in the world. Exhausted from the virus, he quickly falls asleep after laying his head on the pillow. His cat Pixie cuddled into his side. However, his slumber is short-lived as he's gently awakened, being asked to sit up and take the tablets that will hopefully help his sick tummy and headache. Along with the crackers you promised minutes prior.

He sits up and takes the pills with a glass of water but hesitates on the crackers. "Don't wanna." Harry whines again.

A smile escapes you as you observe his deeply furrowed brow. If you didn't know any better, you would assume Harry was a child, considering his current demeanor. Nevertheless, you don't hold it against him because you can be just as whiny when you're under the weather. Additionally, you empathize with the fear of being forced to eat something while suffering from an upset stomach. The fear of being sick again. "I understand Harry, but just try taking a small bite. That's all I'm asking for. Then I'll let you rest"

Reluctantly, Harry brings the cracker up to his mouth and takes a small bite, chewing it slowly before pushing the rest of the cracker aside. You take it from him and place it on his nightstand, in case he wants some later. Then you place his glass of water beside his bed, ready for when he becomes thirsty again. "Thank you. Now, rest. I'll be in the living room, finishing up the work I was doing before I came to get you. If you need me, call for me, okay. I'll hear you."

Laying down with the covers up to his chin, Harry mummers a quiet, "Okay." and you lean down to place a gentle kiss on his warm forehead.

--------------------------

Harry gets about an hour of rest before he awakens to his tummy swirling again. He lays there, trying to breath his nausea away, but to his luck, he only feels more and more sick as the minutes pass. So he finally makes the decision to get up and go to the bathroom. From your spot on the sofa, you hear footsteps on the creaky wood floor and then see Harry emerge from his bedroom and go inside the bathroom in the hallway.

You wait a few seconds, thinking he may have just needed to use the toilet, when you're suddenly startled by the sounds of dry heaving. Concerned, you decide to go check on your boyfriend. Approaching the bathroom door, you cringe at the sounds of Harry being sick. You have always found it difficult to be around someone who is vomiting or hearing those sounds, but you're determined to be there for Harry. With a deep breath, you turn the doorknob and cautiously enter the bathroom.

The scene in front of you is truly heartbreaking. Although you haven't known Harry for very long, less than a year in fact, during the time you've spent with him, you've never seen him in such a weak and vulnerable state. You long for the return of your cheerful and smiling boyfriend, not the sickly one with clammy skin, likely from a cold sweat. "Oh, Harry," you murmur softly as you approach the cabinet to retrieve a cloth to soothe his sweaty skin.

Taking a deep breath over the toilet bowl, he replies, "M' alright, m' alright."

Now with the cool, damp cloth in your hand, you kneel down on the hard floor and gently blot the rag on his pale skin. Being thoughtful, Harry reaches up to flush the toilet so you don't get exposed to the disgusting sight of his puke. "Do you feel better now?"

Harry shakes his head no before speaking with a raspy voice, due to him having gotten sick several times today, "Not really. Still feel sick to m' stomach. You can leave if you want. You don't have to be in here and watch me get sick. M' sure the sight is very unpleasant."

"Harry, I'm not leaving you, okay. I'm gonna be in here and take care of you. You took care of me a while back when I was throwing up from my period cramps. Told me not to be embarrassed because we all get sick from time to time. So now we're even."

Harry, too sick to reply, fixates his gaze on the toilet as you gently glide the wet cloth across his skin. Despite his desire to express how good that cloth feels, the rising bile in his throat hinders him. He straightens his posture, positioning his head over the toilet. Once his mouth begins to water, he realizes his impending fate. A loud retching sound escapes his throat, followed by the expulsion of whatever little remains in his stomach. In order to shield yourself from the sight of him vomiting, you instinctively turn away, fearing the potential of falling ill yourself.

Thankfully, Harry's hair is held back by one of the small black clips you'd left on the bathroom counter, so that's one less thing he has to worry about. After throwing up this time, you can hear him making further attempts to bring up more, but unfortunately, he's unsuccessful. Probably because he's already been sick multiple times today and his stomach is now completely empty of food.

After finally calming down, he agrees when you suggest, "Why don't we get you back in bed and I'll bring you more medicine? Sitting in front of the toilet seems to be making you feel worse." You assist Harry in standing up and hold his hand as you guide him towards his bedroom. Although he would have liked to brush his teeth, he's sadly too exhausted to even lift the toothbrush to his mouth

He gets settled back in bed and you hurry and grab the medicine to help soothe his nausea. Within minutes, you're back at his side, handing him the pills and his glass of water. He swallows the medicine slowly and begins to relax. As you're about to leave, Harry stops you. "Y/n...... could you, um, can you come cuddle me, please. Know you were workin' but um, I'd really like a cuddle." How can you say no to that.

Turning around, you smile gently and say, "Of course. Let me go switch my laptop off. I'll be right back." You go back to the living room and close your laptop, then return to Harry's bedroom. You climb into bed beside him, being careful not to disturb Pixie who has moved to the foot of her dad's bed, and scoot over to cuddle with your boyfriend of a day.

Harry shifts his position, resting his head on your chest, and starts apologizing. "M' sorry. This is not the way I envisioned today goin'. After the incredible day we had yesterday and us becomin' official, I had hoped for today to go the same. Planned to fulfill my promise of fuckin' you in at least one of the places I promised I would." Despite the fact that his words would have sounded amusing under different circumstances, his illness causes him to speak in a casual tone, unintentionally adding a touch of humor.

Running your fingers through his sweaty hair, you mutter, "Harry, don't apologize for being sick. You can't control if you get sick or not. And don't worry about that. Once you're sickness leaves, we'll have plenty of time to work on those promises, alright. Now get some rest and later I'll make you some soup. Wake me up if you feel sick again."

More than anything, Harry wants to reply with an agreement followed by the three words, 'I love you', but can't. Not yet. Not until he knows you're ready to hear that. So instead, he nods his head slightly against your chest and shuts his eyes, praying the medicine you gave him works and he doesn't get sick anymore today.

--------------------------

At seven that night, you awoke from your slumber. Sitting up in bed, you stretched and observed your boyfriend still in a deep sleep. He seemed less pale, indicating a positive change, although he remained slightly sweaty. Quietly, you got out of bed and made your way to the kitchen to start working on the soup you had promised Harry earlier, hoping he would have an appetite by now.

Upon completing the homemade chicken noodle soup, you carefully carried a bowl to Harry's room and helped him sit up to have his meal. You fed him, aware that his hands might be a bit shaky, and he is in complete awe of the kindness you have shown him today. He ponders, had you not made your relationship official yesterday, would you still be just as caring towards him. Of course, you would.

By this point in the day, his stomach had thankfully settled and he had even developed a slight craving for your scrumptious soup. After he had finished eating, you aided Harry in taking a bath. You prepared a warm bath and added bubbles to create an extra soothing atmosphere. Initially, your plan was to kneel on the bathmat beside the tub and assist him from there, but he insisted that you join him. Without hesitation, you joined him in the bath.

This signifies the first time you and Harry are sharing a bath, without any sexual implications. Inside the tub, you allowed Harry to lean back onto your body, gently caressing his tummy beneath the water. He expresses his satisfaction with a pleasurable moan and nearly dozes off against you. As the water temperature decreases, you begin to thoroughly wash his hair and body.

Breaking the quietness of the room, Harry whispers, "Thank you so much, Y/n. Like really, thank you. What you've done for me today means so much to me. More than you even understand." You stop the sponge along his skin when you realize he's actually getting emotional.

"Baby," you coo softly from behind him, "you don't have to thank me. I want to care for you. Did all your previous partners not want to care for you when you were sick?"

With tears welling up in his eyes, he proceeds to explain, "To be honest, not really. There was this one incident during my college years when I had caught a terrible cold. My girlfriend at the time expressed her reluctance to getting sick, so she never bothered to visit me in my dorm even once. Also didn't bother to call and check up on me. Then, about four years ago, I went on a date with my boyfriend at the time, Mark, to a restaurant. Unfortunately, I ended up with food poisoning and instead of offering any assistance, he simply drove me home and told me he would see me once I recovered. Hence, I don't expect a partner to do what you have done for me. It feels so nice to have someone take care of you when you're unwell that's not your own mother"

--------------------------

After the bath where you had some deep and vulnerable conversations, you assisted Harry out of the tub. After drying both yourself and him off with a towel, you helped him change into a fresh pair of briefs. You then directed him to lay down in your bed, as his sheets needed to be replaced due to them being soiled with sweat and germs from his stomach bug.

Turning off all the lights, you proceeded to your room, where Harry was lying down with Pixie nestled on his chest, enjoying the gentle strokes he gave her behind her ear as she purred contentedly. The bond he shares with his cat is truly adorable. He loves that cat more than anything, even you. Though you guess that's understandable since he's had that cat way longer than he's even known you for.

You take hold of the tv remote and select a movie on Netflix to watch until both of you nearly drift off to sleep once more. Harry is optimistic and hopeful that he will feel better tomorrow. He doesn't think he'll be able to return to work just yet, but is relieved that the nausea has subsided. Thankfully, the soup you prepared has stayed down, indicating a positive sign.

As your eyes grow heavy with fatigue, threatening to succumb to sleep, you feel Harry nestling himself closer to your side, followed by a hushed declaration of "Love you." In spite of your stillness, your eyes widen in surprise. Shifting your head slightly, you observe that Harry has already slipped into sleep, seemingly oblivious to his inadvertent admission.

Regardless of his true intentions, you are certain that this wasn't how he intended to convey his love for you. Now, you must find a way to approach this subject with him, hoping he doesn't get embarrassed or worse, deny the authenticity of his words.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet // @meetmyblondemuffins // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles // @skyangel57 // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss // @kissmyaxe140 // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom // @swiftmendeshoran

// @luv-flor7777 // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone // @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry // @shadowygladiatorlight // @manifestrry //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

88 notes · View notes

jareaul0ver · 16 hours

Text

loml

wc: 1.8k warnings: kate being a bad gf, straight angst, no happy ending (sorry! no im not) pairings: kate martin x fem!reader

January, 2023

You sat courtside of an Iowa game, your eyes trained on your girlfriend the whole time. On the court, off the court, she was yours. Every basket she'd make, she'd immediately point to you.

The fans loved it. She loved it. You loved it. You wore her jersey with pride, letting everyone know you were hers. Two years into your relationship, it never got old.

The second the buzzer rang out, she searched the stands for you, noticing how you hustled down the stairs to rush to the court. To rush to her.

Your arms found her neck and hers your waist. She spun you around before placing a kiss against your lips. "Good job out there, K-Money." You giggled.

She laughed softly and hugged you against her. "Always have to do good for you, baby." Her pet names for you never failed to make your knees weak.

After her post-game responsibilities, you both headed to her suite. You laid on her bed, her head resting against your chest as you ran you fingers through her long blonde hair.

"I'm gonna marry you one day, Kate." You mumbled. Her eyes shot open and she sat up straight to look at you.

Your heart almost dropped when she didn't say anything. When she didn't kiss you, or hug you, or even smile. That feeling only lasted a quick moment though, before she pressed her lips firmly against yours.

"You're the love of my life." She whispered against your lips. Tingles shot down your spine.

Early May, 2023

"Where the hell are you taking me?" You laughed as Kate forced you into the passenger seat of her car, shutting the door before walking around and getting in herself.

With a bright smile she leaned in and pecked your lips. "To your surprise."

You rolled your eyes but grinned. She started the car and drove away from campus. Her car was beginning to fill with everything she needed to take home from campus, as it was almost the end of her final year at Iowa.

She drove for a bit before pulling into the parking garage underneath an apartment complex. "Are we visiting someone?" You asked, confusion evident in your voice.

"Uh, no." She said quickly before putting the car in park, hopping out, and rushing around to the other side to open your door.

"Then what-"

"Just trust me." She said softly. You nodded and she took your hand in hers, taking you over to the elevator. She pressed the button to the fourth floor, and one silent ride later, you arrived.

She walked you down the hallway to apartment 403, and pulled out a key. The door was quickly unlocked and swung open. Both of you stepped in and you looked around at the empty apartment.

"Surprise!" She said from behind you. You spun around and looked at her as she held up a small sign, her name and yours carved into it, above the word "home".

Your eyes widened and your lips twitched into a smile. "You're kidding. You're kidding!" You squealed, launching yourself into Kate's arms.

She laughed and held you tight against her. "I'm not kidding." She leaned back, forcing you to look at her. Her hand gently cupped your face, her eyes peering into yours. "I want this with you. Forever."

"Forever." You whispered back.

Early June, 2023

Moving in with Kate should have been the best thing that you two could have done. With you still being in school, living with her took away the stress of having to worry about paying for housing on campus.

She was still focused on basketball, planning to stay with Iowa for a fifth year since she was eligible. It was supposed to be perfect.

But it had only been a month and it was already hell.

You argued constantly. Not even over anything worth arguing about, but she seemed to always want to pick a fight with you. She was rarely ever home, always practicing during the day and going out with the team during the night.

One night she came home particularly drunk. You were up late, working on something for a summer course that you had opted to take, freeing up a slot in your fall semester.

"Babe?" She shouted the second she walked in the door. You winced a bit at the loudness of her voice. You were sitting right there, on the sofa that was directly in her line of sight.

"Hm?" You said, annoyance evident in your voice, but Kate chose to ignore it. She came over to you and pulled your laptop away from you, closing it and tossing it to the other side of the couch. "Kate, what the hell-"

She sat next to you on the couch before putting all her weight onto you, her body slumping against yours. You tried to push her off, but couldn't. Damn her athleticism.

"Get off, Kate, I have to finish something." You reached for your laptop but she grabbed your hand and pulled it down.

"You don't wanna lay with me?" She slurred, the smell of alcohol strong on her breath.

You sighed, once against trying to push her away. "No, frankly, I don't."

She sat up and the smug smile on her face faltered. "Why're you being a bitch?" She spat.

"Excuse me?" You scoffed.

"You're being a bitch." She made sure to emphasize it this time. You knew she was drunk, but it still didn't make it hurt any less.

You stood up and took a few steps away. "I'm not dealing with this right now. You're drunk, you're sleeping on the couch tonight." You quickly walked towards your bedroom and shut the door behind you.

Late June, 2023

The last month had been incredibly tense. You and Kate both decided to pretend that there was nothing wrong, even though there clearly was.

You were walking on eggshells around her, scared that one wrong move would send her running.

You were surprised when she invited you to go out with her and her friends from the basketball team, but you happily went along, hoping to make some relationship amends during the night.

Everyone sat in a huge booth at a random bar one of the girls found. Kate excused herself to go grab a drink for herself, so you sat awkwardly, as you didn't know any of her friends very well.

Jada called out your name and your head snapped in her direction. You held a small smile, while her face was a little confused. "I'm surprised Kate invited you, to be honest."

Your smile faded. "What do you mean?"

"She said you two weren't doing too well. That you were really pissy with her all the time, starting stupid fights and shit." She shrugged. "Thought she would have broken up with you by now based off the things she's said."

The room went silent. Your heart dropped. Was this true? The look on Jada's face silently assured you that it was.

Tears started to well in your eyes and you excused yourself from the table, quickly going outside to get some air.

When Kate returned to the table, she noticed you were gone. Jada nodded towards the exit and Kate started walking towards it. She opened the door and saw you outside, sitting on the curb with tears in your eyes.

She moved over and put her hand on your shoulder. "Baby? What's wrong?" You turned at the sound of her voice and pulled away from her.

"You don't get to call me that anymore." Your voice was shaky, but was laced with malice.

"What?" She laughed, a little confused. "What're you talking about?" She stepped towards you, reaching out but you backed away.

You shook your head and scoffed. "You talked shit about me to your friends behind my back, and expect me to be okay with it?" Kate froze and her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to speak but you cut her off.

"After everything I've done for you. After everything we've been through together, you go and do this?" Tears ran down your face. "Fuck you, Kate. I'm done. This is done."

"You're really ending this over something so fucking stupid?” She scoffed, crossing her arms.

Your eyes widened. “You think this is stupid? Jada was surprised I was here. Jada was surprised you haven’t ended things yet.”

Kate stayed silent, the look on her face was unreadable, something that came as a shock to you. You thought you knew her. You had been together for nearly three years, but now she seems like a stranger.

“You said I was the love of your life, Kate.” Your voice broke.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you, the only sound being heard was your chest heaving and the music blasting from inside.

“I was wrong.” She said flatly before turning around to walk back inside. “Have your stuff gone by this weekend.”

You watched her walk back inside. The second she stepped foot past those doors, you knew it was over. She was never coming back, and you’d have to accept that.

April 15, 2024

You sat comfortably on your couch, flipping through the channels of your television, until you came across the one you were looking for.

You transferred to UConn early in the year. It hurt too much to see Kate being so successful on the basketball team. Every little thing in Iowa was a reminder of her, and you needed to escape.

Figures you ended up at the school that got knocked out by Iowa in the final four, but how were you supposed to predict that?

Things were different at first. You felt out of place, a stranger to everything in Storrs, but you quickly adjusted, meeting some of your best friends.

Those best friends happened to play basketball. Paige, Nika, Azzi, practically the whole team came to love you. So you had to support them. You attended their home games, even the ones against Iowa. It hurt seeing Kate, it hurt more than anything had ever hurt you in your life.

But you pushed it aside. You were there for your friends, not your ex-lover who treated you like a piece of garbage.

You watched the draft, not being surprised by most of the players getting drafted. Aaliyah, one of your closest friends, being picked at 6th. Nika at 12th.

The smile never left your face. Your pride for your friends shining in your eyes, evident in the texts you immediately sent after their names were called.

That smile faded, though, at the 18th overall pick. “The Las Vegas Aces select… Kate Martin.”

Kate stood up, hugging all those around her, feeling incomplete. She shouldn’t, though. She just got drafted to the WNBA. What could be missing?

She walked to the stage, took a picture, did her small interview and the draft commenced on. The smile she had on her face was real, sure, but it wasn’t nearly as real as it was whenever she used to be with you.

As she stood there, processing everything that happened, she realized the thing she was missing was you. She was incomplete without you.

But it was too late now, you were the loss of her life.

#kate martin #kate martin x reader #las vegas aces #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #wnba #jareaul0ver🤍#wlw

134 notes · View notes

incidentallysunny · 2 days

Text

I Was Never There.

Death Island Leon x Reader

Real!Dad Leon

Dead dove warning.

13k word count. Proof read 3 times until I got to around 11k then I stopped worrying and just skimmed. Critique is welcomed and my skin is thick for it.

I’d like to appear in the tagz pls so here’s a warning. My writing is not ever meant to be taken literally and is just for the sake of writing f*cked up content that I enjoy writing. If you do not wish to read this, please do not as my intentions are not to offend or make you intentionally uncomfortable but if you choose to read- don’t be hateful. With that out of the way, extremely sensitive content and dead dove material ahead.

Specifically blood-related incest, smut, suicidal ideation, mentions of grotesque imagery, light mentions of gore in a hypothetical scenario, daddy-issues, age-gap, overall disturbing topics.

As far as smut specifically: this includes talking of public sex, mentions of oral, fingering, unprotected sex, cream-pie (wrap your willy irl pls) praise, dirty talk, any probably some other irrelevant shit I’m forgetting my b.

PROCEED if you read the above, are okay with it, and are mentally unwell like I am. Happy reading, it’s a long one.

The drive from your college town to where your home had been all your life was as expected. Nostalgia and homesickness being mixed in your gut like a can of paint in one of those weird machines at the hardware store that your dad would take you to. Speaking of dad, you hardly remember him. He was present for a short while, your mom always excusing his absence with work this and work that. He really did get busy, though. Almost dying several times. You still remember your moms panicked phone calls, her countless prescription drugs for the same problems you now suffer from, and her late-night bathroom breakdowns. Apparently he couldn’t get out of this job though. Some real fucked up government shit he was tied to, your mom explained. All you know about him is that he saved the president’s daughter. Whatever.

So yeah- a perfect life with a perfect set of parents. One being mentally driven through the dirt and the other that you haven’t seen in 8 years or maybe more. You can’t seem to remember if the last few times you saw your dad were daisied dreams or reality. Bastard has never FaceTimed or video called you, either. Dunno if he even had a phone capable of that. Either way, it must be for the better, because your grades had been sufficient without stressors on your mind. And we all know a low-effort dad would definitely be one. But perhaps he’d rather just be there in person. Older people are like that.

You grunted, trying to drag your over-packed suitcase up the steep suburban driveway before sighing and standing in place. Sure, you didn’t need to bring so much shit home, but would you really want to risk some bitch at college stealing anything from your quad-dorm?

Before you could think and figure out how you’d even get the plastic luggage up the pristine, hand-painted porch steps and inside (without scratching them up and having your parents on your ass about their perfect house having a flaw) a voice called out to you. Unrecognized and not ringing any of the bells in your head. (If there were any left)

“Hey there, sweetheart. It’s been a while, huh?”

You turned to see a middle-aged man, similar to the last memory of your dad that had been printing-pressed into your mind for safe keeping. He was just emerging from the front door, broad chest accentuated by a well-fitted T-shirt. You immediately felt angry that his tits were bigger than yours. Would probably look better with a bra, too.

You didn’t answer.

Fuck- nerves were getting the better of you. Your palms were slick with sweat and you didn’t know if it was from the building summer humidity or anxiety. Was this normal? No the fuck it wasn’t.

“Uhh.. dad?” You queried- almost certain the gorgeous man at the door was just a hotter, older version of your dad and not actually him. The fuck is wrong with you? You’re getting this worked up over your father? Did college drinking really rewire your brain to be this fucked or is it all of the anxiety meds? Maybe both. Maybe you’re just overwhelmed. Maybe it’s because you rarely saw him and have zero attachment.

“Yeah, it’s me. Your old man. Missed you, kiddo.” There’s a pause for a moment- because you’re not sure why he’s talking so casually as if you see each other every weekend- like it hasn’t been years and years since you’ve seen him.

“Don’t remember me,huh?” He laughs satirically- like you’re supposed to be so sure. It makes you slightly furious and the feeling of anger bubbles up again- replacing any strange thoughts you were having moments ago.

No, my apologies dearest dad. I totally recognize you despite having met you enough times to count on almost two hands.

But the better part of you that managed to exist underneath the scores of problems you had just replied in jest- like someone without said scores of problems. It was best to keep the peace for now.

“You look a little different… sorry.” Is that all you can manage? It’s pitiful the state that your sullied mind is in.

He chuckles, though, like he knows your’re right. The sound is more pleasant and striking when it’s genuine. Makes you feel damp in other areas than just your armpits (thank you, heatwave).

“I suppose there’s truth to that. But It’s alright, sweetheart. I know it’s been a long time. People change, right?” His eyes scan you in an undecided way.

“But you, shit. You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman. College treating you well?” His words sound a little huffed then, he’s clearly beating around the bigger issue with a stick. But him calling you beautiful and being all fucking sappy makes your face feel hot and sticky like it’ll melt off. Got you wanting to rip the hair from your scalp to hear him say it again.

“Please?” You called out gently- gesturing to the suitcase and ignoring any other question. You were very much overstimulated- having overexerted muscles in your arms by being a weak bitch about a crammed carry-on. Just get your ass out here and help your daughter, thanks.

He shook his head- again laughing hotly while looking down as he stepped off the porch- his brown bangs were peppered with greys and they brushed his face on one side, his hair somehow pornographic on its own. Christ. He looked like one of those men you saw on Viagra commercials that obviously didn’t actually need it. Even the sight of your perfectly trimmed lawn and faux-looking home completed the scene. Where was the camera?

He walked over to you- there was a slight stiff in his stride; like he had a bad back or something. Maybe he did. Almost dying was the likely cause for that. Serves him right for leaving you with issues on top of issues. Maybe you should stop being mean, you’re the one getting hot over your own father. Again- because of him. Circle back to square one.

Leon towered over your frame as he hinged at the hips, picking up the suitcase with ease- the muscles in his arm flexed with each small movement. His face was a tinge of smug with a mix of something else…satisfaction? Maybe he was just pleased he was able to lift it without rupturing a hernia. Jesus Christ, his veins. You wonder if he has them anywhere else. No- maybe you should be wondering about taking your ass to an inpatient facility immediately. A few screws are loose and you don’t exactly have the tools to tighten them.

“I guess college did treat you well. You’re here in one piece.” He says- cutting you thickly from your thoughts and answering his own question from earlier. His blue eyes are sweet and gently lined with signs of aging. Which only makes him hotter- just like the fiery pits of hell that await you.

You scoff.

“Well, it’s not like I went to war or something.”

“Still. It’s nice to see you, sweetheart.” The word rolls off his tongue again. Your insides are trapezing around in their own miniature, fleshy circus- you’re wishing you could stab yourself in the stomach to stop the swarm of butterflies that don’t even feel metaphorical anymore. You’re sure they’re real now.

He continues, though.

“I know I haven’t been around much in your life- this fucking job and-“ You stare up at him- glossy doe-eyes and stupid look on your face. An apology- or even an explanation from your daddy might be part of what your scrambled brain needs.

“Work kept me away, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about you every day. I’m sorry if I wasn’t there for you like I should have been. Shit… What I mean to say, is- things will be different. I’ve retired. Your mother wanted me to tell you over dinner later but I figured you’d be happy to know. I’m not the best at keeping secrets.” He jokes at the end, but how is that true in the slightest? He’s kept his job a secret for your entire life, so he clearly can’t be that horrible at it.

“Oh.” Leaves your lips quietly, ghosting over Leon and leaving him wondering if he said something wrong. But then he realizes it’s probably just overwhelming for you. The worst part of him thinks you hate him. A feeling overcomes you though, and you rush in to wrap your arms around his waist- hugging him tightly. You now wonder why he didn’t hug you to begin with. Maybe he wasn’t an affectionate guy.

He says nothing at first- he’s even more awkward than you are if it’s possible. But he’s trying. He sets down your suitcase before returning your hold. One arm comes around the back of you and the other is overlapped on top- a hand nestling on the back of your head. Seems he’s getting a bit emotional, too. The attention from him is nice, though.

When you make a small grunt as to wanting to end the hug, his hands linger on your shoulders and he smiles at you. You actually return to, not feeling anything horrid become of your thoughts right now. Whether it be anger or incestual lust.

—

Your dad pushes the front door open with one of his large hands encased on the knob. Hands you immediately find attractive, wondering if they’d feel nice scissoring your cunt open. You now begin to understand why your mom was getting suicidal over him possibly not returning home. You’d kill yourself over him too. But that’s too morbid- especially after the moment you just shared.

That’s already lost to you.

He shut the door firmly, sighing, then gestures to the stairs.

You went up first, self conscious about your backside being right in front of his view but he was your dad. Wouldn’t be looking at you that way. You’re just brain-rotted and have an ill opinion of men.

Your old bedroom still looked the same, basically. Just emptier and more hollow without your things. But the walls were still painted a babydoll-pink and lined with the few girlish decorations you left on the wall. No way you would have been caught dead with those in your dorm. Not unless you wanted to endure torment and bullying that’d lead you to jumping off the dormitory roof.

He sets your luggage down and takes a seat on your bed. A groan escapes him as he puts a hand on his lower back for a moment.

“I see this room hasn’t changed much, has it?” he muses, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Your mom and I had a blast putting it together for you when she was pregnant.”

Yikes. You almost feel guilt for both the incestuous thoughts and the fact you may have ruined your parents' marriage. Maybe that’s not true. It was his work- not you. After all, he’s insinuating how happy they were to have you brought into this world. Plus- they were fine. Never argued or anything.

“I’m sorry. I dont- I don’t know what to say.” You laughed awkwardly, throwing your hands slightly up by your side.

His face doesn’t drop, though. It seems he understands perfectly fine.

“It’s okay. We can start from scratch. Not talk about… your room or childhood stuff. I know it’s a sore spot for you, sweetheart.”

Wrong. It’s more like a festering wound with the rusted knife still wedged in it. The knife being Leon and the wound your daddy issues, by the way. And having no attachment to him as a father figure makes the attraction worse. Notably when he calls you any term of endearment. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

What the fuck. Was he sculpted by Satan himself as some kind of hell-on-earth punishment? Is this purgatory? Everything he did now was driving you up the wall like a roach- every movement and small flex showing a vein or bulge of muscle. And his arm hair didn’t help. Fucking Christ- shave it off or something. You don’t know how you’ll be able to stand it.

“Okay…. How does that work?” You cocked your head to the side a little, shifting your weight onto one leg. A nervous habit.

“Well- what do most parents do with their kids? We could go out for dinner, catch a movie, just… hang out. I’d like to spend time with my daughter, you know.”

Okay, so maybe he did care. That’s a start.

“Uh… all three?” You questioned, an eyebrow lifting along with the infliction of your voice towards the end of your sentence. You’re indecisive like your mom.

He smiled, lines and the corners of his mouth pressed. Happy. Something you heard wasn’t common for him, anyways.

“Of course. We can go out tomorrow, honey. Your mom just wants us to all have dinner together when she gets home. She missed you- not as much as I did, I bet.” He does that stupid fucking wink again. It makes you switch emotions and want to throw something at his head. Maybe your lamp. You feel bad, It’s not his fault you’re acting like a mental freak about him. You don’t even bother to fixate on the fact you’ll have to have dinner with your cunt of a mom. Okay, maybe that’s harsh.

“Okay.” You breathe out, looking around your room. Leon takes that as a cue to stand up from your old bed- the thing creaking from his weight and leaving an indent on your comforter.

“It’s a date, then. I’m going to start dinner. As much as I love your mother, she can be…scary.” He says, still rocking that pressed-in-cheek smile and cracking your door closed behind him. By the way, what he really meant was probably ‘bitchy’- not scary. But dad seems too kind to say that. He loves your mom.

You can breathe again without his presence. It was smothering, like you had to overperform. You find yourself rushing to your dresser mirror to check how you looked. Hair looks great, face too- though a little tired from college over-studying and then driving 4 hours home with no break.

You might as well write ‘whore’ on your mirror with lipstick. Or a marker- since that’s a more permanent reminder with the way you’re acting. But part of you wanted to know what he thought of you- how he perceived you. For now though, it doesn’t matter. Had barely been 15 minutes since you arrived. You turn your attention to your suitcase and push it over flat, unzipping it before the teeth give out and some of your things spill from inside.

You had less than a sufficient amount of energy to care about it being broken now- so you just put your things away quickly before plopping onto the bed and indulging your senses with the smell of the floral detergent your mom always used on your sheets.

—

It’s some time later when you’re abruptly awoken by your moms manicured hand shaking you awake by the shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping when you could be spending time with your father. He was excited for you to be home.”

‘Way to wake me up.’ You thought. She was always having a stick up her ass about this kind of thing. Or anything, really..

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Besides, we’re going out tomorrow to do a bunch of stuff.” You argue sleepily, sitting up as your back aches with your vision still adjusting. She cuts on the lamp, sizzling your retinas.

Her face perks up but is pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, okay..” silence.

“I’m sorry, honey. It was just a long day at work and I’m just over-the-moon for you two to finally have some daddy-daughter time.”

You wrinkle your face in disgust, but not fully disgust since you were just fawning over your hot dad earlier. Maybe daddy doesn’t sound so bad.

“Ew- mom. He’s just my dad. I’m not five.” She laughs, waving her hand off at you.

“Well anyhow- come down for dinner, will you? He put in a lot of effort to cook something for us.”

You cursed under your breath and straighten out your shirt- hoping she wouldn’t bitch about it being slightly wrinkled from you sleeping in it. You seat yourself at the table- adjacent from your mother sitting at the end. She’s already changed out of her office clothes and sure enough, here comes your daddy dad from the kitchen with utensils.

“Sorry ladies- almost forgot these.” He laughs, placing down everyone’s set before seating himself next to you. Fuck.

“You know- your father has only been home a few months and he’s already shown the extent of his memory loss.” She jokes, giving him a loving yet teasing look that makes you want to vomit. And yet jealousy curls up like a cat in your lap, wanting to be lavished with attention from you. The metaphorical jealousy pounces off your lap as you’re met with your dad’s hand on your denim-clad thigh. It’s an innocent gesture but you want to his hand to go further than just sitting politely.

“She’s right, but I can be useful otherwise.” He’s bantering back with her- and you realize he’s making an innuendo when you look over at his face. But it’s weird that he’s saying it while his digits cradle your thigh so gently.

“Gross.” You take a bite of your food- momentarily shocked that a dad of any sort could make such a pleasant meal, especially when he’s spent such little time doing domestic duties.

“Oh honey- you’re grown. We’re just teasing each other.” Your mom nods to Leon, taking a bite off of her fork. His hand slides off of your thigh and he grabs his whiskey glass to take a proper sip.

Jeez, he drinks that shit like its water. No grimacing. No face was made when he swallowed it. Just a guy thing you suppose.

Dinner drags on- the both of them forcing you to talk about your less-than-thrilling college experience. No mom, no boyfriend. No dad, I’m not failing. No you two, I’m not having unprotected sex- fuck off.

After that eventful meal and conversation where your parents basically eye-fucked each other over dinner, you’re left to clean up the mess while your mom gets ready for bed. She has to leave for work early in the morning- as usual. Guess she’s going to take your dad’s spot for the absent parent now that you’re grown and traumatized full and proper.

Sleep came and went- leaving you to trudge out of bed and do your morning routine. It felt out of place trying to do it back at home- but it was also a sentimental feeling to be doing just that.

Leon is already in the kitchen, shirtless and cooking. Seems impractical, but holy fuck. You’d gorilla glue your eyelids open just to not miss a single second of what you’re seeing. Maybe that wasn’t needed- because you've been staring long enough that your eyes prick with tears. You remind yourself to blink and you seat yourself at the high-top, the stool swiveling slightly when your bottom meets the material.

“Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He asks, turning to look at you over his shoulder. His traps are distracting you. You want to chew your fingernails past the nail bed- bite a finger off too. You can’t stand it. For a moment- the way he talks to you- you’re pretending you’re not his daughter. And then a moment later, you’re not being delusional anymore.

“Mhm.” You mumble sleepily- wishing you’d have stayed in bed longer. But piercing morning light, lack of blackout curtains, and the chirping of birds outside made that idea inconceivable. Leon chuckled to himself- turned away from you.

You decide to scroll through your phone for a moment’s time before he slides a plate to you from across the island.

“Breakfast a la Leon.” He says- clearly being silly. Corny as fuck, anyways.

“You’re old.” You snort, setting aside your phone and grabbing a fork to pick at your food until he turns away again. You didn’t enjoy the idea of having a hot, shirtless man watching you eat.

He shakes his head, sitting down next to you at the island.

Christ. Fucking go away. It’s actually enraging now.

You want to scream at him- it’s irrational and crazy- but you do. Screaming at him and being sent away to a ward sounds more appealing than the anxiety crawling up your spine like a horde of fire ants. Potentially- just like the butterflies- they’re real too.

He seems undisturbed as he settles- taking a bite. You do the same- trying to ignore the fact he's so close you can nearly feel his arm hair touching you every second or so. He breaks the silence after a moment.

“So- after this, I’ve got a whole day planned out. Mall, movies, and dinner. Sound good?” You nod, a soft ‘mhm’ reverberating on the roof of your mouth.

He finishes before you and makes his way upstairs- the occasional pain in his back unmistakeable every few steps. And yet he wants to take you to the mall to walk around? You didn’t even know how to feel about a day with your dad. What’s a dad? What’s daddy-daughter bonding? That’s lost to you- well- more like it was never even discovered. Not even Columbus could have ventured out and conquered it.

Since he’s no longer in the room, you hastily eat the rest of your breakfast before you discard the plate and fork into the way-too-elaborate dishwasher your mom had installed (you totally didn’t spend 10 minutes trying to turn it on).

Back in your room, you settle on a simple, totally not underlyingly slutty outfit. Shorts and a crop top. Can never go wrong with that. It’s just soft/core prom enough for an outing with your dad. When you leave your room- Leon is just headed down the stairs. He turns to look at you, his smile is as jovial as it has been since you’ve seen him. For a moment though, you think you catch his eyes landing on your exposed legs- but you know you’re just crazy. You’re the one lusting after him, not the other way around. Your dad isn’t abnormal like you. His head is on correctly- even if it’s been battered and spun on his shoulders throughout the years.

“Ready?” He asks, stopping in place to wait for you. You nod stupidly, breaking from your trance to follow him in a descent down the stairs.

He’s dressed similar to how he was yesterday- jeans and a t-shirt that should be considered indecent. If you were your mom, you’d beg him to wear something that doesn’t highlight every curve and dip of his chest. Hell, if you were your mom, you’d never let him go outside. Too risky. But you’re not your mom. You’re just unusual.

As a perfect man does, he opens the door for you. Then opens the SUV door, allowing you in before shutting it behind. You’re sure you've never met a guy that does that in real life, but maybe it was a ‘you’ problem and not the guy. Who knows.

When he gets in, he cranks the vehicle only for rock music to start playing from the radio- making the corners of his mouth dimple with a pleased look. Really are the simple things for him. As for you, you’re suffocated in a Hellish torment by both his presence and the expensive scent of cologne and leather seats combo.

The ride isn’t long, nor bad. Albeit you two only talk here and there so he can focus on the road- and so you can focus on not dying (he’s not a perfect driver, but not terrible either). Just enough to keep your nerves teetering between a light anxiety attack and full blown panic.

You’re relieved to get there alive. Maybe not. Your thoughts have you thinking suicide may be your only option for now disgusting they are. And it only gets worse when he helps you down from the step up of the SUV- a hand on your exposed waist and the other on your shoulder. It’s harmless. Just a dad being gentlemanly. He was shaped and carved out in that perfect, chivalrous image with only a mallet and hammer. No reason to make it weird.

Inside the mall is a tad busy- the perfect amount to be comforting. You feel a bit more at ease in a public setting since you can now focus on anything but your dad’s chest. As long as he doesn’t require eye contact or talk to you, that is.

He looks around, arms crossed. It’s almost whorish. He has to know his arms look good. Or that his everything looks good. The fuck.

“So…” He cranes his head to the side, bangs brushing over his nose for a moment. The way he looks around makes his Adam’s apple and neck muscles a little more prominent. A perfect, stubbled spot to attack with your lips.

“What do you feel like doing first, kiddo?”

You. Is what you want to say.

He looks back to you, smiling down amused. He seems genuinely happy to be able to take you out. But really- his face is making you nauseous. Obviously not because it’s bad. But because it’s good-bad. Too good it’s bad.

“Uhh… “ you look away from him, scanning the entrance area and looking at any signs. Almost like an escape.

“How about new clothes maybe? Seems like something got ahold to the other half of your pants anyways.” He nudges you with an elbow, gesturing to your shorts with his head.

So he probably did look at your legs earlier. Maybe not in the way you think, though.

You glare at him.

“Seriously?”

Leon puts his hands up in defense. He’s always on the defense in life anyways.

“Joking, joking. You’re…grown.” His forehead lines crease when he raises his brows. You did get rather annoyed at his comment, however.

“I could always buy some even shorter.” You spit sarcastically.

“Yes- because every father wants to walk around with their daughter who has her ass out.” He’s quick to remark, this time he seems grumpier when he talks. Sorta like he’s uncomfortable with the conversation. Or that he’s mad.

“Sorry my legs make you so uncomfortable. I guess I should’ve left them at home.” The back and forth here could go on forever between you two but he catches you off guard.

“Shit- no. It’s not that- ‘s just you’ve got nice legs. Can’t have these…shitheads eying down my little girl. I may be old, but I can fight when I need to.”

You know he meant his words innocently enough, but the fact that he said nice legs has you giddy inside. Same feeling when your crush calls you pretty. Yeah- that sorta feeling. And his little girl. It has a ring to it. Could even legally change your name to it so that he can call you by it more often. Maybe he’ll even let you jump on his dick right away.

Your face is pure rose-shaded. A perfect, neutral shade to make your embarrassment pop on your skin. You’re sure it’s visible to him, too. Your mom always teased you about how blotchy it would get when you were humiliated. Particularly when she would tell awkward stories about you at family dinners. Bitch.

“What’s wrong? Don’t be pissed at me, sweetheart. I was just teasin-“

“It’s not that.” You interrupt- heart thumping into your rib cage. If it doesn’t stop, or you don’t stop your word-vomit, it might crack a rib or four. Probably more. Better have hospital bill and therapy money ready, dad.

“Then what’s the matter? I just want us to have a good time together. I’m not trying to upset y-“

“You said I have nice legs.” You’re quick to cut him off again.

“And…?” He trails off, cocking his head to the side like he’s confused. Because he is confused. You stare off to the side- eyes glued to the fountain. Maybe you could go drown yourself in the penny-flavored water that you guarantee hasn’t been changed out since you were still the unlucky sperm in your dad’s ball-sack.

“I like that. You saying that.” You speak a little lower now- afraid someone will hear. Or because the tinnitus is so loud in your ears. What you’re getting at is almost clear now. Or at least clear enough.

Leon’s expression is taken aback but still confused to an extent because he’s not even certain what you’re saying. Though, he has an idea.

“Oh- uh. Okay. Sweethea-“

“Holy fuck- stop calling me that. You’re not making this easy. Wanting to fuck you. I know- I sound mental.” You spill it out, guts on the floor and the sword still in hand. Holy shit. Just told your dad you want to fuck him. You could have backtracked- fucking dumbass. You won’t be shocked if he packs his bags and leaves off again tomorrow.

He’s silent for a moment.

“Okay- clearly I wasn’t around enough. I get that. But I mean- fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking around. Probably thinking the same thing about the fountain that you did. Still- he looked hot while having a crisis and contemplating immediate suicide. He paces while your nerves are being electrocuted in your body. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“Just- sweetheart, no. None of that’s.. I can’t.” He starts, turning back to you. It seems he can look you in the eyes now. So maybe he’s not entirely disgusted by you. His face isn’t contorted with disgust, so there’s a chance. Yeah, you’re off your rocker now. You know.

“Look- let’s not talk about this. C’mon. Let’s go catch a movie like I promised.” He starts walking- leaving you standing in a puddle of shame and embarrassment for a moment before stopping to let you catch up.

Luckily- the theater is joined to the mall. It’ll be a short walk.

—

Leon is lax on the couch until he hears the crunchy sound of tires on concrete. You’re home. Despite his shitty back, he's huffing as he gets up fast and is already opening the door. The air is hot as it greets his skin and he watches you struggle with your suitcase through the heat-haze that spans over the distance.

He calls out to you- making your head snap in his direction. Your face is that of awe and confusion. You don’t seem to immediately recognize him- okay. He gets it. It’s been a while. Nevertheless, you’re beautiful. He’d seen pictures of you from your mother, but he’s in awe just as you are. Though, he doesn’t think that highly of himself so he often wonders if you’re even his kid. Couldn’t have made something that perfect, in his mind. He helps you with your bag and follows you to your room. But your demeanor around him is noticeably mousey. At first, it doesn't seem like much. You’re just getting used to him.

Plus, Leon knows he can come off intimidating. Sometimes. But for him, he’s got a good eye and his job has led him to being able to read even the tiniest bits of body language. Doesn’t take him long to see how you’re worming around shyly- subconsciously smoothing your hair down and biting at your lip. Same way your mom acted around him before they started dating. But again- maybe it’s just in his head. Leon’s been wrong a time or two.

A better man would have left it alone. Leon gets that. But an innocent thigh squeeze at dinner can help him test his theory. A thigh squeeze that’s under the guise of friendly, fatherly touch. You tense- he can hear your small, sucked in breaths as long as his hand is there, along with heat radiating off your body like a wildfire. If wildfires could be horny college-aged daughters with daddy issues, that is.

The idea disgusts him. Because he should feel disgusted and just kill himself. Where did these thoughts come from? He even has the urge to let his hand wander other places. Bets that you have a cute pussy. No matter what it does or doesn’t look like, it’s yours and he knows it's cute. He’d give you two thick digits in your hole (three if you allow him) and have his tongue kitten-lick your clit.

“There we go. Good girl.” Is what he envisions saying before diving back in for a mouth full of you. Girls like you love being praised. Especially by their estranged father-figure or a middle aged man. It’s all the same. He’d pry the daddy issues right out of you with his dick. It’s long and fat enough, and solves all of his matters properly. Your mom is in a bad mood? His dick will fix that. He can’t sleep? His dick will fix that. His daughter is a horny freak and begging for it? His dick will fix that, too- obviously.

It’s only when your mom makes some stupid fucking joke about his memory loss that he snaps back into reality and he loses the momentum he had going for an erection. Which is good. Maybe thinking about fucking your mom will make him normal again. So he drops a quip right back- something about… being useful. Yeah. Again, his cock is useful. Your mom bites at his words, but you’re annoyed and disgusted with his comment- especially with his hand on you while he says it.

Trust me, baby. Much rather be splitting you open than having performative, mandatory spousal sex. It’s like a switch flipped. He’s not interested in your mom. Should’ve had that realization years ago, even. Technically he did. He’s just now saying it in his head finally. Mostly he was exhausted because she had nothing to do with Leon even when he was home (unless it was for dick). Too bad he was a golden retriever following after her every step like a good doggy. Marriage did that to a guy. He just did what he was supposed to. Kept the lights on, blew out her back occasionally, listened to her complain, and took care of the lawn when he could. Easy enough. That’s what men do, right? He doesn’t really know what being a man is, honestly. Thanks, Major Krauser. Anyhow- he chokes down his food with a smile. The need to upchuck after everything he just thought up is a given.

He takes the liberty to fuck your mom later that night as promised per (faux) flirting over dinner. He has her face down-ass up, though. For… imagination’s sake. At least fucking a pussy and imagining you is better than his hand and imagining you. Or so he tells himself. Call it killing two birds with one stone, satisfying your mom and quelling his own desires. And it’s not hard to imagine any of it, because you look so much like your mother. He lies awake for a short while after- contemplating his existence and fucked up thoughts. He’s still holding back vomit and the urge to grab his gun from the nightstand and off himself all over the wallpaper, while in the process, traumatizing your mom. After an hour of this- he figures it’s fine, men think of perverted or weird shit sometimes. Jerk off to weird shit too. He hasn’t technically done anything morally wrong… sort of. It’s denial. At least he’s good at playing the part of a genuine, loving father. Because he is! He loves his family. Always has!

Spending time with you would make you happy, him happy, your mom happy. He loves you dearly. All is great. He’s swearing that his brain won’t be smoothied in his skull by tomorrow. It’ll be normal and function rationally.

But Leon wakes up with the thoughts being real as ever while he stretches an arm out to feel around for your mother- bed empty since she leaves at the ass crack of dawn. Leon had just missed her leave, he’s still getting used to sleeping in ever since he retired.

He gets up and heads downstairs- immediately starting breakfast to take his mind off his…mind. Breakfast is his favorite meal of the day, it makes him feel better to indulge in it right now. Though, he doesn’t bother putting a shirt on at any point- just rocking those generic, green and blue tartan patterned pajama pants. Cooking shirtless is weird- but he’s hungry and part of him wonders if he’ll get to see your priceless face when you walk into the kitchen. He shakes his head- telling himself that he just had this talk with himself last night. None of that shit.

He was right about one thing. God, he could make a killing in betting. He sees your reflection behind him in the small window above the counter but you didn’t know that. Just stood, gawking. It’s okay. He’s observative, you’re not. You’re his dumb little girl. Dumb in the way you shift in your stool next to him when he sits down, dumb how you hold your breath when he’s near, dumb how you can’t even eat next to him, and dumb how your thighs seem to wriggle when his arm ‘accidentally’ brushes yours. Oh, he’s definitely not wrong.

Still- he knows when to back off. He hounds down his food, before you even make a dent in your plate, and heads upstairs to shower. He’s analyzing every detail of himself, contemplating how he can get under your skin the most- his knuckles gripping the sink with distaste for himself. Because it’s wrong. He’s acting like a teenager. This is a date with his daughter, not his highschool girlfriend.

Leon skips over shaving his face. Likes to keep it a little grown out but not too much so. Just in case he gets the chance to eat (your) pussy or kiss (your) a neck. Then comes the Dior ‘Sauvage’ body wash he never failed to keep with him. He takes pride in smelling good if anything. And this particularly expensive wash, plus the cologne, was his lifeline for that. When he traveled for work- the D.S.O. better have god damned had some sent to his room as courtesy. Ever since Raccoon City- he’s adamant about not smelling less than great. He swears he can still smell the sewer on himself sometimes, even if it’s not really there.

His hair routine was even more extensive and involved a weekly hair mask. Hey- it wasn’t wrong for a guy to have nice hair. It paid off.

Heat protectant, blow dry, hot-comb to get any cow licks or fly-aways he might have- though it’s unlikely- and a little spritz of biotin spray to keep it healthy and shiny. All of that in reasonable time, too. And no- it's not weird for him to spend longer on his hair than your mom does.

Besides, you seem to appreciate the way he looks when you come out of your bedroom- watching him descend the stairs. Leon looks back at you- eyes on your legs momentarily then coming back up. He knows it was a quick look- quick enough to make you question it. You do. Very much. Still, taking you out in public wearing those shorts is less than ideal for him, but he’s the one who needs to be watched closely. Aforementioned, Leon’s great at pretending. Pretending to be normal. Pretending to not have ulterior motives. Pretending to not want your legs on his shoulders as he-

“All ready?” He interrupts himself here. Can’t let his thoughts keep going too far. Even if he does want to rest a hand on your leg while he drives. Or veer off the road and into a tree so that he can’t continue to be disgusting. He’d die with the image of being a good, wholesome dad in everyone’s mind. And if you did or didn’t die too, at least you would have died not having been fucked silly by your old man. He manages to not kill you both, though. He wasn’t planning to- his driving is just ass. He knows whiskey with his breakfast isn’t ideal but when you’re a recovering alcoholic plus post traumatic stressed failure of a father, it helps.

Can’t complain though since he gets to put his hands on you while helping you out of the vehicle.

Now you’re both in the mall- Leon questioning what exactly he’s supposed to do now. He hasn’t been to one since… he doesn’t have enough fingers for that. But you’re seemingly calm. Until he makes a stupid joke about your shorts. Sure. As much as he’s thinking about ripping a hole in the crotch to fuck you cause he’s impatient and stupid- he said it out of genuine concern.

He still has fatherly instinct. Some sick bastard could get a glimpse of your exposed legs and go jerk off to it or take a photo. Ironic coming from him right now. The call is coming from inside the house but the dad is too busy fiending after his own daughter to answer.

You’re royally pissed. He knows it. Women don’t like having it insinuated that they’re dressed like a whore. Big whoop, though. Someone has to say it. Then you blindside him. Big, needy eyes and saying you like it when he tells you your legs are nice. Then something about how you want to fuck him. Christ. What the fuck. He’s not sure if this is some kind of screwy set-up or you’re actually just so slutty that the only dick you’ll accept is your dad’s. He’s rocking a semi now. Would be a full hard-on if he weren’t in public but his head spins cause all the blood went to his loins too fast.

Leon doesn’t accept the advances yet. Not now, anyways. He’s mortified. He really thought he had himself going in delusion about how you were behaving- but he was actually right. And now being confronted with it… he’s fucking scared - that’s for sure. Hmm. Be a morally acceptable human or fuck your needy, whore daughter silly? He shakes his head and lets out an exhale.

That question needs some thought. No, it doesn’t. He knows better than to do any of that shit, right? He takes a moment to start walking while you follow along shamefully- the two of you headed to the theater. A movie is perfect. Don’t have to talk or anything. No interacting, really. But how the fuck is he just going to forget what you said? Sure, he’s been having questionable thoughts but they’re just thoughts. Your words, however, spoke it into existence. Like a fucked up, frankenstein’s monster of father-daughter reality.

Don’t mind us, everyone. Daughter’s got it real bad for me but I’m just going to take her to the movies and pretend it’s normal. Reality was distorted for him ever since the existence of zombies and BOWs anyway.

He lets you pick the movie- telling the attendant that he needs two tickets. It’s a horror movie. Of course. Something to trigger his PTSD, maybe. Then he could say anything he did after that was just accidental. A mental slip. He goes to fork over the $60 for tickets and popcorn- god, when did shit get so expensive? As he’s pulling out the cash, he sees you give him a look like you want to say something. His mind is racing looking at you- it makes him nervous.

“Uh.. what about candy?” You ask, looking away from him and at the display.

“What? Sour worms?” He questions you, laughing. Not in a mean way- but because it’s your favorite. So insignificant but he remembers. You were still a kid when he and your mom took you to see some milked out children’s movie that was a part of an entirely too long series. He bought you two boxes of sour worms then. You were a weird kid, though. The worms were split into two colors, and you’d always bite them down the middle and make him eat the side you didn’t like. But he’d do it. Gladly.

You nod, a little befuddled that he’d remember something like that. Cute. Too bad your weird ass just told him you wanted to fuck him about 15 minutes ago. So not entirely a cute moment.

“Oh- and two boxes of Sour Worms, please.” He adds, now pulling out a little more cash.

You both respectively grab your own drinks- Leon with popcorn in tow and you, your worms and cherry soda. His hands are full but he manages to flash the movie ticket between his index and middle finger to the usher, who then ripped it in half and pointed to the left end of the hallway.

You both don’t say anything, but you immediately race to the very top row like a child once inside the screening. Leon swears under his breath as he follows you like a geriatric snail. If a snail could have lumbar issues. He’s able to make it up the stairs to you quite some time after and takes the seat next to you that’s closest to the aisle. Safety and all that jazz.

Previews are already playing so it gives him peace of mind to not address the awkwardness between the two of you. Your soda is in the cup holder that’s separating you both, but you lean over to take a sip, cheeks hollowed out while you drink. Of course Leon looks over, fuck.

Pretty little lips wrapped around the straw until you pull off of it with a satisfied sigh. Cause you were thirsty from anxiety- like someone shoved gauze and cotton into your mouth.

He shifts in his seat and looks back at the screen. He doesn’t even know if you’re doing it on purpose. You’re not, however. He’s just a perverted dickhead.

Time passes and not a single soul has come into this screening. It’s Monday at 11am, after all. Who the hell would come watch a horror movie at this time? No one except two fucking weirdos. It’s making Leon’s nails dig into the armrest with the other set scratching at his jeans.

The movie doesn’t start off bad, to Leon’s shock. He’s actually enjoying it and you seem just as entranced, pulling open the box of Sour Worms without looking down. You do wind up looking down, however, to bite one in half because it just so happened to be a blue and orange combo, and you hated the orange side.

“Here.” Leon turns to look at you- your eyes coming up to meet his blue ones that are oddly blue enough to the point that any light from the screen makes them pop. Pretty.

“The orange half. I know you don’t like them.” His voice is husky and low since the speakers are blaring some generic string-quartet horror piece. He nods down to the half chewed candy in your palm.

You pinch it between your fingers, bringing it to his mouth as your cunt throbs. He was expecting you to hand it to him, but the way you confidentially yet instinctively brought it to his lips isn’t entirely unwelcome. The emptiness of the theater makes it that way. Allows room for incest of whatever. He opens his mouth for you, and you go to place the sour treat on his tongue. His lips gently close around it, before he grabs your wrist to hold your arm in place. A hold gentle enough to tell you that if you want to snatch your hand away- feel free to do so. But you don’t. And you won’t. He knows.

Candy in cheek, he brings your fingers to his lips and nurses your knuckles with a kiss before puppeteering your hand with his larger one, working each digit so that he can equally suck each one clean. You’re amazed, aroused, and alarmed all at the same time. Amazed because he looks so gorgeous sucking on your fingers. Aroused for the obvious reason. Alarmed because duh, he’s your father and things can only go further from here.

Leon places your hand back onto the arm rest between you, chewing the halved sour worm now. As if he didn’t just give you the most visually appealing form of sexual affection in the history of womankind. The dryness of your mouth returns and you take another sip of your Cherry soda. Maybe you can drown yourself in it. No, stupid. That’s what the public bathroom toilets are for.

Right before you set the plastic cup into the cupholder again, Leon speaks.

“Ah, ah. Put it over there.” You don’t even hesitate to listen. Record timing for you doing anything. You don’t even know why you followed his instructions so quick.

“Good girl.” His words send lightning of excitement down your nerves and straight to your clit as he pushes the armrest between you upwards and out of the way. Because that’s a thing, for some reason. It’s like theaters want people to fuck, give head, and spread their diseases everywhere. And why does he know they move? You don’t even want to question it. Maybe he’s just a knowledgeable guy.

“Come here, honey. Let daddy kiss that pretty mouth.” Fucking Christ. This can’t be real. Doesn’t matter, ‘cause again, there’s zero hesitation on your part. Leon likes that. A woman that can follow orders. He’s so used to taking them, not giving them. And your mom isn’t one to listen to other people. Either way, if this goes south, Leon can always just off himself. He wasn’t around much so what difference would it make if he was permanently gone? The reassurance of being able to log out forever gives him courage here. It’s rational.

You scoot over since you’re free from any barriers or restrictions, and he puts an arm over you. You swear you almost hear your skin sizzle from the contact. You’re not a witch- and as far as you know, he’s not water. Even if he gets you wet. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and swipe a thumb over your bottom lip- teasing you.

“D-dad.” You stutter a protest- cringing that you sounded the way you did just now. Maybe you shouldn’t be embarrassed ‘cause he’s your dad- but you are embarrassed ‘cause he’s hot. You can’t even figure out why you wanna back out suddenly. Probably because the idea was better than betraying your mom and knowing yourself as someone who fucks their dad. Anywho- didn’t he say something about kissing you? Cause he’s not even doing as promised.

Your dad leans in, his free hand is now on your neck and angling it just to show you how easy he can manhandle your body. He plants a kiss on your earlobe before saying anything.

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t go giving daddy blue-balls now. It’s not polite to start things you don’t wanna finish.”

Leon’s words simultaneously gross you out and turn you on in a self-deprecating, disgusting kind of way. Not to mention he’s literally contradicting himself since he would gladly eat the half of the sour worms you didn’t want to finish- therefore entirely enabling you to start things you couldn’t finish. Hm. That must explain a large portion of your life, then. And besides all do that, doesn’t the know blue-balls is some kinda stupid myth or whatever?

His thumb falls down your lip and traces your jawline with intentional slowness while his eyes look over your face appreciatively- but it also seems as if he’s looking for or at something specific.

You get the courage to speak, air sucked fully into your lungs.

“Sorry, daddy.” The fuck is wrong with you? You could have said anything but that. It’ll only spur him on. But you want that, obviously.

He smirks, lips pressed together as the corners of his mouth do that same, pitted thing they do that you like so much. Must go hand in hand with how his chin is also dimpled. It’s sexy. But little do you know, it’s one of the reasons he keeps his stubble. Doesn’t feel like having his butt chin on display to the world- even if every woman that’s ever laid eye on him sees it and wants it buried in their cunt.

“That’s my girl. Didn’t even have to be around much to teach you that, did I?” Leon queries, grabbing your chin to crane your head just so that he can plant his lips onto your neck. His other hand is on your knee, unmoving. You want it to move, though. God- you’re sure whatever higher power is in the great sky is throwing up right now, moments away from pressing the reset button. The same higher power will make a new rule on humanity.

No free will and absolutely no incest. Yeah. Probably should have written that into the books ages ago, one fears.

You fidget as he kisses your neck, stubble scratching your epidermis yet tickling all the same.

“Not gonna answer me, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your throat, the neck kiss he gives it uses a bit of tongue- making your body jolt. “I know your mother taught you manners.”’

You mumble something pathetically apologetic, hands gripping the fabric over his shoulders. Hopefully your mom won’t notice his shirt being stretched out there- cause she notices everything.

“N-no, daddy. I knew it on my own.” You huff, that hand you wanted him to move is slowly doing so- fingers dragging along your inner thigh as if everything he’s doing to you is purposefully meant to be some kind of forewarning. But for what, exactly?

“Such a smart girl. Get that from daddy, you know it?” Ok, cocky…

Leon kisses his way back up your neck, jawbone, and then your cheek. It’s sweet- if being lavished with saccharine, sexual and inappropriate attention from your dad could be sweet.

You nod, feeling his grip loosen from your chin and now sliding up the back of your neck to tangle in your hair, threading it. He’s slow and deliberate- part of you wishes he’d not give you time to think about your actions. Not that you can really think anyways. Your heartbeat is muddled in your ears and the movie is still rumbling through the speakers while someone gets murdered on screen. Lucky them.

The hand on your thigh presses firmer into the skin just below the edge of your shorts, a silent telling for you to keep your attention on him.

“Sorry baby, daddy got distracted. Just so pretty.” He must be able to tell you’re impatient because he kisses your cheek (with an oddly dark undertone to it) before slimming the distance between your lips. He pauses right when they touch and you’re breathing in the taste-turned-scent of the sour worm you fed him earlier. Sugar and that weird orange flavor that is only specific to orange candy. You’re obviously not a fan, but it suits him.

You don’t get any time left to process before it’s a full on kiss- well, make out, actually. It’s slow. You can’t recall being kissed like this, ever. Normally it’s straight to tongue with guys, and not in, like, the good way. The ‘having an eel invading your oral cavity’ kind of way. Eugh.

But your dad’s tongue does brush yours, tastefully. You can actually feel the texture and it’s easy to tell there’s an erection fueling his actions- but not so much so that it takes over the whole kiss.

He uses your hair to pull you closer, teeth clashing momentarily. Not exactly the best feeling but everything else envelops your senses to the point that it’s only a flash of a moment. Your thigh is neglected by his touch, hand moving up and around onto your backside. He gives a squeeze to the fat of your ass and groans against your mouth before pulling you into his lap- legs folded on either side of his thighs.

You break the kiss, looking over your shoulder and to where the entrance is- the exit sign casting a nearby glow that gives you anxiety..

“Can’t- we’ll get caught.” You pant, that weird feeling that’s the grotesque love child of nervousness and excitement is swimming in your gut like a parasite before settling. The severity and realness of the situation sinks in.

Leon laughs low and mean, retracting his hand from your hair and moving to run it through the top of your scalp to push it back. He juts his hips upwards to prod his denimed erection into the cunt of your shorts. You mewl quietly, or maybe it was loud. The movie is just too deafening to distinguish which.

“Suppose you’re right, baby.” He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, leaning in to give you a light peck on the lips. “Told you you’re a smart girl, didn’t I? Can’t let me go around thinking with my dick, huh?”

His hand pats your thigh as if to tell you to get off.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Up.” He commands you with a huffed voice- not because he’s annoyed but because he’s a middle-aged man. Moving is hard. You ignominiously climb off of his lap, putting your bottom back onto the seat next to him. He’s looking at you, meandering a hand back onto your thigh just to rest in place.

You stare at the screen- but you can’t even register it because you’re too disassociated from what just happened. You almost want to beg him to fuck you right here- plead for forgiveness that you suggested stopping in the first place. And you can still taste that damned orange sour worm in your mouth.

Leon behaves, though. He’s good about that. Respectful. In the way of consent- not in the way of not tongue fucking his daughter in a public space. When the movie ends, he gestures for you to stand and you walk past him, carrying your empty cup and boxes of sour worms while the uncomfortable feeling of your slick clinging the gusset of your panties to your cunt. You look back at your father, the sight of him in the palely lit theater is a bit intimidating. He’s adjusting his pants for obvious reasons. You look away quickly and keep walking- a giddy feeling of satisfaction overcoming you. Shortly enough, you’re both back in the main area of the mall. You brush your shirt out and fix your hair- the thought occurs to you that maybe you look a little mussed and should have straightened up sooner.

But the daylight beaming through the sky roof brings you back to your senses.

“Hmm. What does my sweet girl want to get up to now?” Leon asks, intersecting his arms as he looks over you.

You think, mind fizzling as it short circuits. You almost smell smoke emanating from your head, too. How can you look him in the face right now?

“Uhh..” You really don’t know what to say. What can you focus on doing after everything that’s happened today?

“How about this? We can go home a little early and I’ll cook something up for lunch. The drive will give us time to work up an appetite.” He says, nonchalant. Right back to his same fatherly tone from earlier today instead of the ‘I want to split you open with my dick’ tone he had moments ago. Maybe he’s just being sweet and you’re overthinking.

You’re befuddled that he’s not saying anything else about… that. How can he so easily go from publicly groping you to acting cheery and normal? It’s frustrating. Disturbing even. Leon can see the disappointment on your face- but you don’t know that. You assume it’s well hidden, just like the fact you kissed your own father. He thinks it’s cute though. You’re just cock dumb for him. On the other hand, this whole situation is something he has to deal with.

“Got it.” You manage to say, walking a little faster than he does. This is the second time you’ve walked off from your dad, and it does irritate him because he can’t keep up like he used to. Displaced disc in his spine or whatever. Plus, he thinks you’re pissed. Which is worrying. Should have known better than to mess around with his own daughter, he supposes.

The drive back is silent and less terrifying than the previous, part of you thankful. Maybe he was only a bad driver in the morning. Unlikely, but not impossible. Maybe it was the fact that he drank whiskey with his breakfast. Hm. ‘Responsible’ in hindsight.

It’s still early in the afternoon when you arrive back home. The concrete is sizzling from the heat and the sun beats down way too uncomfortably for even a walk from the driveway to the front door.

Leon side-steps you to unlock the house before he urges you in. He may be morally reprehensible but he still didn’t want to let any cool air out- AC’s expensive. You plop down on the couch and he locks the door, walking past you and straight to the kitchen.

The tension is thick for you- but for Leon- not at all. You watch him disappear through the doorway as he goes to prep food. Why is it so hard to read his emotions? He’s like a fucking light switch. You’re annoyed- leaning back on the couch, until he calls for you. You’re quick to get up, scrambling into the kitchen.

“Hey, sweetheart. Mind giving me a hand?”

“Yeah. What is it?” You faintly cock your head to the side.

Leon looks to the side- directly at you. You’re cute when you’re confused. He can tell that all you’re thinking about is continuing where you two left off earlier. Shit, you’re no better than your mother. ‘S just that you’re not crabby and sour all the time like she is.

“Can you grab the saucepan from the bottom cabinet. Your old dad can’t exactly bend over too well.” He laughs- shaking his head. Yes, dad. I get it. I know you have a bad back.

You walk over to the cabinet where he’s leaned onto one hand which is rested on the marbled countertop. You feel a bit apprehensive to be close to him again. Mostly because you don’t trust yourself to not jump his bones, but Leon’s already ahead of you. As soon as you bend over, he pulls you back by the hips so that your ass is flush with his groin.

You’re taken aback but definitely not surprised. He’s a dirty old man, as you’ve learned.

“Gonna let daddy fuck this pussy now, or are you getting flaky on me?” He coos against your ear while he runs his hands up your sides and down again- creeping his hands to your front and over the buttons of your shorts- unhooking them through the slits.

“Yes.. want it.” You breathe in quick- the word coming out on its own. If god could hear you right now, he’d set your house ablaze with lightning.

“Need you to loosen up if I’m going to. You’re way too stiff.” Your shorts are the opposite of you, loose and unfastened fully so they fall to your ankles, and Leon nudges your feet apart with his boot. You realize he’s got a point as you feel his calloused hand glide down your hip and yank you in place. The other hand is spreading your pussy lips apart before finding that fleshy bud between them. A moan rumbles in your throat as your legs almost give out below you. He mutters a curse under his breath, and you realize his cock is now out while he rubs up against your ass- getting off on not only playing with your pussy but from dry humping you.

“Fucking christ. Got the prettiest ass, baby. Think daddy needs to see it bouncing on his cock.” You can practically feel that stupid, smug look as he grabs his dick- slapping it on your ass. It makes you cringe a little, but maybe you should be cringing at the fact your dad is the one doing it. You figure it’s just something he saw in porn, so it doesn’t leave your expectations high at the moment. Great. Leon adjusted himself back into his pants, for now.

His finger continues circling that bundle of nerves, your legs shaky as you’re being pressed into the counter, a hand is on your lower back to keep you down so he can do what he wants. You sound stupid- tears welling in your eyes as you babble nonsensically about wanting to cum. He moves his hand off of your back and sinks to his knees to be face level with you (even if it makes his back hurt a little), sliding his fingers up your inner thigh until there’s a digit prodding your hole, slowly pushing in.

He watches your cunt swallow his finger, barely able to fit it inside.

“Fucking shit, baby. Gonna have to stretch this pussy out if I want my cock in you, huh? Think you can let daddy do that?” He asks, breathy and sounding like he’s trying not to bust all over himself.

You eagerly shake your head.

“Yes, daddy. Need you to get me loose.” The words spill like a hot cup of tea from your lips, scalding Leon with desire.

“God damned. Such a polite fucking girl I’ve got. Might have to eat your mother out later to thank her for making you so respectful.”

You scrunch your face in disgust.

“That’s fucking gross.” You moan, Leon slipping a second finger into you, which should technically feel like four with how worn and big his hands are.

He tuts, planting a kiss to your asscheek.

“Now, didn’t daddy just compliment you? Could be a bit more grateful since he’s trying to make you cum” He grits, sounding a bit (terrifyingly) stern.

You apologize again.

“Sorry, daddy. Just don’t wanna hear about you and mom. Makes me jealous.” You admit, briefly thinking about their dinner conversation last night. Then about how fucking weird you are. You’re really hoping you get the courage to bash your head on the marble countertop and get amnesia.

Leon laughs, but in a way that makes you think he’s amused more than actually laughing.

“God. Want me to stop fucking my own wife just ‘cause you’ve got a needy pussy?” A third finger slips in, making an almost unbearable stretch as you feel a slight ache, but the previous two fingers already did enough work that it’s not completely unbearable.

“Maybe you’re not that grateful. Giving you three fingers here and she’s still too tight.” He twists his hand, letting the inside of you feel every inch of his knuckles and calluses. Your knuckles, however, are ghost-white as you grip at nothing.

“Maybe your fingers are just too small.” You say- mostly from built up tension and annoyance that you didn’t get to let out yet. But you regret the words.

He’s silent- which scares you. He pulls his fingers out of you- the stark contrast in emptiness is clear and the cool air stings you.

Leon groans as he stands up, kicking off his boots before yanking you by the arms to stand straight. He leans into your ear.

“C’mon. You’re gonna come sit on daddy’s dick, since you’re too fucking picky.” Goosebumps form all over you as he leads you to the couch. Leon leaves you standing there so he can get comfortable and discard his clothing, lying back with his hands behind his head. You make a mental note of how his biceps look with his arms bent in this position, even if you kinda feel like it’s lazy. But holy fuck, his toned stomach is perfect- sprinkled with a happy trail that will definitely lead you somewhere that will make you happy. Speaking of, his dick is nice. Fat. Not sure how big it is since you have not much to compare to, but you’d imagine taking it would be a bit of a proper challenge.

You step a little closer- crawling awkwardly over his lap- ass faced towards him so that you settle on his waist. It’s hard not to feel self conscious about your backside in this position, even considering the fact that he was just fingering you from the back moments ago. You’re mostly just upset you can’t gawk at his tits or stomach.

You grab him by the base, shifting yourself to hover directly over him, letting the tip graze your wet hole before slowly sinking down- a drawn out moan escaping you.

“Fuckkk. That’s it. Sit down on it. Take all of daddy.” You glance over your shoulder as you bottom him out; his eyes are half-lidded. Well, at least he’s got a pretty face while you’re fucking him. You almost failed to realize his hands moved from behind his head to your ass- gliding up your back and down again.

You take a moment to adjust, breathing shakily ‘cause his dick is so fat you think you might die. Or maybe you’re having a heart attack at your ripe age.

“Didn’t tell you to take any breaks, did I baby?” You’re annoyed at his pushiness, but you did have a bit of a sour attitude earlier. So you can only blame yourself.

You’re not sure how to entirely do this, but you move yourself up and down. Not at a fast pace, yet. Just that savoring your dad’s dick seems like a reasonable ordeal.

He doesn’t shut up, though. You’re learning just how much he likes to talk- as if he just wants to hear himself. Is he even getting off on you or the sound of his own voice? It makes you roll your eyes even if you do like hearing him say dirty shit.

"That’s my girl. So fucking good. Ride it nice and slow... Work that sweet pussy on daddy's cock.” You just might fall over dead hearing him say any of it- it’s disgusting but sweet Jesus are you eating it up. He must know it too because of how you clench around him involuntarily when he talks like that.

“You like when daddy praises you? Yeah, you love me telling you how good you are.” His words are husky and yet pleased with the previous tidbit of information.

“See how nice I am? Letting you sit on my cock after you made me wait earlier. Wasn’t very nice of you, now was it, baby?” His words have an underlyingly mocking tone, but you’d do anything to make him change it.

“No, daddy. Was really mean of me.” You whine pitifully, bouncing yourself on his dick like it’s your major in college and you’re trying to pass with flying colors.

“I know, baby. But daddy forgives you.” He murmurs, sitting up with you still on top of him. He’s flush against your back now- reaching in front of you to make those same tight circles on your clit. You both exchange your pitchy moans and his grunting and groaning- working up to a good point in both of your impending orgasms.

“Gonna cum in this pussy, got it? Daddy doesn’t like to pull out.”

You scramble a bit, squirming on his lap.

“Fuck, dad! You can’t do that!” You whine as his other arm holds you onto him- wrapped around your stomach. Your nails dig into his forearms, hopefully not leaving noticeable scratches.

“I think I can, baby. You’re squeezing me at the idea- I’m not fucking stupid.” He’s quick to be mean again, but you’d be a liar to say you’d don’t want him to cum in you. And you’re not a liar, that’s just deplorable- coming from someone who is literally fucking their dad with enough energy to power a small village for a month. And yet, you don’t stop riding him.

And your silence tells it all.

“Yeah- my baby wants a nice creampie.” He sounds more strained now, letting go of his hold on your stomach and using his hand to now guide you to roll your hips on him.

Sweat beads down Leon’s forehead, bangs sticking to his face as he watches your ass grinding against his lap.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that. I’m gonna cream this tight fucking pussy. Want that, don’t you? ‘Cause daddy’s gonna give it to you whether you want it or not.”

You should be a little more upset or concerned in any regard right now, but the last two days have made you into a proper whore to the point that you don’t even give a shit. Self respect crawled itself into a space shuttle and launched off of the planet, probably to never be seen again. Stuck in orbit, if you will.

You’re sucked out of the motions when Leon speaks again.

“Stop, stop.” He pats your bottom.

“Turn around, baby. I wanna see your face. Wanna kiss those lips while you’re on my dick.” Your stomach flutters with nervousness and a sickly sweet feeling. You lifted yourself from him with a trail of arousal to follow and maneuvered to turn around- this time he was holding his cock ready for you. Moments went by of you staring, getting a proper look of him since everything had been a quick blur so far.

“Come on, baby. Need you to mount daddy’s cock again. Told you I wanted to kiss you, didn’t I?” He exhaled, sounding a bit pent up. Jeez- seconds without pussy and he’s getting upset. Maybe he needs a therapist and anger management, not his college-aged daughter spearing herself on him.

You replied, yes, daddy. Sorry, daddy. Didn’t mean to make you wait, daddy.

You dropped yourself down onto him once more- only this time it was easier since you were able to get accustomed to his dick.

“Start moving sweetheart, make daddy cum.” He instructed, leaning in to take you in a kiss. It was more dirty than the last kiss, somehow. His tongue slipped between your lips- Leon lifted you with his hands on your waist before jutting his hips up to slam his cock snugly into your heat, groaning against your mouth delightfully.

His teeth nipped your lower lip- giving you a little further taste of just what kind of lover he is. Or maybe this is just the version you get. Either way, you can’t complain in any area. You feel lucky to receive even a sliver of it.

The familiar roughness of his thumb returns to your already throbbing bud- circling at the same pace he’s now moving at. Despite his age, he seems awfully enthusiastic to do strenuous work involving his hips. Bad back, my ass. Or maybe he’s able to put that on the back burner to please you. Probably worried if he doesn’t give you good dick then you’ll go tattle on him.

Leon didn’t break the kiss whatsoever while he pounded into you ruthlessly, he swallowed up every moan and noise you made like it was alcohol. ‘Cause that was his favorite, obviously.

When he pulled his mouth off of yours, a trail of saliva lingered- stretching out while you giggled on top of him. Something about you laughing almost made him nut immediately, but he held out just to prolong this and let it engrain into his mind for certain.

“Got the prettiest baby- look so good on my cock like this. Want daddy to bust in that pretty pussy?” He asked, looking for your approval.

“Uh-huh. Need daddy to knock me up.” The words came from god knows where, making even your eyes look bewildered for a second.

Leon laughed darkly at you.

“God, baby. Daddy’s so fucking close.” He muttered stupidly, almost like he was drunk. At least this could be an ego boost for you- but the fact it was your dad canceled that out. Dick only counts if it’s from someone that’s not related to you. His eyes did that half-lidded thing from earlier that you found so hot, and he pulled you down onto his cock one last time, spilling thick ropes into your blood-related hole. His dick pulsed as he let out a muted grunt, head lolling back and his adam's apple on full, stubbly display. You could bite it, just like a real apple.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He moaned. Jeez. He was a whore, honestly. The way he made noises and didn’t shut the fuck up was honestly… a case that should be studied. Maybe he had been turned out a time or two himself.

His cock didn’t soften though, nor did he not forget about you cumming. He lifted his head back up, looking down at where his thumb was. It was almost like he read your thoughts, not saying a word as he concentrated on making you cum. ‘Cause earlier he had been too eager to get in you and you were too eager to get on him.

Your nails dug into his shoulders (hopefully your mom wouldn’t notice any marks) and he gently fucked into you while you received proper attention on your aching clit. The combination of his dick keeping you full and the sensation of his digit sent you throbbing through your orgasm around him- low curses and other disgusting things coming out of both your mouths.

‘Cause you’re both disgusting.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy death island #leon kennedy vendetta #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy #tw inc*st #tw #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #leon s kennedy smut

105 notes · View notes

itsjustrosee · 3 days

Text

Alright because of all the support on my last post with Stiles, I figured I should write another 😚👍

Worried Sick Stiles Stilinski x fem!reader

Context: established relationship, Stiles comes to visit you when you don't show up to school

Warnings: none, just fluff

Wordcount: 1.1k

You had been in your room curled up in bed, tangled in blankets and stuffed animals all while you were supposed to be at school.

You had just gotten your period and your cramps left you nothing short of bedridden and on the verge of throwing up all day. You were experiencing womanhood at its absolute finest, to say the least.

Suddenly, the door to your room swung open, and a very confused and distressed Stiles entered your room. His expression softened once he saw you weren't dead or bleeding out, and a wave of relief seemed to wash over him.

"Not using the window to get in anymore?" You asked jokingly, rolling to your side to face Stiles who had now set down his bag and kneeled at the side of your bed. Being Scott's twin, you and Stiles needed to keep your relationship a secret. That's why when it came to hanging out, Stiles would always come in through your window rather than your front door so the both of you wouldn't get caught.

"Well, you gave me a key to your house for a reason right? Also going in through the window would've taken me too long," Stiles explains, his expression still slightly filled with worry as he placed one of his hands on your bed while the other tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"What were you in such a rush for?" You ask with a chuckle in reaction to Stiles's seriousness, snaking your hand out of your covers and placing it on top of his.

"Well you didn't show up to school and I was worried," He explains, his expression soft and genuine. "I thought something bad might've happened," He says quietly and slowly.

For any other boyfriend, his girlfriend not showing up to school shouldn't cause them this much stress, but considering all the supernatural shit Stiles has somehow managed to get involved in, he couldn't help but worry himself to death.

"I'm okay Stiles, really I am," You say, reassuring him, "Just on my period that's all," You explain, trying to manage a smile but your stomach felt like it was being turned inside out, so it probably came out as more slightly disturbing than comforting.

"Ok good, I thought it could've had something to do with that. Which is why-" Stiles says, relieved, as he gets up and grabs his bag before sitting down next to you on the bed. "I have come prepared," He continues with a goofy smirk plastered on that stupidly cute face of his.

You sit up lazily as Stiles begins to show you what he bought. He whips out a plastic bag from inside of his backpack with items ranging from Tylonal, Advil, and Mydol, (which you immediately snatched and swallowed), all the way to chocolates and a heated stuffed animal.

"I got confused when I saw all the... feminine products, so- um-" He explains while taking out yet another plastic shopping bag from his backpack to reveal at least ten different boxes of tampons and pads.

You pause and stare at the ginormous haul of items that Stiles has bought you and you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

You appreciated Stiles and his caring towards you more than anything, especially in moments like these. He always knew the right things to do and the right things to say, and you loved him for it.

Stiles, however, didn't take your silence in the right way. "I'm sorry- it's stupid I know, I bought way too much. I bet I still have the receipt somewhere, maybe I can still return it-" He asked, sadness and disappointment slowly creeping into his voice.

"No!" You reply quickly. "Don't return it, and none of this is stupid," You confirm before sighing for a moment. "Stiles, this is literally like the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me," You explain, turning to look at him while you say it, a smile slowly forming on your face as you do so.

"Really?" Stiles questions, his embarrassed expression being replaced by one of relief and pride.

"Really," You say while scooting over in your bed and patting the space next to you, beckoning him to join you.

Stiles lays down next to you, and you gladly roll over and climb on top of him, resting your head by the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him. The heat radiated off of his body as you listened to his heartbeat and the slow movements of his chest going up and down.

Stiles brought the covers over you and kissed your head before speaking once more, "You don't want to use the stuffed animal I gave you?" He asks with a chuckle as he wraps his arms around you, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your back.

"Nope, I think you'll do just fine," You say as you lift your head to look up at him.

Stiles takes this moment to lean down and kiss you gently. He kissed and held you as if you were the most fragile thing in the world. As if with one wrong move you'd shatter into a million pieces, so he treated you with such care, holding you softly and closely to make sure you didn't.

Though the kiss only lasted a few moments, it made you forget all about the pain you felt in your abdomen and replaced it with butterflies. He definitely had a way of making you feel safe and comfortable whenever you were around him.

Once he pulled away, he looked at you with hearts in his eyes, "You're so beautiful, you know that right baby?" He said, his voice so faint that it practically made your heart beat out of your chest. He removed one of his hands from your back and placed it on your cheek and you immediately melted into his touch.

You could only let out a satisfied hum in response, you were too lost in his features to bother replying coherently.

Stiles let out a low chuckle as he kissed your forehead, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head, stroking your hair as he did so.

"Get some sleep okay?" He said while wrapping his arm just a bit tighter around you, "I'll be right here if you need anything," He said softly.

"I know," You say, your words muffled slightly as you rest your head in the crook of his neck, "You're not goin' anywhere," You say with a smile as you place a quick kiss on his neck.

"Didn't plan on it," Stiles mumbles, about to fall asleep even before you do. But as your meds kick in, you can't help but slowly drift off to sleep as well.

Okay, I'm having WAYYYYYY too much fun writing these I'm sorry 😭

I finished majority of my finals so I'm going to be much more active again so keep sending in requests! I'm continuing to work on them

Also, I cannot thank you guys enough for all of the compliments and praise I've received on my last post with Stiles, it was literally so sweet of you guys. My inbox was literally filled with people praising my writing and y'all have no idea how happy that made me, like literally my heart almost burst.

#teen wolf stiles #teen wolf #teenwolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #teen wolf x reader #x reader #teen wolf fanfic #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles fluff

113 notes · View notes

lost-in-fandoms · 1 day

Text

Just Maxiel being boyfriends and having a date night.

cw: tiniest hint of implied sexual content

The first thing that Daniel notices when he comes inside the door is that the house smells different. It's not that their house smells bad usually (thanks cleaners for that, to be quite honest!), but it doesn't usually smell like candles and flowers. For a second, he wonders if somehow he managed to walk into the wrong door, but no, Max's shoes are in their usual place, and his wallet and keys are on the table beside the entrance, so that must not be it.

The mystery is quickly solved when Daniel gets out of the hallway and finds a bouquet of flowers on the kitchen island, a candle burning lowly beside it.

Maybe Max has been kidnapped while Daniel was away, or he's been replaced by an alien clone. Sure, Max has bought him flowers a couple of times, but candles?? Or maybe Daniel is in an alternate reality where Max cares about things like throw blankets and motivational quotes in frames.

"Oh! You're home early!"

Daniel turns around, finding his boyfriend standing in front of him, a small frown on his face. Or at least, what is pretending to be his boyfriend, because why would Max be wearing a shirt and nice pants at home? He looks gorgeous, his shoulders looking even wider and his thighs looking delicious, but Max despises wearing nice things at home.

Maybe Daniel forgot something. Are they supposed to be going somewhere?

"Baby?" he asks, but doesn't manage to get any more words out before Max is coming closer, kissing him hello. And sure, okay, Daniel can go with that plan. Except Max steps back way too quickly, not even letting Daniel get a little bit of tongue involved (which, rude!), to grab Daniel's bag and walk towards their bedroom, leaving a befuddled Daniel behind.

"Would you like to take a bath?"

Yep, alternate reality it is. Max doesn't like baths. He only allows them after particularly intense sex, or when one of them is really sore from a race or a crash. He dislikes (verbatim) "laying in his own dirt water", but now he's offering one?

"Together?" Daniel asks, just to clarify, finally unsticking himself from his spot and following his boyfriend to the bedroom, where he's already started to unpack Daniel's bag. Weird getting weirder. Max hates unpacking, would gladly leave his bags to rot if he didn't need to do laundry between race weekends. What is happening here?

Max immediately blushes, shaking his head a little. His hair is soft and unstyled, despite his nice clothes, and Daniel wishes he could just run his hand in it. This whole thing is throwing him off his "I missed my boyfriend and need to touch him as much as possible" routine.

"No, I thought, you? You can relax, after the flight and the drive."

That does sound nice, even if not as nice as having Max sitting naked behind him in the water, and for the moment Daniel decides to postpone figuring out who kidnapped and replaced his boyfriend, in favor of going along with this plan. Max insists on drawing him the bath, but once Daniel is in the bubbly water, he leaves the bathroom with nothing more than an enjoy!. Not even giving Daniel the chance to steal a kiss. Rude.

Despite everything, the bath is good. It doesn't matter for how many years he's been flying around the world, or how much more comfortable his flights have become, they always leave him with a leftover off feeling, and it's nice to wash it away, letting the warm water relax his muscles.

He takes his time, washing and styling his curls, because why not?, and when he finally steps outside the steamy bathroom he finds that Max has left out some clothes for him. Daniel had chosen some already, a hoodie and a pair of shorts, and Max hasn't put them away, so obviously the others are more a suggestion than a request, but Daniel is properly intrigued now. Max chose a green patterned shirt that Daniel loves, and a pair of pants that go suspiciously well with it to be something Max picked out all by himself.

Usually, they both prefer to be comfortable at home, changing immediately when they come back, Max going as far as starting to strip while he's still walking towards the bedroom, but Daniel is curious, so he puts the clothes on. It's clear that Max (real or alien that he is) has a plan, and Daniel has long learned to trust them because even in the occasions they don't work out, they still result in a good time.

He follows the smell of food out of the bedroom and finds Max in the kitchen. One of Daniel's own playlists is playing softly, and Max is at the stove, carefully stirring a pot, while muttering something in Dutch. Jimmy is next to his feet, probably waiting to trip him up, while Sassy is sitting on top of the fridge, asleep, and Daniel's heart is suddenly so full, he's afraid he'll do something silly like start crying. That's his family, in their house, cooking...

Wait, cooking?

Daniel blinks. Yep, that is definitely what is happening. Max is cooking. And he set the table. There is a different bouquet on the table, a smaller one with only red roses, near the fancy glasses Sophie had bought for them, and an unopened bottle of Daniel's favorite red wine. On a plate there is what looks like warm fresh bread, and Max is stirring a pot that smells like bolognese sauce, while some pasta is cooking in another.

This must be an alternate reality.

He's still trying to make some sense of it, when Max finally turns, still talking to the cats, and notices him, startling.

"You were quick!" he says, blushing for some reason Daniel doesn't even want to try and understand in the middle of all this, and all Daniel's brain can helplessly do in these trying times is resort to jokes.

"Careful, baby, if you keep bringing up how early I am, I'll have to start thinking you're not happy in the bedroom!"

It works, because Max snorts and rolls his eyes, abandoning the spoon to step closer to Daniel, finally tugging him closer for a decent kiss.

"I will show you how happy I am in the bedroom later" he promises, lips brushing against Daniel's, and Daniel is suddenly reminded of the fact that he hasn't seen his boyfriend naked for five days. Outrageous.

Before he can say anything though, Max pinches his side, stepping back with a frown.

"No, I said later!" he says, like he can read his mind or something. Maybe Daniel really should look into alien-replacing-boyfriends theories. As it is, all he can do is pout, which is useless, because Max is turning around again, reaching for the bigger of the two bouquets, the one Daniel had first seen, and offering it to Daniel with a shy smile.

"For you."

It's pretty, a mix of roses and three other flowers Daniel is not even going to attempt to guess the names of, and Daniel feels himself blush despite everything. He likes getting flowers and feeling special from time to time. Sue him.

"Thank you, baby" he says, smiling brightly while lightly touching one of the petals.

Max seems pleased by his reaction, leaning forward to kiss him again, but getting no further than a peck when an alarm goes off, making them both jump.

"The pasta!" Max exclaims, rushing back to the stove and talking to Daniel from over his shoulder. "Go sit down? And open the wine."

Daniel gives one last sniff to the flowers before putting them back down and going to sit. Max has chosen their fancier tablecloth too, something Daniel is pretty sure they had never used except when they had family over, and now he's worrying again about having forgotten something.

"Maxy, is it our anniversary or something? Is it my birthday?" he asks, working on getting the wine open without getting any on the tablecloth.

"What? No!" Max appears next to him, carrying two plates full of pasta, frowning at him in confusion.

"It's just..." Daniel gestures vaguely at the table, trying to find a word that won't make it seem like he's not happy with what is happening. "Unusual?"

Max still blushes, looking down at his own hands.

"It's just dinner, Daniel," he says. It doesn't look like just dinner, but it smells like dinner and Daniel is hungry, and he's sure that whatever is going on in Max's mind it will come out sooner or later, so he decides to let it go.

"Looks amazing, baby," he compliments, grabbing his fork, and enjoying the way Max's cheeks get even redder. He's pretty sure they would feel warm if he touched them right now.

Max waits for him to take the first bite, and Daniel would make a poisoning joke if it...

"Baby..." he pauses, feeling himself get embarrassingly choked up.

"I asked Grace for help," Max confirms shyly, not looking at Daniel in the eyes.

It tastes like home. It tastes like getting home from school to tell his mom about his day, like coming back after months of phone calls, like sitting down surrounded by his family.

"Is it okay?" Max asks, as if Daniel isn't on the verge of having a full breakdown on the spot because of his boyfriend asking his mom for help with making him food that tastes like love.

"It's perfect," is all he manages to get out, taking another bite to cover his reaction up. When he looks at Max again, he finds him staring at him, soft and lovely, blue eyes shining, and he can't help leaning forward to grab his hand and drag him closer for a kiss.

For his own sanity, Daniel brings the conversation back to safer grounds, telling Max about his flight and asking him about the days they had spent apart. There's not much to tell, since they had spent the whole time texting and every night calling, but it's nice, to just talk to him. To have this time together.

After the pasta, Max brings out some fruit, apologizing for the lack of dessert, but telling him that it would have been too far outside their diet plans with the bread, the pasta and the wine, but Daniel just shakes his head, accepting a slice of orange with a smile.

"So," he asks while he helps Max with tidying up, despite his protests, "I loved this, but what was it all about?"

He keeps watching as Max hesitates, taking his time loading the dishwasher, so he clocks in the moment when he decides to explain. Alien or not, he still knows Max.

"I was out playing with Charles, George and Alex, the other day," he finally says, closing the dishwasher and turning around. Daniel nods, thinking about the picture of a sweaty Alex laying on the padel court Max had sent three days ago. "Charles was talking about the last date he went on, and I realized that I couldn't remember ours."

Daniel blinks at him. He thinks back to it, but even if they live together and they spend as much time doing things together as possible, he can't remember a date date either. They're usually so happy to just be back home, they prefer to spend time on the couch with the cats or having sex, which is still nice and lovely, but not exactly a date.

"I thought that, you know, it is hard, of course, to go on dates outside for us," Max keeps on explaining, "but that didn't mean we couldn't have something nice."

So he bought Daniel flowers, drew him a bath, asked his mom for help with dinner. Oh, he loves this man so much.

He reaches forward, grabbing Max's waist and dragging him into a hug, before kissing him. This time, Max doesn't pull away until they're both panting for air.

"Thank you, baby, it was perfect" Daniel says, kissing Max's red cheek. "Do you have anything else planned?"

Max shakes his head. His eyes are blue blue blue and Daniel wants to love him forever.

"Then," he presses another kiss to Max's face, moving down towards his neck, "let me give you a treat, now."

He bites down, and Max moans, going pliant in Daniel's arms as usual.

"And the next date is on me."

#did i have other things to do instead of writing this? possibly #will i one day choose to post on ao3 instead of telling myself 'oh it's just a short thing it's not worth the trouble'? maybe #but today is not the day and ao3 is too 'official' to post my silly unedited things #yes i am aware that is bullshit reasoning dont look at me #maxiel #my writing #as usual if there are typos no there aren't

72 notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 2 days

Text

Waiting For The Sun

Chapter Three

Rhett Abbott has been hearing his soulmate in his head for ten years. She's the sweetest thing, nicknamed Muffin after her love of baking. Rhett doesn't know who Muffin is, doesn't know where she is, but hearing her voice always makes his day better. But then Trevor Tillerson is killed and Rhett's life is thrown into chaos. Through it all, Muffin in there for her soulmate. She wants nothing more than to find him, even through the chaos.

Soulmate AU

a/n: sorry this took so long!! but also, happy birthday to my favourite cowboy!!

Warnings: violence, abusive parenting, smut-ish

Series Masterlist

How is your date going? She didn't know if she sounded bitter when she asked, but she hoped that she didn't.

His laugh sounded in her head and she immediately grew embarrassed. You sound jealous, Muffin.

Muffin. He'd come up with the nickname just a few weeks ago, when she'd stress baked her way through her exams. They were just seventeen, and she swore she had never felt this level of stress in her life. It was cute and it suited her. He hadn't called her anything else since.

She scoffed out loud and hoped that he couldn't hear it. Me? Jealous? No way, she muttered in his head. She'd never stop him from going out and living his life, even if he was her soulmate.

He must have known this girl he was on a date with wasn't his soulmate, but he was young and his Muffin didn't mind. This was him discovering himself in a way that she would never be allowed to.

How is the movie? She asked as she continued on with her chores.

He couldn't have been from the same State as her, she decided when he first told her that he was going to the movies. If he was from the same State as her, he would have been outside like he was. Granted, he wouldn't have been hanging laundry fresh from the machine out to dry like she was. Wouldn't have been folding already dry laundry like she was.

Truthfully, she was too scared to head back inside. Her father's bad moods had become more and more frequent since her older sister had run off with her soulmate.

Just three days after their connection had started, they found each other. It didn't seem fair, not when she'd been trying to find her soulmate for the last three years.

It had been three months since her sister had left, three months since she'd disappeared, leaving only a note.

Her father had been so angry. It was supposed to be a joyous occasion, Esther finally finding her soulmate. But her father had shouted, had worked himself into a rage until he was throwing glasses against the wall and letting them shatter.

His mood had improved in the three months since, but not by a lot. It didn't take a lot for him to fly off the handle. Chewing too loud or the morning prayer not being to his liking. That was enough to set him off, to have her doing chores in the garden instead of in the house.

It's good, I think, he answered as she slowly folded the sheets.

You think?

He hummed. Yep, I think.

She paused on her sheet folding as her bright, bubbly laugh filled his head. Aren't you watching the movie?

Trying to, he answered. But, uh, I'm getting a handjob right now.

With her fathers shirt in her hands, she stopped, brows furrowed in confusion. A what?

A handjob, Mufifn.

She rolled her eyes and began folding the shirt. Yeah, I'm gonna need you to elaborate on that, cowboy.

There was a good moment before he responded. Oh my God, Muffin. You really don't know? Do you at least know about sex?

Normally, she would have chided him for the 'Oh my God', comment. But she was far too embarrassed for that. Yes, I know what sex is, she replied quickly as she placed the shirt on the basket in such a way that it had creases forming.

But you don't know about pleasure.

She didn't answer as she folded the shirt and placed it in the basket. C'mon, Muffin, came his voice in her head. There's no need to feel embarrassed.

I'm not embarrassed, she insisted, but her voice was shaking and it was so obviously a lie. I know about... sex, okay? My sister told me about it. She picked up her laundry basket from the floor and took it back into the house.

Muffin, sex and pleasure aren't the same thing, he replied. Well, as best he could while getting a handjob. They're normally entwined, but they're not the same.

She sucked in a breath and placed the laundry basket down. Can you tell me about it? About pleasure?

He let out that usual hum, the one she'd grown to know so well after three years. Anything for you, Muffin.

***

It had been a rough night for her. Her sleep had been restless, filled with anxiety that she couldn't quite place. On nights like this, her brain took her back to that evening, when her soulmate taught her about pleasure. She hadn't been brave enough to touch herself, then, but it had made her curious.

You there, Cowboy? She tried as she got herself ready for church that morning.

She hadn't expected a reply, certainly not at this time in the morning. But then a gruff mornin', Muffin filled her head.

She couldn't hide her surprise, not from him. What're you doing awake? She asked as she pulled her shoes onto her feet.

Haven't slept yet, Muffin. As soon as he'd said it, tiredness flooded her body. She didn't know who he was, but she could feel his exhaustion. That wasn't fair now, was it? Are you heading to church?

She gave a nod, one he obviously couldn't see. Yeah, she answered. As soon as I'm back, will you tell me why you haven't slept?

Yeah, he answered far too quickly. Yeah, I will.

He didn't speak to her while she was at church. She was appreciative as she listened to the pastor's sermon. She couldn't concentrate on church, though.

It was just like that time her soulmate kept her awake to talk her through things. It was his birthday, his twenty-first, and he insisted on giving her an orgasm, however he could. Her mind had strayed at church the morning after, and she couldn't meet the pastor's eyes.

Her mind was straying this morning, too.

He'd been awake nearly twenty-four hours. Why wasn't he dead on his feet? You still awake? She tried as she followed her parents out of the church and into their car.

Yeah, Muffin. Are you done at church?

She hummed as they began driving home. Are you gonna tell me why you're still awake?

His laugh filled her head as her father drove them towards their house. Past the Tillerson ranch, past the Abbott ranch, past Rhett Abbott on his horse. He tipped his hat towards her as she gave him a small wave.

But her soulmate had fallen silent. Not on his own volition, mind you. As desperately as he tried to answer her, he couldn't. Fuck! He eventually shouted, voice so loud in her mind. I can't fucking tell you, Muffin.

It's okay, Cowboy, she replied, trying to sooth him. That bad, huh?

I don't want you to hate me.

The car stopped and she hopped out. I'm not gonna hate you, cowboy. I'm sure it can't be that bad.

He couldn't respond to that.

Her mind strayed to him as she got on with her morning. As she cleaned the kitchen and made lunch for her parents, she was thinking about him.

But then her mind moved to finding him. How was she ever meant to do that when she was stuck here, in Wabang? She had no way to get out into the world and try to find the man made for her. No money, no skills.

I'm gonna ask my father if I can get a job, she said, trying to contact her soulmate for the first time in hours. They didn't have to speak every minute of every day. The silence was nice, knowing he was always there.

That's huge, Muffin, he replied. Gonna try for your local grocery store?

She shrugged her shoulders as she swept the decking outside. Maybe. I think it's about time I have some financial freedom, you know?

The moment she heard her father coming through the front door, her heartbeat was erratic. She propped the broom up against the fence that enclosed the decking and headed back inside.

"Hello papa," she called as she grabbed his usual beer from the fridge and poured it into his beer mug for him. As quickly as she could she marched to the living room and passed it to him.

Her father was already in his usual armchair. He took the beer from her hands and sipped it as he looked at his youngest daughter. He didn't say anything, but he didn't much talk anymore. He hadn't since Esther disappeared.

"Papa," she began as she sat on the sofa to his right. She was just sitting on the edge of it, back straight, too nervous to let herself sit comfortable. "I want to get a job."

"No," her father immediately said. "Not happening."

Her face dropped and she looked down at her lap. "Papa, pl-"

"I said no."

"But-"

Suddenly, his beer mug was flying at the wall just to the left of her. The noise that left her lips was full of fear, but she didn't dare move. "I said no, and my word is final," he said and settled back into his armchair, as if nothing ever happened.

Grabbing him another drink in a new beer mug. She cleaned up the mess of shattered glass behind the sofa and wiped up the liquid from the floor.

How did it go? Her soulmate asked as she swept up the broken glass.

She dumped the glass into the bin and wiped under her eyes. I don't wanna talk about it, she replied as she headed back outside to finish sweeping the deck.

Oh, Muffin. I'm gonna get you out of there.

She didn't cry about it, not when it wouldn't have done any good. Her father had been this way for the last seven years, ever since Esther left. He'd gotten them to scratch out Esther's face from every picture in the house, erasing any memory of her. All of the things she'd left behind had been discarded or burned in the yard.

She wasn't allowed to cry when her sister was erased from her life.

There was a knock at the door. She placed her broom against the fence and rushed through the house, to the front door. As she walked past her father, he didn't move, taking a long sip of his beer as she pulled the front door open.

One of her blonde haired neighbours stood at the front door. "Hey, Billy," she said as she wiped her hands on her skirt.

"Hey," Billy replied and pulled his hat from his head. She couldn't quite place the expression he was wearing, but something was definitely wrong. "Have you seen Trevor around?"

There was a time where she'd considered that one of the Tillerson boys might have been her soulmate. It was a haunting thought, and one that left her mind the moment it had entered. Billy was the best of a bad bunch, but she didn't didn't want him as her soulmate.

"Trevor? No," she said and leaned against the doorframe. "Is he okay?"

Billy shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. I hope so," he mumbled, eyes on the floor. And then, when his eyes met her own and he looked up at her, wearing puppy dog eyes. "I think something bad happened to him."

"Like what?" She couldn't stop herself from asking. There was something like guilt on her face when she met Billy's eyes again.

But he still answered. "I think Rhett Abbott killed him."

Rhett Abbott. She didn't know much about the man. Even though they'd grown up together, they'd had few interactions. She knew Rhett had a few run ins with the law, had seen Sheriff Joy (back before she became acting sheriff) bringing him back to the Abbott ranch in the pack of the police car a couple of times.

But Rhett wasn't a murderer, was he? He'd been sweet, if a little flirty, every time they passed. Tipping his hat or wearing that smile that looked as though he didn't know it was charming.

She looked back at her father, let her gaze linger on him for no longer that two seconds, before she turned back to Billy. "Do you want some help looking for him?"

The smile that crossed his face was wide and far too happy. "Yeah, I'd appreciate that."

Rhett Taglist: @finnydraws

@writtingrose

@nurse-sainz

@biancathecool

@xoxabs88xox

@afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff

Series Taglist: @nessjo

@butterflykale1doscope

@eternallyvenus

@daughterofapollo-7

@babybluemissy

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott oneshot #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott smut #lewis pullman #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman x reader #outer range #outer range imagine #outer range x reader #outer range fanfiction #outer range fic #soulmate au

67 notes · View notes

yanderes-galore · 3 days

Note

And then last one Gojo with your prompts 17, 2, and 36!?

Sure! Couldn't figure out a plot for normal Gojo, so you're getting a Hybrid Darling AU. I genuinely hope this works better. Darling is a house cat hybrid while Gojo is a rich Hybrid owner. Got idea from @ursinaw. Thank you so much!

Yandere! Satoru Gojo Prompts 17, 2, 36

(Hybrid AU - Darling)

"You look so cute in those clothes! I think I picked well...."

"It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you!"

"I'd hate to hurt you but... if you keep this up I might have to."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Hybrid AU, Hybrid adoption, Condescending/Degrading behavior, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Threats, Collars/Leashes, Alludes to toxic/taboo relationship, Dubious/Forced relationship.

Satoru was often told he needed a new companion. After losing his dear friend Suguru, he needed someone to connect with. Eventually Satoru was pushed in the direction of hybrids... or demihumans.

At first, Satoru didn't like the idea. It was strange and foreign when he went to the shelter to see animal-like humans everywhere. He originally was going to turn back and not go through with it.

Then he saw you... a timid house cat hybrid that stared up at him with wide eyes.

Safe to say... Satoru fell in love immediately....

Like most cats you tend to like your alone time. When Satoru carried you home he was careful to buy all sorts of toys and supplies. You were technically a pet...

But to him you felt a bit too human.

Satoru couldn't help but find you cute when you roamed around his large house. He had enough money to spoil you however he wished. You even spoke the same language as him.

Spoiling you always made Satoru smile. You looked adorable when he bought you a new toy or game to play. Even something as simple as a treat made you purr as he patted your head.

Although... the idea of spoiling you in other ways eventually came across his mind.

You were his little kitty, after all.

Satoru saw you as his own little guilty pleasure. He always kept you pampered and taken care of. Although... his favorite thing to do...?

Dress you up.

His voice is a coo towards you as he dresses you in new clothes. He gets everything from normal clothes to new collars and leashes. He couldn't help but smile at the way the bell on your collar jingles as you pull at it.

All this spoiling... comes with a catch.

Satoru is adamant on you staying in the house. He never seemed fond of sharing his pretty little kitty. In fact, the Sorcerer finds himself irritated at the idea.

But cats tend to get themselves into mischief... don't they...?

"You look so cute in those clothes! I think I picked well...."

Satoru smiles softly, holding you still as he dresses you up. After all, his kitty deserves the best treatment. Although... you have quite the temper today.

Satoru shrugs when he sees your ears down and tail flicking. You were most likely mad that he caught one of your escape attempts again. Poor you... all pouty in front of him.

"Come on, sweetheart." Satoru hums, blue eyes twinkling playfully as he pets your head. You growl lowly, causing Satoru to click his tongue. He gives you the world... Yet you throw a fit? "Mad I won't put you outside?"

"I don't like the house..." You huff, Satoru merely laughing at your tantrum.

"The house is so spacious... you're telling me you'd rather go out there with all the danger?" Satoru frowns, a bit nervous as he thinks of Suguru once more. "You know I couldn't let my pretty kitty get hurt by Curses or bad humans...."

You reluctantly purr when he cups your cheek, stroking the skin. Your tail thrashes more in a warning as Satoru hums. You were too damn cute.

"It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you!" Satoru chirps, arrogance seeping into his tone. "You have one of the best owners out there... you know I'll keep you safe, don't you...?"

You make a small hiss at your owner, batting his hand away before slipping off his bed. Satoru gives a blank glare before sighing at your disobedience. Yet another fit....

"Kitty-" Satoru goes to call you but you turn away, growling.

"Go away, is it such an issue to go outside...?" You murmur, Satoru looking unamused at your defiance.

"Yes, actually. You have no clue how dangerous it is for a hybrid like you..." Satoru frowns, standing and stepping closer. "In the house it's safe, you get everything you want, you're a house cat... not some predator."

Satoru goes to pet you, to pull you back into his arms. He can see you staring out the window longingly. However, when he goes to hold you...

You scratch and bite him, ears pinned back and eyes in slits.

However... your tone changes when you see the ice cold glare from your owner.

He's normally playful... but it appears you've struck a nerve.

"Is this the thanks I get...?" Satoru murmurs, "I take you in... buy you a cute outfit... and you attack me...?"

You quickly unlock your jaw, scurrying back. Satoru usually only looked so cold at guests visiting him, usually when they linger too close to you. Now... He's glaring at you, forcing you into a submissive stance.

"You've been so bratty the past few days..." Satoru continues, his tone becoming slightly playful. "Does someone think they're independent~?"

Satoru leans over your, his height towering over your smaller feline-like form. He chuckles in your ear, hands trailing down to your hips. He acts playful... but his intentions appear to not be as innocent.

"I'd hate to hurt you but... if you keep this up I might have to." Satoru whispers, his lips twisting into a grin. You can tell his tone is a subtle threat along with the tight grip on your hips. "So are you going to be a good kitty for me, baby...?"

You reluctantly nod, trying your best to purr for him as you nuzzle into his shoulder. Satoru hums, holding you closer. Your obedience pleases him.

"Good kitty..." He purrs towards you, "Unfortunately..."

Satoru tilts your head up by the chin, his smile turning into a sadistic grin. Your heart accelerates as Satoru leans closer to your face.

"My pretty kitty still needs a punishment for being so... bratty."

You regret even wanting to go outside....

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo #yandere hybrid au #hybrid darling

88 notes · View notes

melon-hellion · 10 hours

Text

ALWAYS HAVE BEEN • T. HIRAGI

Summary: Hiragi drops in on you unannounced after a fight. Once you patch him up things take an unexpected turn, one you’ve wanted for years.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: smut, reader is Matsumoto’s sister in some capacity, mentions of fighting, very minor injuries, reader has female anatomy, Hiragi gets dirty in this (bless), fingering, oral (f! receiving), p in v, multiple orgasms, squirting, dirty talk, pet names: pretty girl, baby

Note: This got away from me so fast, but it needed to happen. Finally, finally, I have written something more than a drabble for the love of my life 💚 Enjoy~

The bathroom is still full of steam when you step out of the shower, keeping your face damp even after toweling it off. You dry your hair as well as you can, comb some leave-in conditioner through it, then wipe part of the mirror clear to get started on your simple skin care routine. The vent is loud enough to block out any sound from outside, specifically the door to your apartment opening and closing, a voice that would be familiar calling out for your brother. Ignorant of your guest, you just keep humming, rubbing in moisturizer, gliding your jade roller over your face. The tool clatters into the sink when you startle, jumping out of your skin when you hear a deep voice on the other side of the door, “Yo, Matsumoto–” Hiragi, one of your brother’s closest friends and fellow member of Bofurin. Despite not feeling threatened that he’s in your home, your heart rate doesn’t slow down one bit. In fact, it speeds up. “You still have that first-aid kit somewhere?” he calls out, and you rush to wrap a towel around yourself, knotting it securely over your chest, then crack the door to peer up at him. Hiragi’s eyebrows raise high on his forehead, pink dusting his cheeks when he realizes– “Yodai isn’t home right now.” “Shi–I mean, sorry, I’ll leave.” There’s a bruise blooming just beside his left eye, and his bottom lip is split open on one side. You don’t even have to look at his hands to know that his knuckles are bloodied. They stay in a constant state of rawness, similar to your brother’s. “No, it’s fine,” you tell him as he begins to back away. It’s an awkward situation, but, while you would have been mortified a couple years ago, you’re more comfortable with yourself now. Plus, you know for a fact Hiragi would never hurt you. “Give me a second to make myself, ya know, decent,” you gesture vaguely to yourself which makes the man flush even darker and stare at the ceiling, “and then I’ll grab the first-aid kit for ya’.”

Hiragi clears his throat before muttering, “thanks,” then strides back out to the living room, leaving you to skitter across the hall into your bedroom to put some damn clothes on.

You’ve known the Furin boys (men now, you suppose) since high school when Yodai joined. Out of all of them, you’re most familiar with Yanagida, Kaji, and of course, Hiragi, having grown accustomed to them dropping in at all hours, usually after fights but sometimes just to relax. First it had been at your family home, but even when you and your brother moved into your own small, shared apartment, you still found yourself walking into a full house fairly often.

The point is that you’re comfortable with all of them. Even if you’ve been harboring a tiny (massive) crush on Hiragi since the day you met him. It’s fine, though. Everything will be fine. You’ll get him patched up and send him on his way, and nothing will change even though he just saw you in nothing but a towel.

You could have covered up a little better, probably should have, but it’s your apartment, so when you walk back out it’s in a faded metal band t-shirt and a pair of maybe-too-small terry cloth shorts. Whatever.

Hiragi is sitting in the kitchen and straightens up when you walk in, immediately apologizing again until you wave him off.

“It’s fine, I promise. I’ve gotten pretty used to you popping in with no warning,” you kid.

“I didn’t realize it was… I mean, I texted your brother to give him a heads up.”

“Well, as it happens, he does occasionally do things that aren’t gang-related. Errands, dates…”

Hiragi scoffs as you open one of the high cabinets, something about, “I’d know if Matsumoto was datin’ someone. He’s just blowin’ me off ‘cause I put him to work yesterday–hey!” He’s suddenly on his feet when he notices you swing a leg up on the counter. “Don’t climb that! You’re gonna break your damn neck!”

Pulling you off and away from the oh-so dangerous countertops, Hiragi reaches into the cabinet that is much more accessible to him–god, he’s so tall, deliciously tall–and retrieves the little red box you were aiming for. When he starts for the hallway again you catch him by the wrist and try to lead him back into his chair.

“I can patch myself back up, kid,” he tells you. The name raises your hackles while simultaneously forcing a shiver down your spine. Yodai calls you ‘kiddo’ but he’s allowed, even if you are only a few months younger than him. Hiragi, though… You would really prefer if he was able to see past the whole Matsumoto’s little sister thing.

“Just sit down,” you command more than request. “You have clumsy man fingers. I’ll be able to do a better job.”

And you do, dabbing at the tiny cut on his eyebrow with a cotton ball before carefully applying a butterfly bandage. The bruise on the side of his head doesn’t show any broken skin, so there’s not much you can do there, but you are able to tend to that swollen lip. Hiragi pouts like he isn’t a huge fan of you taking care of him like this, but tough shit. It’s in your nature. Plus, you’ve got far gentler hands. He’d probably find a way to hurt himself even worse, get too rough with a q-tip or something.

It’s quiet for a little while, and you are keenly aware of how close you are to him (another contributing factor as to why you’re doing this? Possibly). You’re bent at the waist while dabbing at his face, and you know your shirt is offering a bit of a view after cutting the collar open years ago in an attempt to give it an edgier look. Hiragi isn’t looking, though, gaze trained upward as he pushes his lip out for you.

“He really out on a date?” he eventually asks, and you smirk. Apparently, he doesn’t handle silence well either.

“Yeah,” you answer, waiting a beat before adding, “with our mom.”

Hiragi tries to smile only for you to squish his cheeks together, poking your tongue out at him when he makes a noise of protest.

You think you’re playing it pretty cool so far–casual and lighthearted. That doesn’t mean you aren’t thinking about how you want to pepper his face with kisses, though. Just get comfortable in his lap, play with the short, bleached hairs at the back of his head. See how much you can tease him before he starts rolling his hips against yours…

“Wha’re you ‘hinkin awout?” Hiragi halfway manages through the grip you have on his face.

You let go of him, realize you’re sucking on your own lip, that your eyelids have gotten heavy with desire, but you pull yourself out of it with a short shake of your head.

“Nothing important.”

“No?” He surprises you by sitting forward, and the sudden motion makes you stumble back just enough to trigger his instincts into reaching out and grabbing you before you can fall over. Hands around your waist (huge, warm hands) Hiragi pins you with jasper eyes. “Nothin’ important?”

You swallow visibly. Audibly. But shake your head again. He’s just doing that thing–that subtle check-in, making sure you’re okay without actually asking. Thinks he scared you earlier or that you’re pissed at him showing up in the first place. It’s not like he’s holding you like this just to fuck with you. Hiragi isn’t the type to do that.

But he also isn’t the type to linger, more of a head-pat or brief one armed hug type of guy. So why are his fingers curling against the hem of your shirt? And why is he lifting his eyebrow like that?

“Not often it’s just you n’ me alone, huh?” he prompts, finally letting his hands drop to his thighs.

“No,” your voice cracks and you swear internally. “No, not since that one time in school when the others ran off without you.” A fight that Yodai took very personally, ignoring his captain when Hiragi had called out to him to slow down, responding only with, “keep my sister safe!” as if he had any right to demand something like that from his higher-up.

But it was Hiragi, so he did in fact stay behind to keep an eye on you while Yodai and Kaji brawled out in the school yard. It was right around that time that your crush on him had really bloomed, so being alone in a room with him… You spent most of the time shaking in the corner, eyes darting back and forth between Hiragi and anywhere else. Of course he noticed, frowning at you in confusion but not willing to ask questions and make you even more uncomfortable.

“You were terrified of me back then,” he chuckles now, showing off sharp teeth that you want to feel against your neck.

You laugh–giggle, really–because, “I was not scared of you.”

“What? You were shakin’ like a leaf. I remember you all curled up in one of the desks.”

“Yeah, but not ‘cause I was scared,” you reiterate. “I had a crush on you, idiot.”

It’s okay if he knows now, just as long as you talk about it like it’s in the past, like you’ve moved on.

Hiragi’s eyes widen, truly surprised. “Wait, for real?”

“For real,” you grin, deciding now is a good time to gather up the used cotton balls and throw them away. Putting a few feet of distance between the two of you is good, helps you take in full breaths. Still, even on the other side of the kitchen you can feel his eyes on you.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

You spin around, not expecting that question at all, and grapple for a believable answer. “M-me? Back then? Are you kidding? I was so… All I did was follow Yodai around like some–”

“Kid sister?” he finishes for you, an amused smile lifting the swollen side of his mouth. “It was cute.”

Your jaw drops, somehow offended and flattered at the same time. “It was weird. Like I didn’t have friends or anything better to do.”

Hiragi shrugs. “You just seemed kinda shy. Innocent. Like I said, it was cute.”

Narrowing your eyes, you know you’re about to say something stupid, but you just can’t help it. “Innocent? And you thought it was cute? You some kind of creep, Ragi?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Depends. You still got that crush on me?”

Yes. “No.” You answer too quickly. Way too quickly. And Hiragi’s eyes shine. Trying to recover, you walk back toward him, doing your absolute best to look unfazed and confident. “Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter since I’m not all shy and innocent anymore.”

Hiragi stands up, all 187 centimeters of shiny leather and bleached hair looming over you, and you feel your breath hiccup in your throat. Fuck, he’s only gotten hotter over the years, and you’ve only gotten more desperate for him.

“Who said I was still into that sorta thing?”

You know you look ridiculous, gazing up at him with big doe eyes, lips parted, absolutely everything written all over your face, and all that confidence is gone because he’s staring down at you, and he knows. He knows your feelings, knows you want him. Now.

You don’t think; you just do–shoving yourself up on your tiptoes while wrapping your fingers in his shirt, you pull Hiragi toward you, kissing him hard enough to force a grunt from him. He doesn’t hesitate to respond, bending on his own accord while walking you back to the nearest wall and pressing you to it. You breathe through your nose, each inhale full of his cologne and a hint of sweat. The taste of antiseptic barely registers when you swipe your tongue over his lip, overpowered by the remnants of blood.

His body is hot and hard against yours. Not just the bulge pressing into your stomach, but his chest, his abs, the thigh that slides between yours. You can’t help but grind down on it, gasping into his mouth at the same time he mutters a deep, “fuck.”

His hands are under your shirt, squeezing your curves, blunt nails lightly scratching, and he groans when he traces the swell of your bare tits.

Pulling away, Hiragi huffs against your neck, voice like gravel when he tells you, “I’m about to defile you,” so matter-of-fact that it makes you moan out loud.

“Fu–please, want you so bad,” you whine, and it’s pitiful. Pathetic. Nothing cool or casual about you now as you pant for him. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“I know.” He takes your face in both hands, nodding so that his nose bumps into yours. “M’right here, I’ve gotcha.”

Hiragi kisses you again, teeth nipping until you open your mouth for him. The sensation of his tongue against yours has you all but riding his thigh. You know you’ll be leaking through your skimpy underwear if you haven’t already, and your arousal only increases when Hiragi bends to grip you by the thighs, lifting you onto the nearest countertop.

It makes you snicker, “m’gonna break my neck, remember?”

“Tch.” Hiragi kisses down said neck, stopping to bite and suck, hand on your back to feel how it arches for him. “Not gonna let that happen.”

One hand under your shirt, Hiragi uses his other to dance along your leg, higher and higher until he reaches the bottoms of your shorts, loose enough to slip beneath.

“Tell me to stop if you–”

“Don’t stop.”

He laughs, shrugging out of his jacket when you start to push it off his shoulders, and once it’s on the floor his hands are on you again, fingers disappearing under your shorts to stroke over your poorly covered pussy. Hiragi hums in satisfaction, obviously pleased at how wet you are. You expect him to comment on it since he obviously has a bit of smartass in him, but he doesn’t. Instead he drops to his knees and starts tugging at your bottoms.

You can barely process what’s happening. Is he really–are you finally–holy shit, you’ve dreamt of this. His face between your legs, tongue lapping at your slick, a finger slowly sinking into your wanton cunt.

“Ohh, fuck, fuck…”

You feel the points of his teeth graze your puffy folds, sharp and teasing before he wraps his lips around your swelling clit and sucks.

The noise you let out is embarrassing, high-pitched and uncontrolled. Your fingers find purchase in his hair, softer than expected. Must’ve switched from gel to something else. The thought makes you laugh a little hysterically. Here he is, Toma Hiragi, eating your pussy like it’s his job, and you’re thinking about his hair. He shuts you up with a second finger, though, both of them bent to rub against your g-spot, and you whimper as pressure begins to build between your hips.

It feels so good. He feels so fucking good, licking and slurping and fucking you with his fingers, but you want more, you– “Ragi, please, fuck, I want… I need…”

One long lick to the crest of your pussy then he asks, “what do you need?” only to return to sucking on your clit again, stealing your breath away for just a moment. “Tell me, come on, pretty girl, use your words.”

“I–” Pretty girl. “I—” his fingers are still moving inside you, making your head loll back and hit the cabinets behind you. “I–fuck, need to feel you.”

He stands, still not pulling his fingers from you, and he uses his thumb to circle your clit as he leans into your space and teases, “need me? I’m right here.”

Your eyes roll behind fluttering lids, lips pulling down into a pout that he promptly covers with his own, messy mouth. He’s overwhelming, fingers moving perfectly, milking slick from you with every stroke of your g-spot, and fuck, the way he’s kissing you, how he’s touching you, how he’s teasing you with a soft, “yeah, baby? Can’t even talk, huh? Feel that good?” He’s filthy. Hiragi is so much dirtier than you imagined, and you have imagined a lot when it comes to him.

“Fuck me, please please please, Ragi, wanna feel your cock,” you babble, tears pricking the corners of your eyes because it’s so much, and you’re ready to cum, but there’s something missing. You need to feel all of him first.

The clinking of his belt draws your hazy eyes downward, and you salivate when he pushes his pants down and his cock springs free–long enough to make you shudder with anticipation, thick enough to make you pulse with need, and hard enough to make you preen. You did that to him. You’re doing this to him. You’re the reason for that shiny bead of pre glistening at his slit.

You want to lick it clean, fuck, you want to suck him off, swallow him down, feel him in your stomach. You want him to cum down your throat and fill you up and–

“You look like you wanna eat me,” he says. For a guy with a split lip, he sure is smirking a lot. Doesn’t that sting?

“I wanna do a lot of things to you, Hiragi, but first…” you reach down with a trembling hand, fingers wrapping around his smooth shaft, “I want you to fuck me.”

Growling, he pulls you to the very edge of the counter, conveniently the perfect height for him to line himself up with you. He rubs his tip between your sloppy lips, slapping it against your clit a couple times and sucking your gasp straight from your lips when he kisses you.

You squeal when he starts to push inside you, his thick head already stretching you, but he murmurs, “I’ll go slow,” into your mouth. His voice is shakier than before, strained while he stays true to his word. Skilled fingers rub your clit, massaging it while sinking deeper into you. The stretch is, fuck, it’s perfection. It twinges in the most delicious way, his cock steadily bullying your walls, making way for itself like it belongs there. The stretch and the sounds and his fingers on your swollen bud all have your toes curling and back bowing.

“O-oh, Jesus, Ragi, I’m–m’gonna…”

“Come on, show me how pretty you look when you cum,” he grunts, bottoming out just in time for your pussy to start spasming, clenching over and over as you make a mess all over him. “Yeah, just like that, look at you creamin’ on my cock–you gonna squirt too?” He starts swiping over your clit faster than before, pulling out and fucking back into you as you ride out your orgasm, your sopping hole opening up for him even more as you– “there it is, god damn, such a pretty pussy. You always this messy, or s’it just for me?”

You can’t speak. Hiragi keeps fucking squirt out of you, hips relentless, just like his fingers on your clit, and before you know it he’s forcing another full-body orgasm out of you.

You didn’t know it would be this good. Didn’t know it could be this good. You’ve had sex with a few other guys, and some had even managed to get you off, but not like this. This is something else entirely.

Much to your dismay, Hiragi begins to slow, and it’s only when you open bleary eyes that you notice the tears streaming down your face. For the first time since he got to the apartment and almost walked in on you, he looks concerned.

“Am I hurtin’ you?” he asks, a calloused thumb wiping your wet cheek.

You shake your head, legs wrapping around his waist to urge him deeper. “No, no, you just, mm, you feel so good.”

He bites his lip, thrusting a little faster again, little harder, groans that you, “feel fuckin’ perfect, baby. Think your pussy was made for me.”

Your words are broken and breathy as you agree with him, “it was–all yours, Ragi, I’m all yours…” too high off endorphins and overwhelmed with pleasure to even recognize what you’re admitting to.

“Yeah?” he slows again, but the way he’s burying himself inside of you is making you drool. “Always been my girl, haven’t ya’?

You nod, and he catches you in another brain-addling kiss, breathing a barely coherent, “yours, too. Been yours since day one.”

You lock your arms around his neck, pulling him impossible closer, and when his hips start to stutter you press your mouth to his, swallowing his low groan as he spills his load inside of you. The kiss is sweeter than all the others before, tongues lazy and clumsy as he uses you to milk himself dry, and once both of you are entirely spent, your lips stay molded together, hot and insistent, saying everything that has yet to be said out loud.

“You meant it?” he asks quietly, that sinful tone gone from his voice, replaced with something much softer. “You’re still my girl?”

You sigh dramatically and nuzzle into his neck. “Always have been, probably always will be.”

Face in your hair, Hiragi chuckles, “don’t sound so embarrassed.”

“It is embarrassing. Been pining after you for years.”

“At least you weren’t the one chasin’ after your friend’s little sister.”

Lifting your head, you regard him with a raised eyebrow, “speaking of, what are you gonna tell Yodai?”

He shrugs, the picture of nonchalant despite still being balls deep inside of you. “I’ll be respectful, but in the end I’m still his superior.”

“The Furin hierarchy still stands when it comes to fucking sisters?” you laugh.

“If it means I can be with you without catchin’ any bullshit for it, absolutely.” He punctuates it with a peck to your forehead then looks down between the two of you. “We should probably, uh…”

“Get cleaned up before it’s too late?”

“Exactly. Otherwise–”

Keys turn in the lock. The front door opens.

You look at Hiragi with wide eyes as he turns red from his neck to his hairline.

“Wait right there, Yodai!” you call out frantically, fighting a whimper when Hiragi pulls out a little too quickly.

There isn’t enough time, though, not for him to zip himself back in his pants and definitely not enough for you to pull yours back on.

Yodai rounds the corner, takes in the scene, then turns right back around while shouting, “the kitchen counter? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

Do not copy, modify, or repost my work. I do not consent to my writing being used for AI.

#wind breaker x reader #windbre x reader #wind breaker smut #hiragi toma x reader #hiragi x reader

56 notes · View notes

bookuce · 23 hours

Text

Change My Mind

SUMMARY: Josh and Alina are great friends most days. Other days, they want to tear each other apart. Some days, they’re in love with each other, but neither of them will admit it.

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OC. The book uses actual names of wrestlers. Josh is Jey, Jon is Jimmy, Trinity is Naomi, and Alina is Alina. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events (matches, storylines) could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE. THAAAAAANKS. *

PAIRING: Jey Uso x Black OC

TROPE: Friends to Lovers

WARNINGS: Language

WORD COUNT: 4,185

PART SEVEN

(2/2) — (1/2)

The sound of heels could be heard angrily clicking against the winery floors. Alina’s eyes were burning with tears that wanted to be free, but she wouldn’t blink. She didn’t dare blink. She pushed the double doors open, moving down the brick steps. Once in the soft grass, she kicks her heels off and lifts her dress from the Earth. She glided—no, stomped across the field to that white house the groomsmen were in. She was a woman on a mission.

Alina scaled the four steps, taking two at a time as she climbed onto the porch. The screened door would swing open, hitting the wall as she entered the house. The men all stopped talking, smiles vanishing at the sight of her. “Now, Lina—.” Mike starts. She and Theo locked eyes, and he immediately knew what she was there for. She pushes through everyone, lunging for him. The men all shout in response to her, Mike being the one who catches her. He pushes her back into the group of men, now pointing for the door. “Get her outta here, bruh, we not doing this shit today!” He says, as Shawn dragged her out of the house. Theo watched as Alina vanished through the door, bringing his glass to his lips. Mike turns to look at him, lifting his hands in disbelief. “You need to fix this before the wedding.” He says. “I don’t need Tasha finding out about this.” He says, walking to the kitchen.

“Get off of me!” Alina says, shoving Shawn back. “Tell him to bring his ass outside.” She demands.

“Lina, you can’t do this right now. It’s your best friend’s wedding day.” Shawn says. Alina points at the window of the house.

“Did y’all tell him that too, or is this isolated to me?” Theo steps out from behind Shawn, his eyes on the enraged woman standing before him. He steps off the porch, his hand wrapping around Alina’s arm. He pulls the woman off towards an old garage to the side of the house. They said nothing to each other as they approached the withered door of the garage. He pushes it open, gesturing for her to go in. She yanks her arm from him, stepping into the dusty space.

Theo steps into the garage, closing the door behind them. “So I take it your little boyfriend told you what happened?” He asks.

“My little boyfriend? Theo, I need you to play somewhere safe when it comes to that man.” She warns him. Theo laughs softly at the threat, shaking his head. “I’m serious!” She exclaims.

“Why, because I gotta deal with you? I’ve dealt with that temper before, girl, that ain’t nothing.” He says, dismissing her threats. “I simply mentioned that we were engaged. That wasn’t a lie. Hell, I didn’t know it was a secret until today. That’s your fuck-up, not mine.” It was true. Theo was just moving accordingly. How Josh reacted to the news had nothing to do with him. Anything that happened after that, though? “Be honest. What did you think would happen when you brought him in there? Were you even thinking about that?” She wasn’t. All she was thinking about was the fact that she wanted Josh to make friends with the guys.

Alina peers down at the floor, her arms crossing over her chest. “I didn’t tell him we were engaged because I erased that entire chapter of my life. The moment you did what you did, you meant nothing to me. You weren’t my fiancé, you weren’t my friend, you were just a man I unfortunately knew.” She finishes, looking up at him. “The word fiancé should have never left your goddamn mouth.”

“Lina, that’s not how that works!” He shouts.

“Says who? Were you the one hurt by this?” She asks. “You didn’t love me like I loved you. I was ready to commit to you, and you made me look stupid!”

“And I apologized, damnit!” He exclaims. Alina becomes quiet at the booming of his voice. “I will spend my entire life apologizing to you! I had a moment of weakness twelve years ago and had a child on you. It happened, and I apologized. I don’t regret my daughter, but I do regret what I did to you.” He finishes. Alina turns away from him, her eyes shifting to the ceiling. She was fighting tears again. “Was I hoping when I saw you today that I would be able to make things right with us? Yes, but you showed up, and I got to see you with someone else who isn’t me for the first time ever. I got jealous.”

Alina lifts her hand, shaking it. “You don’t get to be jealous, Theo.” She says, turning to face him again. “That man loves me, has loved me for two years, and patiently waited for me. He’s not going anywhere, and I don’t want him to. So, whatever you got going on, it needs to stop the moment we leave this garage.” She says. It was now his turn to be silent. He stares at Alina, his shoulder slumped in defeat. She takes a few steps to the side, moving around him for the door.

“My greatest achievement was having you love me.” She pauses at the door at his words. She slowly turns around to face him, her eyes finding his dark ones. “You telling me that’s all gone? Every bit of it?” She sighs softly.

“Theo, a part of me will always love you.”

“Then why can’t we…try again?” He asks, taking her hand into his. “What’s those few weeks compared to our four years?” He continues.

“Everything, Theo. They’re everything.” She says, pulling her hand from his grasp. “I don’t want to know you how I did anymore.” Before he could even say anything else, she slipped out the door. The sun forces her to squint, her hands carefully wiping at any tears that might’ve fallen.

Josh paced the gravel of the winery parking lot. He was trying his hardest to remain calm but was failing miserably. “She told me to leave, Uce. She don’t want me here.” He says into the phone.

“Man, take your ass back inside that wedding. Lina don’t mean that shit.” Jon says, trying to assure his brother that the things the couple said to each other had no meaning. “As for her ex, he’s lucky I’m not there, we’d jump his ass.”

“Jon—!” Trin exclaims. “You aren’t helping!”

Jon smacks his lips at her. “Yes, the hell I am! I’ll get on a plane right now! Say I won’t.” He shouts back. There was a scuffle in the background and sounds of protest from his twin brother. “Move!” He exclaims. Josh stops pacing, his eyes shifting up to the trees above him. He was now shaking his head at the couple on the other side of the phone. There was a serious matter at hand, and they were playing around.

“Josh—Will you back up!” Trinity shouts into the phone at her husband. “Go find that girl and talk to her.”

“Can’t.” He says, glancing over at a few people who were passing him. “Wedding is about to start.” He says.

“Then you should stay and talk to her. Don’t leave that place mad at each other.” She tells him. He begins to nod his head. Trinity was right.

“Yeah,” He nods. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I know I am! Now go make things right with my sister.” She says, making Josh smile. There was movement on the other side of the phone before Jon spoke again.

“Say the words, and I’m on a plane, lil bro! Say the words—!” The call ends with three beeps. Josh slips his phone back into his jacket pocket with a sigh. Let’s get this shit over with, he thought, marching towards the back where the ceremony will be.

Alina and the rest of the wedding party lined up in the main hall of the winery. Each bridesmaid had a groomsman. She, unfortunately, had Theo—Together, they were the maid of honor and the best man. The lost lovers stared ahead, a noticeable space between the pair. She didn’t want to have to touch him until she had to. “Alright, everyone,” The wedding planner spoke, walking to the front of the wedding line. “We got five minutes till the wedding starts. Remember, count to five before you step out to walk. Do not power walk down the aisle. The photographer needs to be able to get clear photos. Tasha and Mike are spending too much money to receive blurry images of you beautiful people.”

Her eyes land on Alina and Theo, now noticing the gap between the two. She takes Alina’s arm, linking it with his. She then smiles proudly at the pair. “You two look great together.” She winks, moving down the line to check everyone else. Alina smiles at her to be polite before letting her smile drop when she leaves.

“Lina, can we—.”

“Leave me alone, please, Theo. Thank you.” She snaps quietly. No one around them knew what had transpired that day, and she wanted to keep it that way. She could hear him suck in a deep breath and sigh. Music began to play from outside the building, a sign the ceremony was about to start. Mike and the Reverand are spotted making their way down the aisle from the windows of the doors. The sound of cheers and applause is heard over the music now.

The wedding planner quickly walks back to the front of the line, peeking out the window. She squeals at the sight of Michael. “Tasha, Mike has made it to the end of the aisle!” She exclaims. Tasha was at the back of the line, a large bouquet in her hand. Her head was down as she swayed from side to side. She needed to say a quick prayer before she stepped out there. “Y’all ready?” She asks Alina and Theo. Ready to get this over, she answers in her head. Alina nods slightly, now taking a deep breath of her own. The coordinator pushes the door open, signaling for the pair to go. A smile will spread along Alina’s face as she and Theo stepped out into the opening.

The pair walked at the desired pace of the wedding coordinator, their eyes darting around the crowd. There was only one person she was hoping she would spot among the attendees. When she caught sight of red curls, her smile softened to one of genuine happiness. He stayed. Josh turns just in time to see her walking down the aisle. They hold each other’s gaze until she passes him. Once at the end of the aisle, Theo and Alina break apart. Theo goes to stand behind his best friend while Alina stands alone for a few moments more.

Instead of paying attention to the ceremony, Alina was too busy watching Josh. He hadn’t let up on his staring either. It was evident they both regretted everything that transpired between them today.

As a couple, it was the first time they’d really argued, and quite frankly, they didn’t want to do it again. Josh didn’t like it when she was mad at him; he also didn’t like to be the cause of her tears. The break of her voice and the pain in her eyes at what he said was enough for him. He’d never do it again—that was his vow. “Do you, Michael, take Tasha to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you honor and cherish her; love, trust, and commit to her, through joy and pain, sickness, and health, until death do you part?” The reverend asks Mike.

“I do.” He says, nodding.

“And Tasha, do you take Michael to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you honor and cherish him; love, trust, and commit, through joy and pain, sickness, and health, until death do you part?” Tasha smiles brightly up at her husband, nodding slowly at him.

“I do.” She whispers. The reverend calls for the rings, prompting Alina to look away from Josh and pass off Mike’s ring to Tasha. She’d give her best friend an assuring smile before glancing at her feet. The couple begins the exchange of their vows, putting their rings on each other’s fingers. Alina peers up at Josh again, finding his eyes still on her. He didn’t care about anything that was happening right now. He should probably pay attention, but he just couldn’t.

“I love you.” She mouths to him, earning a wink in return. That prompts her to smile and return her attention to her two friends.

“Tasha, Michael, it is with great honor that I stand before you, by the power vested in me by the Almighty God up above and the beautiful state of Georgia, I proudly pronounce you Husband and Wife! Michael, you may now kiss your bride.” The crowd erupts into cheers as Mike pulls Tasha in for a loving kiss. “I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Vasser, everyone!” The newlyweds turn to face the crowd before walking down the aisle hand in hand. The wedding party would follow after. The most stressful part of the day was now over.

The reception went as planned, with introductions, first dances, and speeches. Everyone laughed, and a few people cried, but everyone was happy—well, not everyone. Josh had yet to talk to Alina. She was too busy socializing and catching up with old friends. He didn’t want to take her from that, considering she’s barely home these days. So Josh went and grabbed a drink from the bar and stepped outside. She’ll find him when she’s ready.

Josh stood in silence, taking in the night sky. The Moon was full and dimly lit the area around him. He brings his beer bottle to his lips, taking a few swigs. Footsteps approached him, causing the twin to look over his left shoulder. He had hoped it was Alina but was greatly disappointed when it was Theo. He looks away, his top lip curling slightly in disgust. They stood side by side, their eyes fixated on the open. Josh wasn’t going to say anything. He had nothing to say to that man.

“I asked Alina to leave you.” He confesses. Josh’s hand around the bottle he held tightened. This man just doesn’t let up, he thought.

“What she say?” Josh asks, looking down at his shoes.

“No.” He answers.

Josh scoffs, shaking his head slightly. “Checks out.”

Theo looks over at him. “I asked her if she still loved me. She said she did.” He turns to face Josh. “I love her too—.”

“Man, you don’t love that woman,” Josh says, pivoting to face Theo. “If you did, you’d let her be happy. Instead, you out here pressing me.” Josh looks him up and down. “You already had your chance, and you blew it. Now it’s my turn, and I ain’t ever coming off that one.” He says, pointing inside the reception hall. “You out of your damn mind if you think I’mma let some fuck up from her past force his way back into her life.” Theo’s head drops at his words. He would bring his hand to his face and pull it down the front, sighing softly.

“You thought she’d want to play house with your ass again? Hell no!” Josh was through being cordial with this man. He had received nothing but disrespect from him since he was made aware that he was her ex-fiancé. For Alina, he tried to be on his best behavior, but it was nearing the end of the night, and he wasn’t going to leave this venue without speaking his mind to Theo. He’s been asking for it. “Ay, and on the real, Uce, if she wants to be a Mother, all she gotta do is ask me.”

And that was the final straw for Theo. He’d swing, his fist connecting with Josh’s left brow bone. The punch would cause Josh to stumble to the right, but he quickly regained balance, lunging for the man who threw the first punch. He slams him into the railing of the steps they stood on before wrapping his arms around him and tossing him down the steps.

Alina had just finished talking to Tasha’s grandma when she started looking for Josh. She’d move through the dancefloor, passing by chatty guests and dancers. “Hey, have you seen Josh?” She asks Cassie. Cassie shakes her head, but Shawn, her husband, looks around the room to see if he spotted him. His eyes would pause on the outside just as he saw Theo throw a punch.

“Shit,” He says, getting up from the table. Alina and Cassie wore expressions of confusion until they saw the other groomsmen running for the door.

“Where are they going?” Cassie asked.

“I don’t know…” Alina responds. Cassie stands to her feet, now walking with Alina to find out.

Outside, the scuffle had gone out into the grass. Theo recovered from being thrown and knocked Josh to the ground. Currently, they were rolling around. Punches were thrown while Josh had him in a tight headlock. Thick legs wrapped tightly around his waist, the hold resembling Joe’s Guillotine.

“Ay, Ay, Ay, Josh! Josh! Let him go!” The groomsmen approach the fight, prompting Josh to let go of Theo. They begin to separate the two, pulling them both up to their feet. Alina had just stepped outside when she saw them trying to pull Josh off of Theo.

“Are you fucking—?” She mutters, now rushing down the steps to the fight. Four men restrained Josh, while Theo was by two. Shawn stood in the middle, his arms extended to keep them separated. Josh sported a bloody gash on his brow where Theo first hit him, painting the left side of his face red. Any bit of anger she had went out the window the moment she saw him.

“The hell’s gotten into you today, man?” Shawn shouts at Theo. It seems to be the question of the day. “I’ve never seen someone be so determined to get his ass whooped by a professional fighter—Samoan at that!”

Alina approached Josh, turning his head to assess the gash. “Lina—,” Theo calls for her.

“Theo, I will slap the shit out of you.” She threatens, turning to look at him.

“And if she breaks a nail, I’m beating your ass,” Josh shouts from behind her.

“Joshua.” She snaps, looking at him. Dark eyes find hers when she calls his name to silence him. She looks at the men still holding her battered man. “Let him go, he ain’t gonna do anything.” She tells them. Hesitantly, they release him, and she snatches his arm up. She pushes through the crowd, dragging Josh around to the front of the winery. She was off to find a bathroom away from the party.

Josh struggled to keep up, his hand going to the gash on his face. He hisses in pain. “Can you slow down?” He asks. She doesn’t say anything. He peers down at his hand, seeing the blood for the first time. That causes him to stop, halting her in her tracks as well. Alina turns in time to watch his face shift between anger and disbelief. He laughs softly, shaking his head. “I’ma kill him.” He says, nodding to himself.

“Pull your arm away from me and see what happens.” She warns him. They’d stare at each other in silence before Josh huffs, allowing her to resume dragging him inside the building. She pulls him up the stairs and into the bridal room, leading him into the bathroom. “I saw a first aid kit up here.” She says. She closes the door behind them, moving to the closet to grab the medkit.

Josh jumps onto the counter, patiently waiting for her to tend to him. “I promise I wasn’t looking for a fight.” He says. Alina doesn’t respond to him right away, forcing the room into silence. “I was waiting for you so we could talk, and he came out there bothering me.”

When she finds the box, she opens it, retrieving a band-aid, alcohol, and ointment. “I believe you.” She says, walking over to him. She examines his appearance, taking in the bloody sight he was. She’d sigh before unbuttoning his white shirt. “This is ruined.” She says.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, shrugging out of the shirt. She shakes her head in response, reaching over to grab one of the clean face towels on the counter. She’d turn on the sink, allowing the water to run over her hand until warm. “Can you say something?” He asks, watching as she chooses to remain silent. The water became warm quickly, prompting her to wet the white washcloth. “Baby.” He calls.

“Will you let me take care of you?” She asks, turning off the sink. She squeezes any excess water out of the cloth before bringing it up to clean his face.

“I am,” He starts. “I just want to hear your voice.” And make sure you’re not mad at me, he thought. She glances down at his pleading gaze before leaning in to give him an assuring kiss. That kiss was all he needed to know that everything was alright with them. He smiles softly at her, his hands moving to her hips. “I love you too.” He whispers to her. “That’s from earlier.” He adds, making her grin.

“Stop touching me before you ruin my dress.” She says, removing his hands. She reaches down to grab the alcohol wipe packet, ripping it open in the process.

“That means you’ll have to take it off, right?” He bites his lower lip as his hands return to her hips. She steps back.

“I am not fucking you at this wedding.” She says.

“The car is in the parking lot, honey.” He offers, making her laugh. That was a new term of endearment for her. It was always Baby or Lina. Now it was honey. She licks her lips at him before stepping back between his legs. “Hell, You got me out here fighting exes and shit, I’m getting something.” Alina rolls her eyes.

“Shut up.” She tells him. She lifts the alcohol wipe to the cut, lightly dabbing it. He’d hissed slightly, flinching away from her. “I’m sorry.” She whispers. “I’m almost done.” She promises, reaching to grab the ointment packet. She was happy she didn’t have to drive him to a hospital for stitches. Josh’s hands start wandering again, moving around to her backside this time. She sucks in a shaky breath, pulling his hands from her body. She’d give him a warning glare.

“It’s mine!” He exclaims at her.

“How much did you have to drink?” She asks.

“I had a beer.” He answers.

“Just one?” Josh stares at her for a moment.

“Maybe two.”

Alina grins, reaching down to grab the small bandaid from the counter. She opens it, pulls off the paper on the back, and carefully places it over the cut on his brow. “I should have told you about Theo.” She says.

Josh began shaking his head, not wanting to talk about it. “You had your reasons. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.” He says, trying to take accountability for what happened between them.

“Yeah, but it was warranted. I shouldn’t have sent you in how I did, though. That wasn’t fair to you,” Alina drapes her arms over his shoulders and leans into him. Their foreheads would touch. “and I’m sorry.” She whispers, pecking his lips twice.

“As long as I can go home and love on my lady tonight, I’m okay.” Alina would nod slowly, leaning in for another kiss. Their lips would meet for a lengthier kiss filled with every bit of emotion they felt today. Her manicured fingers would travel along his bare skin, traveling up his neck to cup his jaw. Her thumbs gently caress his cheekbones; her fingers gently scratch his beard. It earns her a hum of satisfaction. They would stay like this for several moments before they were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Lina pulls away from Josh, her attention now on the door. On the other hand, Josh was fixated on kissing and nibbling on her neck.

“J-Just a moment!” She exclaims, her eyes closing when he finds that sensitive spot below her jawline. Alina giggles, finding herself quickly falling into his trap. She pulled his head back, halting him from going any further. Her boyfriend’s eyes glazed over with lust as he watched her, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. That was a gaze that would send her knees immediately. God, he looked good. “We should go.” She says finally, moving to let him get off the counter.

“I was waiting for you.” He says, taking her hand. He’d lead the pair out of the bathroom, earning looks of confusion from the wedding guests who were waiting for them to come out.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: This could've been a 3 part tbh LMAO. SO MUCH HAPPENED 😭😭😭😭 I just wanted to thank y'all for interacting with the first part of Part 7. That made me really happy to read y'alls comments. Do it again!!

🏷️ list: @thesamoanqueen @whatdoeseveryonewant @headoftheetable @mzv11 @southerngirl41 @yana3sworld @wanderingreigns @wrestlingprincess80 @siriuslycee @vebner37 @astridxxxxxx @alichesmi @tshepisho @scarlettnoir01 @brokenglassslippers @reignsboy19 @sayyestoheav3nn @cyberdejos2 @empressdede @sisinever @truefant4sy @paigereeder @tbmotw @fearlesschimera @venusesworld @usoholic @sageispunk @bebesobrielo @jstarr86 @vibessonvibes @issahyland

#jey uso #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #main event jey uso #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso x black oc #jey uso x oc #jey uso fanfic #Spotify

87 notes · View notes